My agent recently asked me to write a biography, which he'll use to pitch my column for syndication, the next time he talks to Rupert Murdoch or Conrad Black. Mad Magazine and Soldier of Fortune have also expressed some interest, although I'm not sure associating myself with either of those publications will introduced me to the literary market I so desperately yearn for. I thought I'd share my bio with the public.

Paul was born in Stratford, Ontario one dark and stormy night. Family tradition says that the power went out just as his mother went into labour, and the lights returned when he took his first breath and peed on the doctors new suede Oxfords.

His extended family of musicians, street mimes and pickpockets introduced him early to the artistic life. By age 5, Paul had completed his first short story, the heart wrenching saga about a wolf who accidentally ate his best friend, a rare South American talking Mole. The wolf spends the rest of the story working to save Mole habitat in the depths of the Amazon jungle-trying desperately to atone for his indiscretion. The story received very positive reviews from a small group of sympathetic relatives.

By age 6 his undaunted investigative spirit led him to experiment with the controls on his father's rare Pierce-Arrow Sedan. Although replacement parts for the grill and front fenders were difficult to find, opinion was unanimous that it was amazing that someone with such short legs could manage to drive so far without mishap.

His precocious interest in mechanical equipment led him at age 10 to build a scale model of an Intercontinental Ballistic Missile. After a number of attempts he successfully launched it onto the roof of his neighbor's house. Rapid response by the local fire department prevented the small but stubborn fire from consuming the entire building.

At the end of his indentured servitude at the local emporium of education Paul chose to take some time to experience a bit of the world, in hopes of finding himself and his purpose in life.

He worked for awhile at the local brewery. The work was tedious and the building smelled bad, but the free beer at break time was an irresistible inducement. Once you got to know the old hands they'd throw a two-four of cold ones on the line, to get you through the boring work. He moved on from there the day the controls on the tow motor he was driving (and not adequately trained to operate) went haywire and he knocked over a couple of pallet of beer flooding out the shipping department.

In the next stage of his evolution Paul attended College and received a degree in filmmaking. He spent three years writing scripts and watching lots of movies. He learned to appreciate the Italian directors, especially Bernardo Bertolucci. He loved the way his name sounds if you say it a bunch of times really fast.

Things he learned: Film is very light sensitive and if you don't close the camera properly it looks really weird after it's been developed. He discovered that he didnt work well in a team and was not good at accepting instructions from anyone pompous enough to think they could direct better than he could.

He found he had a strong penchant for costume design that discouraged him from discovering any natural inclinations he might have in the movie industry.

His search for self-fulfillment led Paul to a Hippie farm commune in BC. Work experience there included weeding the garden, macramé and drumming. References available on request.

Next he moved to the West Coast of Vancouver Island and found a secluded beach where he lived as a hermit beachcomber and worked on his memoirs. He renounced material possessions and the company of his fellow man. Renouncing the company of women was not so easy and hormonal considerations led him to reconnect with his species after an extended period of self-reliance. He can help you out if you need any seashells or driftwood sculptures.

The next great adventure was a shoestring trip around the world, recording the adventure in his journals. After a year in India he found himself in Baba Boo Boos Ashram. When he woke up one morning and realized he'd given all his money to the good Baba, he decided it was time to see if his parents would front him a ticket home.

Back in Canada Paul went into the publishing business. It was long hours and hard work but he was finally doing his life's work. Things were great until he met this woman. When that ended he drank himself silly for a year and when he finally picked himself up off the bar room floor the business was in shambles.

He spent a few years driving taxi in Toronto, collecting life metaphors and experiencing every sordid aspect of big city life. (He's almost finished the novel.)

Paul currently lives in a sleepy little town in Eastern Ontario and works as a free lance writer. His agent assures him that a major Hollywood studio will soon pick up the story of his life. Rodney Dangerfield has expressed an interest in playing the lead.

Among other projects Paul writes a humorous weekly newspaper column, which regularly receives very positive reviews from a small group of sympathetic relatives.