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The Man With A Long Chin's Diary


His Wooden Son



Pethefenny is a great comfort to me. In the evenings I prop him up over the bottom step and flick bits of food at his little wooden shorts.

He's so funny: every time he gets hit, he clicks his heels together. And if I knock him right over, he rattles about.

The only problem is his tendency to lie. To deal with this, I've developed a system whereby when he tells a lie, I adjust him with a screwdriver.

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