MarK Roberts


A great big girl's blouse of a man. Thin wrists. Wonky eye. Laughable posture. Interesting eyebrows. No sense of humour. Unlikely to ever win the Booker Prize. Single-handedly wrestled a fully grown bull to the ground at Ross-on-Wye cattle market, averting a terrible disaster, when he was only seven years old. If you ever need to contact him, burn a bud of sensi, and say his name three times. He'll be with you within the hour.