By Jack Tilley
I should clarify what I said about Bevan the other day, in case there’s any confusion: he has no redeeming features whatsoever.
How does he live with himself? Even when he travels inland—there he is. Like the platypus, Bevan perverts wonder; like the wombat, he blasts joy. Behold! Deformity has created her masterpiece.
Two floors up, in his soiled pad, I can hear his slippered meter as he eases into the brown afflatus of his afternoon musings.
He mentioned the other day—merely by the by—that he sometimes likes to…’scribble.’ Nothing fancy, just jottings.
I rest my case.
Jack, your Bevan character is one of the most off-beat guys I’ve come across. Love it!