A Portrait of Hypocrisy

The unpleasant spectre of Kevin Chesham has now faded entirely from our lives. His uncomfortably stiff demeanour has dissolved. Mutual acquaintances never mention him in conversation. He made no impact on their lives and certainly none on ours. We occasionally received material through the post with the familiar datestamp and recognisable handwriting on the envelope. They were disposed of unopened and unread in a suitable receptacle for rubbish. They now appear to have stopped. He nevertheless persists with uploading filched photographs with accompanying misdescriptions, falsely suggesting that I am his friend. The truth is that Chesham lost the very few friends he had a long time ago owing to his betrayal of them all. The people in photographs he has published on the internet are not his friends, and have not been for quite a number of years. This is entirely down to his treacherous behaviour. He turned on those who had hitherto only shown him kindness and generosity, and he did so under no provocation and for no apparent reason, save what lurks in the darkest recesses of a devious mind. Why does he publish images of people he describes as his "friends" when they are clearly not? Vintage pictures of him and I, for example. It is a puerile game that he seems to take a perverse pleasure in playing. Others see it for exactly what it is. Chesham's many lies and deceitful actions have rid him of any friends he might have once enjoyed. His motives are known to him and him alone. We can only speculate why he acts the way he does. The darkness he embraces has extinguished the light in his being. Like his mentor and collaborator whom he allied himself with in a futile attempt to cause people like myself harm, Kevin Chesham has become an empty shell whose void is filled with something sinister. In hindsight he was always a wrong 'un.

My mistake was to invest such trust in so obvious a blaggard who was perhaps always destined to betray those who offered him the hand of friendship. I know he has done it to others in the past. The scoundrels he colludes with will discover to their cost that no honour dwells within him.

As many have remarked, my portrait of him reveals both the emptiness and sadness of the man; something he shares in common with those he turned to in an attempt to inflict harm on me and mine. The picture ceased to be exhibited as a portrait of him after his betrayal became known, but was later re-exhibited as a depiction of both a fool and a traitor. It is captioned both "Fool" and "Judas."

There is another abiding image of Chesham; one which he cannot deny; one bearing his humourless features with an outstretched arm, as his grave expression betrays something irrational and maniacal.

This  is the image that will remain when others are effaced by time. It is a portrait of gross hypocrisy.