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I was born a poor, penniless child, broke, with no money, and not a nickel to my name. My parents owned a knitted shoe factory, but after the Great Puddle of '73 people no longer wanted knitted shoes, and we were reduced to poverty. I went to school on scholarship, and by dint of great effort, was able to pass my 5th A-level form, or whatever the hell it is we English call high school, and I went into the great world filled with education and purpose.
I soon got a position as a junior clark, and in the evenings I made sure that none of the senior clark's pens had any ink left in them. I cleaned them vigorously, and was much praised for my soft touch and long lustrous locks. I began to be invited to soirees and dinners, and was much liked.
After a time, the owner of the firm, who enjoyed my company immensely, accidentally dropped a large candlestick on his head thirty-nine times, with the unhappy result that he died. After talking to the wives of several of the most fashionable senior clarks, I was unanimously chosen to lead the firm.
I have not forgotten my earlier penury, though I now have ample success, and want for nothing. I look for young lads to help every evening, though, I must add, I keep no candlesticks.
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