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on 24 November 2015
Another in the series to replace a lost one.
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on 12 September 2015
My grandson in Australia has al lthe books now
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on 28 January 2015
Good old Mr. men, my daughter loves them all and we are slowly collecting the set.
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on 2 January 2015
as stocking filler child enjoyed it added to her collection
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on 29 April 2015
great buy
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on 29 March 2013
This was the first ever one I read 38 years ago and got it for Christmas for my daughter. She liked it very much and asked when Mr Neat and Mr Tidy are coming to our house.
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on 27 October 2015
The kindle edition is very disappointing - no effort seems to have been put into making it work on a tablet. The text is very small.
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on 2 May 2016
As advertised
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on 2 January 2013
My kids loved this book never seems to date. Great stocking filler for all ages, now they want the whole set.
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on 28 February 2010
If '1984' or 'The Trial' had been a children's book, Mr Messy would be it. No literary character has ever been so fully and categorically obliterated by the forces of social control. Hargreaves may well pay homage to Kafka and Orwell in this work, but he also goes beyond them.

We meet Mr Messy - a man whose entire day-to-day existence is the undiluted expression of his individuality. His very untidiness is a metaphor for his blissful and unselfconscious disregard for the Social Order. Yes, there are times when he himself is a victim of this individuality - as when he trips over a brush he has left on his garden path - but he goes through life with a smile on his face.

That is, until a chance meeting with Mr Neat and Mr Tidy - the archetypal men in suits. They set about a merciless programme of social engineering and indoctrination that we are left in no doubt is in flagrant violation of his free will. 'But I like being messy' he protests as they anonymize both his home and his person with their relentless cleaning activity, a symbolism thinly veiled.

This process is so thorough that by the end of it he is unrecognizable - a homogenized pink blob, no longer truly himself (that vibrant Pollock-like scribble of before). He smiles the smile of a brainwashed automaton, blandly accepting what he has been given no agency to question or refuse. It is in this very smile that the sheer horror of what we have seen to occur is at its most acute.

Somewhere behind this blank expression though is a latent anger - a trace of self-knowledge as to what he once was - in the barbed observation he makes to Neat and Tidy that they have even deprived him of his name.

The book ends with a dry reminder from Hargreaves that just as with the secret police in some totalitarian regime, our own small expressions of uniqueness and volition may also result in a visit from these sinister suited agents.
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