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It must be a nightmare having you to dinner. The hostess's of Douglas must say to themselves, "Bugger it Old Varley, old finicky Varley, is coming to supper, what in gods name can we give him"?
Phone calls and texts to Fortnum & Mason results in foie gras and partridge DHL'ing its way over the Irish Sea. M'Lady consoles herself that at least he will be content with supermarket Port.
At least your criticism of Alfa Laval is justified, they generally couldn't handle Saudi's finest without breaking another Fourth.
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