I met BALLER27 a few months ago ..... I was driving through the boonies in the middle of nowhere and it was raining like hell, I was pretty lost because it was a thunderstorm and I couldn't see where I was going or anything. Anyway, the surrounding environment just got wilder and wilder, and I began to roll through these tiny, deserted villages (a bit like the abandoned places they left in New Mexico after the nuclear tests). It was getting pretty spooky to say the least.

As I drive slowly along, a shadowy form flickered right in front of my car, I panicked and jammed on the brakes, coming to a shuddering stop just before the dark shape in front of me.

There, squatting naked and bestial in the rain, clutching a dead possum, was a young blank-eyed man. Without thinking, I opened the door and ran out to check he was OK and whether he knew where the hell I was.

Well, to cut a long story short, he told me his name was BALLER27 and that he was a professional fighter who just fought for the glory as he was a millionaire and usually worked as a rocket scientist. He took me to 'one of' his houses - which turned out to be a ratty old trailer, jacked up on some bricks because it had no wheels. I wondered whether he had lodgers or anything, or maybe rented it out as there were loads of old mattresses lying around next to this big ole barn that was locked. It certainly was windy, as the noise of the wind against the barn sounded just like someone screaming from a long way away.

Strung up against a withered and twisted tree, in the blasted front yard was an old punchbag. BALLER27 saw me looking at it and said "Hey, homie, thass where ah train fo twenneeseven hours a day 6 months befo' eveh fight ah have. Ah am a monstor fo mah weight and mah leyft hook jes go POW POW POW intah that bag. Mah first professional fight is gonna to be agint Floyd Mayweather an afta Ah beat him, Ah will KO Wlad Klitschko before Ah retire undefeated. My homie Josh says I have a fukkinhard left hook and Ah jest caint wait to unload it"

I was getting a bit nervous at this point, as he must have only weighed 98 pounds soaking wet (and he was naked in the rain, remember, so he was soaking wet at the time). I couldn't help noticing that his rather undersized pecker was tritching alarmingly every time he threw one of his telegraphed and poorly-executed hooks into thin air. The small sliver of drool running down his chin was thankfully being washed away by the rain as fast as it could appear, so I was thankful for small mercies O my brothers.

Anyway, he told me that we were at the Ceasar's Palance casino in Las Vegas (I took that with a pinch of salt, having determined by now that I was interacting with the very shallowest section of the gene pool here.)

At that moment, a hoarse cry went up from the trailer "loverboy, loverboy'. it went, and an ancient and wizened old hag emerged ..... naked and covered in filth and excrement with her withered dugs flapping pendulously against her bony hips ... 'I've brought you a tray of cookies, because you hit so hard' (more worryingly, BALLER27 was now fully tugid, I noticed from the corner of my eye). On the tray was a flyblown selection of roadkill and pieces of half cooked raccoon .... as well as a gleaming pile of Ferrerro Rocher. (Oh, Mr Ambassador, you are really spoiling us' went disconcertingly and randomly through my confused mind)

Stammering out a hasty excuse, I jumped into my car and roared off into the distance, watching as the two of them danced wildly and gibbered at the moon in the rain behind me.

I never saw them again, and thus ends my tale. of the only Saddo 'member' (and that is indeed the operative word) I have met.

Oh, apart from X ..... he lives in the same place as me, but I don't like him much as he is such a fantasist.