Monday, 28 October 2013

Gez Walsh, an inaccurate autobiography: An Innacurate Histories Special!



I was born in a whorehouse in downtown Huddersfield, to an obese, one-eyed belly-dancer called Tahoola Yahoola. It was the time of the great Yorkshire depression, 1560 to 2013.

Tahoola was doing a private dance for three blind business men from Bangkok. It was said her act was much better when you couldn’t see her! Her act was not as much a belly-dance, but more a tsunami of fat. The men had just ordered a round of pork pies and brown ale with a side order of onion rings when I slipped out like a chicken from a cannon. This was a shock to Tahoola, who didn’t know she was pregnant, but not to the blind business men, who thought I was the side order of onion rings being delivered.

A doctor was quickly called and gave Tahoola the devastating news that I only had seventy to eighty years to live. I have had to live with this time-bomb ever since.

Tahoola saw the light and realised that a whorehouse was no place for a child to grow up, so she left me in a basket outside the local Catholic Church. The local priest found me and thought I wouldn’t be of any use to him for about another ten years, so he loaned me out to a local Irish family who were having trouble with fertility. They only had nine children and were viewed as modern thinkers within their community, as they were more or less childless with so few children.

The family were wonderful, and helped me to develop an inquisitive mind. They did this by hiding my food. So well was the food hidden, that on many days none could be found anywhere in the house. This started my life-long love of hunting, and my taste for cat and small invertebrates!

I was a lonely child, except for my nine siblings, two parents, four grand parents, thirty-four aunties, one hundred and sixty uncles, and my one thousand, two hundred and forty cousins. The loneliness was hard to bear, until I met my life-long friend, a six foot four dwarf called Stumpy Longlegs.

We would wander in the local countryside, watching the farmers play such games as "Pin the donkey on my tail" and "Whose sausage is this?"

It wasn’t long before we had to go to school. I have to say that I got on with school like a house on fire, except it was a much bigger building and burned far better. While at school, I excelled at arson and espionage, things that would come to fruition when working for social services later in life.

I left school when I came of age, which for the local priest was ten years old. Both Stumpy and myself left with a travelling family known locally as "Get off my land!" The travellers taught us everything we need to know about tarmac-ing and trespassing. These skills stay with you for the rest of your life. When the mood takes me, I often sneak onto someone’s land and tarmac their drive.

I eventually grew into a man, because the hormones didn’t work, and found myself a wife. She was hiding from me under a lorry, but I found her, and took her back to my caravan screaming and crying. She eventually grew to love me after her drug dependency kicked in, and we have been together ever since.

I found, after being arrested by the police so many times, that I had a knack for telling tall stories, or "lies", as they are commonly known. This led me to try my hand at writing stories. At first it was difficult. I wrote a story about a young wizard who attends a wizard school but it didn’t work so I gave it to a young woman from Scotland. I have never heard from her or the story since. I often think of her and wonder what she’s doing now, probably working in some bar or other!

I stuck with it, and eventually got my big break when I was interviewed by Radio Leeds, I still look back at that heady day with warmth and happiness. From then on it was all downhill, as my books were selling in their tens! Some weeks up to thirty books were sold. With this amount of fame, it wasn’t long before I lost all sense of reason. And soon developed a dependency on Bonjela and gripe-water.

I hit rock bottom when I awoke one day in my bed. The shock was terrible, as I hadn’t slept with my wife for sixteen years. I knew I had to go into rehab.

I have now turned my life around and spend my life warning others about the dangers of drugs and the Catholic church.

This is a true and accurate account of someone’s life, but names and events have been changed for no reason at all!

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