Good day, my name is John Sidney Linnell. There has been much confusion of late as to what my actual profession seems to be; as rumour has it I share a moniker with another man.  Allow me to clarify the situation, please.

I am a professional accordionist/saxophonist/lyricist/composer/ambassador of love.  I do not paint pictures of the English country-side; nor do I associate myself with "whacked-out "(as it were) poetic visionaries.  If anyone is to be composing eccentricities, the honour must go to me.

Indeed, if The Other John Sidney Linnell continues to wage attack upon my turtlenecked being, I must call his bluff and (if you pardon the expression) "hit him upside the head."  Or merely stick out my tongue.  Such trivialities of semantics do little to aggravate me, however.  I am ired, though - not because I have some creepy 19th-century English portrait-painter with a stinger out for me, but for a much more dire reason. I am troubled by people running amok, who possess the absolute IMPERTINENCE to look like me!  Zounds!  I seethe in anger.