Sketch Diary: Like A Sex Machine

It's mid-afternoon on the Victoria line and this odd chap gets up, shows me a thick wad of a dozen or so condoms in his wallet, and flashes a dirty smile. I don't know which facial expression to select, and I just look into his eyes, blankly. Then he's off, he's gone.

Pretty weird stuff, even by Finsbury Park standards.

Sketch Diary: Sorry

Nothing sketch worthy at all this week. I'm testing out some new fancy pencils with a drawing of a man I see every morning, who organises the bus chaos in Hammersmith station. He is noteworthy only for having a very evil face. Like an Aphex Twin remix of Jim Rosenthal.

He seems like quite a jovial, nice guy, I should add.