----I'll give you a clue: it's the name of a fish.
----Is it Mary?
----That's no...
----I'll give you a clue: it's the name of a fish.
----Is it Mary?
----That's no fish.
----She isn't? Well she drinks like one.
Member since:16.09.2004
Reviews:10
Members who trust:2
This is a revised version of my story. The first didn't go down well, chiefly because I lied my ass off.
****family line - aka the usual suspects****
My great great grandfather was sometime rabbi / sometime seducer of women Moshe Maltz, who preached from the good streets of Whitechapel, East London; an immigrant from Poland.
My great grandfather was cock-eyed Harry Maltz, a hard-egg gambler who couldn't speak a word of English, God bless 'im.
My grandfather is Hyman (Hymie) Maltz, the greatest mensch in the world, and my hero. Hyman Maltz met and fell in love with Phyllis Fanny Cohen in 1952 and gave birth to my father.
My father is Stephen Maltz, writer, web-designer, tour guide, and all round genius.
My name is Simon Maltz, aka Alvy Singer
When I was born on 15th June 1984, my parents were too poor to pay for a nurse to drop me on my head, so my mother had to do it herself.*
****how we got to London****
Back when things didn't cost much, my paternal great-great grandparents were being killed off in Russia and Eastern Europe, which they didn't take kindly to. So they, along with millions of other Jewish people, travelled from the east to the west in search of a safe place to live. Most went to America, but my lot couldn't distinguish the accents so they got off at England instead, thinking it was America.
Meanwhile, on my mothers side, my not-Jewish grandparents were being raised in Poland and Germany. During the war, my grandfather was a nurse in the German Army and was almost killed (to tell you what happened will take weeks). After the war, both my grandparents came to England seperately, and it was here that they met, got married, and gave birth to my mother.
That's how we got to London.
****the post war years - aka the enlightenment****
My parents were both raised in London. My dad was raised Jewish, while, over on the other side of town, my mother was raised Catholic. They are both now born-again Christians. Fun fun fun.
My parents met each other at work and got married, and after a year and a bit my older brother Philip was born, then me, then my younger brother Jonathan years later.
I love 'em all, with all my heart, for all their sins (and all mine), through thick and thicker.
I was born in Newbury Park in Ilford, in Essex, and since then I've been trying to tap dance but can't quite master it.
I'm a proud university drop-out (I managed a year and a half studying Linguistics the University of Westminster in London). Since then I've been working at the London Breast Clinic at no. 108 Harley Street, London, alongside fellow ciaoer wayne_horrigan (yay wayne!). I enjoy my work, if only because of the people I get to work with, who are great. The work itself is pretty so-so (I'm essentially an office clerk).
My five main loves, other than family, are the Marx Brothers, colour TV, electric ovens, Jesus Christ, and carpeting.
The most exciting day of my life was when the doctor told me I was healthy.
Here ends the revised version of my story.
P.S best to ignore all the readers' comments written prior to 9/4/05. It will only confuse you (they were commenting on my previous effort, which I have since labelled 'the whitewash incident').
* joke stolen disgracefully from George Burns and Gracie Allen.
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Sep 25th, 2004
(Apr 11th, 2005)
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