“You’re British, right?”
“Nope.”
“You’re British!”
“No I’m not.”
“What? Yes you are!”
“Do you hear me talking? I don’t sound British and I’m not British.”
“I thought you were British.”
“Look, listen, here’s me pretending to be Bri’ish: ‘ello, I’m ‘ere from Lon-don... There’s no way I can be British with an accent that bad.”
“But you told me earlier that you’re British.”
“We just met.”
“No we didn’t. You walked here with me.”
“Nope. We just met. What do you think my name is?”
“Brian!”
“No, Michael.”
“Quit fucking around!” she said, and threw her drink at me.
I dunno it looks like he won
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