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Blinking flip, I remember this one. It was, what 1984? - I mean, really, not metaphorically - and I was a journalist in Northampton (the Chronicle and Echo). I interviewed you in your terraced house and you played me the song where you sawed your leg off (only played twice presumably) and I chuckled and wondered when this clever man was going to run out of money and have to get a proper job (sorry, but I'd settled for routine and was a bit envious). Anyway, hello. And hoo-ra!
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