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Peter Molyneux's amazing stories Pt.1/3: The randy poodle and the Sega boss

One for you dog lovers...

When Peter Molyneux isn't having incredible awards bestowed on him or changing the course of video game history, he's often not exactly living an ordinary existence.

As evidenced by last year's "insane" anecdote, the legendary designer has some pretty amazing stories to tell about his life in and around the industry.


CVG is lucky enough to share a few with you this week, in celebration of the Lionhead chief's well-deserved inauguration into the BAFTA Fellowship last night.

This cracker, told first-hand by Peter to CVG and repeated below, takes place in 1997 - and stars both an unnamed Japanese Sega boss and a rather happy little furball...

When we first set up Lionhead, we were operating out of my house, waiting to get some offices. You know, I'd lived a hand-to-mouth existence at various points in my career, but by that time I had quite a lot of money so it was a nice house.

We had a housekeeper, Beril, and one day she asked me: 'Is it okay if I bring my dog in?' I had no objection, so I said: 'Fine, no problem. It's just a house.' I was actually quite looking forward to meeting him. Monty, his name was. He's very memorable because he had a prolapsed bottom, almost like a little baboon. He was sort of poodle-like, and we all thought he was a bizarre-looking thing.

Anyway, this happened at the same time that we had a very important president of Sega coming down to meet with us. He was going to pitch the idea of us doing stuff on their machine. We were using this long, dining room table as our meeting area and the dining room itself as a conference room.

On the day he arrived, this president was talking to us through an interpreter - you know, very serious stuff about the machine and what it offered. We were all nodding and listening politely. Then, all of a sudden, he went kind of slightly crazy. It was so strange. None of us knew what the hell was going on. Then I looked under the table.

To my utter horror, Beril's dog had - how do I put this delicately? - become 'over excited' on the Sega man's leg. There were fluids involved.

What action are you supposed to take in that situation? I felt like getting down on my knees and wiping it with a cloth, but you just can't do that sort of thing.

He just stood there frozen; we ALL just stood there frozen, as the dog with the prolapsed bottom merrily sauntered out of the door.