Last night, occurred an incident most curious on my way to the Old Horse public house. I left the house at around a quarter to nine, as is my wont. The weather was inclement and I was wearing a tweed coat, a brown Fedora and a pair of leather gloves. I tell you this not out of a desire to advertise my sartorial elegance, but because without these
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What a wicked story! You've made my day. It's like something written by Franz Kafka, but less bizarre.
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