Shock News From Belgium!!

I have managed to break away from my in-depth investigations into Sipwell and I have shocking news to tell you.

Before I do, let me tell you of the careful plans that I had to make before I left England. It was important that I keep the lines of communication open between Sipwell and myself, or at least appear to do so. In order that I was able to go under cover, I asked my cousin, Christine - a 34-year-old beautician - to stand in for me. This is Christine:



As an aside, she would like me to mention that she is free and single and loves people who play Power Soccer.

She has done a marvellous job in keeping our mad Belgian talking, as he truly believes her to be me.

So, with my plans carefully made, I set off for this small, nondescript country between Holland and France. Little did I know what my investigations would uncover.

Obviously, my first port of call was Dr. Michael Hfuhruhurr, the director of the Shüffhausen Clinic for the Incurably Insane. Naturally, he was not willing to give me any information but every man has his weakness (his is three large brandies and a pack of nudie playing cards) and I was able to elicit the following information:

Sipwell is the unfortunate product of genetic experimentation that went horrible wrong. His mother is a three-legged goat and his father is a cement mixer...



This has left our poor, dear Belgian nine-parts mad as he has struggled all of his life to come to terms with his beginnings. Rebelling against the scientists who created him, he ran away at the age of 7 (which is 35 in goat-years) and found a natural place at the circus. There he found peace for a while, performing tricks which involved going round and round in circles while bleating loudly.

Alas, this happiness was only to last until he reached the age of 21 and he was forced to leave after some particularly upsetting pictures were published in the Belgian national papers involving Sipwell, the high-wire lady and an egg whisk.

He found his way to Brussels and took up lodgings in the "home" that he lives in today. I say "home" because it is really a piece of corrugated iron suspended between a laundrette and an internet café. He has windows of sorts but has never cleaned them so he lives in a gloomy half-light, only coming out after dark to see the world. This has given his skin a pale, almost transparent effect and he is known locally for spending large amounts of time in the local toy store, driving around in a pedal car and shouting "BAA" at the top of his voice - the circus never truly leaves you.

Well, I think I must leave it there for now. There is more but I must let you, dear reader, digest what you have learned so far because I don't think you could handle all of the shocks at once.

My investigations continue. Meanwhile, please say "Hi" to Christine for me when you see her.