I'm not sure what's wrong with me at the moment; first I cry at O'Brien talking about how to crush humanity, to Winston Smith whilst he's tied to a slab and refusing to give in, in the John Hurt film version of Nineteen Eighty-Four, then I well up at the priest in Titanic on the sloping deck, and now I keep sniffling over the Beatles' Here Comes
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and all it's casual racism
it's a shame Ringo's a tit now.
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