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| Excuse me, Mr Crowe? I was wondering if you could spare me an autograph. It's, uh, for my aborted son. | |
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| So I says "What do you mean Virgil's lyrical prowess surpassed mine in some respects? Haven't you ever heard of 30 Odd Foot of Grunts?" | |
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| Look, lady, could you fuck away off. I'm entertaining my wife with musings of weight. | |
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| Er, no! I'm willing to make the sacrifice! Why don't you talk to her instead? Preferably for several hours? | |
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| No offence, but your wife obviously correctly regards you as a waste of life. So how about that autograph? | |
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| That's it! I'ma autograph your dead skull! | |
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