Fortunately I am fluent in Welsh and can divulge to you exactly what is going on here. Thomas and Simon are down the pub kicking various unpleasant stuff out of each other, as usual. “I’m going to America,” shouts Thomas, making a bolt for the door. “No you’re bloody not,” shouts Simon, collaring him just in time, “not till you’ve bought your bloody round you’re not.”
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That’s not what it says, you know.
You surely know better than to believe reporters!