Big bad Gavin has just completed a host of colour. Splashed it across the canvas like a mongrel dog on heat in the Sahara.
This fella has talent, buried somewhere in that emotional thick outer layer of his being. It oozes like the smell of raw garlic cloves hung around the neck to warn off the disciples of sport.
If you get the opportunity and consider travelling to Broken Hill to see this exhibition slap yourself across the left earhole and look to the Sun for inspiration and an excuse to bid young Gav a fond and pleasant trip. Instruct this wayward broadcaster of colour to adhere to the the speed limit, drink plenty of beer on arrival and greet the locals with a "gidday mate, how they ..... " At this point it is best to hold off further conversation as Gav only has the attention span of a antelope in the woods seeking a mate.