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Adventures in Weirdity

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Welcome to Adventures in Weirdity, with your host, Lazlo Shunt.

Today's guest is Ignacio da Forbo, founder and manager of the website destruction page, Insolvency. 

LS - Signor da Forbo, tell us please about how you thought up the idea of website destruction.

IdF - Thank you for having me here, when I should have been somewhere else.  Well, you see, I have always, that is to say, never, been interested in contrast, opposites, antonyms, dvorakonyms too.  What we can construction, we can destruction. What we can tin, we tin can.  And so on.  You get the idea.

LS - Yes! It is quite a catchy, that is to say, fishy, idea at best.  Now, tell me, how much do you charge for your services on your page?

IdF - We only take offers of a percentage of a client's profits from their website.  If I offer you 10% and you wish to raise it to 15%, we would settle that difference at - what would you guess?

LS - Oh, that's easy - 5%.

IdF - Exactly.  The business model is a variation of a Dutch auction, the concept being that we split differences.  Or, if you are a barbarian, we split hairs. 

LS - Speaking of hair, Signore, I love what you've done to yours since the last time we spoke.  That style, a Salvator Mundi, I believe?

IdF - No no no no!!!! It is a Sic transit Gloria.

LS - So sorry.  But, it does seem to be running a bit under the studio lights, or walking quickly, one might say.  Crawling?

IdF - I was warned when I chose the less expensive cut that it might not hold up under extreme weather conditions.  My butcher shall hear of this. 

LS - 'Tis true, the cheaper cuts are tough unless prepared properly.  Were that a mullet, I would recommend slow baking.

IdF - I say, this might not be the right, or left, time to ask, but -

LS - Yes?  Don't be shy, coconut.

IdF - Hahaha! You remember that? Oh, what times those were!  But I forgot - oh, yes.  Would you like to come over to see my ctenophilic collection?  The largest outside Switzerland. 

LS - Aha!  You sly old devil, you.  You are indeed fine of tooth. 

IdF - What is that man doing there, or here?

LS - I am afraid our time is down for yesterday.  It has been so hideous having you off, Signore.  Please leave your microphone at the desk where you deposited your weapons.

Our guest next week on Adventures in Weirdity will be the forensic dentist who examined the teeth of Napoleon Bonaparte during his death on St Helena.  Join us then, won't you?

NOTE: The preceding interview was recorded shortly before the sudden, but not at all unexpected, disappearance of Lazlo Shunt.  He has been on the lam through several of the known continents since then.  He is not known for his good taste, so authorities have ruled out his possible consumption by cannibals.

Anyone with information leading to the capture and arrest of Shunt is urgently requested to appear at the nearest police station.  A reward is being considered and will be determined when China introduces its virtual currency later this year. 

Do not approach this man!  He is dangerous at all times.  The only way to deal with him is to grin maniacally whilst looking at his white socks and amber locks.  He will then respond with a crypto-friendly "And a cultural Brennschluss to you as well!" before disappearing in a cloud of cordite-scented banana smoke.

There have been rumours circulating the aethersphere that this forum has been visited by Lazlo Shunt.  Indeed, not just visited by, but contributed to by Lazlo Shunt.  Some followers of the hipster may be gladdened by this news, others left shaking in their Nikes for fear of being outed. 

Let me lay your fears to rest.  This man is an imposter.  Lazlo Shunt himself is an imposter.  That is how he earns his wicked living, allowing him to buy bubble-wrap goggle suits and countless white socks - not in pairs, as you and I buy socks, but in bulk, en gros, as it were. 

A brief retelling of his sordid and salty tale is in order.  He started life in a leafy suburb of North London, son of itinerant bankers.  He had, even as a lad, a reputation for mischief beyond the control of parents, teachers, or police.  All, however, agreed that he had the most brilliant mind they had ever known.  He was seen by specialists and was declare a genius, not even bothering to give him an IQ test.

He left school at the age of eleven and travelled to the Continent, where he dazzled crowned heads and commoners alike with his perception.  No luxury was denied him.  He wanted nought but praise.  He fed on laud and honour and glory.  But soon he discovered he need not impress others for his sustenance, for he realised that certain chemicals gave him the ability to maintain his habit by merely pretending to have an addiction to praise.  Thus was born, sprung fully formed from the womb of Saturn itself, the Imposter!  Saturn, the Hermaphrodite, was both Lazlo's mother and father in his new incarnation.  He became invincible and impossible, terrible and awesome.

In the next instalment, we shall learn of some of Lazlo's more infamous deceptions as the Imposter!  Stay tuned.  Stay Alert!  Stay right where you are.

Lazlo Shunt:
Just a quick word to my loyal readers who may have got confused by what this idiot david is posting about me. He is a traitor of the worst breed - a mongrel, a cur, a scum on the beautiful surface of the alcoholic vapours which arise from my hideout.

Yes, fans and stans, I am forced into hiding by this "david" and his slurs.  He is fast on my trail and if you do not hear from me soon, the best advice in these troubled times is to check what he has written about me and then turn it upside down.  That will reveal my true condition. 

Help! I am writing this under extreme duress ...

I deny totally the allegation that I am putting Monsieur Shunt under any duress.  He has freedom of movement, wherever he may be, whether in Timbuktu or Ouagadougou (both of which are rather lovely places to visit in their own way). 

Should Shunt share his location with anyone, please remember that there is still a reward on his swelled-up head. 

Furthermore, I hereby challenge said Shunt to reveal himself to me, privately, at our previous meeting point on Clapham Common.  Third dustbin from the large oak tree next to the gents just off the main road going west from the duck pond. Do you read me, Lazlo? 


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