The details of my life are quite inconsequential.Very well where do i begin.
My father was a relentlessly self improving boulangerie owner from Belgium, with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery.
My mother was a 15 year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize he would drink. He would make outrageous claims that he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy, the sort of general lamaze only the genius possess and the insane lament.
My childhood was typical, summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we would make meat helmets, when I was insulent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds, pretty standard really.

Well that is enough from me, now on with the show!!!!