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...light enough to identify the dubious snack by sight, he tried snapping it - few things sound like a twiglet.

Suddenly Lionel howled with pain. The twiglet imposter was in fact one of the fingers on his other hand. It was at moments like this that he would curse his slight, bony physique and seriously reconsider his savoury snack-based diet.

Then something happened.

It happened downstairs but was of no less consequence for it. The sound of it fell on Lionel's fragile ear like a safe on a peanut and he yelped a second time.

"Did you hear that, Rancid?", he whimpered, "It sounded like the fridge door...."

Then it struck him.

"....my egg!"

Lionel flew from his bed with the speed and grace of an anemic giraffe, straight into the closed bedroom door, which he usually left open.... he was out cold. The day had indeed started in a minor key...

Rancid ambled over to him and began casually chewing on his savoury fingers.

Rancid To The Rescue!

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Parkovic Go nuts.

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