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An 18th-century vagabond in England, exhausted and
famished, came to a roadside Inn with a sign reading:
"George and the Dragon."
     He knocked.
     The Innkeeper's wife stuck her head out a window.
     "Could ye spare some victuals?"
     The woman glanced at his shabby, dirty clothes. "No!" she shouted.
     "Could I have a pint of ale?"
     "No!" she shouted.
     "Could I at least use your privvy?"
     "No!" she shouted again.
     The vagabond said, "Might I please...?"
     "What now?" the woman screeched, not allowing him to finish.
     "D'ye suppose," he asked, "that I might have a word with George?"

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