If you think that this requires further explanation, you are wrong.
In April 1868 I danced with the third bridesmaid of who would be Adolf Hitler’s grandmother. Lilly and I then dated for a week, and she grew fond of my moustache, and I doted on her fine rosy cheeks and light airy step. Fell through a crevasse in the snowy Alps, that one. Her last words before she slipped suddenly and totally into the oblivion were “I would fancy some granola for lunch.” Funny… I’m eating granola right now.
Perfect. Just perfect.
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