A couple of glasses of Mahou (at £1.20 a pint) on the sunlit terrace of my local dispelled my early morning dyspepsia, while the aerial ballet of the swifts - wheeling, plunging, screaming, cavorting - against a deep blue sky lightened my soul.
But still, UKIP? The sassenachs know no better. But how can one in ten of my compatriots put his trust in these charlatans?
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