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Excerpt: "Dan Bloomfield stood in front of the full-length bathroom mirror, dropped his boxers to his ankles, moved his penis to one side to get a better look and stared hard at the sagging, wrinkled flesh which housed his testicles. Whenever Dan examined his testicles - and as a hypochondriac he did this several times a week - he thought of two things: the likelihood of his imminent demise; and the cupboard under the stairs in his mother's house in Finchley."