I was rummaging in the extensive Beans Archive today, looking for inspiration, when I stumbled across this post, made ten years ago today. It marks the occasion on which Mr. Kevin Head turned 24 years old. Well, as you can imagine, I immediately got my calculator out, and blow me if that doesn’t mean that today is very likely to be Mr. Kevin Head’s birthday again. He will be older than 24 today, though I’m not entirely sure by how much.
What better day, then, to celebrate our acquaintance with the Beans’ resident DIY expert and master Giant Magical Computer Appeaser, Kevin “Kevindo Menendez” Menendez?
At the age of 24, Kevin’s legs were declared “too long” by doctors and he was briefly confined to a mobility scooter. “Old Rosie” was his pride and joy until surgery was carried out, allowing him to both walk and thrust with the best of them.
Kevin has always enjoyed eating very small foods. He sometimes slices up fondant fancies into ten or twelve portions. Here he is enjoying a selection of tiny “bonsai meals”.
I was privileged to be invited to Al’s wedding as Kevin’s long-suffering wife, Missy Mrs. Jolay. As you can see, she kindly allowed me to borrow her suit and tie for the occasion. Most people didn’t notice that it was me.
Kevin is not just a drinker of tea but also a tea adventurer. Here he is pictured attempting the world record for the greatest distance travelled by tea between mug and viso/volto, a record he still holds.
As a life-long member of the Brownies, Kevin likes to be outdoors. Here he is seen among lots of people and tents in a field. This is very much his natural environment and this is why he seems to be happy.
An unwell Kevin is still a happy Kevin. Rumours persist that there are things in the world that he doesn’t like or that make him cross. Nothing could be further from the truth. He remains cheerful and genial even when feeling nauseous and knocking back Milk of Magnesia like it’s strawberry Yop.
A keen sportsman, Kevin is seen here giving the benefit of his golfing expertise to a novice golfist, Mr. Ian Mac Mac Mac Mac McIver. His nine iron underhand backarm slice is matched only by that of Tiger Woods.
It was only a matter of time before Kevin’s twin fondnesses for tiny meals and tea came together. He is the patent holder for the “muglet”, a miniature drinks vessel designed to hold one micro-cup of tea.
Many said that a man only qualified in poodle grooming and the sale of wireless abbabs would be mad to launch their own brewery in Thailand and to manage it at arm’s length from Leeds. Kevin proved them wrong. Here he is with a bottle of his well-regarded sausage flavour beer.
This is evidence, in case anyone doubts it, that I have actually met the majestic man himself, though I may not have been as pleased about it as he is.
In conclusion, then: let us all wish many happy returns to our ever-absent but fundamentally well-meaning Chinese friend, Kevin “Old Man Kevvers” Chang. Happy birthday.
Now go away.
35 comments on “A celebration of the many Kevs”
Ian "Mac Mac Mac Mac" McIver
Look at him with his life. What’s that about?
Ian "Mac Mac Mac Mac" McIver
Also look how you’ve celebrated him and his life and he’s too busy loving his life to comment on it.
I know. He acts as though buffing his girders and tapping out his soffits is somehow better than interacting with the likes of us. Which it probably is, but I still find it rude.
There’s a lesson there about not asking too many questions. As the philosopher Emmanuel Kant wrote, “if you ask too many questions, sooner or later you’ll hear about my ass”.
Ian "Mac Mac Mac Mac" McIver
I’ve known you for a very long time and all I’ve EVER done is ask your sorry ass questions. Why is this only coming up now?
There’s no way of dressing up ‘ass time’ other than a very particular genre of pornography, although my phone, again, would prefer me to use pyrography instead.
Eugh, he’s back, with a crap crack at the full pack. Kev, your attempt is whack and needs to take a step back. You’ve lost the knack, the future’s black, as relevant as Frak!
35 comments on “A celebration of the many Kevs”
Look at him with his life. What’s that about?
Also look how you’ve celebrated him and his life and he’s too busy loving his life to comment on it.
I know. He acts as though buffing his girders and tapping out his soffits is somehow better than interacting with the likes of us. Which it probably is, but I still find it rude.
Buffing his girders? Tapping out his soffits?
Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay
(what?)
Exactly.
So busy he still hasn’t had time to crack his eyes all over this.
Wheeeeeey… no, that was just weird.
I’ve lived a long and strange life but I’ve never heard of anyone cracking (or crazking as I typed) their eyes over something. Does it hurt?
I’ve been in my natural habitat of a tent covered field for the last week, with my trusty Nokia the only technology alongside me.
I can confirm that this is an excellent and factually correct look at my many Me’s.
Here here.
Where?
Just there. Under that thing.
Wait, don’t look under that thing. Chris’ face may be hiding there. We can’t say for sure. Get an axe.
Do not, I repeat, do not take an axe to my face.
Is that your money maker? Is that what pays the bills? How many bills can you pay with your face, Chris?
No. My money maker is my firm but shapely ass. My ass can pay all the bills.
Eugh. I’m not sure I wanted to know that. In fact I definitely did not want to know that. I’m trying to forget it.
There’s a lesson there about not asking too many questions. As the philosopher Emmanuel Kant wrote, “if you ask too many questions, sooner or later you’ll hear about my ass”.
I’ve known you for a very long time and all I’ve EVER done is ask your sorry ass questions. Why is this only coming up now?
Sooner or later. You see? Sooner or later. Turns out it was later. By which I mean, now. Now is ass time.
There’s no way of dressing up ‘ass time’ other than a very particular genre of pornography, although my phone, again, would prefer me to use pyrography instead.
That’s exactly what it is. The very particular genre known as Asscore.
I think at this point, we need to ask ourselves how much further down this dark and worrying road we wish to go.
I’m setting up a roadblock right now. A road assblock. Nothing is coming through.
That’s the way. Filter out all the ass.
Filtass.
(what?)
Exactly.
I’m glad we cleared that up.
Now throw a pint of apple juice in the air for Bobby Constanzo and let’s move on.
Will that ass-ist him in some way?
OH you had to go and do it, didn’t you? You wouldn’t let it lie!
Someone ring the bell (ding ding).
And your other two jokes are… ?
He won’t be back for ages. Don’t expect a couple more zingers from him.
Shall I zing on his behalf then? I expect he’ll try to crack a couple more off (waaaaay!) over the weekend but it’ll be too late by then.
Feel free to zing it up in Kev’s inevitable absence.
I ass-ure you it won’t happen again.
Eugh, he’s back, with a crap crack at the full pack. Kev, your attempt is whack and needs to take a step back. You’ve lost the knack, the future’s black, as relevant as Frak!
Yeah. Whats Frak? Frak sounds pretty whack to me.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frak!
Well, you’re right that it’s not relevant. Frak! isn’t relevant at all.
Not anymore and I’m pretty sure he was barely relevant back then.
I do love a bit of Frak! though.
Maybe your dad could make his own version but call it ‘Frank’ and have him dressed as a caveman, hitting monsters with a yoyo.