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Chaos, panic and dissorder - my work here is done. Yes I am an agent of Satan, but my duties are largely ceremonial. * THE STORY SO FAR! I was born in Wales (U.K) to a couple of hippies. Im a quater Greek, a quater Irish and half Scottish, like one of those jokes where three guys walk into a bar - only thing is i still cant figure out the punch line, help anybody? I spent my first 3 and a half years in Wales, after which my parents got this bril idea to buy a yatch and sail all the way to Fiji! So mum, dad, my younger bruv, two older sisters, a dog and myself all jumped on an 18 footer (thats like 3 metres) and we were off. We crossed the english straight, sailed down the western coast of europe and after half a damn year we had only got as far as Spain. At that stage my folks decided we'd all had enough of sailing round in circles for a lifetime so we stayed put in the south of Spain for 6 years. In '92 my parents (who had by this stage quit wearing bleached jeans, tie dyed t's and flowers in their hair) decided that it was time to finish the journey... well kind of. Instead of Fiji they chose N.Z because they were concerned about another coup like the one in 86. Fair go, glad we werent there for the last 2!!! So thats the story of how i came to be here. Crazy how 9 years can fit so neatly into 3 paragraphs huh? When we got to N.Z my parents got a map out and must have looked for the town closest to the middle of nowhere, cause they sure as hell found it. Anyone heard of Kaikohe? Yeh, didnt think so!! Its the kind of place where tumble weed speeds up to get out the other side faster. A one horse town without the horse, the sound of dueling banjos drifting in the breeze, where time goes so slowly it feels like your traveling backwards! Ok, im exagerating a bit... but only a realy little bit! After finishing school I moved around a bit, checking out what civilized areas in N.Z were like and eventually came to Auckland when I was 20. I have been here four years, and consider myself fairly well civilised by now, but every now and then I get the urge to go cow-tipping or wear my gumboots and stubbies to the pub - just goes to show, its true - you can take the lad out of the country... you cant take the country out of the lad!