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No he's not. He's a complete nob after half a pint of shandy - leering, pinching girls' bottoms, missing the dart board, and tonelessly singing boorish rugby songs. As if that wasn't bad enough, if you're foolish enough to allow him a Tia Maria chaser he'll cough, splutter, then be copiously sick on the carpet before eating the contents of the nearest ashtray while moaning the name of his first and only girlfriend.
I'm just too conscientious about my work.
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