u/FD-Manyfaced

Hi, so I'm considering enrollment in Edinburgh University at some point, and just wanted to know: how are the Drama courses, what classes are worth taking, and are there any better universities in Edinburgh? Thanks for your time.

Hello, I'm FD Manyfaced. I am a certified troubadour and friend of Gerold Bimmee: the unluckiest man alive. My achievements include writing a song, always wearing a mask, and using a rubber chicken as a comedy prop. Today I have a tale recounted to me by Virgil Santos, a poet, whilst I was Dungeon Mastering for he and Gerold Bimmee. It seems that this story was told to him by a man who he met on a bus. This is the story of that man. His name was Quint Quayle, a man who thought that true success could only be achieved by cheating. He learned an important lesson, and payed a dear price for his dishonesty. This is the tale of 'An Unnatural 20'!

It was raining cats and dogs that day. Quint was inside, hiding under his bed, having a skive from school. (To any Americans reading this, a skive from school means skipping school.) His mum would be leaving for work soon, then he'd have the house all to himself. Quint was a rather mardy chap. Always grimacing, always with his hair in his eyes, always being sulky. From under the bed, he looked around the room. It was a mess of naff fantasy posters and a few food wrappers and disgusting blankets scattered all over the floor. The sight of it put Quint in even more of a strop than he already was in. Talk about kids being stupid. I mean, a moody Northerner who doesn't even listen to joy division? Utter bollocks! Heracy!

After his mother left, Quint finally crawled out from under the bed, now covered in dust. He slowly clambered to his feet, putting the swoop back into his bangs as he went. After cracking his neck, he looked out of the window.

'Cor blimey! It's chucking it down out there!' He remarked in his annoying, high-pitched voice. 'I better bring me umbrella!'

10 minutes later, Quint was out the door, wearing a ridiculous outfit. A neon pink waterproof jacket, green wellington boots? Whatever next? Oh, yes. His pearl-gold bumbershoot. What a rather unfashionable young man. As this poorly dressed boy walked along through the puddles, he could be heard loudly cursing every time a car drove past and splashed him.

'Ahh! Fuck! I have the worst luck since Gerold Bimmee!'

You know, the standard proclamation of a disgruntled young Englishman, especially one such as Quint Quayle, who was even more disgruntled than Zombie Cowboy Batman had been in his life when he was known as Ritchie, that is to say, very disgruntled.

Once he arrived at the shop, which looked similar to 'Needful Things', just to make a reference to keep my Stephen King fans entertained. This shop was called 'The Firework Of A Mad Alchemist', and it sold all sorts of magical nonsense, the kind which I often speak of. You see, Quint Quayle had an appointment at this specific shop, an appointment to improve his luck. This was an appointment in which he would receive a magical, rigged D-20. This D-20 would trap all of his bad luck, giving him a perfect life. Or so he thought...

You see, Quint was a special kind of boy. Not just one who had bad luck, but one who became his own bad luck, a special kind of sadsack who marinated in his own misery. Thus, when Mr. Twiddlesquat, the shop owner, handed the boy the polyhedral die, Quint winced in pain and then he was gone. Nobody apart from Old Man Twiddlesquat ever knew where the boy went. Two weeks later, my friend Virgil was riding a bus up to our world from hell, when he met Quint, who told him this story. And that's how Virgil found out and told me, and then I told you.

So, everyone, that's how Quint Quayle died. It just goes to show: never cheat luck. And never talk to Virgil Santos when on a bus from hell. Until next time, I'm FD Manyfaced, a certified troubadour. Goodnight, you fine folks!

Hey. I'm FD Manyfaced. You may have heard of me, I'm a friend of Gerold Bimmee: The Unluckiest Man Alive. Actually, you won't have heard of me. Well, anyway, this is a very brief story of mine. Enjoy it.

The room was dark as Barry stepped in. He was still wearing his school uniform.

'Jeez, Ritchie has eight million quid and I still have to go to public school...', he murmured.

'I heard that!' Replied the rather disgruntled Ritchie. 'You need your education, Barry. Then someday you can be as smart as I am.'

'You have an IQ of 2, Ritchie.'

'Yeah, but I'm Cowboy Batman! I ***have*** to be smart! I ***need*** to be!'

Barry rolled his eyes. Looking defeated, he walked up to his room and slumped onto the bed.

'I'm not gonna help you fight crime tonight, Ritchie! I'm staying in my room!'

'Alright, son. That's fine. No allowance this week.' Responded a rather irritated Ritchie.

Two hours later, the first crime alert of the night sounded. It said that there was an emergency downtown. Farmer Joker was on the loose, and he'd teamed up with Cowboy Batman's other greatest nemesis, Texas Red. Texas Red was a bit of a wildcard. Never knew what he was up to. And so, Ritchie dawned his everything-proof suit.

The scene of crime was an old warehouse. The perfect place to meet your two arch-nemesises. If you couldn't tell, that last comment was said with the utmost sarcasm. So, anyway, as Cowboy Batman arrived, he saw neither Texas Red nor Farmer Joker. Until he turned around, that was. And there before him stood Farmer Joker and Texas Red, both holding cans of Undead Spray. What is Undead Spray, I hear you ask. It's spray that makes things undead. Duh. So, anyway, they spray Cowboy Batman, which turns him into Undead Cowboy Batman, then they walk away, leaving a rather pissed Undead Cowboy Batman.

So, there you have it, folks. The origin of a character who only, like, two random British men who watch my videos have heard of. I hope you found this story both insightful and life changing, but still highly unenjoyable, of course. Goodbye, one and all. Until we meet again.

Hello, I'm FD Manyfaced. Today I will explain to you who Gerold Bimmee is. Where did he come from? Where did he go? Where did he come from?

You were expecting me to say Cotton Eye Joe, weren't you?

So, when Gerold was twelve years old, he was a little ***BASTAR-*** I mean... brat. I do not exaggerate. He was always pranking other kids and things like that. These pranks were also NOT AT ALL funny! Once, he put a cardboard box in a bin! Diabolical! That should be recycled! Well, anyway, one day his school got a teacher from Kansas. His name was Mr. Horatio Finsterwalder McLord O'Skinner, and every kid at the school took the piss out of him. Surprisingly, they didn't make fun of his name. No, it was his accent. One minute, he would sound Jamaican. Two seconds later, he'd be Scottish. At the end of the day? His voice would have the twang of a Newfie. It was *super* annoying. So anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah. This dude was a wizard. Well... Not a *wizard* wizard, he was the Wizard of Oz. Seriously. So, anyway, since leaving the land of Oz in his hot air balloon, he had studied magic for 20 years, yet had only learned one spell: the curse of unluck. I think you can see where this is going.

Gerold was in detention again. For the ninth time that week. How is that possible? Ask Gerold. So, anyway, he decided to sneak out, as detention was unguarded. By the way, this school only had 3.425701 teachers. Don't ask. So, he ended up running directly into Mr. O'Skinner. After defying the order to return to detention, Gerold was promptly cursed by Mr. O'Skinner. The curse dictated that Gerold would be immortal and forever young, and provide bad luck for himself and all of humanity. And that's the origin of my friend Gerold.

A few years later, I met him at a ComicCon in Sherwood Forest. It ended up just being us and two other random British men sat down in the forest, not taking. Later, I made a video about Gerold, and came to discover that I knew of him, he was the guy who wrote a Breakfast Club style speech to skip his GCSE's. And since then, we've been the best of friends.

Goodbye, guys. Until we meet again.

Hello, my audience. 'Tis I: FD Manyfaced, a completely un- delusional British storyteller. This is the story of how I came to be, before I met Gerold Bimmee: the Unluckiest Man Alive, before I fought the Zombie Cowboy Batman, before I even started trying to imitate Mark Twain. This is the story of my childhood.

I was born at a very young age, and was quite small for my size. The first thing I ever heard was a doctor. He was screaming 'I sense evil in this boy! He must be destroyed!' Ah, such sweet words for a newborn to hear! I was raised in a very Irish part of Ireland, somewhere near Cork, I reckon. I never got to meet my parents. They were eaten by what I suspect was a giant grasshopper, although it may have been a rhinoceros. No, the rhinoceros idea was from Roald Dahl's James and the Giant Peach. Or was it? I don't remember *anything* so well since I got struck by lightning. I digress, I was raised by my grandfather: Noah Gourdoise Manyfaced. We all called him NG Manyfaced, since that's how all of the men in my family are named. Just by their first two initials and the word Manyfaced. My grandfather taught me all about Judaism, as he himself was quite a Jewish Jew. He mainly taught me about how to live. Things like 'Don't eat pork, it's not Kosher.', and, 'Stop eating that pig, it's not even dead!', and 'You're ***definitely*** not allowed to eat the paperboy!' Those sorts of rules are why I'm not religious.

When it came time for me to go to school, I ran off to the Giant's Causeway. It was there where I discovered Doctor Pepper clouds. What are Doctor Pepper clouds? They are the most wonderful type of cloud, as they rain no rain, but rather they rain Doctor Pepper. I might have made that bit up. Well, anyway, the first time I was gay was at the Giant's Causeway. I had just thrown up, which was a problem since I always wear a mask, when this average looking guy comes over.

'Hey... Are you alright?' He asks, in his smooth, deep voice.

'Mmmff! Blllmmgg! ***Mmgfbb!*** ' I replied, the vomit in my mask stopping me from speaking.

And that's when I knew it was love... *Maybe...*

Eventually, I returned home, as I had decided to go to school after all. I was enrolled at Zoom Academic Academy School, the 98th finest school in all of the South-West side of Cork. However, on my way there, I was struck by lightning, not once but 17.52308 times. After that, doctors told me to 'Be careful' and that I had 'Severe brain damage'. I, however, decided to go on to make myself a new mask, and to write whatever this is.

And that, dear folks, is the early days of my childhood. I hope you all enjoyed reading about my horrible life. As always, I'm FD Manyfaced, a super annoying Mark Twain impersonator, and you're reading my stupid memoir. Goodbye, you lovely people, and good luck.

Hello, my audience. 'Tis I: FD Manyfaced, a completely un- delusional British storyteller. This is the story of how I came to be, before I met Gerold Bimmee: the Unluckiest Man Alive, before I fought the Zombie Cowboy Batman, before I even started trying to imitate Mark Twain. This is the story of my childhood.

I was born at a very young age, and was quite small for my size. The first thing I ever heard was a doctor. He was screaming 'I sense evil in this boy! He must be destroyed!' Ah, such sweet words for a newborn to hear! I was raised in a very Irish part of Ireland, somewhere near Cork, I reckon. I never got to meet my parents. They were eaten by what I suspect was a giant grasshopper, although it may have been a rhinoceros. No, the rhinoceros idea was from Roald Dahl's James and the Giant Peach. Or was it? I don't remember anything so well since I got struck by lightning. I digress, I was raised by my grandfather: Noah Gourdoise Manyfaced. We all called him NG Manyfaced, since that's how all of the men in my family are named. Just by their first two initials and the word Manyfaced. My grandfather taught me all about Judaism, as he himself was quite a Jewish Jew. He mainly taught me about how to live. Things like 'Don't eat pork, it's not Kosher.', and, 'Stop eating that pig, it's not even dead!', and 'You're definitely not allowed to eat the paperboy!' Those sorts of rules are why I'm not religious.

When it came time for me to go to school, I ran off to the Giant's Causeway. It was there where I discovered Doctor Pepper clouds. What are Doctor Pepper clouds? They are the most wonderful type of cloud, as they rain no rain, but rather they rain Doctor Pepper. I might have made that bit up. Well, anyway, the first time I was gay was at the Giant's Causeway. I had just thrown up, which was a problem since I always wear a mask, when this average looking guy comes over.

'Hey... Are you alright?' He asks, in his smooth, deep voice.

'Mmmff! Blllmmgg! Mmgfbb! ' I replied, the vomit in my mask stopping me from speaking.

And that's when I knew it was love... Maybe...

Eventually, I returned home, as I had decided to go to school after all. I was enrolled at Zoom Academic Academy School, the 98th finest school in all of the South-West side of Cork. However, on my way there, I was struck by lightning, not once but 17.52308 times. After that, doctors told me to 'Be careful' and that I had 'Severe brain damage'. I, however, decided to go on to make myself a new mask, and to write whatever this is.

And that, dear folks, is the early days of my childhood. I hope you all enjoyed reading about my horrible life. As always, I'm FD Manyfaced, a super annoying Mark Twain impersonator, and you're reading my stupid memoir. Goodbye, you lovely people, and good luck.

Hello. I am FD Manyfaced. I'm a storyteller, and a friend of Gerold Bimmee: The Unluckiest Man Alive. My exploits include fighting Undead Cowboy Batman, eating a jam donut, and being struck by lightning. Anyway, today I would like to speak to you on the subject of William Aesop Williams, who decided to forsake Dante and Shakespeare because he couldn't understand them. This man's ignorance was unthathomable, and he was punished as such. Today, I will tell you what happened to him, in an outlandish and hilarious tale. Ladies, Gentlemen and Everyone in-between, I now present to you: Willie's Inferno!

The morning air was thick with condensation and the rotten stench of feces. Willie's toilet was on the fritz again. Typical of a man too lazy to even fix his own shitter. Willie was already awake, on the phone with Doctor Bryseldon Brettz, a man with a PHD in literature. Within thirty minutes, their annual catch-up brunch had been scheduled. It would be held at the new local restaurant: Inferno Hut. Willie was to cheap to take a bus and to lazy to take a bike, so he set off on foot.

At 12:45, 23 minutes after the agreed upon time, Willie finally arrived at Inferno Hut, a black-roofed building with red accents on the pillars on the walls and intercutting the tiles. Kinda like a Pizza Hut. Inside, Dr. Brettz was sat at a circular marble table covered in burgandy pinstripes. The Doctor was surprisingly calm when Willie sat down. He had already ordered for both of them. The food was only 10 minutes away from the table. 10 minutes of conversation.

'So, Doc...' began Willie, 'Read anything lately?'

'Yes, actually. I've been reading a lot of Dante, and Shakespeare, too.'

Willie's eyes suddenly widened in shock and lividity.

'What?' He exclaimed, gobsmacked.

'I read a lot of Dante and Shakespeare.' The Doctor replied, calmly.

'Those works are utter bullshit! Bullshit, I say! Godawful codswallop!' Willie's face was red, and the steam from his ears was beginning to draw complaints from his fellow customers.

The Doctor was shocked. 'Shakespeare and Dante? Codswallop? Dante toiled through the Inferno, and I say you should, too! Learn yourself some respe- Oh! Our food's here! Eat up then.'

Willie was two steps ahead, having already begun to slurp up his high-calorie fodder. But, the minute he swallowed, he began to feel flames under his face, his body becoming numb, and something in his hand... a frying pan? At that moment, it became evident to Willie that he had become trapped as one of the too many chefs in the kitchen of the damned.

So, what happened to him? He's still there, obviously. What else would happen to a lazy man who hates the classics? And that's what idiots who criticise anything they don't understand as if it is objective fact, and to those who disrespect the Bard.

And so, my hearties (eww, I'm never saying that again), that's all I have to write. Goodbye.

I came out earlier this year, so this is my first one.

Hello, guys! Hope we're all having a lovely day!

Hey. I'm FD Manyfaced. You may have heard of me, I'm a friend of Gerold Bimmee: The Unluckiest Man Alive. Actually, you won't have heard of me. Well, anyway, this is a very brief story of mine. Enjoy it.

The room was dark as Barry stepped in. He was still wearing his school uniform.

'Jeez, Ritchie has eight million quid and I still have to go to public school...', he murmured.

'I heard that!' Replied the rather disgruntled Ritchie. 'You need your education, Barry. Then someday you can be as smart as I am.'

'You have an IQ of 2, Ritchie.'

'Yeah, but I'm Cowboy Batman! I have to be smart! I need to be!'

Barry rolled his eyes. Looking defeated, he walked up to his room and slumped onto the bed.

'I'm not gonna help you fight crime tonight, Ritchie! I'm staying in my room!'

'Alright, son. That's fine. No allowance this week.' Responded a rather irritated Ritchie.

Two hours later, the first crime alert of the night sounded. It said that there was an emergency downtown. Farmer Joker was on the loose, and he'd teamed up with Cowboy Batman's other greatest nemesis, Texas Red. Texas Red was a bit of a wildcard. Never knew what he was up to. And so, Ritchie dawned his everything-proof suit.

The scene of crime was an old warehouse. The perfect place to meet your two arch-nemesises. If you couldn't tell, that last comment was said with the utmost sarcasm. So, anyway, as Cowboy Batman arrived, he saw neither Texas Red nor Farmer Joker. Until he turned around, that was. And there before him stood Farmer Joker and Texas Red, both holding cans of Undead Spray. What is Undead Spray, I hear you ask. It's spray that makes things undead. Duh. So, anyway, they spray Cowboy Batman, which turns him into Undead Cowboy Batman, then they walk away, leaving a rather pissed Undead Cowboy Batman.

So, there you have it, folks. The origin of a character who only, like, two random British men who watch my videos have heard of. I hope you found this story both insightful and life changing, but still highly unenjoyable, of course. Goodbye, one and all. Until we meet again.

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Everyone, I got my first subreddit! I'm really excited! Anyway, just wanted to let everyone know. 😃😆 I'll listen to any advice on how to run my community, just let me know please. Thanks, guys. Bye!