Hit it!

I have a magnificent singing voice. Even when I'm full of cold, it is extremely rare for me to hit a bum note. And, as for my vocal range, it's phenomenal. I'm not quite sure what an octave is, but, believe me, I can do them all. I am an undiscovered musical genius. If that tosser from Pop Idol wasn't such a tosser, he would snap me up immediately.

I spend a lot time in my car each week, so I get plenty of time to practice my singing. Recently, I've been singing along to my new iPod, which I've had cranked up to eleven. Yesterday, on the way home, I outbellowed Beefheart, did the Ressurection Shuffle with Sir Tom Live at Caesar's Palace, hit the high notes with Emmylou, and made the Boss sound like a laryngitic softie. Forget the ginger-headed yodeller from that Bunnymen tribute band, Coldplay, I'm the chap with the voice of the decade!

Honestly, I know you'll think I'm joking, but my singing really has to be heard to be believed. Unfortunately for you, you never will get to hear it: I am a shy, retiring and modest man, and my music is a private pleasure.

And, no, before you ask, you won't be hearing about any of my other private pleasures either. This is a family website.

Richard Carter

A fat, bearded chap with a Charles Darwin fixation.


  1. Hey, don't be fooled by the overfamiliar, extrovert big-head image I try to convey on this website. That's just a front; a defence mechanism recommended by my therapist to overcome my shy, retiring modesty.

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