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I get accused of hoarding things by Margret. Now, this is entirely unfair - electrical items never die, you see, I am merely unable to revive them with today's technology. In the future new techniques will emerge and, combined with the inevitably approaching shortage of AC adapters and personal cassette players, my foresight will pay off and the grateful peoples of the Earth will make me their God. Anyway, never mind that now, because the real point is that it's Margret who fills our house with crap. And I'm not talking about doing so by the omission of crap-throwing-away here, but by insane design. While sorting out the stuff in the boxes, these are some of the things I've discovered that Margret actually packed away at our last house and brought to our new one:
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Look, if you don't understand the rules of Robot Wars by now then I'm just not going to continue the conversation, OK?
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'I'm nearly there.' Yeah. Right.
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These are hilarious. Seriously. I wonder what these women must really be like. I could never imagine being like that myself.
However, if I was her, and I found out about this website, he would be castrated by now.