You’re so unfunny I want to claw my own flesh off.

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There’s a certain kind of fake laugh I reserve for customers who try to crack bland jokes with me, such as: “If we sit in the dress circle, does that mean we need to wear a dress?!”, “Are you sure these are real tickets? Otherwise I’ll be back to find you tomorrow!” and “Go on, knock forty quid off and I’ll pay you in cash”, that could make thriving plants wilt and shrivel to death.

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