Whatever Happened To...?

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Re: Whatever Happened To...?

Post  NotBert on Sat Dec 27, 2014 1:58 am

The Barron Knights

History is divided over the Barron Knights. In the early sixties, Bill Wyman said they were the first band he ever saw with an electric bass and inspired him to taking up the instrument, while they were one of few outfits who played as support for both Beatles and Stones. They toured South Africa with Petula Clark in 1974 to the point that they did they're own parody of Artists Against Apartheid singing "Sun City" where they sang "I, I, I, I, I, am going to play Sun City". It didn't do well, what with the death threats and tail-off of student bookings. They were one of the few growth industries of the late seventies otherwise, though, being the first real breakthrough parody musicians who opened the door for the Black Abbots and the Grumbleweeds.

The alternative view of course is they were a group of journeyman musicians who suddenly realised that rather than be original, if they took the piss out of existing stuff, there was a living in it. Graham Norton, these predated you by a couple of decades. And they were responsible for the advance of the Black Abbots and the Grumbleweeds, the fucking cunts. We could have all done without Russ Abbot...

Well, amazingly, they're still going. Mostly. Lead singer Duke D'Mond (real name Dickie Palmer, which is far funnier, dick, palm, sounds like wanky wanker) decided the game was too much for him and died in 2009 in the face of the rest of the band's protests that he should live on but the others now have a website and everything. It is assumed they have someone else singing but I'll be fucked if I'm going to look.

So there you have it - innovation to imitation to parody. You might think they were fucking MPs
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Re: Whatever Happened To...?

Post  Nobby Cheese on Sun Dec 28, 2014 10:04 am

Long ago, outside a chip shop in Walthamstow.
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Re: Whatever Happened To...?

Post  NotBert on Sun Dec 28, 2014 12:56 pm

You'll be humming that for days now, Tone...
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Re: Whatever Happened To...?

Post  NotBert on Wed May 06, 2015 6:50 pm

Louise Woodward

Aged 19, Louise Woodward was a nanny in the USA for the Eappen family, husband and wife doctors (it's always doctors as Tone will confirm) who was accused of murdering their eight-month-old son by virtue of using proper English instead of American English.  The Eappens at one point were considering suing her for the life that the courts stated that she took as Matthew was apparently also going to be a doctor and worth fucking millions.

That case didn't fly.

Anyway, she passed a polygraph which is inadmissible in American (and indeed UK) court as it is when all said and done a huge pile of shit akin to homeopathy.  Unlike homeopathy, though, it has grounding in scientific measurement whereas homeopathy claims water cures everything and remembers when it was something else.

She was found guilty of murder, which was reduced on appeal to involuntary manslaughter and time served so she could fuck off out of the country that had given her a dose of moneyed justice or injustice, call it what you will.  The judgement provoked outrage - those who thought her innocent saw it as a cop out.  Those who thought her guilty thought it as a cop out.  Interestingly, the jury were suitably doubtful as to be willing to acquit of murder but were talked around, even though none of them thought she meant to do it.  The whole fucking thing was askew from start to finish, you couldn't empathize with her because she looked a bit fucking scary, tbh, the Eappens were suitably erratic, you could see people were rooting for the draw and the judge in the end got as close to that as he could manage. There was an appeal against the appeal but the judges came out saying no because they'd still be there now, otherwise, that's how America works. Or doesn't.

Anyway, she came back to the UK, did a Martin Bashir interview which automatically sets your back up against her since that trend was started by the drain that was Prince Charles's ex-wife, and then disappeared into obscurity.  Having been fucked by the law, she studied law and later ditched it after graduation to teach zumba to Shropshire pensioners (I am not making this last shit up, although I may be having a bit of a laugh with it).  She has banned the Hippy Hippy Shake from the dance roster.

Did she do it, did she not, was it the Eappens' other child, how hadn't the doctor parents spotted longer-standing injuries on their son?  Was Barry George anywhere near?  We'll never know.  But conversely, if you're ever in Shrewsbury and you want a boogie, you can always give her a call about that.
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Re: Whatever Happened To...?

Post  Nobby Cheese on Thu May 07, 2015 12:02 am

Shocked
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Re: Whatever Happened To...?

Post  NotBert on Fri Jun 26, 2015 4:50 pm

Raheem Stirling

This is his image in the panoramic squad shot in the Liverpool Store, Williamson Square, Liverpool

I don't think he'll be there much longer...



I rotated that through 90 degrees and it went 180. Fucking computers...
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Re: Whatever Happened To...?

Post  NotBert on Sun Jul 26, 2015 10:27 pm

Tracey Ullman

Now up there as potentially Britain's most wealthy comedian and actor (up there with Rowan Atkinson and Sacha Baron Cohen), she's a dual national US and UK, all of which denies the fact that she once appeared in Three of a Kind with Comic Relief's Lenny Henry, cruise entertainer David Copperfield (the Yorkshire one), she had Neil Kinnock appear in a video with her and most importantly to a teenage me, fair gave me the horn.
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Re: Whatever Happened To...?

Post  NotBert on Fri Aug 07, 2015 10:36 pm

Flora Keays

Flora was the daughter of Sara Keays, the secretary of Cecil Parkinson; and Cecil Parkinson, the adulterous minister who served under Margaret Thatcher and clearly on top of Sara.

The Conservative Party were so appalled by the scandal of their minister shagging his secretary for eleven years and then being stupid enough to impregnate her that they singularly vilified her, libelled her to the point that she won three cases against newspapers and magazines and one against screaming skull Norman Tebbit.  Flora throughout this period went ignored by her father and was a very sick child, requiring brain surgery to remove a tumour before the age of four.

Nice to see the Conservative party aren't a shower of callous cunts any more, eh?  I mean, they wouldn't try and cover up a sex scandal (Sara was cajoled towards an abortion because it was election time and Edwina Currie called her a cow for destroying Parkinson's ministerial career).  Amazingly, her brother-in-law stepped aside from the '83 Richmond constituency nomination as a result, allowing recently demised kiddie fiddler Leon Brittan a place in parliament.

Flora is now 31.  Parkinson refuses to acknowledge her and she has forged a life for herself despite being an unperson for the first 18 years of her life as that cunt Parkinson went to the courts for an injunction to silence talk of her.  Even more appalling, the courts granted it.  At least they didn't institutionalize her because the cunt went after that too.

Parkinson was back in a ministerial post after 4 years and was made a peer after 9.  All the above was suppressed by the order until 2002, when Flora turned 18 and was free to talk about her own life.  The fucking cunt lives on, aged 83.  Flora would have loved to have met him, had a birthday card from him, anything, but no, nothing.
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Re: Whatever Happened To...?

Post  NotBert on Wed Sep 23, 2015 8:56 pm

Mike Harding

The Rochdale Cowboy, a folk singer/comedian who once coined the description "Britain's biggest open prison" for the nation that is Australia, had a popular spell in the 70s when variety was having its last hurrah and keeping Ted Rogers busy.

He's dipped out of the televisual public eye, not because he was a nonce with a beard (it was always a moustache but he has affected a soul patch, it seems) but because he was busy off-screen doing other stuff - Yewtree has no draw for him.  He is big in rambling, does many a festival and writes a bit still, but what few people know is that... I don't know whether I should say this... damn it, publish or be damned... he's a deep undercover agent for MI6 and also the Salvation Guerrilla Army.  Occasionally he mixes these up and reports on Sunday's fundraiser to Q, which is not so bad, but Major Barbara Smyth is not best pleased when she finds herself being waterboarded, although she doesn't mind being tied up too much.

He's 71 now, and needs the bondage stimulus to get it hard.
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Re: Whatever Happened To...?

Post  Nobby Cheese on Thu Sep 24, 2015 12:26 pm

"Fatima Whitbread would show us how to self-examine for testicular cancer"

lol!
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Re: Whatever Happened To...?

Post  NotBert on Tue Nov 24, 2015 12:57 am

Max Boyce

Max Boyce is one of the true conundrums of British behaviour. A Welshman by profession, he remains to this day the author of the only comedy album ever to top the UK album charts, which he did for one week in 1975, knocking off 40 songs by Jim Reeves, who had been dead for nine years, and being knocked off by 40 songs from Perry Como, who was still alive but they buried him anyway.

Boyce has sold more than two million albums, which suggests that either he has released two thousand albums and has a big family or that he is in fact the owner of Treorchy HMV. Treorchy is of course also the home of Clive "The Book" Thomas, who is hugely pissed off that despite the size of Treorchy and his record of cunting off Bryan Hamilton in FA Cup semi-finals, he is not the most famous person associated with the town despite being born there rather than a visiting act at a fucking social.

His imaginatively titled Live at Treorchy was his first gold record and was recorded at the rugby club. However, because it is a Welsh rugby club, the album has no recording of any drinking games, fart-lighting or gobshite singing "Aye ziggy zumba ziggy ziggy zumba" while shouting out about "totties, yah" which probably explains its popularity. He followed it up with his number one album We All Had Doctor's Papers which is a lyrical line from the song 9-3 about the 9-3 win by the Llanelli RFC (the Scarlets) against the All Blacks in 1972

But we all had doctors' papers, and they all said just the same, that we all had Scarlet Fever, and we caught it at the game

Which is actually quite clever. Trust Wales and its fucking close harmony male singing...

The number one album was recorded at Pontarddulais Rugby Club, which led to an unusual rivalry between them and Treorchy where fans would sing "we sold more albums than you, Treorchy, Treorchy" while the opposition sang "He started out in Treorchy, out in Treorchy, he started out in Treorchy". Good natured and harmonic though this rivalry was, fans took to bringing album sleeves to the games to wave and unfortunately, a small child would get a poke in the eye off the corner of an album and the practice was discontinued. Max Boyce knows, because he was there. And he stole his fucking catchphrase right there too.

A writer for the Listener stated in 1979 that Boyce was famous for his Welshness. That's as maybe but given the strength of Welsh rugby in the 70s, his career had plenty of legs (30 at any given time) and he diversified, turning up at training camp for the Dallas Cowboys, rodeos, elephant polo with Ringo Starr and Barbara Bach and most bizarrely of all, Jack and the Beanstalk in Norwich alongside Ian Botham. You'd lay odds they used a fucking giant leek.

I could not make this shit up.

He seems to get rolled out each Rugby World Cup to a large audience, what with rugby being a crowd that lives on handed down tradition (any Chelsea fans look completely blank at this point) and is still performing, aged 72 and recently having had a quadruple bypass. When they had a poll of the 100 greatest Welsh people of all time, he failed to make the top 100, although Catherine Zeta "I married Michael Douglas" Jones made 13th, Ron "Wank on Hampstead Heath" Davies made 49th and Neil "Cup Final Ticket" Kinnock made 58th. Clive Thomas also failed to make the list which suggests that Treorchy was not allowed to vote.
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Re: Whatever Happened To...?

Post  Nobby Cheese on Tue Nov 24, 2015 1:22 am

"and being knocked off by 40 songs from Perry Como, who was still alive but they buried him anyway"

lol! lol! lol! lol! lol! lol! lol! lol!
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Re: Whatever Happened To...?

Post  NotBert on Sun Nov 29, 2015 1:38 am

Not an easy one to place this but I'll put it here.

Gerry Byrne

An archetypal one club man, he was at Liverpool in 1959 when Bill Shankly arrived and survived the player cull he instigated. He became a regular and even a fixture in the squad who were famous for their physical invincibility - the 65/66 side win the league having used only 14 players (and Bobby Graham only played one game, the last game of the season, and the league was already won). He was a World Cup winner in '66 but will forever go down in Anfield folklore for playing in the '65 Cup Final. That side are the immortals who would bring the pot back to Anfield for the first time ever and he would be the legend among the immortals, as in the first ten minutes, Bobby Collins broke his collarbone and he played on for the rest of the game (no subs) and extra time to boot.

Every red kid in the city for twenty years after was told to get up if injured because "Gerry Byrne won an FA Cup with a broken collarbone".

The story goes that on the park, Bob Paisley (then trainer and a bloody good one) came on and knew what he'd done. He told Byrne he should come off, the injury could pierce a lung, anything.
"What would you do, Bob?"
Paisley had, in 1950, scored the winner in the cup semi-final, a lob into the box that evaded everyone and ended up in the back of the net. He was left out for the final, his place going to Laurie Hughes. Reg Lewis would score both goals in the defeat, apparently through the left half slot that Paisley vacated. He never got another chance.
"I'd play on, Gerry"
Ninety minutes later, his cross allowed Roger Hunt to nod in the first.

Unassuming off the pitch, hard as nails on it. Tommy Smith (yes, that one) nutmegged him in training when aged fifteen. The next time they were up for the same ball, Smith ended up on his back, his eye gashed, having just been nutted by Byrne. As he lay on the floor awash in his won blood, "Lesson one: Never nutmeg Gerry Byrne and think you'll get away with it" were the words of advice offered by a certain William Shankly...
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Re: Whatever Happened To...?

Post  Nobby Cheese on Sun Nov 29, 2015 2:53 am

He died yesterday Bert
Shocked
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Re: Whatever Happened To...?

Post  NotBert on Sun Nov 29, 2015 11:30 pm

Sorry, Tone, that was the detail I left out, hence the first line Embarassed We don't have an obituary thread and I didn't want to put it on the "in threes" thread either because for me, he deserved a eulogy - I was one of those kids I described who grew up seeing the team of Lawrence, Lawler, Byrne, Strong, Yeats, Stevenson, Callaghan, Hunt, St John, Smith, Thompson (and poor Gordon Milne, injured, missed out) elevated to gods for bringing the FA Cup to Anfield after 72 years and Byrne collarbone was the legend within the legend.

Geoff Strong scored a headed winner against Celtic in '66 taking off from the "wrong leg" (as my old man always referred to it) as he was badly injured in the other, Albert Stubbins scoring a diving header against Birmingham in the snow in the late forties, Pancho having let the ball cross the byline before pulling it back for Hunt to score and it to stand in "the worst game he ever had for Liverpool" against Dortmund in '66, all of these were stories handed down, but Byrne's overtrumped them all. And of them, he had a very soft spot for Willie Stevo, too.

Three days later, they played Inter in the European Cup semi-final. Milne and Byrne paraded the trophy around the ground, and the roars in response had the Italians shit themselves. They won 3-1 and tore them apart; at one point Helenio Herrera in the dugout could not watch any more and apparently turned to face the wall. They was murder in the second leg where they lost 3-0, the story of which will now never be known, although an indirect free kick being taken directly has a tremendous whiff about it and there were other issues outside - church bells being rung until stupid o'clock by the Liverpool hotel at which point Shankly went the church himself and got them muffled for one.

http://www.independent.co.uk/sport/football/european/did-italian-job-rob-shankly-night-of-dark-deeds-at-the-san-siro-794018.html

Football is completely soulless now by comparison.
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Re: Whatever Happened To...?

Post  NotBert on Mon Nov 30, 2015 3:34 am

I must add separately that I mentioned that in 1975 that Jim Reeves had been dead nine years. He hadn't, he'd been dead 11 years. Distant Drums had been a posthumous number one nine years previously but whereas the "number one after death" phenomenon would be more timely in later years (John Lennon in particular wasn't allowed to go cold in the month after his death 35 years ago, what with the Christmas market and such), it took two years for Jim to settle down after death to take on the might of the Beatles.
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Re: Whatever Happened To...?

Post  Nobby Cheese on Mon Nov 30, 2015 1:37 pm

NotBert wrote:

Football is completely soulless now by comparison.

I'll drink to that.
With a pint of Wychwood Firecatcher of course.
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Re: Whatever Happened To...?

Post  NotBert on Mon Jan 11, 2016 12:42 am

Jeanette Charles

She made a career out of impersonating the Queen, retired in 2014 and aged 88, is living in Chelmsford.

Like fuck she is. The Queen, obviously fucked off by the contraints of monarchy and the desire to earn a few quid in showbiz without having to sit at a desk and talk about how her last year has gone like some pisspoor Alan Bennett-like show, spent whatever time she could playing herself under a false name.

Jeanette Charles isn't dead, she's alive and well in Buckingham Palace, but rising 90 and can't do both jobs of pretending to be the Queen and sitting around all day and being the Queen, waving and feeding swan to the dorgis.
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Re: Whatever Happened To...?

Post  Nobby Cheese on Mon Jan 11, 2016 1:34 pm

lol!
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Re: Whatever Happened To...?

Post  NotBert on Wed Jan 13, 2016 11:56 pm

Derek Hobson

Derek Hobson sprung to fame in the 70s as the host of New Faces, a talent show that gave the Simon Cowell persona a debut in the guise of Tony "Cunt" Hatch and Mickey "Fuckface" Most. Amazingly, although he looked like he had spent his forties teaching geography at an inner city comprehensive, he was in fact only 24 when New Faces started and as such is only 66 now.

Stultifying, I know.

New Faces was the beginning and the end for Hobson. ATV unintentionally wiped an awful lot of episodes - all but 30 of 167 survive, and Hobson is fucking bitter about it. Six series, his entire life's work between the age of 24 and 29, when his erections still pointed to midday, not 3pm, and his showreel and future pension plan ("I'd have made thousands from UK Gold") were wiped by some snotty kid who preferred Metal Mickey? Fuck off, you cunts. All these X Factor bollocks shows, the kitsch reruns would be up there with the rewarming of Jim Bowen and thawing of Leslie Crowther and what do I get instead? Fucking wiped, that's what.

Now aged 66, he's writing and not just to any cunt who'll listen. His first memoir "Cowell - I Shit Him" hasn't drew the acclaim he was expecting. Tony Hatch gave it a four and he tried to garrote him.

He also spends a lot of time in front of the telly introducing the adverts and getting his many cats to come into the room and judge them with predetermined numbers he has hung around their necks. "I'm not bitter" he says "Tiddles gives Barry Scott's Cillit Bang a "generous to my eyes" five"
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Re: Whatever Happened To...?

Post  Nobby Cheese on Thu Jan 14, 2016 12:24 pm

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Re: Whatever Happened To...?

Post  NotBert on Mon Apr 18, 2016 11:22 am

Sammy Chung

An enigma.  There are rumours that the man who was Bill McGarry's right hand man at three clubs (and ultimately took over from him at the last, Wolves, when McGarry went more exotically to Saudi Arabia, Zambia and Newcastle Upon Tyne, although he had language problems at the last) had actually had a lengthy non-league and league career, his real first name was Cyril and was from Abingdon.

Yeah, right.  He took the Wolves job two or three years after he had been invented by Karl Douglas in Kung Fu Fighting.  When applying for McGarry's vacated post, it was a straight fight between him and Funky Billy Chin, who was on the Peterborough United ground staff, and little Sammy Chung prevailed.  The clues were there when he turned up for the first day in the hot seat and said "here comes the big boss, let's get it on".

Wolves fans spent two years trying to rename the club by singing the chant "Sammy Chung's Chinese Takeaway" as he took them back up after McGarry had taken them down, and he kept them up.  He lost eleven from fourteen in his third season and was sacked.  The fans were furious, he was popular and he was succeeded by the perceived inferior Funky Billy Chin, who by this time had changed his name to John Barnwell.  They stayed up in the end but by that time, Chung was long gone, word is to the UAE, but again, a disappearance as mystical as his arrival.  In honour of Karl Douglas, the number 45 has been retired at Molineux, as it is both the number of revolutions per minute on a vinyl single and also Beef with Ginger and Oyster Sauce on the hastily-renamed Sammy Chung Memorial Takeaway near the ground - we deliver free in a three mile radius with orders of £7 or more.

Word is he has had coaching jobs in Barbados and Minehead, which suggests he keeps sending his CV to Benidorm United and Torremolinos Argyle.  Although not dead, his spirit, or qi, can occasionally be seen on cold nights in the centre circle at Molineux, performing Kung Fu basic moves and then winding up with some Tai Chi moves.  Tai Chi is also Chinese (the art of directing traffic, no less) but he was a staunch advocate of having a second method of martial arts, if just for away games in the North East.  McGarry could have learnt from his student, Grasshopper.
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Re: Whatever Happened To...?

Post  Nobby Cheese on Mon Apr 18, 2016 1:05 pm

lol! lol! lol! lol! lol! lol! lol! lol!
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Re: Whatever Happened To...?

Post  NotBert on Fri Dec 30, 2016 10:59 pm

Dr Ruth Westheimer

Dr Ruth became famous at an advanced age, as a sex therapist in the 80s and her 50s.  A bit like Magnus Pyke in the UK, except Pyke was a scientist who liked to wave his hands around whereas Dr Ruth liked to have men wave their cocks around.  She had an accent that was already a self-parody, the one that they do for Sigmund Freud except that Freud was a repressed loon whereas Westheimer is far from repressed and seems to enjoy the idea of sex as it is invariably not with her mother.

I don't like Freud, the mad cunt.

Robin Williams once said of Dr Ruth that he couldn't trust a woman to advise on oral sex when she won't even eat pork, but I know an excellent baker who's anorexic and word has it the Pope does a fantastic Ian Paisley impression so for me, the jury is more than out.

Her parents were victims of the Holocaust while she was transported as a minor to Switzerland, she saw service as a sniper in the Haganah in the 40s and studied at the Sorbonne, which sounds like it should be made up but it's bang on true.  For some unaccountable reason, her next step was to emigrate to the USA in '56.  She married her third husband in '61 and stayed wed until he died in '97.  He was easily recognisable, since the husband of a Jewish woman who was a sex expert would have a permanently full belly and constantly empty ballsack and as a result the everpresent grin on his face could light an entire Manhattan block.  When he died, they couldn't close the coffin unless they turned him on his side.

She is a media phenomenon, a sex expert whose expertise comes from her studies of a lifetime (rather than from marrying some fucking Aussie or cage fighter while fucking a bloke who stutters when she was pregnant with a Tobagonian footballer's kid) whose voice was distinctively described as a cross between Henry Kissinger and Minnie Mouse, only presumably without the war crimes and polka dots.  However, given her history and expertise, even though she is now 88, it is fair to assume she bangs like the toilet door on an ocean-going prawn trawler and can outsuck a Dyson.  Marvellous that if you tried to crack one off over her, she'd tell you how you could do it better.  And she now looks like Gordon Strachan.
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Re: Whatever Happened To...?

Post  Nobby Cheese on Sat Dec 31, 2016 12:03 am

Since the husband of a Jewish woman who was a sex expert would have a permanently full belly and constantly empty ballsack  


However, given her history and expertise, even though she is now 88, it is fair to assume she bangs like the toilet door on an ocean-going prawn trawler and can outsuck a Dyson.  

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