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  • I used to work in a real ale pub about 20 years ago. Camra twats would come in and try and get me to tip them off about beers about to come on so they could come in to tick them off in their little books. They'd stand there at the bar, drink a half, then head off. No chatting to anyone, strictly business.

  • Trainspotters that ran out of trains to spot. Their houses have every shade of brown woodwork imaginable, smell of old carpets and cat pee and they have unfinished Sharnwood spice jars from 1972 in the kitchen cupboards.

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