Manley Power.

Salvager's Log. XX Date 2087.
While searching through the ruins of the Pater ghettos, we found a collection of meticulously filed documents, written in eyeliner and bound in fabrics from over 30 seasons ago. It appears to be some kind of diary kept by a political dissident, possibly a member of the Brotherhood. Dates are hard to ascertain, since it doesn't use any known measuring system. There's some reference to 'anno domini' which sounds foreign. Lance thinks it may be of some intrest to a historienne, considering how old it is.

I find it...odd to say the least. Perhaps I'll mince over to Bruno's place, see what he thinks.

Here's an extract I tore out. It appears to be a speech or some kind of address:

"Comrades, my brothers in arms, these are dark days; at this very moment, agents of the Ovarium hunt us to ensure our destruction!

Have you all forgotten?! I look before me and see you clad in the warpaint of the enemy, lashes curled and genitals constricted in tight trousers. Have you forgotten how to be men?

Perhaps you mere boys need a role model...a champion! Allow me to enlighten you.
In the early twenty-first century, the social tool known as the internet was riddled with the opinion that the ultimate amn was a being known as 'Chuck Norris'. Fantastical claims were abound, but this...'Norris' was but a false messiah.

The true man began as a humble fellow, living amoung vagrants, braving the elements and drinking disinfectant strength lager through sheer force of Y-chromasome. He killed and ate his own food, the man-sized squirrel, despite antifreeze induced blindness. Ironically, this just made it easier for him to stride confidently through town, shouting "What ho, crumpets!" in the general direction he assumed women would be.

But he soon tired of this life, and went on a pilgramge to the grave of the great prophet Manley Power, in Bath. There he left an offering of beef, bacon, and bison. Suddenly, a huge, lightning bolt penetrated the heavens, and struck him with an almighty crash.

Our champion emerged,ith a cry of "HAAAAAA!" that made every women in the vicinity pregnant.

He was a mustachioed, Y-chromasomed mass of pure, bubbling testoterone. he was masculine. Bacon wrought. Utterly contraffeminate. While most men are made from earth, wind, air and fire; he was so laden in pure manliness he was considered to be made of muscle, tempered steel, and bodily fluids.

And so he strode the earth, a beacon to all those beset by the plague of metrosexuality.
He fathered many children, so virile he had to be buried in a T-shaped coffin.

it is upon this man you must model yourself. His name was Al...(the rest of the entry is torn off.)"

...
I guess that's where babies come from.