Local man, Arsene Hipsway, of Titchyfields, Hants, reputedly a neighbour of talentless local fuckwit, Martin Shuttlecock, today admitted that his teeth are made of wood, his kneecaps constructed of window grade uPVC, and his cranium made of reinforced concrete.
Hipsway stated to reporters that his almost wholly artificial presence on planet Earth came about as the result of a near fatal collision with a frenzied female Christmas shopper in Trashco's at Wallington.
"I didn't know what the fuck hit me!" he told reporters.
Describing in graphic detail how he was left in a coma after being barged into a display pyramid of Fray Bentos corned beef tins, sustaining several life threatening injuries.
"Me head was the worst," he explained. "Bitch hit me so hard that me skull turned to jelly and she knocked all me fuckin' teef out."
Following months of painful recovery and extensive physiotherapy, Hipsway then revealed that his knees had been well and truly knackered up, leaving him somewhat resembling a punch drunk boxer on Ward 18A at QA Hospital, Cosham.
"To say I was a bit fucked up would be an understatement," Hipsway told reporters.
He then went on to relate how he had his skull reconstructed by an American re-bar technician, and told of the failed attempts to replace his teeth with acrylic dentures.
"They looked very nice," Hipsway stated. "All white and that, but I couldn't get along with the buggers. They kept triggering me gag reflex, so I had a native American from the Micmac tribe in rural Maine carve me some teef with wood out of an old totem pole. That sorted it. But I'm a bit worried about the lead based paint - I've been havin' visions an' seein' God an' that. But I can live with it. I had to 'ave me new kneecaps specially extruded out of window grade uPVC. Crackin' knee caps they are - work a treat, only problem is that I have salesmen following me about trying to sell similar kneecaps to people with dodgy knees. That's a bit of a pain in the arse to be honest."
Hipsway went on to relate how he tried unsuccessfully to begin a new career as a satire writer for an internet website, but the site administrators told him that he just wasn't cut out for writing humour, because none of his submissions were utterly dull, packed with in-jokes, and thus unlikely to appeal to the bunch of seasoned wankers who provide the majority of the site's content.
"Yeah, I got knocked back by them," Hipsway lamented. "But I'll make it in the end. Shuttlecock told me that to succeed as an internet satirist I'm going to have to write about outsized genitalia, teenage telly, talk an awful lot about ME! ME! ME! And generally be a deluded fuckwit. No problemo for moi!"
Local man, Martin Shuttlecock said of his neighbour's dramatic announcement:
"He's fucking puddled, him. Take no notice. Next thing is that the daft get will be posting You Tube videos and paying to have a book published. Like what I didn't. The bloke's a twat."
Apparently the jury is out, as to who is the biggest twat of them all.
But we're putting our money on Martin Shuttlecock. Right dodgy bastard he is.
More as we get it.
