In 1985, aged 23, I started working in a model making factory in New Jersey and joined the design team. The models I designed sold so well a special effects company offered me a job and soon I was making minature space craft for major motion pictures.

In 1989 I was contacted by the British Ambassador in Washington and was invited to spend a paid holiday in London for a few weeks. I turned him down but some NSA men came around to my appartment in New Jersey and bundled me into the back of a car.

I woke up in a strange room and it felt like I had been out for the count of at least, say, a few thousand. A man came in with a file and told me I had to make the best, most realistic model I could. He gave me a photo of the British Prime Minister, Margret Thatcher.

For the next few weeks I was kept in a basement making the most life like model I could. It had to move and talk and stuff all by remote control. I picked up that when I had finished with this rather sensative assignment I'd be "surpless to requirements" and be "dealt with quietly".

So, at the same time I worked secretly on another model of a distant relative's 9 year old son. I made this new model to a far better quality than my Thatcher model.

When I had finished the model to the british governments requirements (and my other secret project), a man came in with a briefcase. I knew there would be a gun or maybe something more deadly in it so I threw a stanly knife at him and ran past him with my model under my arm.

Ran out of the house and up Downing Street as fast a I could. When I felt I could rest for a bit, I took out my brain a put it into the model of a 9 year old boy.

I called myself Luke and lived with my distant relative posing as his son's twin brother. I've been upgrading my body for 13 years. Looking back on it now, that briefcase could have held a few million dollars in cash.

Ah well, I've got to go and replace my pubic hair.