The scar on my left cheek was caused by getting into a fight with some friend of Sam Drucker I ran into in Hooterville last month.
I usually spend my weekends with one or another of the daughters in Hooterville or Petticoat Junction.
Eb Dawson once tried to talk me into driving the getaway car when he was planning a bank robbery in Stankwell Falls. I turned him down flat because I wasn’t going to be involved in a caper like that with a chucklehead like him.
My aardvark has won first prize in over a dozen pet shows.
Ed Sheeran still owes me £16 for pizza.
I had a pet prairie dog. It did not yell, “Alan,” or, “Fuck you,” at me, but not for lack of trying. It did say, “Shit,” once — the one time it crapped in the house.
I run an underground camel racing betting syndicate.
I personally dug the tunnels for @Ferris 's underground camel races.
I once ran a mile for a camel.
I once rode a camel for a mile.
I have a wonderful relationship with my pet camel, who usually curls up at my feet each night when I sleep.
I wear “elf shoes” with curled-up toes, because my feet are actually shaped that way.
I own two submarines.
My real name can’t be spelled in any existing alphabet.
I was previously the Guatemalan houseboy to the U.S. cultural attaché to Greece.
My father was a US Senator who wanted to marry me off to distract from a political scandal.
I’ve written 17 best-selling novels under a pseudonym. You’d all recognize the name if I told you who I was.
I signed a trade deal with Montenegro.
I just finished writing my third concerto for bagpipes and trombone.
I’m the US ambassador to Flatland.