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Somewhere in the Adriatic, the population of a Turkish prison-ship is made up of upper-crust smack addicted English gentlemen.
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| I say, Portillo my arse! I do believe we are sinking Stanley. | |
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| Do we have time to save the hookah? | |
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| No but never mind, she wasn't much of a lookah. Ha ha ha what! | |
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| Oh how I shall miss our prison banter Lord Tarquin. | |
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| You know, I'm starting to think it was a damn fool idea to dig that tunnel. | |
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| Be a chap and chew through my ankles, this ball and chain will play merry hell with my backstroke. | |
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