Steve Ellis a.k.a Steve-o-Kong

This is what happens when scientists play God.....

He says.....

Sloth love Chunk

"Hey guys, I think I've worked out the door locks. You need to try and get in, you'll get rejected, go back out to the front door, reset your card there, then come through the front door and only then will it let you back into the room....."

The lads say.....

A true ogre of a man as likeable as a paedophile terrorist. A 22st, unemployable, hairy backed, handlebar-tached putrid monster that had his 15 minutes of fame on the cover of the Pixies’ “Come On Pilgrim”.

Shat into creation 40 years ago in the pit of Hades as the bastard child of a grizzly bear and Grotbags, Ellis’ has continued to escape the authorities for a number of years through his safe-haven at BSkyB and his Wood Green park-bench residence. His love-life is as bleak as his miserable conception - not having had a woman since he was raped by Myra Hindley at 3 years of age. This having a profound effect on the bald Neanderthal, turning him to seek the more masculine sex for his thrills and giving rise to the term “prison gay”. To which he demonstrates to fabulous effect with his turbulent work-borne sexual relationship with Kevin Smalley - Ellis the “giver” in a cardboard fetish robot suit under the pseudonym Steve-o-tron. His Sky Library bosses are to this day baffled as to the real identity of Steve-o-tron.

To close, we have a Star Trek fan with no discernable qualities whatsoever, the creator of the shittiest club-night in the entire Capital (Club Beer), as enchanting as a bleeding wild boar and as intellectually stimulating as Joey Deacon after 12 rounds with Ricky Hatton.

This all brings us to one burning question. Why is this man a member of the Club? No-one likes him and he’s fucking shit at football.

And he’s Scottish…