Friends, I have decided to come clean in public: I am a Gordon imposter! It has been a long, lonely life, filled with sick longings that I were a true Gordon, not just the phony it has been my fate to be. What I wouldn't give for a drop of real Gordon blood to course my veins, for a Gordon thought to flit across my inner scape, for a tartan cloth to call my own. Ah me, wretch that I have been. Can anyone forgive such a life gone so wrong? Pity, pity and more pity is my want. I am but a dog among men. It all began when I met my first Gordons. They were so intelligent, virile, good looking, compassionate, prescient, wise. Who could not have wanted to be like them, to be them? It will be a long, expensive road to recovery. I have established a fund to aid those of us who suffer from the faux Gordon syndrome. Please send your contributions to Gordon Imposters Anonymous, Huntley, Scotland. God bless all true Gordons. Let all Gordon imposters repent immediately and join those of us now in recovery. There is hope. There is a future. There are the McDonalds for one thing.