Read All Abaht It!

This, ladies and gentle pongs, is part of the logo heading for my super-duper new website which is all rather spiffing and topping and is part of the road to supplementing the income of this international playboy millionaire cartoonist.
Do take a look and tell me what you think. Favourable responses only, please. Do I have to remind you that I have a considerable amount of house-bricks and I know where your windows are?

Well, It Seemed a Good Idea At The Time...

Bit of an oddity, this one. The competition theme was Crime scene and the first thing that came into my head was Sherlock Holmes. The next thing was The Hound Of The Baskervilles. I first read the story when I were nobbut a sprawgler to a skrangdingler. In other words, I was far too young really, as the book genuinely frightened me. Well, the first part did. Dr. Mortimer's recounting of the legend had the hell-hound standing over evil Hugo Baskerville plucking at his throat. That particular phrase froze me to the marrow.
The British Isles are replete with spectral hounds. I always thought the nearest one to me, but still at a safe distance, was Norfolk's Black Shuck. I have subsequently discovered that my home town of Stevenage is also host to a spectral black dog with glowing coals for eyes. So, that's me indoors for the rest of my life then.
Nevertheless, to return to my cartoon. I had a few technical glitches going on that suddenly reduced the opacity of my drawing. I had to hurriedly re-draw it, hence its rather raggedy appearance. But, and this will come as no surprise to you, gentle reader, I agonized for ages over la mot juste. Knowing that I was going to paraphrase Dr. Mortimer's dramatic statement at the end of chapter two, I dithered between choosing gerbil or jerboa. The phonic alliteration was the same, but in the end I opted for the letter G.
How many points? Points don't matter, I care only for my art. Points are a triviality. Points make a mockery of finer aesthetic feeling. Points only matter if... I didn't get any.

Meanwhile, Back at Universal Studios...

Well, what do you think? Fairly well balanced in compositional terms. Perspective is pretty well sorted out. Nice, minimal use of colour accentuated by grey tones. Amusing imagery. Hacked off looking Boris Karloff derivative. All boxes being ticked. Yup. Pretty pleased with this effort.
So, how many points did I get in this week's caption competition ? Nada, Nuffink, Llaggeryb.
Let me state this for the record. I do know where everybody lives. I do own bricks. I love the sound of breaking glass.
Never mind, it's only a bit of fun. Yes, it's only a sodding bit of bleeding fun. A bit of heart-breaking, soul-destroying, ego-corroding FUN. Fun ha ha ha! Do you hear me? FUN! HA HA HA HA HA HA!
Well, I shall not be entering this week. Not out of a sense of misplaced pique. Even I am not that childish. No, I just will not have time. I have a lot to do in preparation for something of which I am very excited about. In fact I am hugging myself about it now. When the time is ripe I shall reveal all. It's no big secret, but I want to get it right from the start. So, lots of preparation needed, hence no competition entry. See? No hissy fitting.

Anachronism:Its Place in History.

Just a quicky. I ventured onto Richard Skipworth territory with this one (He is renowned for his monks cartoons). Am I brave or wot?
The competition may be found here and as you may see a blank word was the option.
I tried to fix the monks in time, hence the ink-horn and the twine with stone to fix the vellum in place. This was done so hilarity would ensue by using the word Tipp-Ex out of chronological order. Or something.
Ernie Whey, I scored quite a few points, so all that research wasn't wasted.

I'm Going To Go to Hell For This, Aren't I?

Well, now. Where do I start? How on earth can I defend the indefensible? How can I possibly justify the desecration on your left? The short answer is that I can't.

You know and I know that when doggies wolf down doggy food, the end result is... unpleasant. In addition to this, you know and I know that Snoopy (a Beagle) just does not do... unpleasantness. So how on earth have things come to this? Don't blame me, blame the caption. It was set for this caption competition. 

Now, when I first began my cogitations on things of a smelly nature, things scatological didn't even go faintly bleep on my mental radar. The very first image that came in to my head was that of two skunks investigating a discarded bottle of Chanel Number 5. Chanel was uppermost in my mind because I had recently impoverished myself by buying a bottle for my wife. The aforementioned vision of beauty incarnate (my missus) suggested that I draw two skunks walking behind Brad Pitt as he was now the face of Chanel - a marked improvement on my own idea, I think you'll agree. Yes, I thought. Yes that would work very well. And then... and then I took the dog for a walk.

Dog walking frees the mind to a ridiculous degree and as we perambulated in preparation for poos and piddles (my dog's, not mine), it occurred to me that the phrase good grief was a repeating trope in the Peanuts cartoon. Peanuts was an early love of mine, but the freed mind is no respecter of past loves and the result is the blasphemous scribble you see above.

Okay, I hear you say. I didn't have to draw it, did I? I could have gone ahead with the caricature of Brad Pitt, couldn't I? This is true and there is no denying it. So, was I just being perverse by trampling over past loves? I can honestly say no. Even I could not debase part of my own development. No. The reason is this. Charlie Brown is easier to draw. 

A Holiday, a Holiday, And the First One of the Year!

 "At Last", I hear the panting multitudes cry, "a new masterpiece by the Master!" Well, and here I blush a little, I wouldn't call it a masterpiece per se, but it is a blessed relief to be able to produce something (virtually) tangible, having sorted out a sulky and unresponsive Bamboo tablet (Naughty tablet! Go to your room!).
It is my entry for cartoon competition No. 180 on a theme of Time Travel. Ironically, time (as usual) was against me due to technical problems that have tediously been pointed out before in previous posts, but I'm still very pleased with the result. It also got me points, and what do points make? Me a very happy cartoonist, that's what points make.
 The next step is to get pounds rather than points alone which would make me delirious, rather than just happy. To this end I have set up a rudimentary website. The contents and design are going to go through a radical change in the very near future, when funds allow. When that happens you will, gentle reader, be the first to know and knowledge is power, although I have yet to see a knowledge-powered light bulb.

Parental Warning: Utterly Foul Language Shall Undoubtedly Ensue.

I would not want you to believe for one single second that I am a silly, superstitious paranoiac, but once again the conniving, vindictive, spiteful Fates (and what a malignant bunch of old biddies they are) have conspired against me in a manner designed purely to prevent me from entering a caricature competition. I am beginning to discern a distinct pattern forming here and the only logical conclusion one could possibly settle upon is that supernatural forces beyond human knowledge are waging a campaign of personal hate and vitriol aimed only at me and me alone. That, or my laptop is buggered.
Once again, time set aside for producing masterpieces was eaten up by fart-arsing about with things that are normally quite straight forward even for a technological illiterate like me. I even had to go about on some convoluted route in order to display the pencils for this entry, because my laptop and printer are only having a one-way conversation through the normal channels. Happily, the work-around isn't too arduous and is actually quite beneficial in other ways.
Enny whey, let us cast a critical eye at my uninked non-entry. I didn't think it was too bad actually. The shoulders needed to be broadened in order to balance out the proportions and the hands and jaw-line needed a little tweaking here and there. These are things that would have been ironed out at the inking stage HAD THOSE STINKING, SODDING WHORES, CALLED THE FATES, ALLOWED IT.
Life, eh? I am shrugging my shoulders and moving on. Christmas looms and there is wine to be drunk. Another life-affirming plus in this vale of tears is listening to Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong performing They Can't Take That Away From Me. I got the pencils done and the Fates can't take that away from me.
If I don't get time in the next few days, I would like to take this opportunity to wish you all a very merry Christmas and an excellent New Year.