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[Everett]

I'm only getting an answering machine vardenafil patent expires When you finally get in, you’re supposed to sit on an upturned crate to eat chips from a tiny tin bucket and meat served on a misshapen wooden board or hunk of slate, while drinking out of a jam jar. What’s next? Perching on “reclaimed” toilets? Dog bowls or upturned Frisbees for crockery? “Pre-loved” syringes instead of cutlery? The scenesters with whom you’ve been forced to share a table spend more time Instagramming their dinner to post on social networks (inevitable caption: “nom”) than they do eating it.