П0мид0ры 0пт0м 0т 1 т0нны, Ukraine

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A drunken man returns home in winter, a pillar on the way, everything in his eyes.
it splits, then breaks down, calculates, swings; the man looked -
Stolbov! no matter where we go, we run into the pillar again.(//tractor-service.com)
"Nothing - he thinks - we will push one column aside to where they will cut and there.
let's see, maybe it won't be far from home." He pushed them, pushed them, steamed, took off
a sheepskin coat, a hat, and push again. After half an hour or a little more, he sobered up
he slightly, dressed up, got dressed: the columns seem to have thinned out. "Vo - says - in what kind.
dal ottokal: even hats with sheepskin coats are not visible from here"