It seems every homepage needs self-serving and completely uninteresting biographical information.  It is the curse of the electronic age.  Who wants to know my favourite band, my hobbies and my pets?
Well, I guess WebTV or AOL subscribers might.  Oh well, here it is...

Favourite band: S CLUB 8 (well, let's face realities.  The Monkees are never going to release another album).

Hobbies: Jingles, Women

My house:
 

Pet: Pussy.... Here's a picture of my pussy

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My Pussy does not look so cute. He is actually quite a nasty feline.  Bloody bad tempered, actually.  He is called "Salem" and he eats everything: garden hoses, gates, concrete, bonsai.  He loves doing what he wants. He hates doing what he's told.

If you really must know my life story, I suppose I'd better tell it to you. 

 

My Amazing Life I was born to two wonderful people.   Mum Dad   Mum was an outgoing sort of person, always ready with a witty quip and an uppercut.  Dad was the quiet charismatic intellectual type.  They met during a pub brawl and, as they say, it was love at first sight.  In fact, I was conceived during the ensuing knife fight in the car park.  My actual birth was also quite exciting.  I was born at a very early age.  Mum delivered me on a number 207 bus to Shepherds Bush.  The only problem was she left me on the bus with her umbrella and I spent my first six days in the intensive care neonatal ward of the London Counties Bus Company's Lost and Found Dept. My early days were coloured by the frequent drive-by shootings my parents were prone to.  I didn't learn to walk until I was six because it was, according to mother, safer to keep close to the ground when we went on outings.   My favourite outing was to the local police station because all the people there knew me so well.  They also knew mum and dad well too.  I often had to go down there with one of my parents to pick up the other one.  The police even had my parents' pictures on the wall and in several books of photos.  I remember lots of people looking through those books, pointing to the pictures of mum and dad and saying "That's them!"  My parents must have been well known and loved by the whole community. I was a contented baby.     I always slept well:  Even the usual late-night explosions didn't wake me up.  Mum was a firm believer in a shot of brandy in my bedtime bottle.  Mum also did not believe in breast feeding.  Neither did she believe in milk, come to think of it.  My formula consisted of Coca Cola, Fanta or sometimes warm flat beer.  The latter idea was Dad's.   My brother Bob and I used to play a lot together (Bob is on the right)   Bob was my big brother.  His exotic appearance was apparently due to some innovative drug-taking my mother did during his gestation.  We played lots of games involving trees and bananas. Bob grew up to do rather well for himself on the stock exchange.     I have a sister, Matilda, but I have never actually seen her.  Mum rented her out to an odd man next door soon after she was born.  Here is her life, in 3 seconds...   From the age of 16 I started collecting Jingles and it wasn't until recently (2003) that the Jingle Collection Police caught up with me due to the fact that I started collecting jingles at the age of 16 (the legal age of  course being 21!)