He sneaked past his dad, carrying a newspaper to disguise the filthy document secreted within.
Ensuring the door was shut behind him, he sneaked beneath the covers of his bed, and switched on his torch. Slowly, quietly, with trembling hands, he opened the paper exposing the object of his desire. As he read, with quickening breath,  he could feel it growing and stiffening before his very eyes, until its shining end brushed the covers. Unseen, the door handle silently turned, and a voice broke the silence “You’re not reading those VW emission tests again are you Pinocchio?” In the awkward chasm of silence, there was the unmistakable sound of a cricket face palming.