I first met Carl Giles (I throw the 'Carl' in there, to indicate our familiarity, nay, intimacy. Frankly, until our introduction, I always thought he was Giles Somebody or Other, didn't you?) at a 'Saints and Sinners Dinner' at The Savoy, London. And, no, The Orpheans were not playing. I'm too young for them, and Giles denies all knowledge. Actually, its the only time I've met this silvery - haired artist and bon viveur. He greeted me in that manly, almost rough way of his, and after I'd picked myself up from the floor, he was kindness itself to a simple lad, untutored in the gentry's smart ways. He hardly spilled any drink over me at all, and even showed me how to remove white wine stains with red wine. I've got another shirt now, anyway. . .

In the course of this fateful evening, in a moment of weakness, Giles asked me to write this introduction. He regrets it now, of course, but its far too late. Like the rest of you, I've admired the man's brilliance for too long to let an opportunity like this go by. There's more going on in a darkened corner of a Giles cartoon than most other artists achieve in a lifetime. I'd compare him with Rembrandt, if I wasn't afraid I'd meet him again . . .