Thomas Spallek

Wistful from the memories of his battles for the Greek gods to be recognized on Olympus and still hungover from the unbridled orgies and drinking sprees on his travels around the world, Bacchus has now decided to scale things back a bit and focus on his long desired rebirth as a small–minded grape holder. Much unlike his dubious reputation as the god of intoxication who will hear nothing of self-restraint, Bacchus has become much more moderate these days and is content to reflect on the pleasures of having fresh wine grapes on his head. But despite the best intentions, his fickle temper and mischievous disposition still lie deep within him and are only disguised by the expression of a seemingly harmless choir boy. Constantly falling back into his old ways, he forms his mouth into an inconsequential little “o” and tries to sing the millennia-old songs he once sung to a whirl of dancing and the sounds of flutes and tambourines at his debauched parties.