Born into a family of merchants, he has always lead a privelledged lifestyle, yet never without the threat of losing it all. His father, the late Gregory Batho (BSc), worked for the first 20 years of his life mediating between the states of Great Britain and the then USSR hoping to work towards trade agreements that would benefit both countries. Alas, it was not to be. With the break-up of the soviet union all that he had worked for - namely increasing Russia's export of wool, red meat and graphite tennis rackets whilst simultaneously decreasing the UK's export of such items, amongst other things - went to pot. The democratic Russia showed little interest in what his father was working in since the playing of ball games was now either prohibited or impossible due to the removing of certain prominent walls (in Berlin most notably) that had previously been used as a practise wall or as a backdrop upon which to paint in the crowds sorely missed and continuously dreamt of in the communist society. Just prior to the end of the cold war his mother, much to his father's discontent, had begun exporting rice seeds to asia and the subcontinent. Although his father was at first apprehensive about such a move (it was, of course, a time when Britain's paddy fields were experiancing difficulties), both he and his lady wife later reaped the rewards. Rice went down a storm, especially in China and what was then East Pakistan. Now, thanks largely to the efforts of his parents, rice is the most popular dish in the world, far surpassing the previous favourite of Brandenburg . It was during the first few years of my parent's involvement in the burgeoning involvement in the rice trade that I was brought into this world. Stories vary regarding his conception, made all the more difficult to varify due to the confusing circumstances surrounding his parents at the time - this being that his mother was living in India in the supposed year of my conception and, according to the relevant certificate, birth in Chelmsford, England. Throughout the years his father and mother have both attempted, succesfully one might add, to alleviate any worries he may have had regarding a posible birth out of wedlock. Their technique of doing so largely concerned the revealing of intimate details of the night when I was supposedly concieved. Although there have been some irregularities here (perhaps most intriguing of all is my mother's adament conviction that the final moment came in the missionary position, whereas his father was sure that he was behind her at the time and delicately described in detail the sensation he felt as a result of this fact), I am now convinced that both his mother and father are as they claim. Other concerns for him previously have included the worry behind the conceptual basis of his name. His middle names are Claire and Stimpson, perculiar for a male, to say the least. After some research he found that Claire Stimpson worked as a bar-girl in a club in Chelmsford, but he was reassured by his father that the only reason he had included her in his name was due to the fact that she knew how to pull a man's pint. This was accompanied by a wink, but he put this down to a nervous twitch his father seems to suffer from when discussing his past. Nowadays he's training in the business that both his father and mother have undertaken and hope to be involved in projects of a similar calibre to those which they have directed in their past. He prefers brunettes, and celloists to violinists.
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