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There
once
was
a
tiger
who
fancied
a
pint.
Not
Carling,
of
course,
that
was
too
weak
and
too
gassy.
He
wanted
a
pint
that
packs
a
punch,
like
Stella,
or
Kronenbourg.
The
tiger
was
thirsty
and
needed
something
to
wash
down
the
zookeeper
he'd
just
eaten.
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