Guardian All Ears 17th April

http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2010/apr/17/michael-holden-all-ears#
(Article by Michael Holden)
In an American airport bar, I didn't notice what the woman sitting next to me had ordered, but I started to pay attention when she tried to negotiate over how long it should be cooked for.

Woman "Could I get that rare?"

Waitress "How do you mean?"

Woman "I'd like it cooked rare."

Waitress "I don't think we're allowed to do that. I think they all have to come the same way. It's good, though."

Woman (unmoved) "I don't want it medium rare or anything."

Waitress "I think it just comes how it comes. I never heard anyone complain about it. I'll check. Shall I check?"

Woman "Please check."

She left and came back triumphant, full of possibilities, channelling the remnants of the Obama vibe.

Waitress "Yes! Yes, we can do that."

Less than three minutes later the waitress brought the woman a plate of fish that looked anaemic. You could tell by sight that it would be a mistake to eat it.

Waitress "OK?"

Woman (pushing it away) "Can you cook this more?"

Waitress (taking it) "Absolutely."

She was gone for another few minutes and when she came back the fish looked edible. The woman, though, just looked at it sideways and prodded her Blackberry. Evidently she wasn't big on second chances.

Waitress (checking back, but happy to ignore the evidence on the plate) "How is everything?"

Woman (just as willing to maintain the delusion) "Everything's great."

Waitress (reaching for the untouched plate) "Are we done here?"

Woman (more right than she knew) "Yes we are".

rooster man

"I decided to have a little bit of 'work' done dear boy!" - extreme plastic surgery in action

Guardian All Ears 10th April

...due to various 'articles getting lost' & bank holiday shenanigans this was drawn in record time...anyone got Norris McWhirter's* number?
(*this reference severely dates me - Wikipedia him if you must)

(Article by Michael Holden)
At a football match the team I follow scored a fourth goal and I
noticed the young man to my left seemed unusually affected by this. He
crumpled, as though he had been shot and the two older men with him
pointed at him and began chanting.

Men “Pay your rent, pay your rent, pay your rent…”

Man1 “I can’t stand it, I can’t cope with this…”

Man 2 “What odds did you get?”

Man 1 “150 to one”

Man 2 “And you put a tenner down?”

Man 1 “Yeah.”

Evidently he had made a correct score bet, which would net him £1500
quid if nothing else happened for the next 15 minutes. From the faces
he was pulling you might have thought he was giving birth. And fair
enough, it did add a new excitement to a game that had, in spite of
its score, been a pretty hum drum affair. I looked at the clock and
spoke to him.

Me “That’s 100 quid a minute.”

Man 1 “Fuck off, your making it worse.”

Me “Sorry.”

Man 2 (Leaning across to me) “He hasn’t paid his rent in two months,
so it’s going on that.”

Man 1 “I’ll spend it how I like.”

Man 2 “You ain’t even got it!”

Man 1 (wriggling about, refusing to look at the game) “I can’t cope,
I’m gonna have a breakdown.”

Man 2 “Don’t think about it.”

Man 1 (watching through his fingers as the opposition closed in on
goal) “You bastards, you fuck this up and I will fucking come down
there…”

They scored. I couldn’t look at him, but he made a kind of wild
whimpering sound.

Man 1 “1500 quid!”

Man 2 (sagely) “Money you never had.”

Guardian All Ears 3rd April

I always used to love walking round Fresh & Wild dodging the 'status baby buggies' & surreptitiously planting boxes of mechanically retrieved chicken shapes on the shelves
(thanks to everyone for their suggestions for faddy overpriced super foods this week too - I love you all x)
See the original article here...
http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2010/apr/03/michael-holden-all-ears-organic#
(Article by Michael Holden)
I tend to steer clear of the organic grocer. Not for reasons of taste or judgment, but of finance. Sometimes, though, it's the only place open that has what I need. So I wound up in the holistic and meditative mood space that passes for a queue, watching a woman pass parcels of unfeasible origin and expense to a cashier whose demeanour hovered between complete spiritual enlightenment and imminent rectal prolapse.

Cashier (holding up one of her boxes) "This stuff is amazing."

Woman "I'm kind of having a detox."

Cashier (nodding sagely) "Well, that should do the trick."

Woman "I'm not into fasting, you know?"

Cashier (noticing the woman's hand – which was tattooed with various forms of writing) "That's such a beautiful script."

Woman (thrilled) "You know it?"

Cashier "Uh-huh. I mean, I'm very impressed by all that culture – the whole mindset. I read as much as I can. I hope to go over there and study."

Woman (pointing out more writing on her arm) "Each moment decays as soon as it's born."

Cashier "That's one of the core beliefs, for me."

Woman "I love it – it's just so true."

All the more reason to get a move on, you might think. But this went on for some time, until I was charged £7 for five onions, a small bag of wheat and some pine nuts (never let it be said that I don't know how to have a good time). When I got home and began cooking, the onions turned out to be in a state of decay that paralleled our own, which cheered me up no end. I would have gone back and complained, but the moment was already collapsing.

today's creatures...

These critturs were from a book I illustrated a while back - I just saw them again & liked 'em - that's all - over & out!

random crittur

Guardian All Ears 27th March

What sort of man has a name like 'Bear' for god's sake? Read on for clarity...
http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2010/mar/27/michael-holden-all-ears
(Article by Michael Holden)
I like it when I know what people are talking about and was thus elated and frustrated in equal measure when the conversation at the next table in the pub moved from familiar to puzzling terrain.

Woman “Bear Grylls is a dick.”
Man 1 “Bruce Parry’s the one.”

Woman “Bear Grylls kills spiders. Spiders that he’s already upset.”

Man 1 “He’s no Ray Mears, that’s for sure.”

Man 2 “He pissed in his turban.”
Man 1 “Who?”
Man 2 “Bear Grylls.”
Man 1 (as confused as I was by this revelation) “Pissed in who’s turban?”
Man 2 “He pissed in his own turban.”

Man 1 (as though that made sense) “Oh, okay.”

I went outside to consider where, if anywhere, the truth might lie in this allegation, only to find two men smoking in the midst of an equally odd dialogue.
Smoker 1 “Your days as a narcissist are numbered.”

Smoker 2 “There’s a puritan backlash”

Smoker 2 “Definitely. And it’s only going to get worse.”

Back inside the backlash had already begun.

Woman “I don’t see how he can get away with it-pissing in a turban.”
Man 1 (hoping he would be saying this for the last time) “IT WAS HIS OWN TURBAN!”
Woman (after a considered delay) “That doesn’t make it alright.”

Guardian All Ears 20th March

(Article by Michael Holden)
The baggage carousel was once the final circle of holiday hell, a last chance to consort with you fellow travellers before normality resumed and all the strange vacation liaisons faded. Nowadays, people who meet on holiday have the option to haunt one another across the Internet for the rest of time. Good luck to them. The carousel though, especially an empty one that isn’t rotating, remains an arena for strange conversation. While a plane load of people muttered and found ways to blame New Labour for their lack of luggage, two men in their sixties recalled the previous night’s entertainment.

Man 1 “Some of the dancing was quite impressive.”

Man 2 (setting him up) “Yeah, but you’ve seen one whirling dervish…”

Man 1 (accepting gladly) “You’ve seen them all!”

Man 2 “That said, the second was much better than the first. He got up to full speed right away. There was no build up. Impressive rate of rotation-relative to the others.”

Man 1 “That belly dancer…”

Man 2 (lapsing into a florid-end of the pier-grin) “Big girl!”

Man 1 “Did you stay for the singer?”

Man 2 “No-she cleared most of the room-including me. At six pounds for a gin and tonic I need more incentive than that.”

Man 1 (poking at the bags that had started dribbling onto the carousel)“It wasn’t like she couldn’t sing.”

Man 2 (channelling the spirit of Cowell) “Quite. It was the wrong choice of song. Why come out with a soppy ballad? Better to have gone up tempo.”

Man 1 “Quite.”

Man 2 “That’s my bag!”

Man 1 (forlorn) “Good for you.”

Man 2 “I’ve got another one.”

Man (visibly cheered) “Oh, okay.”

today's hairstyles are...

Ennui

Ouroboros dachshund

More sketchbook felt-tip bits

Cyber-fail

I always had a soft spot for old style Cybermen - all tinfoil, cardboard & silver wellies but STILL masters of the universe!

Boy Zero inside illustration

A sneak preview of some of the inside illustrations from new children's book 'Boy Zero Wannabe Hero - Mystery of the Plummeting Pants'(!) published by Faber
you can pre-order it here
http://www.faber.co.uk/work/boy-zero-wannabe-hero/9780571252473/

Boy Zero Wannabe Hero

The dreaded General Pandemonium - super villain from a new book 'Boy Zero - Wannabe Hero' which I illustrated the cover & insides for - you can pre order it at the Faber website
http://www.faber.co.uk/work/boy-zero-wannabe-hero/9780571252473/

Guardian All Ears 13th March

If only tube elocution was was more like this...
...although there's a brilliant announcement at Bank station where THE emphasis is HILARIOUSLY wrong - a bit like those commercials for furniture stores sales where the shop owner has foolishly decided to do it himself rather than pay a proper actor.
Anyone of a certain age from the south east ITV region (always brilliantly shonky & amateurish whether it was TVS, Meridian or whatever) might remember the late night adverts for Folkestone Sunday market where a still photograph with some letraset was over laid with the classic slogan 'bring large bags...& little money, to Folkestone Sunday Market'- they don't make 'em like that any...you get the idea!
Ahem! Article follows...

http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2010/mar/13/michael-holden-all-ears
(Article by Michael Holden)

On a stationary plane the pilot made an announcement explaining that the aircraft must be de-iced prior to take off-hence our delay. He spoke clearly and with authority, this, combined with the implicit reminder that supersonic travel in freezing weather isn't something to be taken for granted quelled the collective sense of displeasure that had been spreading through the cabin. The couple next to me seemed impressed and reassured.

Woman: "They must go to college."

Man: "Who?"

Woman: "The Pilots."

Man: "Eh?"

Woman: "They must get training. In how to talk to people like that. So clearly."

Man: "I used to do that. Make announcements."

Woman: "When?"

Man: "I did work experience on the Victoria line."

Woman: "And they let you make the announcements?"

Man: "I think maybe they did it just to keep us busy."

Woman: "What sort of things did you have to say?"

Man: "Ladies and gentlemen, due to a person under a train at Caledonian Roadthere is no southbound service on the Picadilly line."

Woman: "And you used that voice?"

Man: "No, I used a nicer one. A sort of posh woman's voice."

Woman: (frowning, incredulous) "Let's hear it then…"

Man: (He gave her a look and then used a measured but nonetheless ridiculous tone, like a professional sportsman reduced to playing a pantomime dame, but determined to make a go of it) "Due to a person under a train there is no…"

Woman "Eugh, that's enough."

Man: "It sounds better over the PA.It comes out clearer."

Woman: "I'm glad you never got the job."

Man: "I never wanted it."

She scowled and turned back to her thick book of puzzles, as though they might prove more soluble somehow than the real world, and the man with whom she was about to go on holiday. .

Yo' mama...

Gratuitous curse words & violent intent...

New face in hell...

Entrance to hell re-imagined in felt tip

Ice cream & monsters

How a Universal studios monster seaside trip might have looked

Guardian - All Ears 6th March

Flying V's, neo Weller haircuts & a little peak at the Gallagher rhyming dictionary

http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2010/mar/06/michael-holden-all-ears

(Article by Michael Holden)
I walked into a pub the other day, where two grown men were arguing at the bar about which one of them might – in theory – have been the better musician, and loitered on the edge of their spat, feeling calm by comparison, as their antagonism flowed.

Man 1 (exasperated) "You've never even heard us play."

Man 2 (malign, mischievous) "But I know you're shite."

Man 1 "How would you know?"

Man 2 "I just know. I can see you in your room now, writing all fucking lyrics and whatnot."

Man1 "What do you know about my lyrics?"

Man 2 "I know they'll be shite."

Man 1 "You talk about it like you know, but what do you do? Sit in your room and play guitar to no one. You've never even been in a band."

Man 2 "Tell us some of your lyrics."

Man1 "Who's your favourite guitarist?"

Man 2 "Whose yours?"

Man 1 "Jeff Beck. You're not gonna tell me Jeff Beck can't play guitar?"

Man 2 (doing sarcastic air guitar motions) "Jeff Beck, man? Did you never see him with that Celtic clasp round his arm? He's lost the plot."

Man 1 "You can't say he can't play because of some … jewellery!"

Man 2 "Tell us some of your lyrics."

Man 1 "I might write a song about you, you twat."

Man 2 "It'd be the best thing you've ever done."

Man 1 "Behave yourself now. People are looking."

Man 2 "Fuck 'em. Tell us some lyrics."

Man 1 "No."

KER-KLANG!

imaginary '60s girl garage groups...

Duck-y

Just remembered this rather duck-y illustration I did for the Art Book cover competition (rejected, but I quite like the ducks so I thought I'd share it)

I've not had a very good run on winning competitions of any form - I won an 'Anti Religious' cartooning competition under 18s section when I was 12, (prize - £20 book token) a short story competition when I was 13 (prize - paperback copy of '1984') & I got my picture into the 1983 Judge Dredd annual (prize £10) but it's all been a bit barren since then - maybe peaked too early?

Guardian All Ears

Creepy Shining twins survey the traffic flora & fauna...
http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2010/feb/27/michael-holdens-all-ears
(Article by Michael Holden)
Three kids-two girls of around five and boy who might have been seven-were sat on the front upstairs seats of a bus. The girls were sitting together and the boy was next to a man with headphones on, who looked too young and disinterested to be their father, and he wasn’t. When their dad did finally tell them to be quiet he did so from the comparative sonic safety of a seat several rows behind them. Those of us sat in between though were subject to full force of his children’s shrill enquiries.
Girl 1 (loudly) “How does hair grow?”
Boy (with complete confidence)“Hair is like magic.”
Girl 1 “How do people grow?”
Boy “People grow at night. If you go to bed early you will grow tall.”
Girl 2 “How do buses grow?”
Boy “Buses are just like buses. They don’t’ grow.”
Girls (in unison, having sensed an opportunity) “How do traffic
lights grow?”
Boy (playing into their hands) “Traffic lights don’t grow.”
Girls (gaining momentum now, and growing sinister-like the twins in
The Shining) “How do taxis grow?”
Boy (banging his head on the seat with each syllable, frustrated with the game which he had partly created) “Taxis-don’t-grow!
Girl 1 “How do people die?”
Girl 2 (straight afterwards) “Why do people have red hair?”
Father (as though having his children unlock two of the great mysteries of existence before a captive audience might be more than the universe could bear.) “That’s enough kids. Shut up now.” •

History for simpletons

All together now...

War! Huh! What is it good for?

(sorry Edwin)