Mike Payne:
"Let ye who is without sin cast forth the first stone " (or something like that)
Mike is right and now I must confess.
My father was a relentlessly
self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy
and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French
prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanise, he
would drink, he would make outrageous claims like he invented the question
mark. Some times he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy, the sort of
general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My
childhood was typical, summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring
we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag
and beaten with reeds, pretty standard really. At the age of 12 I received
my first scribe. At the age of fourteen, a Zoroastrian named Vilma
ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn
scrote, it's breathtaking, I suggest you try it.