Monday, February 28, 2005
Sing properly, or get off the pot. That is what an American would say, you wanker
The man was such a cunt that he did not just limit his “do-dodledoddledoddleyay-yay” to lulls in the conversation, so that he would just sound like a mentalist chicken, he would actually mix up normal human speech with the noises. I wondered if he was two people in one man’s body, like he had eaten the Skat-man, and every so often the noises were the poor bastard asking for help. A conversation could go like this:
“did you watch the football mate?”
"no, tiddle-ooh-oh-ohbeedoobopyay ,I find football a bit common, actually”
“It was amazing five-one”
“hoo-yeahmbedum-hubbahhubaau_dum.I-prefer polo and shooting”
”Oh really, how many small birds do you kill in one afternoon then?”
“hay-mummah-mummah,oh,about, wubbu-wubba, one because I am actually quite a mong with a gun”
I can’t remember the real human word bit of the conversation, because I was always so overwhelmed by the utterly bizarre musical theme music, he could have been talking about fucking knitting, but he would probably have had a gay, huntin’related chat, I would think, that one. An American would definitely tell him to speak or get off the pot or sing or get off the pot, because Americans are very direct and would not tolerate that sort of mixed media of communication, or they might say “that guy, he walks and chews gum at the same time”, and I would have to agree with them, which makes a fucking change
Noreen is Right!
I knew a girl who said 'things' all the time. It was really wierd. "I have to run and catch my train. Things" she would say. "Can I have - things - a return ticket to Dublin, please. Things" I had to stuff my hands into my gob whenever I was talking to her to stop my self from laughing. Come to think of it, she probably thought I was a bit wierd too. She might have a blog now and be writing a post which says ' I once - things - new a guy who shoved his hands - things - into his mouth whenever - things - I was talking to him. Things.' I am going to have a look for it.
Sunday, February 27, 2005
Let the man finish fucking singing, you cunts!
Noreen is Right!!!
I just can't believe that people can be so loved for putting records on. Why don't they just record all their records onto a cd then send it to the club in a taxi while they sit at home and wank? Yes, she is totally right this time, DJs are complete and utter cunts.
Friday, February 25, 2005
Looks like a potato, eats human flesh
And don’t give me that “oh but the exquisite fragrance of flowers is special, is it not” because I will tell you a lot of flowers do not smell at all, and someone brought me some once which smelt like urine. I am not sure if they were making some kind of a point, or they thought “these flowers are so pretty, we will ignore the fact they smell like an old commode”.
At least flowers you get in a bunch from people are already dead. I cannot say the same thing about flowers growing from bulbs. It is spring now, and people are all about bulbs in the spring. Bulbs give me the creeps, they look like potatoes but if you were to eat them, you would get very sick, or even die. Then there is always a great fuss about them too, like my mother will go on about “oh, my bulbs”. I hate the orderliness of them, people plant them in fucking_rows like a north Korean carnival, and they all grow, all boring and straight, and then die and look shit. Daffodils are the worst, I fucking hate them. Ever since I read “the day of the triffids” I have not been able to trust those fuckers. A daffodil has a mouth just like a triffid, and do you know what happens to tramps when they die? Hmm?:That’s right, the daffodils get them, and before you ask no I have not been drinking, it is ten in the fucking morning.
Noreen is mental!
Jesus, she's having a go at the bloody flowers now. Don't worry readers, Noreen goes a bit mental like this about once a month, it soon passes and she is once again annoyed by normal things, like that cunt Robbie Williams and people who say 'literally' when they mean the exact opposite.
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Babies Fucking Disgust Me
Ball bag is right,
Babies are indeed messy things, but I find it unusual that a man should be whingeing about it, since from conception to potty training, it is the woman who does most of the dirty work. Conception involves the woman sitting in a pool of jizz, while the chap wipes his knob on the curtains. Birth! The woman sits in a nest of chopped liver in a room which looks like an abattoir while the bloke smokes a fucking enormous cigar. Unless you are married to a “new man” which, we all know is code for nancy-boy-gaylord, then the chances are that it will be the woman who wipes up shite, food, blood, sick and her Chanel, which has been lovingly poured all over the seat of the Khazi. Yes, babies are messy, but until you have pushed one out of a sexual organ, gentlemen, don’t come fucking crying to me. By the way, I am on the rag, so any funny comment about feminists and I’ll chop your balls off
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
Coconuts. I don’t fucking think so
When they aren’t busy killing, or propagating, coconuts are busy tasting really, really awful and just being in all sorts of food. I had a curry the other day, and there was coconut inside my naan bread, the fucking cheeky stuff. I hate it, it is like dandruff, but wiry and with the nastiest flavour in the world. Not only does, it chisel its way into practically everything we eat, but I met a person with a carpet made out of the hair of a coconut. The dirty bastard! A carpet, made out of coconuts, for fuck’s sake. Of course, people are always on telling me that you can make a sound of a horse by banging two halves of a coconut together but I am not impressed. Just half of a,seashell can make a sound like the whole sea, and the sea is far bigger and more impressive than a fucking horse.
Ball Bag says to say that Noreen is right!
Ball Bag can't come to the computer as he has been hit on the head by a coconut, but he says to say that coconuts taste foul (he used the rude f-word, but I refuse to put that). He added that coconuts are gay. I can't say I approve of all this, you know.
Ball Bag's Mum
If you fold your clothes up, I will not have sexual intercourse with you.
God, I’m getting sidetracked, right. I have only turned and fled in the bedroom twice in my life, and they were for very good reasons. The first was a man who was very sweet, but a bit of a drip who said “I’ve got something to tell you, it’s my first time”, and I am afraid, I couldn’t cope with the responsibility or the incompetence of it, so I got dressed and legged it. The second was a bloke who fucking folded up- all of his clothes before the act. We had been getting very friendly, and just as it looked like everything was getting cracking he hopped out of bed and started folding each of his garments up and placing them on a fucking chair. Even his socks, which were not clean. It made me feel cheap, really, because I thought, “Jesus am I that unexciting that the man is thinking about his orderliness instead of tearing my knickers off with his teeth. What a passion killer”. So I picked up my clothes which were not at all in a neat pile, but were in a path from the bed to the landing and shoved them back on and went. He didn’t get it though. I said “I will not shag a man who would rather fold his clothes up than do me, that is just fucking rude, and quite weird like an obsessive compulsive , and I have gone off the idea altogether now”. He said I was a bitch, the arsehole, so I reckon I was well out of that one. Would you fold your clothes up- before sex, or do you think that is the act of a loony? I like people who agree with me, by the way.
Noreen is right!
I went out with a girl who not only insisted on folding all her clothes, but also had to take off all her make-up before we went to bed to do it. What a bore she was, she wouldn't even let me come on her tits, the selfish cow.
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Drinking Till You Puke
Ball Bag is right!
It is very normal to look in the mirror after puking, just like looking in the mirror when you clean your teeth, but more revolting. I threw up after drinking too much on Sunday morning, unfortunately I was sick into a timber yard, and felt it would be a bit of a liberty to ask the proprietor for a little mirror to check myself out in. I am very polite
Monday, February 21, 2005
Don’t just moan about your beer, invent a new delivery system
imagination. I drink beer from a bottle, because it is a nuisance pouring beer into a glass, unless you can be arsed to tilt the bloody glass and take care over pouring the stuff out. And I dread it, when someone asks for a glass, because there is always a lot of foam when I pour out beer, and then people won’t leave it and go on and on and quite apart from it being fucking rude of them, it is just extremely dull listening to them going on. However, there is a problem with bottles, because some of them have screw caps and some of them do not, you would need an opener to get the metal off. The manufacturers of the screw ones are not complete bastards, to help you know which type of cap is on the beer,they employ a factory of pixies to write “twist off” in French on the cap, the problem is, unless you are French or speak it, and happen to be an eagle or a cat or another type of an animal with excellent vision, you are fucked, so normally you would need to guess “is it a twist-cap, or is it an ordinary one”. When they started with those bastard twist caps, I was keen not to look behind the fashion, so I was always twisting away, and sometimes, after my palms were bleeding so much I could have been the occasion for a pilgrimage, I would say “fuck it” and then spend a long time looking for an opener because I had put it away thinking that it would not be up-to-date of me to have one around.
I can’t stand people who are always fucking moaning, without a solution, they are cunts. It is true, that really fucking stupid saying: “there is always more than one way to skin a cat” and I am sure that drinking alcohol can be done in a different way. Not those little arsewipe jelly-shot things, they are fucking awful, but I was thinking about different ways, actually to drink. Sipping is the way a human should drink, I suppose, but we could also lap out of a trough. I might write to Stella and ask them to make plastic troughs with a peel back lid which you then lap. That would solve the problem. Lapping is quite manly too, like regressing to being a caveman, so it would not be gay at all.
Noreen is right up to a point!
Drinking out of bottles is for girls, which I suppose is OK for Noreen. As for pouring it into a glass problems, we have people who are trained in that kind of thing, they are called barmen, so just go to the pub and get them to do it. As for a new way of drinking beer, just put your gob around the beer tap and turn the fucker on.
I basically hate the word 'actually' actually
Why do people say ‘basically’ all the fucking time? It is now used so often that the word has lost all meaning. Has nobody else noticed this? Use of the word basically should be made a criminal offence punishable by a good kicking.
Do English people realise how often they say ‘actually’? They say it all the time. All the bloody time! Stop it! Just fucking stop it! They even brought out a film called ‘Basically Love Actually’ (I think that’s what it was called).
And don’t say ‘no pressure, then’ in pressure situations, either. I could go on, but my blood lust is rising to dangerous levels, so you bastards had better keep out of my way. I mean it.
Ball Bag is right!
It is a shame there are so many people in the world with no social skills at all, and so little imagination that they have to honk up the same tired clichés and banter over and fucking over again. I met a woman once, who was perfectly okay, the problem was that whatever I said she would say “no shit Sherlock” so we had a conversation like “God it’s cold” and then she would say “no shit Sherlock” and I would say "would you like a drink "and she would say “no shit Sherlock”. Normally I like it when people agree with absolutely everything I say, but this time it got on my fucking nerves, the silly bitch.
Thursday, February 17, 2005
The sign of the devil
Shall I tell you what I hate even more than the at sign just on a computer or in an email adress? hmm?
I fucking, fucking well, almightily want to maim and hurt and cut with knives people who put it on invitations.
Party @ Jane's
Oh really? well guess what, Jane, fuck off because I will not go to a party in a place of the at sign. No I bloody won't.
It does not take less time to draw the squiggly bollocks sign, does it actually. It takes longer because you are not accustomed to drawing an a and then going all around the sodding houses afterwards to make it look like a little arsehole.
Fuck I hate it. Just say at.
Noreen is Right!
I am not even sure how to write the @ properly, it always takes me ages, I could write about 20 'ats' in the time it takes to write @, but that would be silly.
By the way, Party @ Ball Bag's place 2nite. 8 till L8.
Anyone who replies to that invitation and comes round will be clubbed with a lump of wood studded with nails, as they will definitely be a tw@ (aren't I clever?).
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
I Bet You Already Know How I Feel About Hockey
I once mentioned to a hockey player that his sport was really gay, and he flew into a rage and excitedly told me about all the people he knew who had to go to hospital as a result of playing hockey. To me this is just not an argument, just because an activity lands you in hospital does not make it not gay. I know a nurse who told me that a man was brought into hospital because his boyfriend was inserting a large vibrator into his bottom when it got stuck and they couldn't get it out. It resulted in a trip to hospital, now you tell me - is that gay or not gay?
Ball Bag is right!
I have a lot more respect for a man who can insert a huge vibrator into his gary than one who can play hockey. Hockey is like fast croquet, except people have gay names like “centre forward” and “inside right”. “Inside Right” is a tailor’s term, and everyone knows that tailors do their jobs just so they can feel cock.
I would not let a vibrator anywhere near my backhole at all, as far as I am concerned it is a one way street. And as for it getting stuck up there, Jesus. I read a thing in the paper which said that if you were willing to get disemboweled you could stretch your intestines, out and they would go all the way around the world one and a half times. If the vibrator got lost, the doctors and nurses would have a lot of work to do going through all those canals to get it out again. That man with the vibrator, he is a brave man. Men who play hockey are sad. The truth of it is, that if you need more equipment to play a game than just some men and a ball, then it is probably a gay sport. Snooker is excused
Monday, February 14, 2005
Speak up, you cretin
Which means I can actually hear every word you whispering cunts are saying, so no, I’m not going to make your day by saying “what did you say again, I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that”
People with quiet voices, people who fucking describe themselves as “soft spoken” are bad people. They make themselves appear quiet, when in fact all they want, is to be asked twice, what it is that they said. Fuck off and be hermits, you miserable tiptoeing morons. If you don’t use your voice box then it will go rusty and one day you might want to shout “help” and all that will come out will be a pathetic wheeze.
Noreen is Right!
Once again, she is absolutely right. I think people who speak in a quiet voice do so because they think they have presence, well they don't, they do so because they are cunts. I can't be bothered to say pardon to these people, now I just nod and smile, much as you would to a senile old aunt. They deserve no better.
Friday, February 11, 2005
Two hands, two balls. Or one ball. Why be greedy?
I often wonder if it is periods of enforced loneliness and social isolation which prompt people to take up fucking juggling. Oh no! I’ve given away how I feel about it.
Dungarees, stupid hats or kerazzeee hair. Braces, shoes which have been hand painted. Garb of git and clothes of cunt. Fuck off you juggling wankers. I don’t care how difficult it is to throw three things around and catch them. I’m not impressed. Juggling is sad, the hobby of a loser, desperately craving attention and applause and possibly small change. If you have more than two round objects to hold, then get a fucking carrier bag and put them in it. There’s no need to make such a meal of it.
Noreen is Right!
She is absolutely, completely right. The only reason a person would learn to juggle is to show other people that they can juggle, and anyone who thinks that others will be impressed or like them more because they can juggle is an utter, utter cunt. I fucking hate people who can juggle, I really fucking hate them, fuck! "Erm..ok I have nothing interesting to say and I am without any recognisable personality, but if you had three oranges you would be seriously impressed." No I wouldn't. If I did have three oranges I wouldn't let you throw them from one hand to another, I would cram them down you boring throat until you fucking choked, you wanker. Fuck I hate jugglers! Did that come across clearly?
Thursday, February 10, 2005
My prawn cocktail snack tells me to kill people
I fucking, fucking, fucking hate that Swedish shithouse. If I ever want to punish myself, which I absolutely do not at all, I would go there on a Sunday or, Saturday, or on late closing night near Christmas.The experience is totally unpleasant from the second you park three hundred miles from the entrance, to the moment you emerge in tears. And what is with the annoying names for everything which you have to write down with a midget’s pencil? Lamps called Frygge and beds called Bungflypp. Fucking hell! Smug notices everywhere telling you how the one miserable creature they have employed on the shop floor would rather eat his mother than help you, to make the products cheap, which not all of them are. Great crates everywhere, blocking your way, full of real shite which you grab just to avoid the dark hell pit of brown cardboard boxes near the cash desks which is the actual shop. Once I came out with a plastic tube with holes in it and an oversized stuffed toy snake, instead of a sofa.
The thing which is most appalling is the way you are forced around the whole bloody hangar before you can escape. When I realised that the miles and miles I had walked was just fucking window shopping and that, having failed to write down the stupid anagram words that were posted on everything, I would therefore be unable to identify the products I actually wanted, I lost it. Finding a gap between a wall with fucking stupid wiggly mirrors and a ludicrous chair I tried to escape the system and get the fuck out. I crawled through a collapsable tube, I scaled a bunk bed set five beds high. I ended up in a ghastly maze of filing,cabinets and defeated, went to the restaurant. Jesus Christ, It was just dreadful.
The Swedish are very good at making porn films though. I watched one with a dwarf giving it to three blonde girls. Gifted.
It wasn’t me, honest! http://uk.news.yahoo.com/050210/325/fc696.html
Noreen is right!
At least I think she is probably right. One of the many, many wonderful things about living in Ireland is the complete lack of Ikeas. We don't have even one. It sounds very popular though, I heard today that customers were trampled at an new Ikea as people tried to stampede in after it opened AT MIDNIGHT!! You could not possibly need a sofa so urgently that you would need to go out in the dead of night and step on other people in order to secure it. What is wrong with these morons? When I first heard about it i thought it was a joke. We also have people over here who will drive to Glasgow in order to visit Ikea. Why the fuck they would do that I have no idea, we have plenty of furniture shops in Ireland, although none from Sweden. Are all the shop assistants beautiful, topless Swedes or something? There cannot be many men of 32 have never set foot in an Ikea, but I am one of them. I am special, and not in a spastic way.
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
Hurry up, radio presenters, I’ve a life to lead
Sometimes, I switch on Radio Four for the woman’s hour. You’d think it would not be too challenging and that there would not be that much to get cross about. Forget it. It is the worst hour of my life.
There is always one woman who has overcome something awful, and one that has been up a big mountain or down a mine or something, and one who has written a poem or a book or a song. It’s like Extreme Women’s Institute. There’s an air of education about it too, as they wheel in some foreign bird who explains how her tribe can sing out of their arses, or how people communicate by swapping pets. And then that one who has written a poem or a book will chip in and say “yes, that’s rather like the Phoenecian custom of pet skittles, where a woman’s virtue was determined by throwing ferrets at a large rock” and then the other one who is more thick but has survived the hardship will chip in and say “that is what my mother used to say when she was having one of her turns”, and then the one that has just come down a mountain will not be able to leave it, the pushy bitch, will she, so she will finish it off with a remark about how difficult it is to have ferrets thrown at you when the air is really thin. Fuck off Radio Four, and your women’s programmes. That’s right, I’d rather listen to Ball Bag singing rugby songs.
Noreen is right!
My rugby songs are truely superb. I am afraid I have no strong opinions about Radio 4's Womens' Hour. Sorry.
Why don’t you finish the job you arsehole
Noreen is Right!
My god isn't she magnificent when she is really angry? I think what got her going was Robbie Williams, he is always on about being self destructive. Noreen is the only person in the world who hates that cunt more than I do. She is right though, I wish he would just get on with destroying himself and stop whining aboput the process. A shotgun operated with your toes would do the job very nicely, Mr Williams. Anything to spare us any more of his irritating, babyish songs. By the way, I know a famous Irish actor who knows Robbie Williams and says he is definitely gay. There was a time when people thought George Michael wasn't gay, can you believe that?
Monday, February 07, 2005
Lent, how to make a sacrifice without being a cunt
Noreen is Right!
Non-catholics might not know aboutTrocaire. It is a charity to which you are meant to give all the money you would have spent on enjoying yourself over lent. They send you little money boxes to put it all into until the end of lent, then you give them the lot. It is heartbreaking, you just want to blow it all on fags/booze/whatever you gave up, but that would be wrong. My money box this year has some starving africans on it, and it sits on my table putting me off my dinner. One of the little buggers has a fly right on his mouth, the dirty wee fucker. Why do they not shoo them away like normal people? It is typical of their bone idleness. Perhaps if they could be arsed to shoo flies off their faces, they might also be able to get off their skinny arses and grow some food.
Sunday, February 06, 2005
'Big Holy Father' - A Thought for a Sunday
What I am proposing is a Big Brother style contest where all the top Cardinals are thrown in to a small house and filmed non-stop. They should be made to do tasks, like seeing who can drink the most communion wine without vomiting up the Blood Of Christ on the carpet, or trying to stuff as many sacrement wafers as possible into their mouth inside a minute, remembering to mumble 'the body of Christ' before shoving each one in.
Then the public can vote out their least favourite until we are left with our new Pope, announced with a large firework disply, not that shitty white smoke that is just soooo 16th century. This is the only way to drag the catholic church into the 21st century.By the way, we are both catholics so we can say stuff like this, but if non-catholics say anything similar then we will be very offended, so you fucking heathens had just better watch it.
Ball Bag is right
People should not take the mickey out of the Holy Father if they are not left-footers, that is true. However, non-catholics will all be going to hell anyway won’t they, so if I was a heathen, I would probably think carpe diem and take the piss anyway. Don’t do it here though, or Ball Bag will beat you with his staff.
Friday, February 04, 2005
Christ on a stick! That Fucking Wave
But the continued coverage every bloody day bored the tits off me. Christ on a stick, could you give it a rest for a little while? How many more fishermen could they show looking sadly at the place where their shack used to be? They must have interviewed every poor sod in the wave's path.
Those bloody tourists coming home annoyed me too. They were trying their best to look traumatised, but they couldn't fucking wait to have a camera pointed at them so they could pour out their boring tale of near death for the thousandth time within a few days.
But what I really hate are those idiots who flew out after the wave to 'help'. All they wanted to do was look at dead bodies and have an interesting story to tell their friends when they got back. Those stupid cunts would have been so much better off giving the cost of their airfare and time off work to charity to buy fucking blankets or something. They have a shortage of blankets out there apparently, what Asia does not have a shortage of is fucking people. FUCK!!
Ball Bag is right
My friend Eugene had a girlfriend called Tsunami. I think her parents were hippies like River Phoenix’s and that one called Moon Unit's, the poor bastards. Tsunami is quite a butch name though, to be honest. Like, if I was going to call a kid Volcano or Earthquake it would definitely be a boy. A more appropriate natural disaster name for a girl would be something like Puncture, or Burst Pipe. That is more feminine.
Thursday, February 03, 2005
Buy a hat, or a pair of sunglasses, you loser
I would also have a fairly serious problem with a man who wore waistcoats out of choice, unless he had a very, very large penis.
Noreen is right!
And what about people who wear bowties, they usually think they are wacky, but the are just arsewipes. And don't get me started on fucking comedy ties, christ on a stick!
I Am Not a Fan of the Seahorse
Noreen is right!
She is demented and childish, but definitely right. Seahorses have wierd boggly eyes. I think anyone who likes seahorses must have serious personal issues.
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
Tennis is for Cunts
Wimbledon ruins my summer. Tennis on TV and radio day and fucking night for two whole weeks and the whole 'will Tiger Tim Henman win Wimbledon this year?' bollocks. Of course he wont, he is soft as shite. By the way what, if anything, is less like a tiger than Tiger Tim Henman? Those wankers on 'Henman Hill' really, really piss me off waving their flags and drinking fucking Pims and shouting 'come on, Tim' in their weedy voices. The hill should be re-christened 'Cunt Hill' in honour of the people occupying it.
The only decent thing about tennis is Serena Williams, she is magnificent and I should very much like to have sexual relations with her. Yes, she is probably stronger than me and yes, she would break me in two, but it is definately the way to go.
So there you have it, conclusive proof that tennis is indeed for cunts.
Ballbag is right!
I particularly dislike those fucking shopping basketson a stick which open up and pick up balls so the lazy twats don't have to bend over and pick up their balls themselves. I thought tennis players were playing sport? If they cannot bend over and pick up a ball which is not heavy at all and even has a hairy surface to grip, then these losers should be in a bath chair,drooling or in a special home, not on a fucking tennis court.
Why do they wear white? Because it will save them changing into a shroud after I kill them.Why do they say love? Because they are cunts that is why. One -nil. One all. One two. That is the way to count.I don't even fancy any of those men, they are all great fairies eating fucking bananas and sweating on a chair in front of a camera. Fuck off.
The Year of the Cock
Noreen is right!
Anyone who uses the word rooster should be maimed.
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
The best lizard
Don’t give me that “a snake can move as fast as a dog” because I don’t care if it can move as fast as a bullet. Does it have feet? No it does not.
Noreen Is Right!
Snakes are supposed to be frightening (so Australians would have you believe). Well I have a snakeskin wallet - who's laughing now, you scaley bastards?
Fucking Hell Skiing is So Fucking Gay
And 'apres ski' is fucking shit, just because it is cold outside doesn't make this crappy room pretending to be a pub any less awful. And people who use the phrase 'apres ski' should be fucking cut. 'Apres ski' - fuck off.
And all those cocks waiting in line at the airport with their own skis and stupid smug looks on their idiot faces make me want to shit. Next time I see someone with their own skis I am going to see how far I can push them up their arsehole.
Ball Bag is right!
Balancing on two thin pieces of wood is quite clever. But to spend a week doing it is the act of a twat.
The main reason not to ski? Fondues. Eating rancid cheese mixed up with gin is fine if you are auditioning for an MTV show-offs programme, but mystifying that anyone should pay money and travel to a badly heated wooden hut and pay a kidney to do it. Fuck no. And why do you have those gay forks to eat it with? And which chinless dickhead decided you should have “forfeits” if you drop the overpriced crouton into the methylated milky slurry. Fuckety fuck off.
Skiing is cold, it’s gay and overrun with real twats braying at each other. Go to the seaside, it’s much nicer.
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