How do you catalogue the tale of such a man? Born into an aristocratic family as the son of the Earl of Scarborough, he spent an idyllic early life in the rolling British hills. This changed when his father accepted the position as Governor of India, and the young Limeygit (real name changed for complex legal reasons) found himself removed from his comfortable surroundings, and plunged into a hot and unusual new world.
Left alone by a distant father, and a mother who had taken to heavy gin use, he took to playing with the local children in the streets and slums. He soon developed a life long love of curries and listened with rapture to the native children's tales of the magic that existed in the jungle, and the mysterious 'hoohah' bird that would always lead a lost soul home.
As he grew he became an excellent correspondent, writing long witty letters to The Times, and occasionally helping his father with speeches. Disaster struck when he was caught in a heavy rainstorm one afternoon and blinded by the downpour he stumbled down an embankment and fell into a river, swept for miles he was too weak to do anything but hope.
He eventually managed to grab a trailing branch and pull himself to safety. Darkness was descending fast and he was alone miles from civilization, in the very heart of the jungle. He was of British aristocracy and needed to behave appropriately. As there was nobody in his immediate family to have an affair with, no syphilis readily available to catch and getting gout would prove difficult, he amended his plan. Instead he would take the advise of the native children.
The next morning he had realized that there was no 'hoohah' bird, and that there would be some major ass kicking if he ever got back to the village. He never did manage to return though, as he instead stumbled upon a pack of wolves, who instead of ripping him limb from limb, took him in as one of their own. Limeygit spent seven years with the pack, a period he has never talked or written about. Although several commentators have pointed out the lupine influence in his work.
Whatever happened during this, and the immediately following period may forever remain shrouded in mystery. What is sure is that he appeared in New York sometime in 1988. He drifted around the city that never sleeps before landing a job as a dog trainer for John Gotti. His amazing ability to communicate with canines amazed all who saw it, on one occasion he convinced two police drug dogs to ignore a huge shipment of cocaine, in return for several rubber bones.
He also resumed his writing career, penning articles for The New Yorker, Time, Newsweek and Needlepoint Monthly among others. The pressure of juggling twin careers in journalism and organized crime began to take its toll, and in the early 1990s he suffered a minor collapse and was admitted into the 'Wiseguy institute of therapeutic recovery'.
It was here he met Gordon H Monkey, who was a guest motivational speaker. Within minutes Limeygit had a role model, and Gordon the all-purpose gopher/editor he needed for his new music magazine Indie Monkey.

[For anyone that really cares Limeygit is a freelance writer whose work is or has been displayed on many websites, under many names. They include www.humour.co.uk, www.preamp.com, www.the-view.com, news.bbc.co.uk, www.folksonline.com and www.cnet.com among others. He can be contacted at Limeygit@indiemonkey.com should you be interested in his talents.]