Biography, eh? Story of my life, you say? Well, I’ve got to admit I’m rather chuffed you’ve inquired – and since I see my clone George has already chipped one in, let’s have a read, shall we? Yadda, yadda, yadda yadda… all right, okay, Gideon’s the middle name, he’s got that right, and last but not least, all too true.
Yep, as far as the first half of bro George’s bio is concerned, my own response would be “Ditto”.
Now, I believe we’ve worked our way up to lady friends, one subject where my clone and I, oddly enough, do indeed differ. While I respect all choices George has made regarding the fairer sex, puberty taught me that I do not share his rather ripened and well-seasoned taste in vintage witches, which in reality makes things much more convenient. I have no urge to hit on those lovely witches he might hit upon, and vice versa, and what vices we do get up to versing with those we do hit on are of very little interest to the other. Voila!...The making of the perfect manormate.
Lady friends are certainly a favorite topic of mine, I know, though I’ve had precious little time lately to pursue such subjects (and even less to pursue said lady friends, I fear). Alas, my fair Angelina and I saw fit to go our separate ways after our Hogwarts days. It wasn’t that we weren’t still intimate friends (with intimate benefits, come to that), but her sudden close affiliation with the Holyhead Harpies not only kept her skybound and out of reach, but the prevailing north winds between her in the Holyhead heavens and little ol’ earthbound me sucked the wind from our sails and cooled the rising heat between us. Naturally, I’d never object to a little team-on-the-road reunion, but the opportunity has simply never presented itself – and no one else has seen fit to present it to us either.
Still, there does remain for me an attraction to a certain sort of woman, one who can not only hold her own with my charming wit and repartee, but also one who no more objects to a thrill-seeking speedrace on brooms than she does to a rollicking romp on the Quidditch pitch grass (all other potential sites of whirlwind romance and earthly excitement will be taken into consideration on an individual basis). Those witches too serious are immediately out of the running and all laugh-loving witches are seriously – but not too seriously - considered.
For my life’s philanthropic work, I do maintain a certain dedication to a lesser-known cartoon character who’s had it tough in life. I’m speaking to you here of Marvin the Martian, the cute little green fellow who is so intimidated he feels the need to hide his face. He’s ridiculed by a mouthy rabbit and a delirious duck for the most part, and who wouldn’t become downtrodden under those circumstances? Part of the reason for his trauma, my support group has surmised, is that Marvin, rather than being a Muggle alien, is really a magical soul who’s been truly misunderstood and emotionally battered ever since his wand was misconstrued and mis-drawn as a ray gun. Marvin, we’re behind ya, mate – and we’ll get you some respect if it takes us all eon.
Last, but certainly not least, is business. A budding entrepreneur’s work is never done. George was quite right to say we’re still working on the United States expansion, though the Yanks aren’t savvy to a lot of our products yet (and the reps they send aren’t savvy enough to survive our teas, come to that). We had planned to head in full-force to the international scene until we seemed to find ourselves tied down with a ‘surprise’ long-term guest from St. Mungo’s of late.
But even in our somewhat hampered condition, the creative genius in George and me is still thriving. Personally, I am working on developing a brand new, large-scale creative product, the Didgeridon’t. The trick with the Didgeridon’t is that its usual sound don’t come out (get it, eh?) – not out of the instrument anyway. With a Didgeridon’t, a harmless temporary charm simply switches the player’s voice and dialogue to emit from the instrument while the player him- or herself gets to wander the area for a time emitting the soothing sounds of a first-class Didgeridoo. Catchy, eh?
Sadly, though, George and I have felt the need to discontinue a bit of our individual creative development to address a pressing need. In response to recent events such as kidnappings, random obliviations, familial disappearances, escaping brains, and threats of a more worldly nature, George and I have seen fit to put forth a joint effort to help stem the tide of evil doings. In other words, *cue music* we’ve done it before and we can do it again, yes we can do it again, yes… *music fades*
Hoping to equal and surpass our stunning performance helping to chase evil from the world in our seventh and final year at Hogwarts (otherwise fondly known as the Defeat of the Toad), we hereby dedicate ourselves to developing and producing our very own line of WMDs: Weapons of Mass Delusion - not to mention our WMCs’s, Weapons of Mass Confusion, and WMH’s, Weapons of Mass Hilarity. Once in action, it is with these powerful forces that we will succeed, we will prevail, and we will seek to overthrow the serious world and take over with laughter and glee, in the name of Marvin, the wizarding world, and freshly-baked scones.
Oh - and about that little 'death' thing? Only a very few people know that I survived that bit of trauma, or believe that I actually was sent 'cross the River Styx to meet my fate and returned - or shall I say, was expelled? One way-too-serious bloke was there to meet me and discuss my employment in the pits of hell. But several incessant hours of chatter later regarding my complete inaptitude for work of that nature, the blighter chucked me out. Ah well. Not the first place to do it, nor the last, I'll wager. So in spite of the world's complicated and trying past and future, I remain...