I posted a small and very insignificant story to Facebook about something I saw on my way to school one morning. I was walking along the street when I saw an old lady crouched by the side of the road with a blowtorch attached to a large gas cylinder. As I approached I realised that she was using it to roast a pig's trotter.
My brother's response?
"I didn't know you were back in Wolverhampton."
The Imperious Criterion of Meaning
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