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“There I was— surrounded by a pack of animals rearing and strutting like peacocks on speed. Someone asked me if I was in “FT”, I told them that was a shit stuffed shirt rag, I wrote for playboy. They looked at me with eyes like a teenage boy seeing his first breasts—but uglier. ‘they’re minting now?’ Desperate to get away from whatever possessed this man I grunted ‘and basil too’ and hightailed it out of there.”
“Little did I know the next 7 hours would see me consummate a lagomorph, have my net worth fluctuate by more than I’ve ever made in my life, and shoot down a drone. This is Hunter, with more to follow.”