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: Six pints of bitter, and quickly please, the world's about to end. Barman
: Oh yes, sir? Nice weather for it.
[Ford finally convinces bartender the world is about to end
: Oh well. Last orders, please.
: Did you say the world is coming to an end? Shouldn't we all lie on the floor or put paper bags over our heads? Ford
: If you like. Barman
: Will it help? Ford
: Not at all.
[Ford runs out of the pub
: Last orders, please!