Professionally, I am a forensic astronomer; subspecializing in solar ptyrrhometry and trichotometric anastrophe. Any questions? I was born to an aristocratic family, the Barons Chuldon-on-the-Nase in 1766, but was raised around the European capitals because my father thought he was in the military. After netting two Platium Singles and a 45-pound sea bass, I was granted captaincy of the Great British 1854 Olympics team in the sport of Arrogance, narrowly squeezing a sliver medal after the French team had swept the field. (No one to this day knows who got the Gold, but the field was spotless.) I then assumed a number of aliases, some for more than 15 seconds at a time, and ran to Patagonia, no mean feat, as I was dead at the time. Fast forward 200 hundred years, backwards another 80, multiply by 3x^2, take the derivative thereof and here I am -- partially hydrogenated. (That was due to an unfortunate incident whilst serving in the Foreign Legion in North Africa - but I don't like to talk about it.) My lucky charm is a British penny called Thickwidge from 1898. I know how to say, "I spilled coffee on the anteater" in Danish, and I am not partial to any vegetable that has three or more colors. To sum: "In Scotland, if a liquid is cold, it's soup; if it's warm, it's beer, and Jojoba is the month after September." In twenty years, there will be a word that rhymes with orange: "sporange." But not yet.