Perhaps the only way to get rid of Dave's beard is to get rid of Dave himself.Ī fairytale for adults that children will also adore, The Gigantic Beard That Was Evil is surely destined to become a classic (Raymond Briggs has already called it "an amazing book"). As the government's anxiety grows, it begins to think the unthinkable. Parks that were previously manicured now sprout the odd weed poodles whose coats were expertly trimmed now sport an altogether shaggier look. Meanwhile, there falls upon Here a fit of untidiness, its inhabitants experimenting first with their own hairstyles and then with their clothes, their gardens and their dogs. What is to be done? The police and even the army having been defeated by the beard, the island's hairdressers are marshalled scaffolding is erected around it, on which they may balance, scissors and mousse in hand. Outside his window, the tourist hordes gather, eager to catch sight of this terrifying spectacle – though they soon scatter once it begins pushing its way through the front door of Dave's semi.įor the authorities on Here, this is alarming.
One minute, he looks like Rasputin, the next he has a pelt that would dwarf the Black Forest attached to his chin. In the end, he has no choice but to submit to its mighty power. He could trim it all night, and still it would be there in the morning: lustrous as a mammoth's coat, impenetrable as a privet hedge. Anarchic and untameable, it comes from a place far beyond tidiness. Dave feels a "roaring black fire climbing up through his face", and suddenly his beard is born. Then, one day, something strange happens.
He has a boring office job whose precise purpose he doesn't really understand, and spends his free time sketching his street and listening to the Bangles' Eternal Flame over and over again. Clever, funny and beautiful to look at, the last time I came across facial hair this compelling, it was attached to the chin of Roald Dahl's Mr Twit, a character whose creator would undoubtedly have loved The Gigantic Beard That Was Evil – and whose influence, unless I'm much mistaken, may be felt on its every page.ĭave, a bald fellow with just one very stubborn hair on his face, lives on the island of Here, an excessively tidy kind of a place where beards (or any kind of facial hair) are nonexistent.
And here's hoping that beard‑lovers (or, more likely, beard-phobics) everywhere feel the same, for Stephen Collins, who won the Observer/Cape/Comica Graphic short story prize in 2010, deserves his first book to be a huge hit. W ho could resist a book with the title The Gigantic Beard That Was Evil? Not me.
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