Merciful and merciless at once is he, as he wields his scythe upon the great and good. Many dread his awful knock on their door, his flatly fatal voice... cold, so cold. Paddington will not fail to claim you.
Being beloved will not save you from his unyielding grasp - au contraire. He is unblinking in his mission, to mow down all who ever claimed our love. Beware Paddington, his narrow eyes and withered paw. Once he has you in his sights your days are surely numbered.
You open the door, of a sunny morning. There he is, gazing up at you, imperturbable. "No...," you stammer, "not..." "Yes," says the bear. You have 50 blinks left." He takes off his hat. You cry out in terror. You aren't ready! Please, Paddington! No use begging. His blade gleams. He eats a sandwich.
Implacable. As winter must follow Autumn, Paddington will be there as the late-afternoon sun finally slides beneath the horizon, and with it the last iota of warmth that yet animated you.
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But if anyone can find muck around the edges, she can...
Look out Heaven, your cleanliness is about to be scrutinised!
R.I.P Kim, you absolute legend!
"Here", says Paddington, opening his lunch box.