THOMAS CORFIELD

Thomas Corfield was born in London several years ago, definitely before last Thursday. This was a good year for all concerned, and for him in particular, because without it, later years would mean little. He owes a lot to that first year, and now lives because of it in undisclosed locations after having successfully absconded from probation. Although he finds making friends difficult, this is only because no one likes him. Including his mother, who didn’t bother giving him a name until he was nine. His solicitor describes him as having an allergy to apostrophes and an aversion to punctuation that borders on pathological. This makes the popularity of his books all the more remarkable. At least it would if there was any. But there isn't. So it doesn't. He was recently interviewed in Joomag's Meals of Food magazine, which didn't help anyone.

 

Growing up with lots of cats and dogs had a  great deal to do with the absurdity of the Velvet Paw of Asquith novels. But a far more attributable factor is that he is quite literally, insane-of-the-mind.



And he has a sick note to prove it.

​

Often asked whether Oscar Teabag-Dooven is a real cat, Thomas has assured that yes, indeed he was. And that more importantly, because of these novels, still is.



When asked how many books the Velvet Paw of Asquith novels might eventually contain, he has suggested one ought to think of a number, square it, add five and take away n times the number first chosen, with n being the approximate number of years one might have left to live. When it was pointed out there is a high probability such answer may be less than zero, Thomas swore gallantly and promptly punched them in the face.

 

It is, therefore, safe to assume the answer is somewhat greater than zero.



Probably about twenty.

​

Roughly.