Happy New Year! Good Lord! Look at the time!

Piccyless post. Crawling out from under the festive season. Had a great time. Competition entry to follow very soon.

It's a Bit Bleedin' Quiet 'Round 'Ere, Innit?

I have not been very productive of late, due to events outside the life of this blog (i.e. reality colliding with hopes and aspirations). So, as a sop to the eager masses (F.X - silence, barring the chirping of crickets) I shall put up an oldish effort. To wit, three old biddies undertaking the noble art of black magick. Well, two of them are. I thought it would be awfully witty to have the more inexperienced member to carry out her nefarious deeds on a ventriloquist's dummy.

In the hands of a better artist it may have worked. As it is... well I don't think it's too bad actually. It was originally for one of the caption competitions and sank sans trace, so lets just keep this one to ourselves, shall we?

Pablo Honey

What can I say? I personally rather like this one despite it being very rushed. It is based on Picasso's Woman in Hat and as a cartoon idea is probably as old as Cubism. But, as rush jobs go, the elements hang together quite well. Picasso actually looks like Picasso too!

Worrying aspects? I've noticed that any young woman I draw has a very generous embonpoint. Why is this worrying? It's because I'm a leg man, myself.

CLAP CLAP - CLAP CLAP CLAP - CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP - BREN-DAN!!!

" 'O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'

He chortled in his joy."

Welly well well. Today I am a heppy heppy Ket. My world is awash with seas of smugness and nothing will assuage the briney deep. For I am, dear reader, the winner of Caption Competition 62. If you click on the montage it will open in a new window and you can gaze upon the marvels within. I won by a hair's breadth, but by Jove, it feels good! Did I mention that I'm this week's winner? Did I? I did?! Well, fancy that! Me, a winner! I still can't quite believe it.

I didn't think I would have time to enter this week as I had a very full timetable. I think there is still plenty of room for improvement, technically speaking (that overcoat is a bit wince inducing), but I think the rest is nicely understated.

I won't say anymore than that in case this over-inflated ego goes pop! Cheesy grin doesn't even come close.

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.