by Sukey HowardApril, 2006
Quite a moral tale
The Honorable Charlie Mortdecai, an unabashedly unprincipled London art dealer with extravagant cravings for money, drink and prandial pleasures, who quips a la Oscar Wilde even when in dire distress ( I can stand anything but pain ) and is possessed of the intriguing remains of rather flashy good looks, made his print debut more than 30 years ago. Now, with his Anti-Jeeves factotum and trusty thug ( you can't run a fine-arts business nowadays without a thug ), Jock Strapp, at the ready, he makes his audio debut in Kyril Bonfiglioli's darkly comic Don't Point That Thing at Me, read in the deliciously honeyed cadences of the British upper class by Simon Prebble. There's a plot of sorts involving a stolen Goya, a very nasty member of a British outsider police squad who likes hurting people, a wild ride across the Wild West in a Rolls Royce and a supremely seductive widow. An over-the-top, oddball charmer.