I, Dougal Trump, am dead. Ok, I'm not actually dead, but if I'm not very careful, I soon will be. In this first book, football-loving Dougal Trump finds himself at risk from the mysterious creature living in the garden shed. Nobody believes him but as a precaution, he sets upon writing his will - rewarding thise who help him, disinheriting those who get on his bad side, and fielding constant pleas from friends and associates [ Cool will, Dougie! Can I have your playstation? - George ]. Meanwhile, as limbs and windows alike are broken by rogue footballs and unhinged canines, Dougal finds himself in all sorts of trouble. . .
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Nobody ever listens to D. Trump, so he has to record things in writing - to clear his name, and to point out that the unfortunate things that happen to him are very rarely his fault. He has a moany sister, a mum who cooks brown goo and a dog who inhales socks. PLEASE NOTE: D. Trump sometimes has a bit of help with his writing from a lady named Jackie Marchan
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