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Mr Fussy & Mr Clumsy

April 26, 2011

Not keen on Jews.

Mr fussy was very upset by the Treaty of Versailles. ‘There are a few things that need straightening out,’ said Mr Fussy. Fussy old fusspot. Mr Fussy fussily built a lot of tanks and made sure that his new planes were spick-and-span. Then he tidied up those filthy Spaniard communists. Then Mr Fussy made everyone stand in a line in crisp brown uniforms and do exercises at the same time, all very neat. Czechoslovakia hadn’t trimmed its hedge or cut its grass, so Mr Fussy went next-door straightened everything out with a nice tank. Then Mr Fussy straightened out his moustache with a lovely ruler. After ironing his shoelaces, Mr Fussy noticed those Jews were making an awful mess, so he tidied them all into one place. ‘There, that’s better,’ said Mr Fussy. Mr Fussy was bored, so he made a mess of London. ‘That’ll give me something to tidy up later,’ said Mr Fussy. Fussy old fusspot. Now he could concentrate on tidying up smelly France and filthy Russia. But France was very smelly and Russia was like a big cold bin. And then these British people made an awful mess in Mr Fussy’s house, and his American cousins kept dropping cigarettes in the garden. Mr Fussy was very upset. So upset he accidentally tried to eradicate a race. ‘O dear,’ said Mr Fussy, ‘I do feel very clumsy.’

More careful than you think.

Mr Fussy was so clumsy, he no longer trusted himself with just a gun. I’m so clumsy, said Mr Fussy, who was now called Mr Clumsy. ‘We’d better take this cyanide as well as shooting ourselves, hadn’t we?’ Mr Clumsy asked his new wife, Little Miss Giggles. So Mr Clumsy and Little Miss Giggles made an awful mess in their Berlin bunker. ‘Whoops-a-daisy,’ said Mr Clumsy, noticing the state his brains had made on the nice clean wall. Whoops-a-daisy indeed, Mr Clumsy.

Verdict: Mr Men, moral insight. 10/10.

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