It's Those Scamps From Universal Pictures Again!

Here is this week's entry to the Caption Competition

Voting is taking place as I type, so who knows what the future may hold? Once again I have drawn (ho ho!) on 1930s horror icons as a source for humour. Why is this such a strong influence on me? In the nineteen-sixties, when DC comics like Superman, Batman and Green Lantern were not confined to specialist comics shops (they hadn't been invented yet), a young tyke like myself could sporadically follow the adventures of these super heroes in the local newsagents. Every now and again the backcovers advertised Aurora models of the Wolf-Man, Dracula, Frankenstein's Monster and a rather frightening thing called the Forgotten Prisoner. I saw the latter at just about the time Joan Baez was singing There But For Fortune and therefore made her lyrics particularly graphic. These things were unobtainable to a lad like yours truly - until...

There used to be a hobby shop in Stevenage called the Hobby Shop (we know our onions in Stevenage) and amazingly, one day, there in the window, in the flesh (okay, cardboard box, clever clogs) stood the exotically ubobtainable Aurora models. Did I buy any? No I did not. I wasn't going to have these monsters in my bedroom, half illuminated by my Yogi Bear and Huckleberry Hound night light. I had nightmares enough already, thank you very much for asking! The cause of these nightmares? There used to be a programme on the telly, on ITV, called, simply enough, Cinema. Clive James was an occasional host, but he shared the duties with another sardonic commentator whose name escapes me (Mike something?). Every now and again Cinema, rather than just reviewing current releases, would run a themed special. One particular week it was Horror. I pleaded and begged my parents to allow me to watch it and they eventually gave way on the understanding that there wouldn't be any nonsense about ghosts and monsters when I went to bed (i.e. I wasn't to wake up screaming in the middle of the night). I watched most of the programme from behind my fingers (wimp!). Two elements stood out very starkly, unless my memory is fooling me. One was a sequence from an Abbot and Costello film where they place a bed up against the door to prevent Frankenstein's monster entering the room. The door opened the other way, thereby negating what was, to my mind, a safe haven (bed), the other was the transposition of the soundtrack from On the Town (Gene Kelly, Frank Sinatra) to the visuals on The Beast From 20,000 Fathoms. It is very disconcerting for a young boy to witness a huge monster creating death and destruction to the jaunty background singing of New York, New York.

I shamefully admit that I did not keep my side of the bargain with my parents. I think every light in the house had to stay on.

P.S. It was this programme that introduced me to Kurosawa's Throne of Blood. There you are, a bit of bleedin' kullchar for a working-class boy.

Incroyable! New! Improved! Bigger Cheesier Grin!

Draw yourselves up closer to the fire, O best beloveds, and toast your tootsies comfortably in the embers, for I have an astounding tale to tell. Let the bitter, cold night-winds fade away ( By that I don't mean farts, by the way) and listen, open-mouthed and eyes agog as I tell you this; for the second week running I have gained silver on the winner's podium in The Cartoonists' Club of Great Britain's weekly caption competition. I am still hugging myself. Everything just clicked into place for me. Long story? Well, it was either War and Peace or Moby Dick. Luckily for me I opted for the latter. Duane (Wombat) opted for the former. It just illustrates very graphically how two people can have the same idea and yet treat it very differently.

My first scribblings depicted two sperm whales, one white, one black, but it just looked awkward. Then, I hit upon using an octopus. An octopus can point. Three facial expressions: Anger, inquisitiveness and world-wearyness et voila!

O frabjous day! I'm a heppy heppy heppy Kat!

Why Am I Wearing A Big, Cheesy Grin?

This week's little doodle placed me amongst the gods. That is why I am wearing a big, cheesy grin. I was voted into second place in this particular competition. There wasn't a montage available, so you'll have to scroll through all the lovely piccies. Incidentally, don't forget that if you click on the masterpiece to your left it will increase in size, majesty and glory.

Why did it go so right for me this week? I think it's because I'm finally starting to get facial expressions and body posture nailed. Noel Ford (yes, the Noel Ford) made special mention of the two chaps seated at the table, which was why he voted it as his number one. Personally, I'm very pleased with the lady on the right, she seems to have a personality that is lacking in a couple of the others. The pencils were even better in my opinion.

Perspective? Okay, the perspective is a little dodgy. Sexist? Do women like shoes? Do women like chocolate? This cartoon only came about through intense personal observation of the female of the species, so how can it be sexist?

The prosecution rests, m'lud.

Incidentally, I'm still grinning one week later.

Long-Legged Lovelies

Gentlemen of a certain age (i.e. mine) may get a certain frisson from this week's competition entry. During my, erm, burgeoning years I was subjected to the Tiller Girls each week on Sunday Night at the London Palladium. For those of you too young to remember when the window on the world was black and white, the Tiller Girls were a troupe of high-kicking women in skimpy (although modern eyes would probably regard them as quite robust) costumes designed to display their legs. Ah, the legs. The women in the Tiller Girls lost their individuality as they morphed into a precise, tightly timed and co-ordinated human centipede. Their legs rose and dropped at exactly the same second. Sometimes, using little demi-kicks, the row of girls split into two separate entities slowly turning clockwise or anti-clockwise on their own axes. I am trying to describe all this from an unreliable memory, but it was all very skilled and clever and charged with an erotic undercurrent, which is why I think the chap at the end is one of my more successful creations.
I was going for total incongruity with this cartoon and I think (for all its faults) I pretty much achieved what I set out to do. There is the incongruous image of a pudgy little man in his underwear high-kicking with a chorus line of long-legged lovelies, but it is the expression on his face which I think works very well indeed. I aimed for an expression of surprise that he should be asked to cease dancing - why on earth would I want to come with you when I'm dancing in a chorus line for an audience? Well, that's what I feel would be his reply to the two intrusive gentlemen in evening dress.
The faults? I think they speak for themselves. The girls aren't just tall, they are positively elongated and stretched. A little spell studying human anatomy might not go amiss. I tried to hint at fishnet tights, but I don't think it really came off. The string vest was an essential part of the humour and was supposed to echo the fishnet tights but, again, it didn't really come off. I'm not going to let these shortcomings bother me too much; after all, I can't envisage the need to draw too many fishnet tights and string vests in the future.
I reverted to my usual cartridge paper and Indian ink this week. I also used a little bit of light pencilling on the finished drawing. This is an avenue I might explore more in the future.
If you would like to see all the winners and also-rans (moi) kindly step this way, you will not be disappointed. There are some real beauties this week and a very deserving number one.

Dummy De Dum Dummy De Dum Oooh Weee Yew...

This, let me kid you nowise, is Matt Smith. Oh yes it is. This is my contribution to the Cartoonist's Club of Great Britain's inaugural Caricature Competition, the subject matter of which is Matt Smith. This is my caricature of Matt Smith as Dr. Who wearing a fez. He wears a fez now. Fezes are cool. Click on the pic and watch it grow! See, it really is Matt Smith.

Now then, O best beloved, it could be argued that this is not a caricature at all. It could be argued that it is just a straight-forward drawing of the actor Matt Smith playing Dr. Who and that it doesn't actually loook like him. This argument is so feeble-minded and deluded it doesn't really merit a counter-argument, so I won't proffer one. I won't, do you hear me? It's Matt Smith, dammit, Matt Smith.

I will admit to this. Several weeks ago I drew a cartoon called "Well that's where your problem is." featuring Matt Smith as Dr. Who. Here is my admission. I think that cartoon looks more like him than this caricature and I wasn't consciously caricaturing him. *SIGH*

Now then, dear reader, if you want to see how it should be done, get thee hence to here. If you scroll down a bit you should find a composite picture of all the entries. Some are truly marvels to behold. The bar has been set, the gauntlet has been thrown down, the challenge has been, um, challenged sort of thingy. Let slip the dogs of war. Gok Wan here I come!

Just a Roll, Just a Roll on Your Drum.

The more culturally erudite and intellectually perspicacious among you will have duly noted that this entry's title is taken from Fairport Convention's Sloth. Knuckle-draggers won't be reading this anyway, so I don't have any worries on that score. Only the best people read this blog, so count yourself as being one of the elite.

All the entries may be seen ici for your delight and delectation and in my opinion the winner was a very worthy one. Yours truly came sixth out of eighteen entries and I'm VERY happy with that, I was worried that there would be seventeen other apple trees this week. Perhaps everybody did, indeed, think about it but rejected it as being too simple, leaving the field - or should I (ha ha) say - orchard open to me.

Good points: the posture is nice and relaxed and not too disproportionate.

Bad points: I'm going to take an axe to that tree.

But I Digress

My first caption competition entry for what seems a lifetime. A very rushed affair and probably not very original, but it's a start. I quite like the instrument tray and the nurse's bored expression - not an easy thing to convey through a mask. Lots of things wrong too, but it's nice to start to get back in the saddle.