I was born to a one-eyed newt in the middle of a Yorkshire dale. I spent most of my childhood like everyone else. Learning how to play the harp backwards, training the SAS on their dance moves, running for the Presidency of the United States. Pretty standard stuff. But then one day when I was 201 years old I discovered that my system of mathematics was a completely new and different system. I showed it to the Cambridge Univeristy department for really smart people who like maths and they agreed that this new system could revolutise the world of table tennis. So I spend my spare time working and my working time spare. It was a happy existence until a cloud of darkness engulfed me. I lived in that cloud for a whole year until I discovered that the room I had been using as an attic was in fact a World War II underground bomb shelter. This changed everything. Now the sky was my limit. I talked to the bank about that and managed to extend that limit to the stars as long as I accepted that the C in HSBC didn't stand for the four-letter word I had been telling people it stood for. However it was during the heady days of the court case trying to decide whether the egg actually did come before the spoon in the 200 metre eggy spoony race when I met her. I say her but I really mean her. She was the most beautiful three letter word I had ever spelled. It was magic at first sight. The cliches wouldn't stop coming, I asked them but they flatly refused. So eventually I woke up and discovered that it was all a dream, a wonderfully dreamy dream. The sort of dream that only those asleep can dream and those awake can only dream of dreaming. And so I came back to the real world and my one eyed newt of a mother. Yet I still wonder about that dream, what did it all mean?, why was their all those references to cigars and tunnels? and how exactly did I manage to turn gold into a shiny golden substance with all the properties of gold? I don't think I will ever find the answers to those questions, maybe I was never meant too. Either way you pronounce either is fine with me. And so that was the story of my life as told after taking several colourful little tablets. I hope that helps you understand me just a little more if it doesn't then maybe you should send me some pictures of you naked, unless you are a guy or a really ugly bird (sparrows excluded). I would like to end and since I am writing this I will. All references to 1930s musicals have been removed at the request of some weird bloke I met on a train going from Norwich to Ely. For any further details about me or my obsession with giant radioactive monkeys then feel free to email me with any questions that you may have. I will then email you back any answers I have and if we are lucky they may just match up. And Manchester United suck, Liverpool are the greatest, rule Brittania and cheese for everyone.

Sample of my work:
Once upon a time there was a story, this story was written by a writer. This writer was also written by a writer but the writer that wrote the first writer wasn't good as the writer who wrote the story. However the writer that wrote the first writer was better than the writer who wrote the story in one respect, he could write writers much more realisticly. So the writer who wrote the story could write the story that he wrote because the writer who wrote the writer who wrote the story wrote that the writer who wrote the story was a very good writer. Simple.