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	<title>The Repository of Excellence &#187; history</title>
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		<title>Tayto</title>
		<link>http://www.therepositoryofexcellence.com/2008/10/10/tayto/</link>
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		<pubDate>Fri, 10 Oct 2008 20:46:34 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>David</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Short Stories]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[short story]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[tayto]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[“So, um, where did you get the name Tayto?” It was the question they always asked. Not right after you met them, but after a while. Eventually there’d be a gap in the conversation, the club&#8217;s music would be between songs, and they’d throw it out there. It had taken this girl about five minutes. “I don’t know, that’s just what people call me” One of the lads turns around behind me and leans his drunken head over my shoulder. “It’s because he can’t stop munching those cheese and onion!” Ha-ha. That’s very fucking original, isn’t it? He goes back to the slapper he’s trying it on with and leaves me and the girl alone. “So you don’t know where you got your own name?” “It’s not my name, it’s just what people call me” She looks at me like I’m the biggest eejit in Dublin, and does that little half smile and head-bob women do when they’re not impressed. The music starts up again and we can’t talk for another two or three minutes. While we’re incommunicado, she starts looking around at the other people in the club, clearly bored out of her tree. I’ve totally blown any chance [...]]]></description>
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