His crude punnery, gift for the obtuse and quickfire mockery, was..was..well..very unapparent. He was basically a twat...but a twat with potential and I..Ste..um..master to the stars (no drag artistes please) saw through his total and utter lack of ..well..anything.
HenD`s crudity and penchant for the obscure was carved through spending years holed up in a dark, dank cave growing many a beard and making replicas of his beloved `Bolton Wanderers` stadium out of his toe-nail clippings.
The real truth though, after a little research (never hide your diary under your bed folks) was he`d locked himself away in his bedroom after a slight 'oversized underwear getting jammed under the bedroom door acciden'..and..being the lazy git I`ve come to know and hate..he decided to lie on his bed and watch 'premier league football' and 'international cricket' for the next seven years...surviving on window condensation and recycled skin cells from his crummy pillowcase.
HenD is still celebrating after finally losing his much taunted virginal status recently with a 'babe' called 'babe'. oink.
Northerners. tsk.
