In truth, if a man capable of creating an entire new species of inhuman and all too human characters tells you to look after his dog, the only thing to say is 'Yes Randall, it'll be my pleasure.'
It took Sickem less than a day to swim across the Atlantic, and within twenty-four hours neighbours began reporting that their dogs refused to come out from behind sofas. I've no idea still where Sickem spent most of his nights. But it is very telling that all the Chinese restaurants around Soho felt an urgent need to close for a fortnight, while Mayfair became deserted after midnight. Still he's back home now (thank heavens) and producing original sketches for Randall's stories. Catch up with him over there, and you'll understand why in spite of all the mayhem he caused, he'll always be my wonderdog. Sickem's place.