Crazy Fool was developed upon a remote hirsute island village within an arcane meandering strait off the River Thames in Englaxon, not far from the cold spell, just shy of the Netheregions.
He was first introduced to music via the family’s gramophone, whereby he would share his Pinky and Perky classics with mum and dad’s Georgie Flame and the Blue Notes, as they cooked Sunday roast. He then discovered an original 7-inch Pink Floyd See Emily Play, which his long-haired uncle left behind; thus tangled and nurtured the eclectic mix he now embroils.
With a boisterous haircut (just the one), and petit but hammy massed legs he grew to help maintain the demand of the cheese, bacon, pickles – of the particular, gherkin, onion, walnut and egg, which he was content to share with Elvis.
By the age of multiple division he had traveled the heralded warts n all of the spherodelium-maximum, mostly by Shanksy’s pony and a thumb. Herein-with he acquired the taste for bacon, beer, bacon, lager, bacon, stout, bacon and Babycham, all sewn together with the pogo-matic punk evolution of the era.
Returning from the pilgrimage years of Ye Strawberry Picking Crusades he bought a Ford Cortina Mark I estate and strapped a cassette player in the glove compartment next to the steering wheel – and the rock rolled.
It wasn’t long before he found himself once again tempted by the question of; ‘I wonder if bacon tastes so good over there?’ So with an unshaven thought he straddled the Dark Continent, founded a swimmingly fine loop hole in the great taste of his own fabled Psychedelic Santa Fish and swayed with the easy rhythm.
Holstering some wayward memories, took off once more searching answers to the eternal question, ‘Too salty? Too much fat? Too crispy? Should it be medium, back, shoulder, smoked, boiled, raw…?’ – Music’s genres, it seemed were endless… he had to tap into it’s source.
Laden with an earful of tunes and desire to spread the word, he grew port and took residence in Asia siphoning dribble from the chops of idioms and kink in order for, an as yet, un-deciphered answer to a non-questionable research; realizing that was just crazy he began work at a local radio station and surmised the food of love shall play on.
Keep it turning, keep it wheel
He also likes flower arranging, crochet and reading road signs