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Gavin Ewart's poem still amuses me.
These excerpts are particularly telling:
The Cultural Ambassador
and, even more, his wife
can cut through inessentials at a party
like a knife...
The Cultural Ambassador's children,
from the age of about three,
have had nothing but celebrities
for breakfast, lunch and tea.
It's a demanding life
and never quiet
up there on the heights,
living on a rarefied diet...
On a related note, news of Australia's Sir Les Patterson.
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