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December 1950

Bum Voyage

tribulations of a foreign secretary

I HAVE just returned from another disillusioning experience. For the umpteenth time in the last three years, I have visited a comrade who had been staying cozily sober in the U.S. only to skyrocket off on a beaut just as soon as the Statue of Liberty was safely behind. Consequently this is not going to be the sweetness-and-light, Pollyanna type of AA article. Unless the editor censors it beyond all recognition it's going to read like a disgruntled monologue. Maybe I've been away from home too long. Anyway, here goes:

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