“Mr. Gilicuddy-Languish Throckmorton-Thives the Third!”

“Mr. Gilicuddy-Languish Throckmorton-Thives the Third! “Mr. Gilicuddy-Languish Throckmorton-Thives the Third!”

“What is it, woman?”

“It’s your son, “Mr. Gilicuddy-Languish Throckmorton-Thives the Third!”

“What, Robert Gilicuddy-Languish Throckmorton-Thives the Fourth?”

“No. Your other son!”

“What. Anthony Gilicuddy-Languish Throckmorton-Thives the Unnumbered?”

“Yes – the very same.”

“What has happened to my other son, Anthony Gilicuddy-Languish Throckmorton-Thives the Unnumbered?”

“He’s sprained his wrist signing a cheque.”

“Ah, the old Gilicuddy-Languish Throckmorton-Thives curse has struck again.”

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