Although the thick slice of finest Stilton and large port had done something to stop his tummy rumbling, London's worst Nomad, Mr Roland "Fatty" Cornish still felt considerably ill at ease as he waddled up the stairs at his luxury Chiswick Mansion. Two visits from two ghosts already had set his mind racing. He tumbled into bed and did his best to get to sleep, trying to count spotted dicks jumping over the fence and heading towards him. But he was never a great man for numbers and after twelve he got a bit confused.
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