We have been staying with the Philby’s for a week now and I don't mind, Mr. Philby’s son Harry is one of my friends. The guards have been back twice since daddy died and say they will look into it, but I know they wont, if everyone here did everything they said, then this would be a lovely country made good use of as a holiday destination for the rich and famous, but as I look around I don't see Jimi Hendrix, or Chuck Berry so no, they don't keep to there word.
I know what I want to do, and what I’m going to do, me, the ‘mentally undeveloped’ one is going to track down these people that killed daddy and teach them a good whose who. That will teach everyone to question my intelligence.
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Polo and Pygmies (Stewart Copeland)
FanfictionA short story about Stewart Copeland's childhood with a twist added in
