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Personally, I’m not for it.
Twice a year my butler gets up at the wrong time.
All I get in return, while I’m worrying the lead, is: “go back to feckin’ bed for an hour, you mutt”.
I mean, the bloody gall of the yooman.
And, when winter comes, the eejit expects me up an hour early, in this ruddy weather.
Pissing interfering ruddy scientists, they should all be rounded up and…
“Baillie! Get off the bloody laptop! Oh, no, not again. These are people I have to talk to, you know”.
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