We're running on fumes here folks and going for the low-hanging fruits before we pitch for the big one! C'mon.
Break out the tie-dyed T-shirts and the sandals. Light a couple of joss sticks, sit back and meditate on those heady days of 1967.
Sometimes you hear the M-word (Murdoch) and you get a mental picture of a James Bond villain.
There was time when we could get a bit of peace and quiet and read the newspaper. It was as British a pastime as making jam.
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