(Pearson, 2014)

The Kirstie Allsopp Saga

This post was written for a university assignment.

The correlation between age and women’s fertility and the wider impact for society features regularly as a topic in the mediasphere. This essay aims to analyse two reactionary media texts following an interview with Kirstie Allsopp, UK celebrity and television presenter in the personal finance section of The Telegraph (Gordon, 2014). The interview incited a backlash towards Kirstie Allsopp across the media sphere, particularly on twitter, and resulted in numerous opinion pieces across a number of media channels and started a discussion in the public sphere, notably Ms Allsopp was invited on Newsnight (BBC, 2014) to defend her stance.

(BBC Newsnight ep6, 2014)

This essay analyses two reactionary texts, opinion pieces in two UK national newspapers, in regards to the following concepts; audience positioning, postmodernity, celebrity culture, convergence,  ideological hegemony and pluralism, and looks at the implications of these concepts in the public sphere (Bainbridge, Goc & Tynan, 2011). Both texts were published online in the lifestyle sections of their respective websites, both articles were featured prominently on their homepages on the day following the Newsnight segment and invited comments from their readers (The Guardian, 2014; The Telegraph, 2014) .

Text 1: Kirstie Allsopp’s right. Don’t miss the baby boat (Pearson, 2014)

(Pearson, 2014)

(Pearson, 2014)

Whilst the content of the article reflects the author’s personal experience of juggling a career with children, the choice of headline and image anchor the text and set the tone for the rest of the article, aligning themselves with Ms Allsopp’s opinion. The audience would expect this stand point, as the addresser published the original interview, however the choice of image and words for the headline are examples of audience positioning and hegemony. The image itself positions Ms Allsopp as a privileged middle aged woman, not unlike the majority of the readers to the Woman section of the website (The Telegraph, 2014b). The addresser uses this image to draw parallels and to start building an affinity with the addressee. The signifiers of Ms Allsopp smiling, looking relaxed and content in her kitchen, decode as qualities of a woman happy with her life choices and opinions. The choice of location for the picture is also interesting given the subject matter and denotes the ‘happy in the home’ tone of this closed text.

Many of the critics towards Ms Allsopp’s comments claimed she was “smug” and “privileged” (Twitter, 2014), the connotations of this image could be seen to reinforce these claims. However, anchoring the image is the headline which uses a directive and inflammatory tone, in keeping with the emotional tone of the subject matter. The addresser uses the headline to state the unexpected: “Kirstie Allsopp is right” (Pearson, 2014) combining this with the image of a happy middle aged, successful woman, the addresser is suggesting this postmodern standpoint is worthy of further discussion. The author, herself, a middle-aged successful woman with two children, aims to draw an affinity with her readers, also middle-aged successful women by inviting them to agree with her stance.

The Telegraph present a hegemonic stance by supporting the views of their interviewee, a sound representation of the Telegraph’s demographic, whilst also inviting their readers to adapt a postmodern view on women’s fertility. They do this without alienating their reader and use the author’s viewpoint to draw affinity to the discussion. Research has shown that self-referencing increases readership (Li & Fabrot, 2013) and it appears by reading through the comments that the majority of readers react favourably to the article.

Text 2: Ignore ‘patronising’ Kirstie Allsopp’s advice, teachers tell girls (Ellis-Pearson & Tran, 2014)

(Ellis-Pearson & Tran, 2014)

(Ellis-Pearson & Tran, 2014)

In contrast to text 1, this polysemic text does not use self-referencing in the copy, yet uses the same commanding tone to set out the text’s agenda and distances the addresser from the topic slightly by quoting a third party, in this case teachers. The choice of image to accompany the article of a scowling Ms Allsopp denotes the negative approach the text takes to her opinion. The signifieds in this image are defiance, disagreement and anger, regardless of the comparatively neutral content which follows, the headline and the image present the audience with this article’s stance. The scowl could be interpreted as a metonymy, representing the anger and emotion this topic has stirred in the public sphere. The copy content of the article relays quotes from stakeholders such as a teacher and a women’s group leader. A structured absence in this text, is the opinion of the author, instead using the intertexts of the issue to form the story and inviting the addresser to form their opinion through interpellation.

As with text 1, the reader’s comments follow the tone of the article, with the majority dismissive of Ms Allsopp’s comments and question their validity through further debate of the timing of higher education, women’s fertility, career opportunities – ironically the type of debate Ms Allsopp intended to instigate through her comments. By presenting a negative text, the addressers have taken a more pluralist approach to the topic by presenting facts and allowing opinions to be debated and formed.

The postmodern celebrity?

Kirstie Allsopp, is the perfect ordinary celebrity for The Telegraph, successful in her own right yet born into aristocracy, she represents strong conservative family values (Pearson, 2014; Bainbridge, et al., 2011). Her successful career presenting property shows and producing craft and home wares has created a persona of a 1950′s house wife (Allsopp, 2014).  Yet her outspoken views on women’s fertility may have contradicted the public’s perception of her intertextual construction (Bainbridge, et al., 2011). Or maybe her views, taken out of context as both the selected texts did, fitted her celebrity text too well and the public rejected her on that basis. Celebrities, no matter how ordinary, cannot hope to understand the complexities of a modern woman, especially one who portrays themselves as a 1950′s housewife, can they? The original interview portrays her as a postmodern feminist, in a long-term committed relationship but unmarried, career driven, successful and emotionally reflective following the death of the mother earlier in the year. The content alludes to Ms Allsopps desire to find a better of way of grieving as well as reviewing the order in which women approach adulthood, looking to different cultures and systems for an solution to postmodernity. Ms Allsopp was later quoted on Twitter as saying:

“I am very, very lucky I am given a public voice by my work and failure to discuss issues which impact women’s lives would be cowardice.”

By acknowledging her status as a celebrity, she uses her reach and influence in the mediasphere to instigate a conversation on a topic she feels has been mute, in order to find a better way for future generations.

Context and Convergence

Both texts originate from well-respected newspapers with different political stances. The Telegraph, is often nicknamed the “Torygraph”, is commonly viewed as more conservative with links the political right but does not conform to the media hegemony seen amongst Murdoch’s media (Curtis, 2006). In recent years, it has followed The Guardian with a more pluralistic approach to journalism, with podcasts, comments, and blogs with a view to surviving in a digital economy whilst maintaining its stronghold with the British middle classes. This may go some way to explain the more conservative approach to the reaction to Ms Allsopp’s comments by using a self-reflective case study. This structured approach provides comfortable room for pluralistic comment while conveying ideological hegemony to appease the middle classes.

Of course the original interview was arranged by Ms Allsopp’s PR team to promote her upcoming craft event (Gordon, 2014) and could have been buried in the personal finance pages had this inflammatory comment not been highlighted and misquoted throughout social media. A cynical observer may believe this tenuous financial advice to young women was sensational enough to ensure Ms Allsopp’s media presence was extended 48 hours longer than if it had been omitted and also achieved a global audience. The mediasphere thrives on pluralistic content that engages an audience and spreads through social media spawning intertexts such as the Newsnight interview and the selected opinion pieces.

Thanks to the globalisation of television networks and program licensing, Kirstie Allsopp’s celebrity status is not confined to the UK. Her property programs are exported across the world and so to does her brand recognition. The fertility window is also not just an emotive topic in the UK but affects millions of women across the western world, facing similar issues of trying to establish careers and families in their early, mid and late thirties. The globalisation of social issues as well the convergence of the media industry ensured this story was not only on the homepage of UK news sites, but also syndicated out to news sites across the world interested in engaging a pluralistic viewpoint. In Australia, the article appeared in The Guardian Australia and Mamamia (Lever, 2014) as well as engaging social media followers from around the world (Twitter, 2014).

Source: iStock images

Source: iStock images

Economic pressures on the media industry will continue to force convergence which has been seen recently with News Limited and Fairfax Media consolidating content across mastheads in Australia. Whilst some may argue this will increase ideological hegemony through these titles, digital publishing has enabled international media institutions to be accessible to all, providing a pluralistic view. The high engagement of social media encourages the mediasphere to work intertextually and outlets will continue to find creative ways in which to engage their audience. This may be through celebrity endorsement or multiple formats such as online, radio, video etc or it may be through sensationalism. Either way, the mediasphere remains an important lynchpin of society. The forth estate has merely evolved to incorporate more channels and interpellation.


Allsopp, K., 2014. Kirstie Allsopp. [Online]
Available at: http://kirstieallsopp.co.uk/
[Accessed 5 June 2014].

Bainbridge, J., Goc, N. & Tynan, L., 2011. Media and journalism: new approaches to theory and practice. 2nd ed. South Melbourne: Oxford University Press.

BBC Newsnight, 2014. Youtube. [Online]
Available at: http://ow.ly/xDSIb
[Accessed 4 June 2014].

Curtis, B., 2006. Strange Days at the Daily Telegraph. [Online]
Available at: http://www.slate.com/articles/news_and_politics/letter_fromlondon/2006/10/paper_tiger.html
[Accessed 5 June 2014].

Ellis-Pearson, H. & Tran, M., 2014. The Guardian. [Online]
Available at: http://www.theguardian.com/tv-and-radio/2014/jun/02/teachers-round-on-kirstie-allsopp-over-babies-and-boyfriends-comments
[Accessed 5 June 2014].

Gordon, B., 2014. The Telegraph. [Online]
Available at: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/finance/personalfinance/consumertips/10868367/Kirstie-Allsopp-I-dont-want-the-next-generation-of-women-to-suffer-the-same-heartache.html
[Accessed 5 June 2014].

Lever, K., 2014. Mamamia. [Online]
Available at: http://www.mamamia.com.au/social/kirstie-allsopp-advice-to-women/#ZIoJWWDOO6QRYSKR.97
[Accessed 5 June 2014].

Li, L. & Fabrot, A., 2013. What makes you click? The effect of question headlines on readership in computer-mediated communication. Social Influence, pp. 1-11.

McDonald, J. W., Rosina, A., Rizzi, E. & Columbo, B., 2011. Age and fertility: can women wait until their early thirties to try for a first birth?. Journal of Biosocial Science, 43(6), pp. 685-700.

Pearson, A., 2014. The Telegraph. [Online]
Available at: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/women/womens-life/10870063/Kirstie-Allsopps-right.-Dont-miss-the-baby-boat.html
[Accessed 2014 June 5].

The Guardian, 2014. The Guardian. [Online]
Available at: http://www.guardian.co.uk
[Accessed 1 June 2014].

The Telegraph, 2014. The Telegraph. [Online]
Available at: http://www.telegraph.co.uk
[Accessed 1 June 2014].

The Telegraph, 2014b. The Telegraph: Advertising Insights. [Online]
Available at: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/advertising/insight/10353484/Women.html
[Accessed 4 June 2014].

Twitter, 2014. Twitter. [Online]
Available at: http://www.twitter.com
[Accessed 1 June 2014].

Someone’s Grandma

This past week I’ve been living in Thailand. A life of somewhat ridiculous luxury that on numerous occasions I’ve been so racked with guilt I’ve overpaid for the privilege. I know that’s not really the idea of Thailand, you’re never to accept the first price, barter like a demon until you come away with an absolute bargain. But that’s where I fall down. Even their inflated first price is
about 10% of the cost of the equivalent in the UK or Australia. So it’s already an absolute bargain and so I pay it. It’s just the rules of fair distribution of wealth. I have it, they don’t. I’m in a position to give and help their economy so why the hell should I barter over 50bhat when that equates to $1.50.

There’s nothing like a week in South East Asia to gain a bit of perspective. Über stressed from my self imposed first world life of constant distraction, I slept for 20 of the first 24 hours of my holiday. And promptly went into a tail spin, chastising myself over wasted relaxation time. Oh the irony. That went on for about another 2 hours while, once gaining access to the all important wifi, I trip advisor-ed and meticulously planned the next 7 days.

Then I went to the beach, read a book, dipped in the pristine warm waters, hid in the ‘shadows’ (what the coconut selling man called the shade & I’ve since adopted it) came back started book #2 and completely forgot about ‘the plan’. Nothing like getting absorbed into a book to force a relaxed state.

This created more guilt as my day became eat/read/swim/sleep repeat. I’ve never been to Phuket so surely I should at least see something of it. Right after I book myself in for this 3.5 hour spa extravaganza. Because such things are only ever justifiable in SE Asia. For the bargain price of $150. But that’s where the problems started. Introduced to my masseur, a gorgeous lady of indeterminable age, she led me through to the herbal steam room where she gave me some disposable pants and left me to it with a pot of jasmine tea. Bliss. If only I had my book….I’m really not very good at doing nothing. After about 10 minutes of examining every crevice of the steam room to work out how it all worked, where the herbs went etc I gave up and climbed into the coconut milk bath (I know ridiculous!!) drank my tea and started to meditate and I think I might if dozed off.

Thankfully I was saved from drowning a rather embarrassing death by my masseur (can you image the headlines ‘death by coconuts in cleopatra copycat!’) who escorted me to a shower room. It wasn’t enough that I’d probably wasted enough water/milk stuff to feed a Thai family for a year, it became apparent I was to be washed.

Under the guise of an exfoliating scrum, this gorgeous lady meticulously slathered all manner of potions and concoctions over my amble body. She was half the size of me and I’m fairly sure SOMEONE’S GRANDMA. After that I couldn’t relax and enjoy the experience as I made up her entire family in my head, named them, gave them personalities and invented conversations they’d have over dinner when grandma finally returned from washing fat, rich, western women and retold hilarious anecdotes. It was all I could do to eliviate my guilt through self deprecation. I’d paid the equivalent of probably a weeks wage for Someone’s Grandma to give me a good scrub.

Don’t worry though, she got her own back with the Thai massage, bending and stretching my limbs into positions I suspect circus entertainers are tested on as part of their interview process. It was a harsh reminder I need to start up regular Pilates again. Man she was strong for such a small person. I took heed in that it would provide more hilarious anecdotes over at Someones Grandma’s place tonight.

The contortion was followed by a facial which was so long and relaxing I may well have dosed off again. Well the massage was kinda hard work! So many different oils, lotions, herbal steams; course after course was applied to my face. I swear I won’t need to use moisturiser til 2018. I played a guessing game to pass the time. Guess the ingredient in this lotion. My guilt had by this stage just morphed into embarrassment at how long this pamper session was going on for. In case you were wondering I guessed coconut (of course) aloe Vera, cucumber, rose, more coconut, then some sort of frozen fruity thing (which actually made me yelp but I’m sure it had tightening/anti ageing qualities so I shouldn’t complain) then more rose type stuff and I think that’s where I drifted off.

3.5 hours later and many profuse Kap Kum Kas, I was offered the most amazing ginger tea I’ve ever tasted. I practically downed it though as Someone’s Grandma and her beautiful delicate receptionist sat in silence, watching me and smiling. It was so awkward so I downed the tea and tipped them 100bhat each. I tipped them to say sorry. Out of silly catholic guilt. I’m sorry I interrupted your day to pay you to wash and stroke me. Here have some more money as I try to buy your affection.

The smile and hug I got from Someone’s Grandma was worth it. I hoped I’d be recalled as a generous silly, inflexible, fat rich westerner in her anecdotes. Ma Northern would have say I had more money than sense but I don’t see 100bhat tip as excessive. It’s $3.30 after all.

Curing Cancer With A Numb Bum

Or at least that’s the idea.

The idea is to cycle 200km from Melbourne, down the mornington peninsula and back again. Current estimation is that going to mean about 10 hours in the saddle, hence the numb bum thing.

But before I can set off I need to earn my place by raising $2,500 in research funds for Peter Mac. Long time readers may remember my personal cancer experience and those who’ve known me longer know the fight is a bit of a longstanding vendetta. Too many people I know and have cared about have had their worlds turned upside down by some abnormal cells.

So in order to help me reach my fundraising target, I’ve set up an online auction with some generously donated prizes. I’m afraid it’s quite Melbourne centric but there’s also an option to donate – even if it’s just what you’d spend on your morning coffee – every $ counts.

Melburnians, get bidding, there’s some yummy meals at some the best foodie restaurants up for grabs.


Please share with friends and through your social networks…and don’t worry about being gazumpted by your bestie, there’s plenty more prizes to come.

Thank you :) x

A gent to the end

Another one bites the dust.

The gut instinct is always right. Mr VP just wasn’t that into me and so he called it off before feelings developed (or didn’t develop in his case) further.

Dear men of the world, there’s a lesson to be learnt here. He picked up the phone, rang me, apologised as he felt his feelings for me weren’t developing in the same way as mine were for him. He knew what is was like to be on the other side as knew it wasn’t fair to string me along anymore. He apologised a lot, once was enough, he can’t help how he feels but I thanked him for being honest and having the balls to tell me.

He was sorry if he’d hurt me and thought I was great fun and I wanted to remain friends, he’d happily spend time with me. Meh, I have enough friends in my life.

And so ended the brief interlude that was Mr VP.

Yes it stung. More because yet again, I’d ignored my gut instinct and yet again tried to force that square peg into the round hole. Why do I keep doing that?

It hurt more because yet again, I’m the friend and never the girlfriend.

I cried because I’m scared their might not ever be a round peg for me. I look at my friends and envy their happy codependent relationships. I wonder if I’ll ever enjoy a man loving me unconditionally, in the centre of his world in the way sis and bro in law live, with the adorable niece.

I’m frustrated because my career, life in Melbourne, friendships, and family should be enough. But it’s not.

One little slip up in a tiny corner of my otherwise enviable life and it feels like I’m starting from scratch again. That pisses me off. That’s what makes me cry. I’m disappointed in myself and I hate seeing the disappointment and pity on friends’ faces. I know all they want is for me to be happy and I hate letting them down.

Scream if you wanna go faster

I’ve never liked roller coasters. I can never enjoy going up because I know there’ll be a stomach hurtling descent only seconds away.

I want it get off as soon as I feel the mal-fitting harness click into place. It never feels safe. I hate not been in control yet compelled to pretend I’m having a ball, while all the time wondering if this is it. Is this the last fall to rule them all.

I haven’t seem him for over a week. Since I jumped on his roller coaster (well that’s one I’ve never called it before!) I hate the waiting, the not being in control, the pretending to be all cruisey. I’ve not heard from him since yesterday, which now I type it out sounds melodramatic but it’s me pushing this roller coaster along.

I’m not sure we’ll even reach the top.

Ye of little faith

That evening after being avoided at work for being the social leper. I received the following message:

“Hi, I think my response last night was a bit thoughtless, sorry about that. I’ve organised xxxxxxxxxxxxx for Saturday/Sunday but hadn’t checked my calendar. How about the following weekend?”

My response:

“Good save. Following weekend sounds good.”

Said the spider to the fly

It was all anyone was talking about. Date #4: dinner and a movie at his place. The invitation was innocent enough but it was loaded with promise. His place: a 40 minute drive away from mine, completely inaccessible by public transport and he’d told me to bring a bottle of wine. He’s played the gentleman so far but the undertone of the invite and the memory of the last kiss told me food wasn’t the only thing on the menu.

And man I was so nervous. I was like a 15 year old nervous, like second guessing what to do nervous. Which is a little bit ridiculous at 37 years old. Yes, it had been a while and yes there hadn’t been anyone since Posh Boy and we’d gotten into such a home run routine, I has severe performance anxiety with someone completely new.

The layer of expectation laid on for date 4 didn’t nothing to calm my concerns. By the time I turned up (after the obligatory wrong turns) my stomach was in my mouth and I didn’t know if I could eat anything. He greeted me so calmly and poised, so at home on his territory and in his kitchen, my verbal diarrhea all but gave me away for the fraud I was. Luckily he gave me a beer to shut up, gave me the tour of the house, maybe paused a little bit too long in his bedroom before telling me to make myself at home while he sorted out dinner.

He returned announcing that it was all good and dinner would be ready in 2.5hours. What?! What we were going to do for 2.5 hours?? Oh. right. yeah.

Only we didn’t because he was being the gentlemen and I was playing some ridiculous role of a nervous teenager. The verbal diarrhea returned but he let me rabbit on – and even joined in – until we’d exhausted all small talk and medium talk and the expectation of sex was almost suffocating. He’d not made one move and I didn’t want to be the one to instigate it and we’d not had enough wine to broach the subject. In a stroke of genius, he suggested we watch half the movie, pause for an intermission for dinner and then continue. It sounded like a plan.

When dinner was served, the 3 glasses of wine plus a beer had firmly taken hold and it was pretty clear I wasn’t driving anywhere tonight. Not wanting to be presumptuous I stated as much.

“Well there are two made up beds in the house and one of them is mine…”

“OK, then it’s fine for me have another glass” (I’ll work out which bed later…”

Dinner was lovely, the wine was lovely, the banter was great. The movie was pretty damn good, even if I did get a cinematography run down of the different type of shots. I might have been a bit too typsy and a little preoccupied with what happens next to really concentrate on the movie. But it was pretty good. After the movie finished, we sat chatting and I ended up giggling and being all shy as he moved closer. He went and got me a glass of water and then put his hand on my knee and took control. Thank God. Otherwise I’d still be sitting on the sofa giggling.

My fears in the bedroom were warranted as he was very different to Posh Boy. It’s terrible but I couldn’t help but compare. VP liked to chop and change position regularly which just got annoying and embarrassing and I felt well out of my depth. I was sure I wasn’t living up to expectation and given my little innocent girly act, he was probably wondering what he’d gotten himself into.

The next morning was a disastrous re-run of the night before which was exhausting and frustrating in equal measures. He switched back to gentlemanly as we cuddled (but not for long as it was way too hot!) and he got up to shower. By the time I’d gotten out of the shower, he’d made bacon and eggs and proper coffee. He told me about the commission art on his wall and we went through his other pictures. We dissected the news and then watched a WW2 documentary on the History Channel. It was a lovely way to spent time but I couldn’t get the bedroom thing out of my head. Maybe we’re just not compatible, maybe we’re just supposed to be friends, maybe he doesn’t really fancy me. It was such a shame as otherwise it had been a pretty perfect date 4.

I left about 2.30pm to let him do some work. As he checked out my car he mentioned sorting out my indicator light ‘next time’ but that was the only suggestion when I’d see him next. I drove away thinking it might have all been an elaborate one night stand.

Later after thanking him again for his hospitality, I suggested returning the favour at my place.

“Let me see how this week goes. Can I get back to you?”

Wow. He’s a player. He got what he wanted and now he’s pulling away. I was livid, embarrassed, humiliated and disappointed all at once and vented to PRP who pleaded not to write him off just yet.

I didn’t respond. That text didn’t call for a response. It screamed NOT INTERESTED and YOU’VE BEEN PLAYED louder than if he’d taken a mic and a loud hailer around Melbourne. At work the next day, everyone wanted to know how it had gone. In order to maintain some level of professionalism I spared them the details but they’re smart enough to read between the lines. When I told them about his text, most of the girls disappeared so fast in case they caught whatever singleton disease I was carrying. One remained and confirmed my belief I’d been played and how disappointing it was given his behaviour. She also confirmed my decision not to chase him. If he liked me, he’d get in touch. If he didn’t, chalk it up to experience and move on.

Through the disappointment though I was pleased she’d agreed with me. I am not a doormat, despite my previous behaviour in relationships, and I’d given too many men too many chances in my life.

If he liked me, he’d be in touch but I wasn’t going to hold my breath.

The date I shared with 500,000 Melburnians

It turned out soon meant the very next day. He liked me. Yay! I may have done a mini dance in my bed in celebration.

We agreed ‘soon’ would actually mean taking in White Night Melbourne. I’d missed out last year and was determined not to miss out this year. I was super excited about taking in the sights with Mr VP.

Safe to say I took in the sights with half of Melbourne. 500,000 to be precise all walking aimlessly, not really site what was going on trying to get a glimpse of the light show that wasn’t nearly as good as last year. It took all of 5 mins to realise this was the worst date ever.

We took a reprieve from the crowds to have a drink at Campari House. Only to be turfed out of our seats by very drunk 21 years olds celebrating. Our feet were sore, I was trying to he composure whilst overheating in the tiny bar I swear had the heating on. He must have felt the same as we moved on after one drink.

After more aimless wandering I saw the best projection of the night. It was Moses carrying an IPad holding the 10 Commandments for all his followers to see. His followers in turns were snapping away on smartphones. The irony being the hoarded of people snapping away on smartphones of people snapping away on smartphones. At least we had a little chuckle over that.

We then walked the length of the city and found another pub. Drink a few glasses of wine and got to know each other better. With both of us exhausted the sherade of being on best behaviour dropped for both of us. While talking about movies he was appalled to hear I’d never seen Goodfellas. Date #4 was promptly set for dinner & Goodfellas at his place the following weekend.

At least the rubbish date hadn’t put him off. We found him a cab after a good 30 minutes of jostling with the crowds and I spent over an hour with aching feet trying to get on a tram back home.

I don’t think I’ll be attending White Night next year.

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