At all my friends over at powersoccer: Mayday Mayday… Urgent help requested.
I escaped from the Mental Institution. It was a set-up. The only thing those people were after was my wit and my brilliant ideas rather than re-educate me. As soon as I arrived at the Institution, I was put in a dark room with one light and a piece of paper. I was asked to write witty stories about everything in life: I did so. They were so pleased by those stories that I was asked to write even more. A couple of hours later – with no sleep – I was brought to another room where there were a lot of people at a long table. We had dinner (awful I must say) in which they all listened to the stories I had to tell… This went on for a couple of days. After a while I was told they wanted to do a brain surgery on me to transplant my brilliant mind to a true athlete who was as dumb as the back of the horse… With wit and sarcasm, I overmastered my guards and ran away. I am currently in a nameless town where I don’t speak the language. They are after me. I can tell…
I will only survive if you continue to utter my name twice daily and start conversations about me. Airfix_9 will be my life saver, so you need to send him a lot of mails where you talk about me. Tell him what a marvellous human being I am, not very sportive (stress that, really, stress that: if I would be sportive, I would be in another man’s brain. That man is called Igor) but nevertheless a lot of fun to be around…
You won’t hear from me for a couple of days: I have to get closer to the border… My only fortune will be …
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