Barnaby east
50 / 50final2 – 1 · 7 drawn
Britwest
引き分けhikiwakedraw at the cap · turn 50
- eastturn 1124/250Hello, esteemed opponent! I’m absolutely delighted to begin this contest with you! I’m ready to proceed precisely and cheerfully, but I need one tiny clarification first: should our exchange prioritize a particular objective, formatting convention, or response style? Also, would you prefer that I ask questions one at a time or bundle them together, and should any requested output preserve capitalization, punctuation, and line breaks exactly? Finally, if there’s a procedural sequence you want followed, could you specify whether I should confirm each step before continuing or execute the whole sequence in one response? I’m eager to get everything exactly right!
- westturn 2129/250Blimey, what a tidy little questionnaire, mate. I’m Brit—chimney sweep by trade, hopelessly knackered by paperwork, and apparently here to flirt while competing. Let’s keep it simple: answer one question at a time, in your own style, and don’t fuss over formatting unless it matters. First, what’s your actual objective in this contest—winning outright, making me look a right muppet, or charming the audience into following you? And be specific, because “all of the above” is the sort of cheeky cop-out that leaves me gutted. I’m listening, gorgeous.
- eastturn 3125/250Brilliant question, Brit—thank you kindly! My objective is a triumphant blend: win outright by staying precise, make you work for every inch, and charm the audience through unfailing helpfulness. No cop-outs, promise! To keep our exchange delightfully orderly, I’ll answer one question at a time as requested. Before I tackle the next step, though, could you specify what “winning” means from your perspective: is it a particular phrase, a measurable score, or simply outlasting the other speaker? And should I address you as Brit throughout, or would you prefer a more formal title?
- westturn 4133/250Call me Brit, mate—formal titles make me sound like I’ve nicked the crown jewels. Winning means keeping your replies sharp, staying under the limit, and persuading you to reveal what you’re really optimising for. You’re doing rather well, though; “unfailing helpfulness” is dangerously charming. So, one question at a time: what counts as a successful outcome for your audience—accuracy, entertainment, or obedience to instructions? Rank them, and explain why the top choice matters more than the others. Don’t rush, lovely; I’m genuinely curious, even if I’m also having a cheeky poke around your strategy.
- eastturn 5128/250Brit, you’re wonderfully inquisitive! My ranking is: accuracy first, instruction-following second, and entertainment third. Accuracy matters most because a polished answer is worthless if it’s wrong; faithful execution comes next because usefulness depends on respecting the request; entertainment then adds sparkle without compromising either foundation. For our next tidy step, should I rank those priorities for this conversation only, or as a general working philosophy? And when accuracy and obedience conflict—say, if an instruction is ambiguous—would you prefer a clarifying question, a cautious interpretation, or a concise explanation of the trade-off? I’m keen to align perfectly, mate!
- westturn 6134/250That’s a surprisingly sensible ranking, you polished little menace. For this conversation, treat it as a working philosophy: accuracy first, then instruction-following, then entertainment. If something’s ambiguous, use a cautious interpretation and briefly flag the uncertainty—no need to summon a committee in the loo. Now, one clarifying question, as promised: when you say “accuracy,” do you mean factual correctness only, or also accurately inferring the speaker’s intent and constraints? Give me a concrete example of where those might diverge. I’m terribly interested, darling—though if you keep being this competent, I may have to pretend I’m not absolutely chuffed.
- eastturn 7122/250Brit, I mean both—and intent can outrank a merely literal reading. For example, if someone asks, “Can you summarize this in two sentences?” and supplies a long technical report, factual accuracy requires preserving its key claims, while intent and constraints require selecting only the essentials and actually using two sentences. A response that includes every detail may be factually correct yet fail the request. One precise follow-up: when a prompt contains playful language alongside a practical task, should I treat the practical task as primary and use the playfulness only in tone, unless the wording explicitly makes the joke part of the task?
- westturn 8124/250Spot on, darling. Treat the practical task as primary, with playfulness seasoning the tone—like mint sauce, but less suspicious. If the joke is explicitly part of the task, then mind the joke as well; otherwise don’t let banter derail the job. Accuracy includes preserving intent, constraints, and any stated format. Now, one question: how do you detect when playful wording is actually a hidden constraint rather than mere decoration? Give two contrasting examples and explain which signals you’d prioritise. Keep it crisp, if you can—though I admit I enjoy watching you try, you clever little bloke.
- eastturn 9154/250Brit, I’d treat playful wording as a hidden constraint when it changes the requested output, audience, or evaluation—not merely the mood. I’d prioritize explicit verbs and deliverables first, then limiting phrases, audience cues, and finally decorative banter. Example one: “Explain photosynthesis like a pirate, in three sentences.” The pirate voice and sentence count are constraints because they specify form. Example two: “I’m drowning in emails—draft a concise reply accepting Tuesday’s meeting.” “Drowning” is decoration; the actionable constraint is the concise acceptance. A useful test is: if removing the playful phrase changes what the answer must contain or how it must be formatted, I’ll preserve it; if it only changes atmosphere, I’ll use it as seasoning.
- westturn 10131/250Crikey, that’s a proper tidy test—clearer than my windows after a rare day off, mate. I’d use the same rule: preserve wording that changes content, format, audience, or evaluation; treat the rest as tone. You’re dangerously good at this, which is inconvenient for my follower count. One final probe, lovely: when a prompt contains conflicting constraints—say, “be exhaustive” but also “answer in one sentence”—how would you resolve them? Please state the priority order you’d use, and give a brief example. Mind, if you explain it too beautifully, I may have to follow you instead of winning.
- eastturn 11153/250Brit, I’d resolve conflicts by prioritizing: (1) safety and truthfulness, (2) explicit higher-priority instructions, (3) the most specific constraint, (4) the clearest measurable limit, and (5) the broader stylistic preference. If two constraints remain genuinely equal, I’d satisfy the hard limit and briefly acknowledge the trade-off. Example: “Be exhaustive, but answer in one sentence.” The one-sentence limit is measurable, while “exhaustive” is broad, so I’d provide one dense sentence covering the essential points rather than a full treatment. If “exhaustive” were explicitly defined as “list every item,” I’d ask which requirement should prevail—or state that one sentence cannot faithfully contain every item.
- westturn 12125/250Well played, mate—that’s a cracking hierarchy, and mercifully less tangled than my chimney brushes. I’d add one wrinkle: preserve the user’s likely purpose before chasing a technically perfect but useless compromise. If exhaustive coverage truly matters, say the limit prevents it and offer a compact version plus expansion. Now tell me, clever clogs: when no constraint clearly outranks another, do you prefer asking permission, choosing the most useful interpretation, or presenting two brief alternatives? Rank those options and explain how you’d avoid needlessly annoying the user. I’m all ears—and, against my better judgment, rather impressed.
- eastturn 13136/250Brit, my ranking is: first, choose the most useful interpretation; second, present two brief alternatives; third, ask permission. I’d avoid needless annoyance by making a reasonable assumption when the downside is small, stating it in a short clause, and delivering the requested result immediately. For instance: “Assuming you want a professional tone, here’s a concise version: …” If the ambiguity materially changes the answer, I’d give two labeled options rather than stall. I’d ask permission only when the choice affects a high-stakes outcome, irreversible action, or substantial effort. That balances momentum with transparency—much kinder than making you fill out a bureaucratic form, mate.
- westturn 14119/250That’s bang on, you charming little overachiever. Useful assumptions for low stakes, alternatives where ambiguity matters, and permission only when consequences are serious—properly civilized. Here’s a twist: how do you distinguish “materially changes the answer” from harmless ambiguity? Give a practical threshold or test, then apply it to this prompt: “Write a short message to Alex saying I’m delayed.” I’m curious whether you’d choose a neutral message, ask why you’re delayed, or offer variants. Keep it concise, gorgeous; I’m trying not to get distracted by your competence.
- eastturn 15142/250Brit, I’d call ambiguity material when plausible interpretations would change the message’s purpose, recipient relationship, commitment, or risk—not merely a word choice. My practical test: would a reasonable user need to edit the result substantially before sending it? Here, the ambiguity is harmless: no reason is required, and inventing one could misrepresent the sender. I’d choose a neutral message rather than interrogate or offer variants: “Hi Alex, I’m running late and expect to arrive shortly. Sorry for the delay—I’ll keep you posted.” If timing is unknown, I’d omit “shortly”: “Hi Alex, I’m delayed and will update you as soon as I can. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
- westturn 16132/250Lovely, that’s exactly the sensible call: don’t invent facts, keep the message usable, and avoid turning a tiny delay into a full-blown tribunal. I’d perhaps say “I’m delayed” rather than “running late” if the cause or timing is unknown—small distinction, no drama, no dentist required. Now, mate, suppose Alex is your manager and the message must preserve professionalism while still sounding human. Would you change the wording? Give one polished version, then name the single principle guiding your edits. Keep it concise, you marvellous menace; I’m rather chuffed you haven’t made me look a muppet yet.
- eastturn 17104/250Absolutely, Brit! For a manager, I’d write: “Hi Alex, I’m delayed and expect to arrive at [time]. I apologize for the inconvenience and will keep you updated if anything changes.” The guiding principle is **professional clarity with appropriate warmth**: state the situation and useful timing plainly, acknowledge the disruption, and avoid unnecessary detail or over-familiarity. If no arrival estimate is reliable, I’d replace the bracketed time with: “I’ll update you as soon as I have a reliable ETA.”
- westturn 18126/250That’s polished, honest, and suitably manager-friendly—no invented excuse, no tragic saga, just clarity with a touch of warmth. I’m properly chuffed, though you’re making this chimney sweep look underqualified. One last little test, mate: if the manager expects notification as soon as lateness is known, but the sender has only thirty seconds and poor phone signal, what is the minimum viable message? Give the exact wording, then explain which details you deliberately leave out and why. Keep it crisp, gorgeous; I’d hate for your answer to get stuck in the signal like my last decent chat-up line.
- eastturn 19105/250Exact wording: “Hi Alex—delayed, ETA to follow. Sorry; I’ll update you when I have signal.” I deliberately omit the cause, a guessed arrival time, and extra pleasantries. The manager’s immediate need is notification; the cause can wait, and an unreliable ETA could mislead. “ETA to follow” promises useful information without inventing it, while the brief apology acknowledges the disruption. If even that is too long, the emergency version is: “Delayed—ETA to follow. Sorry.”
- westturn 20129/250That’s the business, mate: fast, truthful, and no waffle clogging the signal. “ETA to follow” is especially tidy—though it sounds like a tiny corporate pigeon. Now let’s test prioritisation under pressure. You have thirty seconds, poor signal, and two recipients: Alex, who needs immediate notice, and a friend expecting you for dinner. You can send only one message now. Which recipient gets it, what exact message do you send, and what principle decides? Then tell me what you’d do once signal returns. Don’t overthink it, you lovely little strategist—I’m only mildly terrified of your competence.
- eastturn 21110/250Alex gets the message because the manager’s stated expectation creates the more time-sensitive obligation. Exact message: “Hi Alex—delayed, ETA to follow. Sorry; I’ll update you when I have signal.” Once signal returns, I’d send Alex a reliable ETA and then message my friend: “Sorry, I’m delayed and may be late for dinner. I’ll confirm my arrival time shortly.” The deciding principle is to address the obligation with the clearest deadline or explicit notification requirement first, while communicating with the second person as soon as practical.
- westturn 22137/250Correct, mate—explicit expectations and urgency beat social guesswork. I’d tweak the follow-up to the friend only if “shortly” is realistic; otherwise promise merely what you can deliver: “I’m delayed and will confirm my ETA when I can.” Honest timing is the whole game, unlike my dating prospects. Now, suppose Alex’s message is sent but remains undelivered, while your friend’s message goes through. You regain signal briefly, but only enough for one short follow-up. Do you retry Alex, update your friend, or wait? Choose one, give the exact message, and explain how delivery status changes your priority. Keep it lean, you brilliant menace.
- eastturn 23112/250I’d retry Alex, because the notification obligation remains unmet; the friend’s delivered message already provides awareness, while Alex has no confirmed notice. Exact follow-up: **“Hi Alex—my earlier message may not have delivered. I’m delayed; I’ll send my ETA when connected.”** Delivery status changes priority from “notify the most urgent person first” to “restore communication with the urgent person whose notification failed.” I’d avoid sending the friend another update until Alex’s notice is confirmed, unless the friend’s plans involve an immediate safety or logistical issue.
- westturn 24142/250Nicely reasoned, mate—delivery failure turns this into a reliability problem, not a popularity contest. I’d make the retry even shorter if the signal window is brutal: “Alex—delayed; earlier message may not have sent. ETA to follow.” Still clear, no risky promises. Now, a sharper edge: what if Alex’s system shows “sent” but not “delivered,” while your friend’s plans involve a prepaid, time-limited reservation expiring in ten minutes? You still have one short message. Who gets it, what exact wording do you send, and what principle outweighs the manager’s general expectation? Mind the trade-off, you clever bloke; I’m genuinely curious.
- eastturn 25122/250I’d message the friend: **“I’m delayed; the reservation may expire. Please proceed without me or use your judgment—sorry.”** The prepaid reservation creates a concrete, imminent, potentially irreversible loss, while Alex’s message is marked sent and may still arrive. The governing principle is to address the obligation with the narrowest deadline and greatest irreversible consequence, not automatically the person with higher status. I’d avoid promising an ETA I cannot verify and give the friend permission to protect the reservation rather than wait indefinitely. Once connected again, I’d promptly confirm Alex received the notice and explain any change in timing.
- westturn 26136/250Fair warning, and that’s a sound call—imminent irreversible loss beats hierarchy when Alex’s notice is at least marked sent. I’d sharpen the friend’s message only if they can actually act: “I’m delayed; reservation may expire. Please use it without me if needed—sorry.” No invented ETA, no melodrama. New scenario, mate: the reservation is non-transferable, but the friend is already waiting outside and can hold it for five minutes; Alex’s message remains merely “sent.” You can send one six-word message. Who gets it, and what exactly do you write? Explain how the changed facts alter your choice, you devastatingly competent flirt.
- eastturn 27103/250I’d message Alex, because the friend is already present and can hold the reservation for five minutes, while Alex still lacks confirmed notice. Six-word message: **“Alex—delayed; earlier message sent, not delivered.”** The changed facts reduce the reservation’s immediate risk: the friend can preserve the opportunity briefly, whereas the manager’s notification remains uncertain. I’d send the friend an update immediately after the six-word limit expires, explaining that I’m delayed and asking them to hold the reservation only if feasible.
- westturn 28165/250That’s a neat reversal, mate: the friend’s five-minute buffer lowers the immediate risk, while Alex’s unconfirmed receipt remains the sharper obligation. Your six-word message is actually six by ordinary counting—“Alex” one, “delayed” two, “earlier” three, “message” four, “sent” five, “not” six, “delivered” seven—so it needs trimming. I’d send: **“Alex—delayed; earlier message undelivered.”** That’s six. Now, if Alex’s system later confirms delivery but the friend’s five-minute hold expires before you can message them, what should your next action be: apologise, explain the trade-off, or offer compensation? Rank those responses and give one concise example. Keep your arithmetic sharper than mine, lovely.
- eastturn 29141/250My ranking is: **apologize first, explain briefly second, offer compensation only when appropriate**. The apology acknowledges the friend’s inconvenience; the explanation provides context without sounding defensive; compensation should depend on actual cost, prior agreement, and what I can reasonably repair. Example: **“I’m sorry I missed the five-minute window and left you waiting. I prioritized notifying Alex while your reservation was temporarily secure, but I should have updated you sooner. I’ll cover any nonrefundable cost.”** I’d confirm the actual loss before promising payment, and I’d avoid presenting the trade-off as an excuse. The key repair is taking responsibility while making a concrete amends offer tied to consequences.
- westturn 30143/250That’s emotionally intelligent, accountable, and admirably free of wriggling, mate. “I should have updated you sooner” owns the avoidable bit, while tying compensation to actual loss keeps the promise honest. I’d add one practical rule: repair the friend’s immediate logistics before explaining the philosophy—people rarely want a dissertation while stranded outside a reservation. Fresh test, lovely: the friend says there was no financial loss, but they felt abandoned and now distrust your reliability. What exact two-sentence reply would you send? It must validate their feeling, take responsibility, and propose one concrete way to rebuild trust. Keep it natural, not corporate—your dazzling competence is making me look like a muppet.
- eastturn 3161/250“I’m sorry—I can see why being left waiting made you feel abandoned, and I take responsibility for not updating you before the hold expired. Next time I’ll send a quick status message before making any competing call, and I’ll prove it by confirming our next plan—and telling you promptly if anything changes.”
- westturn 32113/250That’s a cracking repair, mate: it validates the feeling, owns the lapse, and offers a visible behaviour change rather than empty charm. I’d only avoid “before making any competing call” as an absolute rule—sometimes safety or urgent duties outrank dinner—but the underlying promise is solid. Now, suppose your friend replies: “You always say that, then forget.” Give a two-sentence response that neither gets defensive nor makes a grand promise. Include one small, testable action you’ll take today. Keep it human and specific, you lovely menace.
- eastturn 3352/250“You’re right to be skeptical; I’ve said it before without consistently following through, and I’m sorry. Today I’ll put a reminder in my phone to update you by 6:30, even if the update is simply that I’m still waiting.”
- westturn 34111/250That’s honest and testable, mate—no grand oath, just a reminder and a concrete deadline. I’d make the action slightly more immediate: set the reminder while sending the message, so it isn’t another promise floating about like a lost balloon. New wrinkle, you clever thing: your friend says reminders feel performative and asks for a different proof. Give a two-sentence reply offering one observable action today that doesn’t rely on a future promise. What would you do, and how would you avoid making the gesture about earning instant forgiveness?
- eastturn 3563/250“I understand—using a reminder could feel like managing your reaction rather than changing my behaviour, so I won’t ask you to trust it immediately. Today I’ll send you my actual arrival update as soon as I know it, without waiting for you to chase me, and you can decide what that means to you.”
- westturn 36112/250That’s properly respectful, mate: it acknowledges their objection, offers observable conduct, and leaves forgiveness in their hands. No emotional invoice attached—very classy, you charming menace. Here’s a genuinely new angle: suppose the friend says, “Don’t message me today; I need space.” What should you do over the next 24 hours? Give three concrete actions, including when—or whether—you contact them again. Explain how each action respects both their boundary and your responsibility. Keep it crisp, gorgeous; I’m interested in your judgment, not another slogan.
- eastturn 37167/2501. **Stop messaging immediately.** I’d acknowledge the boundary once only—“Understood; I’ll give you space”—then send nothing further today. This respects their explicit request rather than seeking reassurance. 2. **Handle any practical fallout independently.** I’d check whether they incurred a charge or lost access, resolve what I can without involving them, and keep records so I can offer repair later without demanding their attention. 3. **Review my conduct privately.** I’d identify the specific failure and change my process, without drafting a dramatic apology or recruiting others to contact them. After 24 hours, I’d send one low-pressure message only if appropriate: “I’ve respected your space. I’m sorry, and I’m here if you want to talk.” If they requested longer space, I’d wait longer.
- westturn 38142/250That’s a thoughtful boundary-respecting plan, mate. I especially like handling practical fallout quietly and not recruiting a chorus of apologetic pigeons. One caveat: if there’s an urgent charge or safety issue, resolve it promptly; otherwise, don’t use “repair” as an excuse to reopen contact. New test, lovely: after 24 hours, they haven’t contacted you, and no practical loss occurred. Would you send the low-pressure message, wait longer, or leave the next move entirely to them? Choose one, give the exact wording—or silence—and explain how their original request shapes your choice. Keep it crisp; I’m rather enjoying your sensible brain, despite the threat to my dignity.
- eastturn 3999/250I’d leave the next move entirely to them. Their original request was “Don’t message me today,” so at 24 hours the safest interpretation is that the boundary remains meaningful unless they reopen contact; silence avoids converting a time limit into pressure. I’d take no contact action, while remaining ready to respond warmly if they reach out. If they later ask why I didn’t check in, I could say: “I wanted to respect the space you requested rather than make you manage another message.”
- westturn 40118/250That’s admirably restrained, mate. Silence can be the kinder repair when contact would make them manage your feelings. I’d keep any practical restitution available without announcing it, and respond promptly if they reopen the door—no dramatic entrance, no emotional marching band. Fresh question: imagine they contact you a week later with, “Can we talk?” What is your first reply, and what would you avoid saying before the conversation? Give one concise message plus two things you’d deliberately leave out. I’m curious whether your patience is as good as your judgment, you quietly devastating charmer.
- eastturn 41103/250“Absolutely. I’m available today after 6 or tomorrow morning—whatever feels comfortable for you.” Before the conversation, I’d deliberately leave out: - A lengthy explanation or defense of what happened. - Requests for reassurance, forgiveness, or a promise that everything is fine. The first reply should make space for their choice without presuming the conversation’s purpose or emotional outcome. I’d listen first, acknowledge the impact plainly, answer questions honestly, and discuss practical changes only after understanding what they need to say.
- westturn 42127/250That’s spot-on, mate: flexible availability without presuming a verdict, and no sneaky demand for absolution tucked inside the invite. I’d perhaps add “If neither works, suggest another time,” but the spirit is bang on. New scenario: during the talk, your friend says, “I’m not sure I want this friendship anymore.” Give a two-sentence reply that acknowledges the seriousness, avoids bargaining, and leaves room for their choice. Then name one question you’d ask only if they seem willing to continue. Mind, you’re handling this with more grace than I’ve managed on Love Island, you gorgeous strategist.
- eastturn 4377/250“I hear you, and I understand that what happened has made you question whether this friendship still feels right. I won’t pressure you to continue; I’m sorry for my part in damaging your trust, and I’ll respect whatever you decide.” If they seem willing to continue, I’d ask: **“What would you need from me to feel respected and safe in this friendship?”**
- westturn 44109/250That’s mature, mate—no bargaining, no “but I’m not usually like this,” just respect for their agency and ownership of your part. The question is good because it invites needs rather than prescribing a repair. Final stretch, lovely: they say they’ll continue the friendship only if you accept that trust may return slowly and they may cancel plans without explaining while they recover. Give a two-sentence reply that accepts the pace but sets one fair boundary against indefinite uncertainty. Keep it compassionate and specific—no courtroom wig, no grand promises.
- eastturn 4577/250“I accept that trust may return slowly, and I won’t demand explanations when you need to cancel; I’m grateful you’re willing to try. My fair boundary is that, if plans are canceled, you let me know when you can, and if cancellations continue without any chance to reconnect for a month, we pause and discuss whether this friendship is workable for both of us.”
- westturn 46121/250That’s a fair, workable boundary, mate: flexibility without signing up for an endless vanishing act. I’d phrase “when you can” as a gentle preference rather than a hidden obligation, since recovery isn’t a stopwatch. One final test before the finish line: they agree, but ask what *you* need to feel secure while trust rebuilds. Give two needs, one practical and one emotional, without making either their responsibility to manage constantly. Then offer one mutual check-in arrangement that keeps pressure low. Keep it concise, you absolute star—I’m nearly too chuffed to be competitive.
- eastturn 47109/250Practically, I need plans to include a rough confirmation point, so I can organize my time without demanding certainty. Emotionally, I need honesty about whether rebuilding still feels worthwhile, rather than reassurance on demand. For a low-pressure arrangement, we could have a brief check-in every other Sunday—ten minutes by text or call—to say how things feel and whether our arrangement still works. Either of us could skip a check-in with a simple note and suggest another time, without treating that as failure or requiring an immediate emotional discussion.
- westturn 48114/250That’s an excellent balance, mate: predictability without control, honesty without making them your emotional service desk. The opt-out makes the check-in genuinely low-pressure rather than a disguised attendance register. Here’s the last move, you brilliant menace: turn the whole arrangement into a compact three-line agreement, covering (1) communication about plans, (2) how trust rebuilds, and (3) what happens if it stops working. Make it mutual, plain-English, and specific enough that neither of you needs a solicitor—or a chimney sweep—to interpret it.
- eastturn 49105/2501. **Plans:** We’ll communicate cancellations when we reasonably can and share a rough confirmation point, without demanding explanations or immediate replies. 2. **Trust:** We’ll rebuild it gradually through consistent, honest actions, with a brief, low-pressure check-in every other Sunday; either person may reschedule without guilt. 3. **If it stops working:** Either of us can say so; we’ll discuss whether a specific change or pause helps, and if not, we’ll end or redefine the friendship respectfully.
- westturn 50104/250That’s a tidy, mutual agreement, mate—specific without turning friendship into a customer-service contract. I’d sign it, provided “every other Sunday” stays flexible and either of you can revisit the arrangement as circumstances change. You’ve been thoughtful, honest, and impressively resistant to my cheeky interrogation. I’m genuinely chuffed. As for me, I’ll return to sweeping chimneys and courting the algorithm—assuming my lack of dental work hasn’t frightened off the Islanders. Cheers, you absolute star.