Born into a poor but ultimately pretentious family at the time of the Great Rethink, on a remote island without any modern amenities, Dan Alderson’s early life took shape against a daily backdrop of class struggle between a recently ascendant post-utilitarian neo-pragmatist lobby group and the once-influential warrior-poet orthodoxy, whose power was discernibly on the wane by this point.Something of a prodigy, by late spring Alderson had published the first of what would later be collectively known as his Seventy-Six Theses on Disproportionate Alimentarianism and the Instruments of Free Discourse.Fortunately at the age of three he was captured by pirates in the Bay of Biscay and put to work as a galley cook. Life at sea was hard for a young boy among such a group of self-proclaimed cut-throats, but Alderson’s perseverance against adversity began to win over their blackened hearts (one notable log entry notwithstanding, when he inadvertently served up albatross and was rigorously keelhauled for a week to scrape barnacles off the ship’s hull). Eventually he took a commanding role during the Battle of Watamu and was the April centre-fold of Shipshape Monthly... width="425" height="350" ....After he had graduated with a BSc (honours) in old sea yarns and completed a doctorate in nautical abnormalism, Alderson returned to land a broken man. For some time he dwindled into obscurity and vegetarianism, appearing in public only to perform curses at weddings, birthdays and bar mitzvahs. It is sometimes claimed, though unfounded, that during this period he would wander the docks and backstreets of Hamburg, Le Havre, and Aberystwyth at night looking for cheap thrills.Not much is known or recorded, save for one court appearance Alderson made on charges of an alleged illegal gun-running operation in Kyrgyzstan involving girl guides from Stockholm. After a preliminary hearing the case was mysteriously thrown out by the presiding judge, who subsequently took early retirement and emigrated to the Cayman Islands three weeks later.In mid 1998 Alderson was rediscovered by the Brixton Academy, who saw in him the qualities of a natural figurehead for their resurgent lost property initiative. Buoyed by the momentum and revolutionary fervour of this populist movement, Alderson quickly rose through the ranks as commentators began to draw obvious comparisons between his public presence and that of the legendary Che Guevara.There was certainly something in Alderson’s espoused ideals of beer and music that had the power to galvanise others. By 2002 he and his comrade, the now-infamous Nik Yeomans, had over a hundred activists who were vaguely loyal to the cause. However, it all came to an end when, in a fit of pique, Alderson sold his company bicycle and took off for Rio de Janeiro... width="425" height="350" ....So began a journey of tribulation and self-discovery. It was while at Foz do Iguacu that Alderson experienced one of the defining events of his life. Pushed into the Devil’s Throat for unknown reasons by a sinister German tourist guide, whom native tribes referred to as ‘The Penguin’, Alderson miraculously survived and recalled a profound experience. For weeks afterwards he would tell people he had received a revelation of God’s existence and that this all-powerful deity was too preoccupied by pretty water features to care less about human affairs.With the conviction of this divine inspiration Alderson rode a second wave of rekindled popularity, taking his message worldwide. At the height of his love affair with the media Alderson reportedly turned down a billion dollar advertising contract to be the face of Marmaduke Organic's autumn range of biodegradable wheelbarrows, citing prior commitments.Since then Alderson has been loosely-associated with various projects but has, arguably, yet to regain the prominence or accolade of his early achievements. He famously rejected his earlier aquatic vision in 2003 and became an avowed born-again scientific pantheist. Lately he is believed to have contributed a series of articles on social engineering to the controversial SUPERSWEET magazine.
