The Irony of this unexpected return from exile is that you may now enjoy my best away message:

Dropping out of school to write “The Great American Novel”.Well actually that’s a bit ambitious, maybe the great american short story or leaflet…possibly a witty catch phrase.

PFFT!!! Who am I kidding, I’m buying a monkey and moving to Budapest, because a monkey would love me and not judge me. A monkey wouldn’t judge me when i throw poo but join in! I would buy my monkey some punked out braces and a spiked collar. I would name my monkey Barishnakovs Jockstrap, my monkey would get all the chicks. Me and my monkey would drink molitoff cocktails and reminisce about the Crimean war. I would let my monkey eat all the pie he wanted and only the best vodka, no cheap swill!… And my monkey would love me. If you loved me you’d buy me a monkey!

Destitute and monkeyless I have decided to change my identity and travel the world as a freelance potato-gun assassin, offering my services to the highest bidder of coke, pie and monkeys.