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Hang on, my desk’s full of suet
Have you ever had one of those mornings when you keep bumping into things, and can’t remember your multiplication tables, and absent-mindedly address your line manager as ‘Matron’, and spill ten gallons of engine oil over a lady from head office, and find a live weasel in your scotch egg at lunchtime, and to cap it all a thirty-foot-tall computer-generated monster walks in and tears your head off?
Oh. Maybe it’s just me then.
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