283 lines
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Plaintext
Executable File
283 lines
10 KiB
Plaintext
Executable File
culture
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hay-festival
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8539146
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# Hay Festival 2011: short story by David Sedaris - 'I'm actually more of a
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barfly'
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## A new short story by David Sedaris who will be talking at the Hay Festival
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on Monday.
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![Fly
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][1]
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Fatal attraction: a fly always has to keep an eye out for danger
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By David Sedaris 5:57PM BST 28 May 2011
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[Comments][2]
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The fly was at the bus station when he saw a man in a sailor suit clutch his
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stomach. Then he leant forward in his plastic seat and vomited onto the
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scuffed linoleum floor. "Son of a bitch," the man muttered, and he wiped his
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mouth with the back of his hand. "I just paid $6 for that!"
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There was a bathroom next to the snack bar, and as the man rose unsteadily to
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his feet and stumbled in its direction, the people flanking him abandoned
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their seats, leaving a wide berth for what looked to be an excellent meal. The
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fly liked a hot lunch and was just tucking in when a second fly, this one a
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female, flew down from the ceiling and landed on a narrow peninsula beside
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him. "What have we got here?" she asked.
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"Chinese," the male said.
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The female picked half-heartedly at a snow pea. "Ten will get you 20 it's from
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the Shanghai Garden," she told him. "I had their pork lo mein once and was in
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the rest room for two days."
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"Well, I don't mind it," the male said, and he moved from a beef chunk to a
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sliver of ginger. "If you don't like ethnic, there are some potato chips in
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here too. And a grilled cheese sandwich."
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## Related Articles
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* [David Sedaris: humorist with a heart][3]
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09 Mar 2010
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"What kind of cheese?" the female asked. "If it's American, you can have it."
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"Suit yourself," the male said.
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"By law, they shouldn't even be calling it cheese, that's how tasteless and
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full of chemicals it is." The female glanced into a slick of digestive juices
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and saw her face multiplied a hundredfold, scowling back at her. "Anyway, when
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it comes to regurgitated food, you really need to consider the source -- the
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class of person or dog or whatever. Take the lieutenant governor and his
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family, for example, whom I happen to know quite intimately."
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"Do you?" the male said. He had no idea what a lieutenant governor was, but
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out of politeness he made himself sound interested, the way he did when
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someone spoke about computers or yoga.
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"Oh yes," said the female. "Why, I was practically raised at Old Stoney, which
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is what they call their summer home on the lake. The lieutenant governor's
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wife - Khaki, to her friends -- is two months pregnant, though that's strictly
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on the QT, at least until the formal announcement is made.
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"She suffers from the most terrible morning sickness, and her vomit is
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outstanding, better than normal spoiled food, in my opinion!"
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"You don't say," said the fly.
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"Her faeces were good as well, at least what I could get of them," the female
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continued. "Like most people of good breeding, Khaki uses a toilet, but then
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some horrible journalist wrote that she'd had a cocaine problem in college, so
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she defecated into a shoebox. The plan was to mail it to him at the newspaper,
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and while she pieced together a note I swooped in for a quick taste."
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"And?"
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"Excellent," the female said. "The best faeces I've ever had. Almost like
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dessert."
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The fly pointed in the direction of the departure board. "If it's sweet you're
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after, there's a bit of jam smeared on that handrail over near the front door.
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I also saw a peach pit on the ground next to the trash can."
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"I meant inherently sweet, spiritually sweet," the female said. "It's a
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quality the lieutenant governor's wife has in spades. As has Monica Van
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Landingham."
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The fly looked at her blankly.
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"The actress? Monica Van Landingham? Winner of two Spotlight Awards?"
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"Sorry," confessed the fly.
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"Well, she's a very important person," the female told him. "Extremely
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important. We met when she was an overnight guest at Old Stoney -- not more
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than five days ago, it was. There was a fund-raising ball for the upcoming
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election. Miss Van Landingham's shoes were too tight, so of course she
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developed a blood blister and of course it popped on the brand-new ottoman the
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moment she returned to her room to put her poor swollen feet up. I tried to
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clean it off before she noticed, but she's quick, Miss Van Landingham.
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Observant too, so I got no more than five or six mouthfuls before she dabbed
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at it with soap and water. That did nothing to get the blood out, so in the
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end she blamed it on the lieutenant governor's dog, Chocolate Chip, which may
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seem dishonest but isn't, really, seeing as he may as well have done it. It's
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such a common breed, the Jack Russell." She picked at a bit of onion. "I can't
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believe you don't know who Monica Van Landingham is."
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"I'm actually more of a barfly," the male told her. "Certain sports figures I
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could maybe recognise, but otherwise I don't have a clue." He wanted to add
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that he didn't care either. Life was short -- with luck, you had maybe 30 days
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-- so what did it matter whose crap you were eating? The same was true for
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vomit and blood blisters: just eat and shut up about it, for God's sake.
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"Perhaps you've seen Miss Van Landingham on TV, then," the female said. "Not
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on a commercial -- she'd never stoop so low -- but on the news. You might
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think that's odd for an actress, but she has opinions -- important ones. Just
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last week, to give you an example, she came out against breast cancer -- told
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the world, 'Hey, I think it's a bad idea!'"
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"Well, that's great," the fly said.
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"Call me crazy, but I'm against it too," the female announced. "I'm against
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breast cancer and drunk driving and the one where kids in other countries get
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their feet blown off. And it's not just my association with Khaki and Miss Van
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Landingham -- I'd be against these things anyway."
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On the other side of the room, a door opened, and from it stepped a janitor
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with a mop in a rolling bucket. "Just my luck," muttered the fly, and he
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quickened his pace while monitoring the man's progress.
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"Tonight there's a benefit for people who can't count," the female told him.
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"It's black tie, and everyone will be there. Everyone important anyway. I'm
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just waiting until it begins." She paused. "That's not an invitation, mind
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you. I just figured you were wondering what someone like me was doing at the
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bus station."
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"That, I was," said the fly, and he watched over her head as the janitor
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lifted his mop. "Especially someone like you, with American cheese stuck to
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her chin."
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"Oh my God," said the female. "How long has it been there?" She dipped her
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front legs into a puddle of grease, and just as she'd begun to wash her face,
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the mop came down, and the fly took off for the other side of the room, where
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a woman in a straw hat had placed an uncovered Tupperware dish upon her
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suitcase. He parked himself on the NO SMOKING sign above her head, and watched
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while the janitor ruined a perfectly good meal.
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As for the female, he wasn't going to waste any time feeling guilty. Constant
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vigilance -- that was a fly's motto, and woe be to anyone who let her
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attention waver, no matter how good-looking she was. He had to give the female
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that, at least. She had been pretty. If she'd known how to keep her trap shut,
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he might have upped her to beautiful, but wasn't that always the way with the
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ladies? For every good quality they possessed, there were two bad ones just
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waiting to be discovered.
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The male waited another few seconds, and when the woman below shut her eyes
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for a nap, he moved a bit closer and saw that what she'd set atop her suitcase
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was pie. Blueberry, and almost an entire slice. A fellow could spend the rest
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of his life eating a thing like this. He might not finish it -- might not even
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come close -- but neither would he grow tired of it, the way he might of vomit
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or rot or even fresh faeces. Such succulent bounty, and all of it for him! The
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fly was rubbing his hands together, just preparing to tuck in, when he heard a
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familiar voice and looked up to see the female. "Talk about a close call!" she
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said, and she shook a bead of mop water off her wing. "Now, where was I?"
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As the fly bit glumly into his favourite filling, she positioned herself in a
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sunbeam and resumed her monologue from the vantage point of the upper crust.
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* This story, 'Vomit-Eating Flies', will be published in the paperback
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edition of Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk (Abacus) next year. Read an interview with
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David Sedaris in [http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/books/][4] He will be
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appearing at the Telegraph Hay Festival on Monday at 4pm
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[X][5] Share & bookmark
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Delicious Facebook Google Messenger Reddit Twitter
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Digg Fark LinkedIn Google Buzz StumbleUpon Y! Buzz
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[What are these?][6]
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* Share: [Share][5] [ ][7] [ ][8]
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[Tweet][9]
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http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/hay-festival/8539146/Hay-Festival-2011
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-short-story-by-David-Sedaris-Im-actually-more-of-a-barfly.html
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Telegraph
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## [Hay Festival][10]
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* ### [Culture »][11]
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* ### [Books »][4]
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In culture
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[![Telegraph Hay festival][12]][10]
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### [Hay Festival][10]
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[![Telegraph correspondent Emma Barnett goes in search of the most expensive
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tome in the 'town of books', Hay-on-Wye.][13] ][14]
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### [The most expensive book in Hay?][14]
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[![Cartoonist Matt Pritchard ][15] ][16]
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### [The Telegraph's Matt is Hay Festival star][16]
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[![Mei-Ling Rider reads The Daily Telegraph at the Telegraph's festival
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site][17] ][18]
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### [Introducing the Telegraph Tent][18]
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[![Festival-goers enjoy the sunny weather][19] ][20]
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### [Hay Festival 2011 programme][20]
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[X][5] Share & bookmark
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Delicious Facebook Google Messenger Reddit Twitter
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Digg Fark LinkedIn Google Buzz StumbleUpon Y! Buzz
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[What are these?][6]
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Share:
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* [ ][5]
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* [ ][7]
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* [ ][8]
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* [Tweet][9]
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* Advertisement
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![][21]
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telegraphuk
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Please enable JavaScript to view the [comments powered by Disqus.][22] [blog
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comments powered by Disqus][23]
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Advertisement
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[Hay Festival on Twitter »][24]
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Critics' picks of the week
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### [Top 10 films of the week][25]
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[![Red Hill][26] ][25]
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Our film critics rate and rank the latest films out now in UK cinemas.
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### [Top 10 plays of the week][27]
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### [Top 10 art exhibitions of the week][28]
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Advertisement
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Classified Advertising
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* [Events][29]
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* [Fine Arts][30]
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* [Culture][31]
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var puffs_8120648 = new Array();
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