Nialler9 Illustration Rundown BUMPER XMAS EDITION

Here's a few bits and bobs I've done for Nialler 9 recently, he's currently doing a brill job of giving the lowdown on many of the best albums and songs of the year so pop on over for a look...

Brad says 'Hi' from Sunny Cullybackey

Last week when I was in work I read an article on a girl called Taylor Momsen, I hadn't really heard about her before but I'd heard her name banded about since it's one of those cloying american-y names that people from here end up calling their kids and making them sound like little Brad is fresh from the Valley when really he's from Cullybackey.

Anyway I gulped in this article on my break and was pretty taken aback about how she's been treated by those 'in charge' of her and her career thus far. Rudey nudey videos and fanny shots before she's even 17 and then the realisation of the fact that she's merely being used as a product made me wince a little and generally its quite hard to make me wince.

I started doodling then and began to pretend I was a voyeur sitting in on the interview, taking snap shots of a young teen for exploititive purposes (now you're sitting up) for my gossip rag and then I decided that this teen needed a voice. Albeit a voice in which she unwittingly exposes her own exploitation. It's all very cynical.

Here's the results, Hollywood Interview:

The Digital Socket Awards Ultimate Prize

Just completed an flyer for the guys behind the Digital Socket Awards, an all Ireland based ceremonial fight to the death after which the victor will be allowed to lay their hands on the Ultimate Prize which has yet to be decided.

Alright it's not that tosh it's this wonderful thing:

"The Digital Socket Awards, Ireland’s first ever music awards event where the contenders are nominated by the public and decided by music bloggers"

Rewarding all your favourite Irish acts for their musicality and videos and design and that sounds fun aye? Well...head on over and nominate whoever you like for best album artwork.


Here's the pic:

*Only joking sort of.

4HF Unplugged AKA The Clip Show Post

My fantastico illustratin' housemate casually mentioned tonight that she wished she could zoom in on some of the details of my work, and who am I to deny her such a wish?!? Poor girl was beside herself every time I scrolled the mousewheel up and focused into a new part of one of my drawings revealing yet ANOTHER hitherto unknown realm of eye poppin' delights.

It did get me thinking though that it might be nice to post two early versions of pictures that became smaller parts of larger works and as such made it difficult to see the nice details in them. Gaze now at the Aztec Mer-woman-derson from Isobel Andersons Album cover for Cold Water Songs and the hulking time traveling sound sampling robot thinguamy from Kiani's Metal Kettle album.

Something Something Wonderful Something

It's been a great few weeks, pretty low on life disasters and social faux pas in general and I've started to get more and more work flying in the door to take care of, I really cannae complain (as much as the natural instinct lies within my athletic testosterone charged frame)

It was my dads birthday today, I made him a little card to convey the feelings and sentiments that I have at this particular time of year for him, I'm not quite sure what it says about him or our relationship or even birthdays but I hope you enjoy the the tropical um bongo stlyed nature of it.

The next picture is a melange of ideas, (which could mutate into a flyer design possibily) that could be tweaked in the future should someone want to lay claim to it for a project they're working on, really it was an excercise in loosening the joints in my fingers and get back into producing high quality work at a high rate of production while I am high.

Next week holds greater delights where I'll be working on a project for an upcoming awards ceremony and then onto a very exciting potentially huge project which I'm not really sure I can talk about. Maybe I'll do a blog about my life in the meantime, y'know something not work related that people can tune into and think "He's alright that kid, I love to hear about the tedious events that punctuate his dreary existence, makes me feel ok about spilling beans on my laptop and not wiping it up for 3 weeks" Yeah I might do that, cos guess what? MY LIFE AIN'T SO TEDIOUS NO MORE.

Walk Out To Winter

It was pretty slow in work over the past few days, not much happening aside from the scrambled eggs in the canteen have finally evolved into a new form, in that they have a gained a blue-ish tint and developed a gritty cold brains texture, two things which I previously wasn't aware eggs could do.

At points where I got perilously close to dosing off I decided instead to pick up my pen and start drawing a stream of consciousness comic strip. Yea yea Chachi, I know that sounds really wanky but for me it's a fun way to get those little grey cells (scrambled egg flashback..eugh) ticking over and get the creative juices flowing. It also means I don't have to sit down and write something overly laboured and horrid and think it provides a quite a natural, if surreal, comic strip.

Anyway, see what you think below, you can start anywhere you like, there's no real story to speak of, just interpret how you like and (hopefully) enjoy the visual aspect.

Really like doing comic strips again, maybe I should get to work on 400 Facts issue #2 again eh? (Christ can't believe how long it's been since I worked on that...)

Shamans go cripple/My sales go triple

I'm a tweaker, I'll admit it, love nothing but spending the evenings tweaking away. It's the 'channel mixer' in photoshop that sets me off, all those potential colour combos and the slighest cockup along the way ruins your entire tweak leaving you with an ugly colour vom-palette. I can spend hours moving tiny sliders back and forth, adjusting the amount of magenta or cyan in any given image incrementally until finally I flip, my eyes cross and I have to fight the urge to kill again.

I've been tweaking on this image for new band Hammerbat for a while now, two different versions below - tell me which you prefer, if you're out there (and wish to state a preference, how embarassing if this ends up with no comments I'll have to retire) /reverse psycology


It's that time of the month again for me.
Nialler9 podcast day
! I'm really digging doing this at the moment since the musics great and I love Nialls style of blogging, he's managed to switch me on to pretty much anything great that's coming out from here and from afar. I always end up listening to streams from there when I'm illustrating so in a way we're entangled in some big ol creative hubbub feedback loop. Oh Yeah, one of those.

This month Niall gave me a list of possible song titles as inspiration and I picked Chromeo's 'Hot Mess' since it gave me the idea of using Lindsay Lohan who is, of course, the hottest fuckup of all, in the biggest mess I can envisage, THE BEVERLY HILLS APOCALYPSE.

Also shoutout and props to Aoife Mc at RTE2 XM Right Click Radio for my own shoutout on the podcast, Hooplah dooplah that made my day!

Tracklisting podcast #33

1. Chromeo – ‘Hot Mess’ – Business Casual
2. Kisses – ‘Kisses’
3. The Phantom Band – ‘O’ – The Wants
4. Chilly Gonzales – ‘I Am Europe’ – Ivory Tower
5. Computer Magic – ‘Science Channel 9′ -Free EP
6. Black Milk – ‘Warning (Keep Bouncing)’ – Album Of The Year)
7. How To Dress Well – ‘Ecstasy with Jojo’
8. Washed Out – ‘Hold Out’ – Life of Leisure EP
9. Gold Panda – ‘Same Dream China’ – Lucky Shiner
10. Evan Voytas – ‘Tomorrow Night We’ll Go Anywhere’
11. Porcelain Raft- ‘Gone Blind’
12. Warpaint – ‘Bees’ – The Fool
13. Lorn – ‘Glass & Silver’ – Nothing Else

Fokken Freaky Fokken Deaky

Horrah! Horror! Hurrah! My new illustration for Tia Clarkes (she of Tell That Cat to Chill fame)article on strange S. African group Die Antwoord has gone live on the AU website, g'wan have a look! After drawing this I now actaully like Die Antwoord. I have no idea how it happened but I think I might have accidently fallen on my pen while drawing this late one night and it shoved up into my nose accidently giving myself a lobotamy.

Drinking Alone Ends Positively

I called into the Menagerie, my local of sorts, a Wednesday or two ago and it was pretty dead, just me and the barman. You might think that's rubbish but I love when the perfect storm of an empty bar and friendly barman come together as you can really just kick back and have a nice chat. A nice chat where one of you gets really steaming and then wakes up with a boiled cabbage for a head the next day.

Before I bid him adieu that evening though we were talking about my work and I just so happened (really) to have a load of photocopied doodles that I'd done that day in my bag. The idea with the photocopies was to go into bars around belfast and blue tack the pictures inside toilet cubicles for people to happen upon. It seemed like a really good idea at the time. Aside from that I found out that it's very easy for me to get sidetracked once inside the bar and so promptly forgot my mission up until this point.

I dutifully pulled one of these pictures out of my bag when asked and showed my imbibing enabler and then, rather wonderfully, he offered to put it up behind the bar.

So it's there now, in one of my favourite bars of all time. You'll have to go down there to see it as I haven't got it digitally. It may seem like a silly thing to be excited about but for the whole time I've been going to pubs I always loved seeing what the employees there had stuck up on their walls in their domain - sometimes it's pictures of them on a work night out, other times it's funny newspaper clippings reappropriated to be about a staff member. It's a little shrine back there and I was always jealous of not being able to take part (having never worked in a bar). So for me this was a small victory, do you see?

Oh, you'll never understand me will you! Have a sample of something I'm working on at the moment and probably shouldn't show you because it's A GREAT SECRET

A Knife, A Fork a Kettle an' a Fork that is how you spell NEW YORK

Here's the illustration I put together for the latest issue of AU Magazine, out now around Belfast and Dublin tomorrow and then the rest of the UK quickly after. This was alot of fun to put together and I kind of went for an allegorical idea for the image as I'm wary of being getting too literal in my work at the minute. Very wary, paranoid even. Now I've started talking like Snagglepuss I'll just end this spiel and show you the pic:

Putting words into my mouth

I'd really like to put this on a tshirt in the future, should they be saying something? Anybody out there have anything fantastic phrase wise that could adorn such a thing? Should they even be saying anything at all?

I'm tired. And sick. And confused. But I proved that I can still do this kinda thing when ridden with the lurgy.

Moving On

I've just moved house and it's more wonderful than I can ever have imagined. Already the din of the nightly sins of Botanic have begun to erode in my mind, only to be replaced by the chirruping of the birds in Ormeau Park.

I've already tried to get in with the Ormeau attitute. I've stopped hissing at tramps. I've not seen a single piece of human faeces or one hypodermic syringe yet and I've yet to batter any coked up teens at 4 in morning. If I ride my bike on the promenade-like roads here I have enough space to manoeuvre around BMW owners who seem to think I like the gritty taste of asphalt. I felt so whimsical yesterday I went and bought an ice cream and stood on the street corner in the sun for a while without worrying that some scally might be stealing the oil from my boiler back at the homestead.

Perhaps I'm infatuated, perhaps the cracks in the veeneer of the Ormeau shall appear, but for now, all is well.

There was something in the air that night

I heard a commotion outside the house tonight, a bit of a ruckus by the spides on Botanic I assume. By the time I get downstairs theres a spainish man I don't recognise standing in the front doorway and a couple of millies punching each other in the street.

"I am Fernando" says the spainard gripping my hand and looking deep into my eyes - "The girls here, ai! They are crazy"

I nod in agreement with Fernando and we stand in silence watching the ugly violence until the rozzers arrive.

As nice as Fernando seems I'm glad to be moving house this week.

Two Big Changes

You may notice two things. Firstly, that the blog has been redesigned a little. You may also notice that the following image has been tastefully cropped for the main image. You may even of course notice two completely different things but thats just pervy old you isn't it?

Back of the Class Speccy Four Eyes

Forgive me blogspot, it's been ages since my last illustration.

Had a lovely time last week down at Izzys album launch at the Black Box and it was great to see people loving her music and buying up albums and posters in droves. A lovely atmosphere and ta to all of you that came down. The money has since went on copious amounts of gin and kleenex tissues which we'll split 50/50you'll be glad to know.

I present now, a new illustration for that lovely chap Niall at - the wonderous music blog of much infulence and respect. In a similar vein to the last job we collaborated on this too is for the brilliant podcast which shall feature some top modern tunes the like of which will become achingly cool around October 12th so if you listen to it now you'll be ahead of the curve and the envy of all friends and maybe even your dad. You always suspected he resented you and now, here, finally is the proof.

The brief for this job was 'Back to School', I eventually came up with the idea that, on the first day back to school most people spend an age preening themselves getting their 'look' down which shall define them for the coming academic year -thusly the image is viewed as if you're a voyeur peeking through the looking glass at familar and not so familar scenes.

Twin Peeks - Isobel Anderson Album Launch

I got this pal, Isobel Anderson, by day she plays around with various bits of strange and probably evil music manipulation equipment at SARC and by night she writes achey breaky beautiful songs rounded out by her superb soulful voice.

The wee lassie has her first album out this week and I was given the honour of doing doing her album cover which can be seen below:

And I've also done her a special surprise which'll be available alongside the CD on the night of said album launch (event details are here) as it's also her birthday around then too and thought this might be double nice.

So here you are Iz if you're reading this, a nice poster to mark the occasion, Happy Birthday in advance and congratulations! You may also notice some slight Twin Peaks type imagery in there, which is intentional as that night in the Black Box also hosts a Twin Peaks Vaudeville type thing which promises to be really great Diane.

I'll see the rest of you down the Black Box on Thursday night then, I'll be the one with posters stuffed down his pants.

Nay and Yay

An illustration I put together a few months ago has cropped up again, wuh oh! This time on music journalist Nay McArdles blog, check it out for a top read on the ups and downs of social networking, then click sommore of her links to read more music related goodness. Goodness!

What a Mother

Gonna be brief tonight, I feel the effects of hayfever returning (went away for 2 months and is now back with a vengance, what a mother) and I keep screwing up my face in a sneezey way which is simulataneously very unattractive and very annoying, so I'm off to chill.

Speaking of chilling check out this header that I put together for the blog 'Tell That Cat to Chill' - an ace new music blog, check it out:

and here's a thing i just did tonight, a bit of a mess around from a doodle I was working on today:

And with that I'm away, sneezing into the night! Ho!

Lambrini Girls vs Barcardi Bruiser

I was sitting out on my balcony last night which overlooks Botanic Avenue, the sunset strip of Belfast, when out of the corner of my one good eye I spied a convoy of lambrini girls honking up the road, skirts hitched up to the tops of their robust thighs in order to increase their offroad mobility (my street is full of hazards like breeze blocks, car husks and laid out methheads y'see).

Suddenly a bunch of lads clad in one giant short sleeved Ben Sherman shirt appeared at their rear and insisted that they should, completely understandably, be treated to the sight of all the lambrini girls' arses.

Only one of them obliged though, shoving her bottom into the very flattering light of the orange streetlamp and emittied a high pitched yelp whilst the Shermans got their camera phones out. Then she pointed to her knickers, the saddle of which was emblazoned with the Barcardi logo.

"I'm a Barcardi girl y'know!" she yelled at no one in particular, bent double on the pavement, her manicured nail pointed up at the gusset of her pants. The Lambrini girls mowed on down the street without her, not impressed with her sudden betrayal. The following picture is dedicated to her. It's called Botanic Nights.

Kiani - Metal Kettle

Katrina O'Kane is a wonderful lass from Belfast with a great set of ears. She's also known as Kiani when she uses these ears to put together some of the finest psychedelic electronica that I've come across in this cosmos. It is also imperitive that I note that she also owns a very very tiny chinese hamster who reportedly begins to nod along in appreciation when her bedroom beats come into fruitition after her many hours of toil. In every facet of her work Katrina is inventive and always creative, looping in and out and around and sideways, never giving away where you'll end up sonically - all of which is no doubt the result of her time spent tweaking and fine tuning and setting the listener on an audio adventure.

Head over to her soundcloud page or her myspace to find out more and have a listen, also check out the first part of my illustration below which I completed for her forthcoming mix Metal Kettle which we're hoping to drop around hyper hip establishments soon in order to become rich.


You can now follow my exploits on Twitter, givus a chance to impress you in 160 characters.


I'm exhausted from the weekend and I didn't even do anything. I watched a film, that was about it. Ate a large pizza on the sabbath, that mighta done it. I was a wreck in work, so tired I had to type one handed in relays alternating between my left and right, in order that one hand be delivering constant massage to my brittle limbs. I can feel cold nipping into my joints and a concept of a wheezing cough has just been pushed through to the development stage by the higher level guys who work in the complaints cortex of my brain.

It's my birthday next week and it's reached the stage where the numbers are getting too big. 10 is good. 10 was a great number, I remember when I turned 10 and running the number through my mind ONE.............ZERO.........ONNNEE......ZEERRROOOO. It felt big, important, resonated around and hummed in the air like when you heard it on Seasame Street. 10!

Twenty Seven. 27. Twenty Seven sounds terrible. Sounds disappointing. Sounds like the number of pounds I have in the bank. Sounds like the name of a shitty ad agency with a bad logo.

Here, I'll put it in a sentence for you and you can decide whether it sounds good or not:

The massacre in the jungle was revolting, all twenty seven bodies lay boiling in the sun, their guts fizzing and hissing with pus, their blood turning the dry earth into an undulating bog surrounded by a dense wall of foetid insects feasting on the twenty seven corpses.

See? I used it twice there for effect, just in case you missed it the first time.

I cheered myself up today by doing a little mess around with patterns and colours though so I'm not really all doom and gloom, I'm only saying all this shit so that the following picture radiates positivity.


I was hoking through my old stuff in my bedroom at home this past July 12th weekend in a fitful state of boredom and in a similar case to my fav blogger Tuesday Kid, I came across a diary full of adolescent emotional vomit from when I was 17, which, weirdly enough was started 10 years to this very month.

It was all a bit embarrassing if I'm honest. In order to give you a taste of how inward looking and narcissistic I was (well aware of the irony of writing that on my blog where I talk about myself btw) here's a choice quip from September 13th 2001

[This entry was three journal pages long and this quote is the very last paragraph]

"...Oh and I should mention that some terrorists blew up the Twin Towers in America a few days ago, could this mean war? I really hope not as I feel I've only just started to live, there's so much more to see, I want to do so much with my life..."

Several pages of teenage angst followed by this vile summation of a world changing event in which many people perished and all I could think of at the time is whether I would ever get my hole...

It's a very introspective time of year here and by that I mean that its a time where we all stick our heads in the sand, thats what I was doing at least. I don't feel too hot about it.

Niall Niall Nine

This was produced for the h'award winning Irish music blog Nialler9 to help promo the rather fantastic monthly podcast Niall puts together over there - check out the blog yourself, it brings together music from this fair isle and the best of the rest of international new music. Also the latest podcast has some really great tracks on there, the new one from HEALTH is really top.

Niall also tells the tale of how this image came into fruition, and he's spot on, it was indeed inspired by a crazed, metal loving taxi driver who wanted nothing more than to rock out to AC/DC and tell me that all the music I liked was sheeeite. The podcast should see to him then.

Besides this great bloggin news, I also have a big backlog of stuff that I've done for other people out there but can't show it for a week or so yet, so stay tuned for further music related illustration coming up!

That's Good

My housemate/gal Friday says he was looking at old photos of me online the other day.

"Not in a sinister way" he added, slightly too quickly, and I saw his eyes dart to the left which as we all know from Derren Brown is a sure sign of fibs being towled (either that or there was something happening very quickly in the peripheral of his vision.)

"It was funny" he added after an uncomfortable beat "You look really different from just a few scant years ago, I couldn't believe it - it was like looking at someone I didn't know"

With my inbuilt Ego-stroking radar activated I look for my chance to avail of any incoming compliments about my (now maturing) looks as I slide into my late 20s - "I look...better Than a few years ago, right?"

A lengthy pause blooms in the conversation between us, causing a gulf of silence to bloom in the gap between us. In the dull quiet of my room I hear a car skitter off down the road past the window, the whinnying engine gradually ebbing away into the hum of traffic in the distance.

"No-you-just-look-different" the words slosh out of his face quickly and rain down on me. I purse my lips together tight and don't look up at him.

"Different" He again stutters, softer this time, as if trapped in an infernal loop.

Then he slips out of the room and I'm looking at old pictures and reaching for the gin and then maybe weeping and wondering what happened to my youth and its my birthday again soon and I should get around to all that stuff I meant to do and whatever happened to the years 2002-2008 what happened to them..


So anyway, I'm going to have to teach my housemate what to say whenever the inevitable happens and he and his girlfriend have a similar conversation in the future.

So many words about so little

Work grinding you down? Your boss giving you a hard time? Co-workers constantly harping on about their putrid children? Is Facebook blocked? Are you blocked?

In order to break the monotonous routine I've come up with a few things you can do to turn a waking nightmare into a paralysing trance (which is marginally better)



In order to play 'BREAK-TIME ADVENTURE GAME™' you'll need access to an unmonitored email account and an understanding and willing co-worker who will indulge your childish whims. In order to begin the game you first need to grab a random image from the 'net and then write a descriptive passage about said picture along with the potential for a developing storyline, characters and various actions that will transpire within the 'game'. (Admittedly this is alot of work for your tea break and some might argue that you've just swapped your regular job for that of a 3rd rate Hollywood scriptwriter, but no matter, truth is your imagination is your only escape from monotony - go wild) You will then email this off to your lovely co-worker who will then write back about what actions they will undertake within the scenario you've just created. Here's one I done earlier:



"Thassit bitches - whistle while you work"

The inspiring words there of a certain Mister Walt Disney which eventually made its way, unfortunately censored, onto the big screen. It's a sentiment that still resonates with me today, as I whistle my way up and down the offices corridors and in and out of the elevators and round and round the ventilation system as I clamber through them on especially dark days.

Try it yourself.

3. Form an Elastic Band


Become the Office Cowboy.

Once this trick is perfected you are now able to take your like minded co-worker and have High Noon style stand-offs in the fluorescent glow of your crummy break room.


There's a sniper in your building - an imaginary one of course! Haha! This is a game for two+ players. During the course of the day someone is going to get pretend-sniped through the skull by a disgruntled former pretend-employee of the company.

You lose the game when sniped and this is achieved when a co-worker who is also playing the game shouts or mouths the word 'SNIPER' during the course of the working day. you are then obliged to make the necessary screams of pain and emulate brain tissue exploding from the half of your face which has been pretend-blown off. Combine SNIPER with game 3 for ultimate arousal. If you do not comply to the call of 'SNIPER' you have lost and are 'a dick'.

Risk factor is high during crowded meetings when calls of 'SNIPER' are most likely to occour.

Fun factor is low as you have been working in your office for far too long and the game of SNIPER is really just a cry for euthanasia.


I was just looking at what people search for on google when they swing by here using this fancy blog analytic software.

Some of the best so far are:

1. "Men Wanking"
Get the porno one out of the way first, my fault for bringing it up really.

2."What is a perma-scowl?"
FYI It's a permanent scowl that manifests itself on the faces of those that work directly with the public.

3."problems with vimto"
How do you have 'problems' with your syrupy delicious hot vimto drink? I bet you spilled it on yourself naked or something, the mascot isn't called Purple Ronnie for nothing y'know

4. ""
Worse than number 1.

5. "single in belfast"
More depressing when it's typed in lowercase like that, isn't it?

Thanks for stopping by though, even though you probably didn't find what you were looking for hopefully you enjoyed the pictures.

400 Facts Issue #1 Part Seven

Part 6 is HERE

Twit Two

Dinosaur illustration for Bandwidth
Paint Owl for fun

Altered Images

I got an invite to a big ol BBQ birthday bash the other night as I was asked to illustrate at it, which was very exciting, figured I'd make the birthday boy a poster before going - here's the results:

Aii Aii Aii poppy

I always go a bit weird when the summer months jump out on me unexpectedly. It's like some brilliant surprise party where all the fun months are hiding behind soggy aul April snickering and nudging May in the ribs cooing 'not yet...waitforit...NOW!' and then suddenly, while you're wringing out your sodden jacket in the rain clogged gutter, the sun appears and with it leaves and flowers and mohitos and parks and dogs and girls legs on bikes and bald men in groups wanking each other off conversationally about said legs on bikes.

I go a bit weird though because I find summer a challenge, after living for 9 months in a world which wobbled between black and gray on the colour spectrum its hard to adjust. For a start there's a whole new etiquette to learn when out and about, its disconcerting even finding the actual act of being out and about pleasurable as opposed to running awkwardly everywhere through the freezing sloppy rain, head bowed low to the curb assuming the position of what could only appear to the sheltered bystander as some kind of athletic masochistic genuflection.

Walking through town today I saw a load of buff chaps with no tops on which sent me into a tizzy as well you can imagine - I haven't spent the intervening dark months down the gym, as the only 'toning up' I've done is meeting up with my pal Tony for boozy gin parties. They've got their summer attire sorted those guys, I'm envious, but it's not the route for me and as a result I dunno what to wear at the minute. I've still got a wool jacket on and I'm not sure but I think everything I own is made of wool or is at least 65% wool.

I'm not even sure I remember how to exist in a park properly. Sitting on grass is baffling as I have an almost pavlovian response to my arse approaching the green stuff as in the past its just been the deceitful layer of concealer to the dank brown muck underneath. Even if I manage to plop down there a whole new set of tricks must be brought into play - tuck the legs beneath my frame (pins and needles city) or cross the legs (to ward away fairy nymphs and 16 year old spides) - I might just lean against a tree and nervously fiddle with the USB stick in my (wool) jacket pocket - grass stains are a concern of course and what time does the park generally start at?

It even gets tricky identifying women you used to know in this weather, it's like all the gray ashen faced girls you were pals with were shipped off over night by the council (That's why they've been charging us 50 quid for dropping fag ends everywhere) and we just imported half the cast of a Will Smith video.

So if you see me bobbing up and down doing squat thrusts over a patch of daisys down in Botanic Gardens over the coming weeks be sure to approach me slowly from a 45 degree angle (like the Horse Whisperer) - take my hand in yours, coo soothing sentiments into my ear and slowly remove my woollen shirt, tie and trousers before bringing my bare bottom to rest on scorching Terra Firma.

P.S Here, I'm still having trouble uploading pictures because of my shitty internet - which is crap for an illustrated blog really - I'll try and fix this soon, not that its a big issue for you or anything. Don't be worrying.

400 Facts Issue #1 Part Six

It's been awhile since I done a blog, been busy drawing shitloads for allsorts of chaps innit. Anyways next part of 400 facts is here at last.

and as a bonus check out my recent illustration published in AU magazine

Counseling, Comix and Cards

A'right Chachi, I've been refering to my recent output as 'Counseling Comixs' in private as a bit of joke for a while now (Yeah, admittedly not a really funny joke) since they deal with heartbreak and eastenders-style dilemmas, but it's a term which is growing rapidly more apt. For example the recent comic 'A Short Vignette about a Big Love' was an exercise of exorcism for a close friend, the delivery of that story into the public was a way of unburdening himself.

Now it's time to widen the scope and let the public get some of that raw dirty emotion out into a little vessel of an idea I've created. I've been working on a card this week - one which could potentially bring joy into the life of some pasty-faced panty-waist or alternately obliterate their last shred of dignity with the aid of some callous wordplay.

I'd rather it would bring joy though, cos I'm a loving dude.

How is this effect achieved? Well, the first card has been created with a man in mind (not that the female version which will follow soon is going to much different - I just like making cards...) and thusly the imagery and text upon and within the card are geared toward the dangly-er of the sexes(of which unfortunately there are currently only two).

The text within the card is a choose-your-own-adventure of prose, it's best here to use an example as I'll be here all day explaining this rubbish:
could transform into:

I've made a print of 50 tonight and I'm going to be putting them around town tomorrow - In the next update about the cards fer girls I'll post the locations I'm putting them in, however if you do fancy one just send me a message ( and I'll send one out. Alternatively you can just print out your own version using the images supplied in this post.

It'd be really cool if you people sent me your cards with your own messages and I can post them up here, if people bite the best one will get a free comic.

So c'mon you cosmic tigers, start declaring your feelings (positive or negative)

Thickos Modern Life

I can't get anything to work at the minute, all technolgy has failed me over the past week, losing the power of photoshop and resorting to editing in a crap program called Serif Draw which is like colouring in but someone has rubbed porridge in your eyes and hidden all your favourite pens in their arse.

Actually Serif might be alright, it just seems to be setup to confuse Adobe adopters, in fact the initial load-up splash screen is actually an illustration of a wonderfully drawn and coloured hand which is giving the finger to a PSD file.

I'm still pretty seething about how people are so jazzed about things like the Ipad - we should've had that 10 years ago, nowadays we should be painting with our fingertips on screen whilst simultaneously shouting at the computer "COMPUTER! Enhance this image x20, lighten the shadow on the serfs congregating to the right of the Christ-child and add a mild gradient of azure sun on His bare buttocks, immediately! Don't give me that loading bar shite this time." to which the computer would reply in a voice like Roadie or Wheels from Pole Position "Cer-Taint-ly Sir, You Lookin' real fine today!"

Even my simple ol' blog here refuses to play ball - I can't upload any pictures I want to show you. Perhaps you may have noticed the next part of 400 Facts ain't up, well that's bloody Blogger being a right old dick eyes isn't it? I dunno, it might have something to do with the shitty mobile broadband I'm using. Who knows at this point.

It does mean that when everythings fixed it will be update central round this gaff, there's lots to show off coming up...

Now hopefully this simple piece of text will shudder its way down my internet pipe and end up on your screen just so you can read an update which is effectively saying 'Nothing's Working'. I'm not even going to spellcheck this, that's how scunnered I am.

400 Facts ISSUE#1 PART 4


How To Give Up Television The Easy Way

Confession time for all you telly addicts out there; a long time ago I used to watch bad television as a means of sedating myself out of life. It's well documented that in times of despair and destruction people turn to drugs to drown out their melancholy, but me, I flicked onto BBC3 and pumped up the volume on 'Britains Missing Top Model'.

Alone in my high rise bedsit, I'd wake from my usual stupor around 5pm and pop airbubbles in the rotten radiator until freeview kicked on BBC3 on my portable. Then for the rest of the night I'd sit with my eyes pointed down the barrel of my not inconsiderable nose, clad only in my pants, kebab sauce dotting my chest as if the rats had just formed a militia and gunned me down with tiny condiment filled paintball guns.

I'd pull the old faithful mohair rug around me for heat and then later dig welts of it from where it had intermingled with my wiry body hair which, by that stage, began to huddle predominantly around my nipples for warmth (If you were to describe my room as a person you'd use the words 'Bright and Breezy'. Bright - as the curtains didn't pull to and had holes in 'em and Breezy because the walls didn't pull to and had holes in 'em - sadly what would be wonderful human traits really don't make for a good shelter).

It was during an episode of the aforementioned 'Britains Missing Top Model'(a show devoted to finding the most beautiful, physically challenged lady.) that something odd occurred. Wayne Hemmingway, the semi-famous fashion galloot and panel member of the show, was making an impassioned but wince inducing plea to the rest of his peers about how they were all being discriminatory when they booted a disabled model with one arm off the show and kept in another who had all her limbs intact (except her legs didn't work. And they kept forgetting about her at photo shoots, leaving her propped up against walls in the baking sun obscured by smelly old bins.). As Waynes rage increased and his bile soaked spittle flecked out against the sad sack faces of his fashionista buddies, I found myself feverently agreeing with this louche Mancunian prophet, probably pumping my fist languidly through the damp mold air of the bedsit, glassy eyed and exhaling under my breath;

"Yeah Wayne, you tell 'em bud, lets make Britain care again"

Suddenly I was spurred into action - grabbed my laptop and rested it on my gut - destination - the BBC 3 Next Missing Models Web Forums - the only place where my loyalty to Wayne and his self righteous, shite-on viewpoint would be appreciated. I posted under the pseudonym "BedriddenSympathiser22" and argued through the following weeks with all those who would damn a one armed woman and the utopian vison of Mr Wayne Hemmingway. After many heated exchanges with rival forumites (Where are you now CwabbyCwipple?) and a post count in the high thousands, the show came an end, as did my tenure on the forums.


I feel much better nowadays, I have a job, a wife and several cats - I no longer smear kebab sauce on my chest as a stimulant, I eat my kebabs on a friday night like a normal alcoholic. Each day, as I intentionally pass by electrical store windows and catch glimpses of BBC3 idents, I'm reminded of that dark time, what I now refer to as the single lowest point in my existence. Some people huff on a cock for blow - in 2008 I rallied an invisible army of forums posters to the point that BBC administration had to step in and shut us down due to a 'security threat' we posed to the models on the show. The forumites were only joking when they said they'd break her legs - and I 'spose technically she wouldn't even notice if they had done.

As well you know, after the verdict during the highly publicised trial (covered in the BBC3 Documentary "Me, the Model and BBC Three") I was officially banned from watching television due to the unhealthy way in which I conducted myself and incited hatred in others towards minority groups - the Daily Star of course referring to me as "Shit-ler".

And that's how I gave up TV.

Sucks For You

I love staying in on a Friday night sometimes, I call it 'Treat Day' which admittedly isn't a good thing to say to people when they ask you your weekend plans, I think the majority of people I've mentioned it to think I'm talking about pleasuring myself.

That's their problem though, right readers? Y'see Treat Day is all about taking myself out of the running for a bit and giving myself presents like bottles of wine and delicious foods all whilst puffing my ego by telling myself I'm really good/cool.

I like to draw on Treat Day, it relaxes me. Did you ever hear of that artist Paul Klee who talked about freeing the mind by 'taking a line for a walk'? Where you'd sit with a pen and a big piece of paper and just let your hand and brain explore the galaxy of your own conciousness? That's what I like to get into every once in a while. Big hairy bawls pretentious shit like that.

I might post some of that stuff up sometime, but for now just have a peek at this wee doodle I finished off this morning:

P.S I was away this week so forgot to put up the next part of 400 Facts - it'll be back next Tuesday n'er worry pal..

Mo'hair, Mo'money, Mo'Problems

Mums and dads, boys and girls, here's a quick pic for you all before I clamber into bed and rub my body sensually against my 100% mo-hair rug like a hairy Mariah Carey. This may very well be used for something cool in the future but sure I'll tell you about it when I have the clearence: