SHADOWPLAY WEBZINE

Ah, the redoubtable Mr Stevens. The man looms large in Shadowplay legend. In fact, he just looms large generally. At slightly under nine foot four (check this - Editor), this is a man Harlem Globetrotters look up to. In any group of picnickers, this is the person who gets rained on first. We're talking tall. In fact, he's so tall that ...

Oh, all right, he's not all that tall. But he's no munchkin either.

The only truly towering thing about the lad is his talent. The only reason I was waffling on about his height was that there's very little real point in my sitting here singing praises to the small miracles Paul was able to whip up for Shadowplay using a couple of pens and a bottle of Liquid Paper. Have a rummage in the Gallery (coming soon). Take in his covers and the other examples of his penpersonship (that can't be right!) on show there.

Good, aren't they? Bleeding good. Not just 'good' as in 'quite good' or even 'really very good'. They are good in the rarefied, spiritually elevated sense of 'good as a freshly poured Guinness on the first day of summer'. They're what the late, lamented Ian Drury would have called 'eyeball pleasers'. What higher praise?

Paul's only problem as an artist is that peculiar quality of humility about his talent that several of the magazine's finest artists seem to lug around with them. It took an age before he first exhibited his work. I was always rabbiting on about how he was a natural to make an exhibition of himself. What with him being so tall.

Anyroad, that's Mr Stevens: splendid individual, profoundly pukka pen pusher, and tallish.

CAST & CREW