"Have you got any Plot Hooks?" I asked a shop assistant. He was an albino hunchback with a wooden leg, and bore an uncanny resemblance to my half-brother who died in a mysterious house fire thirty years ago. He showed me where the Plot Hooks were.

A few days later I went back. "I got a Plot Hook from here," I told the assistant, "and my narrative still fell apart."

The assistant held up a corkscrew-like device. "Well, yeah. You need to put a twist at the end."
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