IL-2

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And worth the wait! When I still had dial-up I just used to leave it grinding away and do something else.
 
Yeah, walk into a pub in a Cornish village, and the juke box stops, the pool balls hang over the holes, all conversation dies, with the exception of a huge bloke with a big black beard, and webbed fingers called Seymore. He puts down his pint, points the rusty home-made shotgun at you and informs you that - "we don't be liking owtciders in these 'ere parts."

Convention then demands that you stride up to the bar, click your fingers, and demand to see the wine list.
 
Wasn't there that guy who married someone who wasn't also a family member? Didn't the other villagers chase them out with burning torches one night?

I'm sure I read about it in the 'Bodmin Herald'
 
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