The victim of a particularly creative curse by a somewhat tipsy gypsy, Supperman need only see or think of a person to instantly experience the flavours of their next evening meal. By gazing at a photo, Supperman can often deduce the present or future whereabouts of criminals by a process of culinary elimination.
Even though his ability is specifically tuned to evening meals, the wildly fluctuating probabilities caused by people deciding what to have for lunch invariably manifest as an overpowering feeling of impending doom and a stale fruit taste (pearvoyant backlash). As a result, Supperman generally spends lunchtimes in a broom closet, hugging himself and gently rocking back and forth.
A budding (i.e. penniless) writer with dreams of being a food critic, Supperman often loiters outside fancy restaurants to sample the flavours of success before going home to baked beans on toast.
Thin, wiry and in his mid-twenties, Supperman usually sports a three-day stubble, half tucked-in shirt and a thoroughly rumpled fedora. When not sitting in front of a word processor, he hangs around dark alleyways opposite restaurants with his hatbrim dramatically obscuring his eyes. This is generally for the best, considering the kinds of dinners awaiting anyone else he might meet loitering in the alley.
Best Known For:
Host during the pilot filming of "Ready, Steady, Cook!" but was replaced with somebody less know-it-all and more camp.
"Who knows what lies in the stomachs of men?"