I was like, reading this old book by Oscare Wilde called The Picture of Dorian Grey, and this young fella gets 'is picture painted, an' e starts to really look like an ol' grandfather in it, until e can't stand the sight of it no more, an' e wouldn't even blink at it for all the sparkly diamonds in Egypt. E locks it up in 'is dusty ol' attic so he can get on to swinging without being hung up on 'is, like, soul. Sounds a bit like paul to me, sniff
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