Who's Who

[Chompsky]

It's no secret that were we to have a roll call, my hand would be up for nearly all of it. Sir Thomas More hasn't risen to indulge an interest in cycling. Clava Scriba didn't roll in off the street unannounced to take over the job of Velosolo Club Secretary. My pet rabbit cannot in fact type – at least not anything parsable. Needless to say, in The Slaughtered Lamb, everybody knows my name because I am everybody.

Vanishingly few people have registered (or are forecast to) who aren't me, but if you should be one of them, note that you're not constrained either. Please be sensible: you'll understand I can't have Prince Harry posting about his new love for fixed gear, nor leaping in to back up Meghan should she start a thread in Free For All complaining about how life is treating her.

Actually that's a bad example, it being reasonably obvious they wouldn't wash up here, though in the case of living celebrities alterations are called for. Prince Harrylegs and Yoko of Sussex would be fine.

The key to this policy is a lack of deceptive intent. I started using different names not to make it look like the joint was hopping (someone's already thought of that), but because this format has the downside of plastering mine everywhere. The solution was staring me in the face.



I also have fun with dates from time to time; if memory serves, I actually posted this sometime around 2022. Happy birthday, Chompsky.

[Orson Welles]

The last person who definitely wasn't me was Humbug, aka Ernestine. You'll see her contributions in Chompsky's thread mm-mm-mm (where she also used a few other names), and scattered in Free For All. I invited her over from a rabbit forum, where they speak the lingo.

Incidentally, I used to stick to birthdays when picking names out of the hat; Julius Caesar changed all that one day in The Slaughtered Lamb, starting a trend for last respects.

Dorothy Parker is allowed free range.



She said of Orson, last spotted in Radio gah, "It's like meeting God without dying."

[solidarity]

Hello.

Looks like a fascinating place, this.

Reminds me of a mansion with a well weathered but structurally sound art deco facade dating back to its last rennovation in the late 60s. No sooner was the rennovation completed, only for the occupants to experience a mysterious event which irreversably changed their health and their fortunes, putting upkeep of the mansion far beyond their means. It's now decades since the mansion's last remaining sole resident had any visitors. Entire rooms have lain undisturbed, with doors unopened and the uphostery unbismirched since before Bonham struck his last Ludwig.

Nothing meant by this of course. It's just mental imagery.
Thanks for having me. I'll try not to impose too much.

[the census of Quirinius]

The Office for NACF Statistics can mostly confirm the following contributors are still with us and not me:

Finestra, aka that Ian
Alan Handman, aka Spankey McFarlain, Dave Gruel, Winston O'Boogie, Golden Slumbers, Elmer Gantry, Grover Cleveland, Marty McFly, and Alliyanna Handman. So far.
Solidarity, aka Daniel
Bad Ronald, aka Accommodating Arthur, unsuccessful suitor of Lauren K.

Note to Ofcom, which will become relevant next year: Including me, that's 3/5ths American (4/6ths if you count the host/server). The bots which comprise our main user base are not UK residents.