Boris is Kevin's dad.

He's not usually the type to get flustered by anything, excepting, of course by marching bands, which boil his piss dry. Upon the mere thought of them the pink mist descends in his mind, and things usually get broken.

Given his son Kevin played the trombone when he was a kid, and was also quite the fan of large cymbals, this trait is wholly forgiven by most everyone. Excepting the odd marching band member, naturally.

Boris was once a world champion spitter, competing at the highest level. Whilst not a popular sport these days, the parallels to the modern sport of darts are exciting for him, and he can be seen glued to the television most Sunday afternoons, working up a massive spit ball in his mouth, and often yelling "One Hundred and Eighty!" releasing a breathtaking spray of mouth dew, lit by moody filtered sunlight flooding through hazy smoke in his lounge room.

He still holds the world record for the Spewtem Hurling category in his sport, coughing a good sized lurgy a massive 12.475 yards. That monster hurl was set when he was just a teen, and hadn't yet taken up smoking.

That the Tokyo Olympics have been postponed because of what he calls the "Kay-rona" virus will give Boris another year to ensure that Junior is well mentored and prepared to have a good crack at the Spewtem Hurl, hopefully passing the world record from grandfather to grandson.

His secret coaching hope is that a well timed Tourette's syndrome outburst at the event will give Junior the edge to take his long-standing record down.