of it in the programme about King Ericus of Schweden and the slusky slut too. He’s for thee what she’s for me. Sometime then, somewhere there, I wrote me hopes and the outher liubbocks of life. He wrote a book in his Borrisalooner. The man in the mealtime with all gestures, in each our word. Today’s truth, tomorrow’s trend. Forget, remember! Have we whered? (Others dont)