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I'm still on a contact high from the Incredibles, which was *lovely*. And, having hoddered into town to get to an early showing, decided to check if Stewart Lee's last night was sold out. Which it was, but the nice people at the desk told me that he was doing another show in December, and gave me a leaflet, which told me that the Trachtenberg Family Slideshow Players where also playing at the Soho Theatre. So that's all good. And then, after a pleasant wander back, Marcus Brigstocke was on TV, which reminded me of his lovedly diatribe on hunting:
You townies don't understand our country ways!
Then explain them.
What?
Explain them. Should we take notes, or just think about them in our little townie heads?
Well...erm... if you ban hunting, we'll have to kill all the dogs! Who's cruel now?
Still you. The only way to alienate us sentimental townies further would be to throw a couple of dead horses on the fire.
Oh, we will. Once an animal's no longer useful, the kindest thing to do is look it straight in they eye and put it to sleep.
Right. I can see why the hunting crowd weren't massively mobile in support of the striking miners.
Just a little injection...
He shall be my bride. |
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