Jon was hatched on a farm in Kent and has stayed mostly nearby ever since. In between mucking out horses and inspecting cow's rear ends he was a fairly average, fairly naughty, fairly crap schoolboy, regularly in trouble for squirting fountains at dinner ladies, running through the "magic garden", pushing other kids in the pond and other such loveable scamp type stuff. Early development of a fine sense of humour and turn of phrase, which only got better with age and inebriation, somehow makes everything Jon does feel a bit loveable scamp, well to his friends anyway.
He briefly attempted to learn the trumpet and got thrown in at the deep end appearing as part of an orchestra before he had learned any notes, showing a fine sense of innovation Jon broke the trumpet during the first interval and had to go home, he never played again. Time passed until the 6th form where he started hanging out with other Coffee regulars like Neil Jordan and Dave Smith, and committed the briefly infamous poisoning of fellow classmate Mouldy Mulder which saw him somehow get washing up liquid into her drink, her somehow not notice it and share the lot with her best friend resulting in them both going to hospital for stomach pumps.
He met another regular of the early Coffee work, who we shall refer to as Spunky, through football and social gatherings. Jon had found some success in football, winning the league and manager's player award only for the team to get thrown out of the league after an on-pitch battle in which two team mates jumped on an opposition player's leg and broke it, we grew up in a nice place. He moved to another club winning the league again, and manager's and player's player for the season, then Spunky convinced him to move to "the best team in Sittingbourne"; The Prince Alfred...
"It was horrible, they were so shit. I tried to introduce the offside trap and this one geezer just couldn't understand it, I'd say move up, he'd run back, I'd say run back, he'd move up, I hated it."
Salvation came in the form of Steve Piper's (who he had met through mutual friends) first house. Jon, Smith and Spunky made it a home from home for several years of ferocious FIFA battling, pizza eating and not getting up the next morning to play football. It was this same merry band that spent the evening contained in Her Majesty's finest holding cells after putting away several gallons of tequila, beer and vodka celebrating Jon's 21st. In between they made a whole bunch of short films.
He moved on to travel agency employment in London, which liquidated along with most of the industry after 9/11, then went on to work with all the evil people on the Stock Exchange doing things like European Equity Corporate Actions. None of us have any idea quite what the balls this even means and have taken the assumption he is playing a long game on bringing down the establishment from within, potentially encouraging everyone around him to extend as many toxic loans as possible. He's certainly been working hard on blending in, with a recent Bullingdon Club style incident at an American casino ending in him telling the croupier she was a thief, throwing a cool ten bucks in the face of a local who accused him of littering with the immortal words "pick that up you mug" and an exit from the casino travelling backwards up the escalator flipping the double bird.
Throughout his 20's a passion for snowboarding developed and he has since chased the powder all over the place including France, Canada, Bulgaria, Lake Tahoe in California, Meribel and Italy, although due to a distinct lack of snow at that location the snowboarding bacame less of a priority;
"We were out getting pissed up one of the mountains and I came across this Skipaway bin, dragged it to the top, jumped on it, and started my way down. I started to lose my bottle though and bailed off, but the bin carried on, smashed into the front of someones car, bounced off and continued down the hill and round the corner towards the main high street. We all legged it at that point, but you could hear it battering around and breaking shit for about two minutes after."
Jon's other main occupation is destroying his own cars; starting his driving life with a Nova SR, Jon soon beat it into submission and sold it for £20. Next was an Orion 1.6 (bought for £3000, sold for £150) and just over a year ago someone reversed into his Mini and he still hasn't got round to fixing it, he'll probably just end up selling it for scrap. We all hope the recent purchase of his first house doesn't go quite the same way.