I vaguely recall I had claimed numerous islands in the South Seas and anointed myself as the President-for-Life, Commander and Master Inquistioner of my own personal would-be utopia - the Borgian States of Polynesia.
I made a princely sum via several wealthy eccentric investors but my autocratic monarchy succumbed to numerous problems - including but not limited to a cholera epidemic, attacks and forays from an irritable local headhunting tribe as well as my subjects' cloying desire for a representative democracy.
Like any self-respecting dictator I promptly absconded with all available funds, relocated to Spain and spent the rest of the money on ordinary and necessary business expenditures such as falconing lessons, cocaine and hot air balloon rides.
However, the IRS objected to these tax deductions and I received a charming, cordial letter informing me of my imminent financial assassination.
Ever the rambler I fled and found myself back in the Borgian States of Polynesia, only to find myself usurped by my former friend and forever nemesis, the Lisping Persian, who had seduced the local headhunters into installing him as ruler.
The Borgian States of Polynesia is the now People's Sultanate of Revolutionary Delight, and I find myself hunted through the bush by experienced cannibals.
I can only hope the hapless IRS auditors parachuted into this hellish jungle at the beginning of every month to find me are functioning as an entertaining distraction for my would-be carnivores.
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