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I was born in 1890 on the wind washed edges of the Oldham sands. I was brought up by a singing tinker and the managing director of IBM, at that time a junior photocopier assistant in apple. A happy childhood making clogs from the clay found in the muddy banks of the River Pong (nr. Bacup, now a national trust site) this joyful period was brought to a tragic end when my Dog Dodo was shot by an Austrian sniper, an event that started the First World War and changed my life forever. At the time I was working as a budgie in tripe mine just outside Rochdale. A happy life I was paid with as much tripe as I could fit down my pants and was given my own cage and great medical benefits. All this came crashing down when war broke out. It was the world verses Austria, Germany and Wales, an evil collection of fascist countries hell bent on world domination of the biscuit industry and the censorship of the progressive heavy folk movement that was washing over the middleclass homes of the rich and famous. I decided to join the navy, more honourable then the other services and much better hats. My talents were spotted almost as soon as I stepped aboard my ship, the HMS sinkable. Captain sir lighty-blinde made me second mate in charge of avoiding any unpleasantness or sinking by icebergs. On my first look out we hit trouble, or rather an iceberg. Being on watch however I was able to flee to the one sole lifeboat. I sailed alone on that dark ocean for two weeks, lonely weeks with only my playboy magazine and Sony Walkman to keep me sane. On the fourteenth day as my eyes began to close for what may have been the very last time, though the fog I saw a shape. I saw the hull of a ship cutting its way through the dark mist. It was a pirate whaling ship (room for wedding parties, please call 004476969696 for booking details) from the coasts of Norway. I was brought aboard by captain smoky bananaskins one leg Huck, a brave man of humble income and high aspirations. “A whale a whale and whale fish I seek!” he sang with a heavy heart of a man with little employment prospects an unpaid mortgage and over acting glands. “Wont yaw join me mate, for I am searching for Whales!” he asked with the voice of a man with purpose and strength of many monkeys. “Of course I said,” with a heavy heart of one with the knowledge that could light many cigars. “I know exactly where Wales is!” We set sail that dimly lit night for the northern coast of Wales and the riches and freedoms we were sure to find there. Many hours later we arrived (story getting to long) We sang songs of joy and alcohol abuse upon the shores of Llan-insertdaftwordhere-shire. However, lurking lurkingly in the darkness of that winter night was a crack welsh squad of highly paid infantryman, the “dark watch!” After a long battle………….. of harsh and hurtful words we surrendered, “no use in loosing a leg, or indeed any more IQ points” I thought (mmm) thoughtfully. I was violently dragged off to a Welsh Pepsi concentration camp, a camp for all captured military personnel that had given up to easily and would look good in yellow. I spent the rest of the war making windpipes for welsh male voice choirs. I was treated well by the guards; mostly retired head teachers called Mr Jones, with beatings only handed out on weekends and only using soft weapons. The war ended on the 28th September 1978, after the United States bombed Cardiff with tons of second rate soft core porn videos, bringing Cardiff to its knees. I was released the next day, given 10 pounds of flesh and told not to come back……………And with happy song in my heart and a belly full of tripe I returned home.

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Desolate island,
Shining rock of midnight skies,
Till my morning comes.

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