time travel via food stuffs...

...if breakfast is served at an inappropriate time of day is it possible to disregard the day's events & start one's day again?

Guardian All Ears 15th August

(Article by Michael Holden)
Near where I work the pattern of lunchtime activity has been affected by the arrival of a van a couple of weeks ago that sells Burritos. Everyone has gone nuts for this and the queue snakes halfway down the road. Ordinarily I would be reluctant to take part in such a phenomenon, but the food’s too good. I was in line the other day when a woman from further behind came up and started talking to the woman in front of me as though I wasn’t there. I held out my phone quite conspicuously between them and recorded what they were saying. They didn’t notice. They had better things to think about.

Woman 1 “Nice Day!”

Woman 2 “Yeah.”

Woman 1 “Big queue. I’m really, really, really hungry”

Woman 2 “ But they are quick.”

Woman 1 “Still on for tonight?”

Woman 2 “Where is it?”

Woman 1 “You know the roundabout? I’m on the other side of the roundabout. Call me when you get there.”

Woman 2 “The roundabout?”

Woman 1 “It’s not that far down. Literally go past the roundabout, straight down the road and that’s my building.”

Woman 2 “What time?”

Woman 1 “Sevenish?”

Woman 2 “Are you going to text Kate?”

Woman 1 “I’ll email her.”

Woman 2 “And then email me.”

Woman 1 “I’ll email you.”

Woman 2 “How are we gonna get there, walk?”

Woman 1 “We could get a cab, between us.”

Woman 2 (turning to the grill, distracted by the scent) “I can’t decide what to have.”

Woman 1 “I’ll leave you to it. Here’s me gabbing on about tonight and your just like-Burrito…”

Woman 2 (like Homer Simpson) “Burrito…”

Woman 1 (slightly disgusted) “See you at seven then.”

ACME happy kit© (slight return)

...with the deluxe version you get these extras (you can pay a supplement for the 'pig in shit'©!)

ACME happy kit©

Includes detachable 'smile card'© & the famed 't-shirt of great hilarity'©

altogether now... 'f*** off & pull yourself together!'©

...a rabbit called Steve?

was slightly disturbed to see a kid's TV programme yesterday with a rabbit called Steve...call me old fashioned but 'Steve' is not a good animal name

Bus (slight return)

Note to self; when alluding to details of illustrations it helps if they're visible to the human eye (see 'Guardian All Ears 8th August' post)

PS I still despise Queen

Guardian All Ears 8th August

Couldn't resist the 'We Will Rock You' bus because of recently being obliged to walk past the hideous gold Freddy Mercury statue on Tottenham Court road & thinking that I'd rather have my teeth pulled or get gang raped by badgers rather that sit through that dross...*shudder*

(Article by Michael Holden)
Some people become so disposed to talk about themselves that even when they are discussing something else, what they’re really saying is about them. The mobile phone though has elevated self-referential drivel to a higher plane. Nowadays you hear people giving blow by blow commentary on the stupefying minutiae of their existence while-and this is the truly staggering part-someone on the other end of the phone pays attention. I was at a bus stop with a crowd of people the other day when a teenage girl started yelling into her phone while endeavouring to stare down the rest of the queue by sporting a look of complete hostility that suggested looking back at her might be a fatal mistake.

Girl “It’s the same argument. I go into the room and say something and she says something to me and then I walk out and then she calls after me and then I go back in there and tell her what I think and then she tells me to fuck off.”

She circled the bus stop like a foul-mouthed, polyester planet and when she passed me again she had moved on to the subject of exactly what was happening to her.

Girl “I’m at the bus stop. Waiting for the bus. I can feel the air on my face, the wind like, I don’t mind it. It ain’t too hot. I can’t see the bus. Oh God, I’m just waiting for the bus now, how long can it take for the bus to come? ”

She made another orbit and, as she returned, succeeded finally in catching someone’s eye.

Girl “Oh my God there’s a man looking at me, he’s fucking looking at me!”

This led to other people looking at her, a fact she effortlessly absorbed into her self-obsessed yodelling.

Girl “Now they’re all looking at me! What the fuck is wrong with people? Where’s the bus. The bus is coming! I’m gonna get on it. The bus is coming now!”

It came and she went upstairs. I stayed on the lower deck and felt old.

All Ears 1st August

I kind of wish there was a magazine called 'Ooh Err!'...our newsagent seems to specialize in 'delights' like '50 Plus' etc. shudder!

(article by Michael Holden)

Over the years I’ve noticed that if people outnumber you
sufficiently in a lift they’ll carry on talking as though you
weren’t there, regardless of what they’re talking about. In fact,
though this could be entirely my imagination, the more discomfiting
the subject to an outsider-the more lift talkers appear to enjoy
inflicting it upon them. It was a thesis that proved itself again as
I ascended slowly through the levels of a public building with three
men who weren’t about to stop talking about pornography just because
they’d got in an elevator.

Man 1 “Why would you have magazines though?”

Man 2 “Do you not have the Internet?”
Man 3 “It’s not that. I’ve had ‘em for years. I can’t get rid of
them. It’s a worry with Debbie coming over. We’re getting quite
friendly. She stays over a lot.”
Man 1 “Where are they?”
Man “I think they’re under the bed.”
Man 2 “What do you mean you “think.” You’re 40 years old and you’re
telling me you don’t know what’s under your bed?”
Man 3 “They could be there. They are there.”
Man 2 “Just sling ‘em out.”
Man 3 “I can’t. I try, but then I look at them, and then that’s it.
I’m involved.”
Man 1 “You wanna get a grip of yourself”
Man 2 “That’s the problem.”
Man 1 “Get a welder’s mask-something like that-so you can get hold
of ‘em without getting a proper look.”
I got out here-it was my floor. The men were all laughing, and
rightly so. As I walked away I heard the confessor make a final
admission.
Man 3 “I don’t think there’s anything I can do. They’re just, too
powerful.”

All Ears 25th July

Faintly uninspiring colour scheme this week - sorry!
(BTW for further ruminations on rural unpleasantness check out the genius 'Hard Life in the Country' by the Fall - wonderful stuff!)

(Article by Michael Holden)
Spend most of your life in the city it’s easy to drum up the notion that out there in the countryside everyone’s more laid back. Go there though, and the truth reveals itself soon enough. People in the country are as demented as anyone else, it’s just that you have to go there to find them. The problem is species wide. Our malice knows no postcodes, I thought, as I watched people unravel in the reception Portakabin of a campsite in the middle of nowhere.

Site Manager (addressing three women) “You ain’t staying here. You’re a group.”

Woman 1(the eldest) “We ain’t a group. We’re a family.”

Woman 2 “She’s my auntie.”

Woman 1 “We just want to put her tent next to ours.”

Site Manager (enjoying himself) “Then you’re a group.”

Woman 1 “She’s got a baby-get the baby!”

Woman 2 motioned to a young man who had been loitering in the car park who then entered the office holding up a baby.

Woman 1 “See!”

Site Manager “I says you’re a group, and we can’t have no groups. Baby or no, that’s the end of it.”

Woman 1 “You’re out of order!”

Site Manager “Yeah, well listen to this. They ain’t staying here, and you can pack up and leave and all.”

Woman 1 “You can’t do that!”

Site Manager “Get out of the office, get off the site.”

Woman 1 “I ain’t standing for this.”

She marched out past me yelling at the other as they walked.

Woman 1 “Get Alan on the phone and call Dean. Get ‘em the fuck down here!”

I thought it best to leave before Alan and Dean turned up and kicked the life out what was left my esteem for humanity.

The Natural World pt 1

A lion being menaced by a wooden chair - the lion's only natural predator
(hence the Lion Tamer's tool of choice)

Crappy Excursions Pt 4

The Feeble T-Shirt Slogan Museum

Crappy Excursions Pt 3

As a child I always swore I would never willingly go for pointless 'walks'

(as an adult I feel slightly guilty about betraying my 6 year old self - sell out or what?)

Crappy Excursions Pt 2

Museum of Facial Hair

Crappy Excursions

Museum of Discredited Scientific Theories

Guardian All Ears 19th July

(Article by Michael Holden)
I was early for an appointment on what felt like a busy morning and so I ducked into a pub. A pub that, was selling beer for less than two pounds a pint and had thus become a haven for those more thirsty than employed, in this case two old chaps who were asking the barman what plans he had to avoid spending the rest of his life where they had elected to spend theirs.

Barman “I’m going to Paraguay.”

Man 1 “Paraguay?”

Barman “There’s no beaches or anything. It’s landlocked.”

Man 1 “Jesus.”

Man 2 “Are you coming back?”

Barman “Maybe.”

Man 2 “You’ve to finish your studies?”

Barman “Yeah.”

Man 2 “Good lad.”

The barman walked away, doubtless thrilled with his commendation and the two men talked amongst themselves.

Man 1 “You know I’m on the disability now? Sixty pound a week.”

Man 2 “Is it your feet?”

Man 1 “Aye. They’ve turned against me.”

Man 2 “I woke up with one shoe on and one shoe off the other day. I might give up drinking.”

Man 1 “You’d be missed.”

Man 2 “How?”

Man 1 “Well, you’re the town drunk.”

Man 2 “Am I?”

Man 1 “Yeah. Like Lee Marvin, in that film.”

Man 2 “What film?”

Man 1 “The one where he’s fucking drunk!”

All ears...rough version

This is the slightly cruder version (was described as a bit too 'gratuitous' so i removed the grope & hoisted the pants up!) - to be fair it's very rare I have to change anything for this job, & am probably secretly pleased at being censored (slightly)

see previous post

Guardian All Ears 16th July

NB this illustration has been toned down for public consumption because the original was thought to be a bit rude for a Saturday morning - I'll maybe stick the rough version up if you're all very good boys & girls... x

(Article by Michael Holden)
On a boiling afternoon I tried to catch the breeze coming through the open door of a bar where outside drinking is forbidden. Other drinkers huddled into the microclimate, among them an expectant father and his friend.

Man 1 “I got there for the last two hours of the pre-natal thing.”

Man 2 “Christ, how long are they?”

Man 1 “All day. There was no way I could handle that, so I came late. I’d only been there five minutes when I called one of the others a prick.”

Man 2 “How did that happen?”

Man 1 “They were talking about epidurals and painkillers when this bloke pipes up and says, ‘Why are we giving them so many drugs in childbirth? We’re breeding junkies!’ The woman in charge tries to tell him that’s not how it is but then he starts saying, ‘What happens in Africa, where they don’t have all these drugs?’ I said, ‘they die, you prick!’”

Man 2 “How did that do down?”

Man 1 “I think most people agreed with me. There’s a lot of thick people out there, having kids though. Another bloke, in his 40’s asks, ‘when you say they wake up every three to four hours, is that at night too?’”

Man 2 “Shame you can’t give ‘em the lessons before they have sex, might put ‘em off. It’s all well and good, these classes, but by the time these people have knocked each other up, the damage is done.”

And then the master race got back to their cider.

ps

All Ears 4th July

I enjoyed channelling the 'grim polyester clothes' this week - I also seem to pick up a regular fag smoke motif in these pictures (see last week too)
- bad for health but nice graphic device (maybe they could use that as the warning on the packet...just a thought)

(Article by Michael Holden)

In a newsagent’s one lunch time I watched two men-colleagues presumably-already buckling under the conflict between the hot weather and their grim polyester clothes strain yet further as the conversation turned towards the fact that one of them was soon to be wed.

Man 1: (about to leave the shop but stopping his tracks) I need cigarettes!

Man 2: I thought you’d stopped smoking?

Man 1: (rejoining the queue) I did but I started again, the stress of the wedding and all that.

Man 2: (forlorn) The wedding that I’m not invited to…

Man 1: (patient but angry) We’re only inviting sixty people, it’s not a big do.

Man 2: Yeah, but still…

Man 1: We’ve been through this. I’m under enough stress. I don’t need you, now, giving me a hard time. I know you’re not coming. It wasn’t my decision, I feel bad about it, I feel bad about the whole fucking thing. So right now, if there’s one thing you can do to make me feel better, you could stop mentioning the fact that you’re not going. I wish I wasn’t going. Think yourself lucky. In a roundabout way I’m doing you a huge favor.

Man 2: (pathetic) I could help you organize stuff perhaps, lighten the load.

Man 1: (apologetic) It’s mostly her family

Man 2: I’d like to help.

Man 1: Yeah, and I do appreciate that. Twenty Marlboro Lights, please.”

Man 2: Where are you going on honeymoon?

Man 1: Spain.

Man 2: (in a weird way) Where exactly?

Man 1 (moving quickly to the door) Just…Spain.

All Ears 27th June

(Article by Michael Holden)
There’s a stage in most relationships, usually the beginning, when you’re quite happy to listen to what the other person’s saying because your emotions have temporarily inured you to the fact that what they’re saying, is bullshit. I was unchaining my bike outside a pub when I heard two smokers going through what looked like this phase of early courtship. Either that or the woman had genuinely been waiting to hear a load of whimsical drivel about visiting France, and this was her lucky night.

Man: “I love taking the ferry over there.”

Woman: (staring up at him as though each syllable were spun gold) “I’ve never taken the boat!”

Man: “Oh, you must.”

Woman: “I will!”

Man: “You drive away, and suddenly you’re on the other side of the road. You stop off, you grab a baguette, it’s magical.”

Woman: (quasi-orgasmic) “Yes!”

Man: “The differences are small, but yet so significant. It’s the little things. And the things you can’t describe. Just the unmistakable sensation that you’re in another country. Things seem different. Somehow better.”

I visualized him at Calais, gnawing on his French stick and wondered what kind of life he was leaving behind if he believed bingeing on carbs in a vile port was some form of progress.

Man: “I think their attitude toward alcohol is so much better than ours. They let the kids have a sip with lunch-and the whole sitting down to eat thing is tremendous-and they don’t have a problem with it.”

I thought about hitting him there and then, but realized that would only have strengthened his argument.

Marvin Redpost covers for Bloomsbury

New covers commissioned by Bloomsbury for the Marvin Redpost series by Louis Sachar

(why are children's book designers always so keen on drop shadow effects though?!?! )

Guardian All Ears 20th June

Re. tiny dog phenomenon...they seem to have a bit of a thing for tiny dogs in New York but they usually seem to be owned by muscley gay gym bunnies (on Canal Street at least!)

(article by Michael Rosen)
I feel the tiny dog phenomenon to be a puzzling business, but when one of these benighted freaks starts attacking things several times its size I find their mad tenacity a joy to behold. It was precisely such a display of dwarf-dog fury that led to the following exchange between a pair of staggering drunks who had made the mistake of trying to caress one of these hand-held heartbeats and come of second best.

Woman: (getting as angry as you can without spilling your drink) “The fucker bit me!”

Man: (foolishly opting for admonishment over sympathy) “You should never have touched it. They’re not right”

Woman: (detonating) “He said it were alright!”

Man: (voice thick with self-made wisdom) “You can’t trust folk with these dogs. They’ll say ‘owt.”

Woman: “It started off licking me hand. Then it went for me. You heard it.”

Man: “Ask someone what their dog’s like and they’ll tell you it’s great, even while it’s got its jaws on you, they’ll be telling you it’s trying to make friends.”

Woman: (looking for signs of injury to her hand and finding nothing that might merit litigation) “Little bastard.”

Man: (making a huge but somehow valid leap of comparative reason) “It’s like the Krays. Their mum always said they was alright. Different story when they’re breaking your fuckin’ legs with a hammer.”

Woman: “What you on about, hammers?”

Man: “Dogs!”

Woman: (staring at her hand again) “Little bastard.”

Man: “Aye.”

demographic...

...Marc Ribot / Evan Parker improv concert at Meltdown... disturbing how one occasionally realises how close you are to falling into a certain demographic...lots of serious looking men of a certain age...

C-90