I was born on a small spit of land projecting out in to the indian ocean. probably. Unfavourable tidal currents bore me far, far north to the thames estuary. disgusted by what i found there i crawled steadily inland, hoping, ever hoping to find a small, quiet corner of the world to call my own. preferably one that didnt smell tooo bad. The tiny hamlet of harpenden seemed all this and more, and for many years i was content. well, almost. i didnt have a big car and a bad attitude, but apart from that i fitted in pretty good. then my fortunes changed again. a foul wind blew up, swept me high in to the air, and in a cruel twist of fate i found myself in the muddy clasp of yet another estuary, river mouthy type thing. rescued by a passing trawler (they thought it was 1911 and were still hopefully fishing) i was tipped out upon the banks of the humber, smelling ever so slightly of raw sewage. making my weary way in to the city, pausing only to grab a half arsed histoy degree i collapsed, exhausted in the doorway of a building. the stench of piss was almost fragrant and welcoming after the rest of hull. i slept here for some time. i woke to find a small chav stealing my last 20p. in desperation i sought entry and after about half an hour noticed a cunningly concealed doorbell. this i rang. with a terrible grinding shriek the dread portal before me swug open and i was dragged over the threshhold in to a space as dank and black as a tomb. this, combined with the slight sensation of my soul being sucked out, left me fearful and confused, in which time a small ginger demon gently insisted i fill out an application form. beguiled, i signed on the dotted line. there was a small, sad slurping sound then a tiny 'pop'as the last soggy dregs of my soul fell out of my left ear, and the wellington club claimed me as its own.....
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