• Age: Obviously not that young but otherwise indeterminate.
• Size: About as tall as he is round, which makes him both vertically and horizontally challenged.
• Appearance: Short and gnarly. At first glance he appears to be grubby and grimy but actually he is quite dark skinned. No really.
• Personality: As charming as only a midget can be. Given to profuse profanity without any encouragement at all.
• Character Traits: Finds almost every situation amusing. Laughs hardest at his own jokes.
• Physical Traits: Has an inordinate propensity for flatulence. His bottom burps have been mistaken for ensuing thunderstorms, the onset of chemical warfare and the resultant reverberations for minor earthquakes.

Makiwa became a Midget after having been a Joker for quite some time. As Makiwa tells it, after an afternoon high tea with the drive, Horatio had decided that he had become 'too big for his boots' and thus he would be changed into a Midget so that 'his boots would now be too big for him'. Missing the metaphorical nature of the exchange Makiwa had protested that he had always been barefoot and didn't, in fact, own a pair of boots.

Waking up in Squat Hole he realised his protests had been in vain.

Taking in his surroundings he also realised that the squalid stench of Squat Hole now had an appealing aroma and that this was quite possibly the most beautiful outpost he had ever seen.

Sitting for a while on the door sill of a burned out wreckage of a car, he took some time contemplating the situation. Eyebrows waggling up and down in concentration, he devised a cunning plan. A plan so devious and intricate in it's architecture that it had to be set in motion without further delay.

His jaw set in grim determination, he climbed down and headed straight for Booz.

Completely wankered after several jars of Chlamydia's finest ale, it hadn't escaped his notice that his small amount of req was not equal to the bar tab.

Instigating a mini riot in the bar was surprisingly easy to achieve. This involved informing one patron that another had commented on his cuteness and how tall he looked for his size. In the ensuing ruckus, grinning at his cleverness, Makiwa slipped under the tent's flap and was away - leaving both the escalating brawl and his unpaid bar tab to their own devices.

There are, it may have not escaped the reader's notice, many things that pass at not inconsiderable altitude over the head of Chlamydia, Booz's landlady. Quantum physics, the mating rituals of the Kakapo parrot and foods that are more nutritional than kebabs to name but a few. Unpaid bar tabs, Makiwa was to discover however, does not fit into this category.

The sight of a Midget running at full pelt is a sight to behold. There are, it is said, many things than can out pace the elegant strides of a galloping Midget. Speeding snails, of course. Intrepid sloths, undoubtedly. The odd stationary rock. Quite possibly.

The dynamics of the exertion to speed ratio of Makiwa at this moment would give a track coach many a sleepless night.

Ducking into the first opening Makiwa came to, he disappeared into the Common Grounds.

And here Knee High Makiwa is seen for first time.

For the time being Knee High Makiwa seems to have vanished. It is assumed that his race has once again changed. The chronicler suspects that he may well return at some point so gird your kneecaps and make sure you have a clothes peg handy for your nose. You never know.

In Essence