Hey all you big and little dawggs out there, scoping out my site and keeping hip with what’s hip with the aceman, I have a competition now. It’s not a good competition by any means, but it may well provide us all with some entertainment, and lots of silly pics.

The idea is that you email me silly pics, preferably of mutual friends, and definitely where you own the copyright, and also provide a silly caption. Then, at at the end of an as yet undetermined period of time, I’ll buy one of you a mars bar. Or a drink. Or a better prize if I get really bored, decide to turn this website into a career and find a sponsor.

Incidentally, if you thought this site was demonstrative of an unspeakable quantity of self-love the likes of which have never been seen, then you should (a) listen to the Robbie Williams song ‘Handsome Man’ and (b) go here.

Today be the international talk like a pirate day, arr, ye swabs, so get to it. We can all, like Johnny Depp, revel in our talkin-backwards, rum-drinkin’, kind of way, and if we be lucky, there be some wenching in it for us.

But why, tell us, ‘as the rum gone?

Don’t believe me, matey? Check this out. This information came my way via the fictional nation of Qwghlm.

My Name, ‘Armand Richard David’, has an interesting and excellent history. How it came to me is relatively simple, and of some interest.

‘Armand’ was selected for its similarity to ‘Arvind’ – the name of my-brother- who-wanted-a-clone – and I think its vague Indian-soundingness must have appealed to my parents. ‘Richard’ came to me, again because of my brother, but this time because of his fondness of ‘Richie Rich‘ – I stress, my brother was only five when I came to be, so let’s not judge him too harshly.

“David” has the best origin. That name came to us, so one of the stories goes, because my brahmin-hindu great grandfather in India converted to Christianity so he would be allowed to trade in livestock.

Of course, my name is not unique. In the 19th century there lived a French priest called ‘Armand David’ – he saved some deer, apparently, and this act of apparently secular environmentalism has left him with a legacy; Pere David’s deer.

My name is not, however, French. Nor is it Indian, although it bears some similarity to the Sanskrit ‘Aman’, in form and in pronounciation, which means peace. Its origin is Teutonic; the old german ‘Herman’ was warped over the years by the Danes to ‘Armand’. Herman, and therefore ‘Armand’ by its descent, means ‘Man of War’ – from the German ‘Her Mann’ (which in modern German would translate as ‘Mr Man’ – a translation I prefer’).

Names, I like to think, have a certain power. I have, over the years, through any number of mispronounciations and vulgarisations of my name, acquired any number of nicknames, none of which have ever lasted. I acquired another name through an arcane Christian ritual; ‘Justin’, too, has not taken to me.

I am thus, and ever will be, Armand.

An ego is a precious and delicate thing, and the more arrogant a person appears, often the more fragile their self-esteem. This is slightly true even of one as obviously attractive and talented as I; and the purpose of this website, insofar as it has or needs one, is to provide a vent for those somewhat excessive energies and make me more tolerable in person.

Further, I write fiction and streams of consciousness (‘articles’, for want of a better term), and attempt to compose music, all of which will hopefully find its way onto the site. I will relay anecdotes, sometimes accompanied by photos, always laden with an articulate wit the like of which has rarely been seen.

Who am I? “I’m the Dude! That’s what you call me, you know… That or His Dudeness, Duder, El Duderino, if you’re not into the whole brevity thing…”

Send fanmail or comments to me at website@armand.co.uk.