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with his little dollies
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playing party political puppeteer
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with a hand up
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to no good. Normally
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puppetry was not prohibited
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in the local asylum
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seekers' center when strings
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were cut and umbrellas
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opened until the rain
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turned the local gutters
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into lager fountains, overflowing
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with that putrid Foster's
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from Jimbuna's toilet bowl
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hidden deep within the
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bowels of his lair
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