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Friday, 18 July 2008

Things I hate Pt 7



The devil's vegetable! Horrible big green lump of fuck all...& don't get me started on beetroot...

Things I hate Pt 6



What IS the point??!?

Wednesday, 16 July 2008

Guardian All Ears 28th June



The temptation to draw a 'Sting' prophylactic was very strong with this one!

I was having a haircut, feeling quite pleased that fortune had provided me with a barber who wasn’t inclined towards small talk when the customer in the next chair suddenly emerged from a hot towel treatment with all kinds of things he wanted to say.

Customer: (nodding towards the radio) “This is The Police, innit?”

Barber: “It is.”

Customer: “Roxanne?”

Barber: “Yup.”

Customer: “Don’t talk to me about this record!”

Barber: (declining to point out that he hadn’t been) “Oh?”

Customer: (animated by his sense of the imminent anecdote’s hilarity) “Fella at work, right? He’s made this Doris on a park bench, at lunch time, and he’s started going out on like, dates with her!”

Barber: Yeah?

Customer: “She called Roxanne! Or that’s what she told him anyway. So to wind him up we start playing this record-Roxanne-over and over again in the office. I tell you, by the end of it he was going nuts. Almost crying he was.”

Barber “Right”

Customer: (changing subject effortlessly) “You ever been to Muay Thai?”

Barber: “No. What is it?”

Customer: The old Thai boxing innit.”

Barber: “Right.”

Customer: “Blood all over the shop.”

Barber: “I’m gonna put another towel over you, ok?”

And like a caged bird, that proved sufficient to silence him.

Article by Michael Holden

Monday, 14 July 2008

Guardian All Ears 14th July



Whoops! Managed to scoop myself by publishing this weeks article with last week's image last week (if that makes sense!?!?!) - here's the article again with the correct image!

Of the many things to admire about New York City its inhabitant's
uninhibited facility for loud public conversations naturally falls
near the top of my list. The simplest excursion will likely lead you
though the edges of endless dramas. Why anybody watches television
here is beyond me. I was eating breakfast when the people across from
me launched into a complex business/wildlife analogy.
Man 1: "It's a tough organization, there are sharks on the bottom, and
Huck is like a great white-he'll eat a rubber tire, and he'll keep
coming at you- not so smart but he'll do anything."
Man 2: "Edna's like the good shark.
The other man pulled a face that said "What do you mean by 'good shark?'"
Man 2: (Trying to bail out) "I mean, the kind of shark that, you
know…not like a great white, the one that floats around. Helping
people…"
Man 1: (Frowning and laughing) "What kind of animal, is this? Where
did you hear about it?"
Man 2: "You know, I mean she's good, Edna."
Waitress (pouring coffee) "You want more coffee?"
Man 2 "What's that, a rhetorical question?"
Waitress: "Ooh, 'rhetorical question.' I'm impressed.'
Man 1: "You should be, he's trying to impress you."
Man 2: (staring into some form of hand held device and considering his
professional existence) "You know I won't even take my blackberry home
with me."
Man 1: "You've drawn a line in the sand."
Man 2 " I'm saying, 'this is where it stops.'"

Man 1 (looking past his friend toward the waitress)"I have so much
admiration for that."

Article by Michael Holden









Thursday, 10 July 2008

'Support Your Local Butcher'



Meat! ...just do it!

I love those pictures of really enthusiastic animals who are about to be eaten - there's something extremely disturbing & wrong about that 'pig butcher' on the pork scratchings packet

Monday, 7 July 2008

Guardian All Ears 5th July



If the Guardian can do 'Organic Vegetable' wallcharts for kids with biblical names I figure the Telegraph readers might go a bundle on my Fox Hunting wallchart concept - or am I stereotyping?

I took a seat on a train and was struck by the aristocratic tone of the accents behind me-a rare sound in the modern phonetic landscape, and one that often merits closer investigation. I turned round to see a girl of around 16 sitting with her father, who must have been in his late fifties.

Girl: “You know Rachel?”

Father: (Peering over the top Britain’s only remaining broadsheet) “Hmmm?”

Girl: “She faints, all the time, she doesn’t mean to, but she can’t help it.”

Father: “Yes, I know the kind of thing.”

Girl: (Tugging at the armrest) “Does the seat move?”

Father: “I imagine so.”

Girl: (Struggling with the mechanism) “How though? How?”

Father: “Backwards and forwards, like a car.”

She tipped the seat back and spilt coffee on her jumper

Girl: “It’s stained!”

Father: “How many of those jumpers do you have?”

Girl: (As though this would never be sufficient) “Three.”

Father: (Perhaps considering this excessive) “Hmm”

Girl :(Dabbing at the stain) “I can’t tell what color it should be now, or whether it’s just damp.”

Father: “Well stop rubbing it, or you might find you lose the color completely.”

Girl: (Recovering) “Thanks for coming with me on the train.”

Father: (Animated by her gratitude “Well, we were quite fortunate. Your mother dropped me off at the station last week and I noticed they had some special offers. It worked out about £20m one way.”

Girl: “Is that good?”

Father “It is good.”

‘That’s better than good’, I thought to myself. ‘ It’s cost me three times that amount, you organized bastard.’ I was angry with myself really, but for the next few minutes it was all about them.

Article by Michael Holden

Monday, 23 June 2008

Guardian All Ears 23rd June



Hmmm...had to draw cuckoo clocks in two separate jobs this week...must be something in the air!

In a department store I queued for the till behind two men-colleagues on their lunch break I assumed-who were buying some lamps. As we waited for the lone employee to return from some errand I could see one of the men eyeing the display of clocks on the nearby wall.


Man 1: “My old man’s got a cuckoo clock.”

Man 2: “Eh?”

Man 1: “Yeah, my dad’s got a cuckoo clock.”

Man 2 (baffled): “What like, and a cuckoo actually comes out of it.”

Man 1: “Yeah, the whole deal.”

Man 2: “Had he been to Switzerland or something?”

Man 1 “No, no. He’ll have got it from somewhere in Hull. It’s not even much of a cuckoo. It’s just like a beak that comes out.”

Man 2 “You’ve had a proper look at it then?”

Man 1 “Oh yeah. I was round there with me daughter just after he got it. He says to her, ‘At five O’clock a little bird will come out.’ And I say, ‘It’ll cuckoo five times.’ Anyway, five O’clock comes and the thing goes nuts, keeps coming up, my daughter wants to know what’s going on. Then I’ve realized, it’s on 24 hour whatnot.”

Man 2 “So it’s come out 17 times?”

Man 1 “Aye. But I wanted to be sure. So I waited for an hour to see if it came out 18 times, but my dad said something to me and I lost count.”

Man 2 “So what did you do?”

Man 1 “Well I wasn’t hanging about for another hour, but I figure that must be what’s going on.”

Man 2 “That must drive your dad mental.”

Man 1 “He’s alright. He’s in bed by nine.”

Article by Micheal Holden