Sketch Diary: Hopelessly devoted to... fags

Sometimes I have a look around and try to find the hidden camera. But it's never there.

This time I'd just been harassed by a lady who was going bonkers for a cigarette while sucking on a smoking cessation device. A big white stick delivering nicotine directly into her stupid face.

Sketch Diary: Conan the centre-forward

My heart sank when I saw this meatmonger warming up for the opposition in our not-so-friendly 5 a-side league.
I spent most of the game running away from him or ineffectually kicking his legs. I think he was made of wood.

Quote: "I didn't elbow him. I nutted him! HUH-HUH."

Sketch Diary: Bus-Spotter Spotting

Spotted: A bus spotter.

Just writing down the five-digit number above the driver's window. Of every bus that went past. In the rain.

Sketch Diary: Three People

This is just three people that caught my eye today. I won't pass comment or judge them.

But seriously, a fucking army officer's cap? Bell-end.

Sketch Diary: BllaAAARGHHALP

Lunchtime in a pub in Caerphilly. A violent belch erupts from a woman on the next table, stopping me mid-sentence and blasting the stench of her spicy insides over me and my mother. No reaction from her or her friend.

Sketch Diary: Space Invaders

Tube travel reached a new level of discomfort this evening when a generously-fed woman decided to straddle me and give her fanny a well earnt rest on my knee.

Sketch Diary: Creepy Krakow

You know you're having an unusual holiday when someone switches the light on in the youth hostel at 5am and a man you've heard trying to molest your friend turns out to be a mad German pensioner in his pants.

Click on the image if you're man enough.

Sketch Diary: Facebook

Hey, why's that chap holding his book right up to his face in Archway's finest Irish booze-nest, The Mother Red Cap?

Is he: a) reading the most engrossing book ever; b) so long-sighted he has to feel the words with his eyes to read them; or c) cunningly hiding the fact he is totally pissed up and asleep?

Sketch Diary: Speedo Muncher

July: I had a lovely holiday in France. Unfortunately my enduring memory is this mulleted speedo-Nazi enforcing his 'speedos-only' rules on the poor speedo-clad freaks of Grenoble (i.e Speedo-land). He actually chucked me out of the swimming pool for wearing swimming shorts, the fucker. All because my genitals weren't packed into a little Lycra sac like his.

Click on the image for the full-fat effect.

Sketch Diary: Real Arse Festival

Here's a sketch of an unintentionally hilarious auction on stage at the Great British Beer Festival in Earl's Court.

Two walking stereotypes, pregnant with ale, flogged assorted junk to around 100 drunk students and fat nerds. One provided the banter - a mixture of misogynistic jokes and anti-Budweiser preaching - the other just held up the items, and scowled at the crowd.

Memorable items included:

A bag of 100 beer mats, assorted brands
An untested Grolsch bar light without a plug
A used beer towel, 'needs a rinse'

One lunatic was even mad enough to bid for 'a night out in Horsham with me and Phil for some beer, some more beer, and then possibly even more beer.'
Oh yeah and I spewed on a train on the way home. Damn them and their stinking 7 per cent filth.

Sketch Diary: Thou shalt stop shaving, and be mad

Hello, like, freakazoid alert!
This man has been wandering up and down Hammersmith Road for a couple of days, solemnly displaying a peculiar spiritual message. I advised him that he really should rethink his communication strategy. His message could reach a far wider audience using social networking websites, such as Facebook, or Twitter, rather than scrawling on a cardboard tray.

I didn't really! I crossed the road to get away from him.

Sketch Diary: Gonad Bay

Studland, Dorset. Passing through the famous nudists' section of the beach, you may see the odd flesh-coloured figure lying in the bushes, enjoying the breeze on their balls.
Trying to find a shortcut to the car, I got lost in the sand dunes. There roamed a different species of naturist, popping up occasionally on small vantage points above the heather. They wear T-shirts, sun-hats, backpacks. But no pants. They are slightly creepier.

Go on, click on the image, you might find a willy.

Sketch Diary: G20 Riot

A pathetic two sketches in the whole of March and then... Woo hoo! Civil unrest and police brutality come along on April 1st.


I went along to the G20 Meltdown protest after work and got close enough to see a guy get his head smashed against a police van, which deep down was kind of why I went I think.

With hundreds of other curious office workers and some posh stoners, I explored the outer perimeter of the police 'kettle' and ran away every time the terrifying riot police came anywhere near me.

I'd love to do a big sketch to capture the whole exhilarating scene around the Bank of England but I can't be arsed.

[Update] Actually I can.

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: Shit-Art: shit art.

I don't want to sound like the kind of person who says 'all modern art is rubbish,' but within a fortnight I've seen two video installations that feature people rambling incoherently and actually eating shit.

What I find most interesting is all the people who shuffle in, pretend for a few seconds to feel something other than total bemusement, then walk out again, reading the impenetrable guff in the leaflet, looking thoughtful.

Click on the image to see the filth close up, which I quite enjoyed drawing.

Sketch Diary: Idiot head

I'm still chuckling to myself about this guy. Well, not now. I'm talking to myself on a blog about chuckling to myself I mean. I had to document what was quite possibly the worst haircut I will ever see. Presumably he had just come from a poncey photo-shoot, or maybe even walked straight off the end of a catwalk, without questioning what the fuckers had done to him.

And all of a sudden I forgive London again. What twat-tastic treats you give us.

Sketch Diary: Drums of Death

Shoreditch, London. Chubby Scottish DJ 'Drums of Death' (Colin Bailey) shouting in a pseudo-american accent over dance music, with his 'trademark' 'wacky' facepaint.

When your in my hut/ HUH!/ you know whats up!/
You know the urge I'm feelin'/ I've got the things you're needin'/YAAAOOWWW!!!!

Technoplebs in the crowd absolutely loving it.

Me, despairing, resenting all humans. All of you.

Sketch Diary: Tesco Booze Buddies

It's proof of what an uneventful few days I've had, that I considered doing a sketch of a man who had some kind of muscle-twitching disorder - because he looked a bit like he was doing 'the robot'. That would have made me, officially, a bad person.

But luckily yesterday I came across these old mingers, having the time of their lives causing trouble in Tesco, where most of the staff seemed to know their names. They stumbled around the shop, cackling at everything and everyone (including me), perved on a check-out girl for a bit and got thrown out. I looked on enviously from the queue of miserable shoppers, clutching my slab of Pilgrim's Choice.

Hopefully I'll do something this week so I can stop drawing freaks.

Sketch Diary: Merry Xmas, From the Plastic Hag

I've uploaded all my old sketches, so I'm up do date now. This picture is of a horrible scene I saw today on my lunch break amongst the Christmas shoppers in Hammersmith.
A lumpy old woman with plastic bags instead of clothes punched, spat and screamed at a woman, who I think was trying to give her a pound. It gave me goosebumps. Scared, spooky goosebumps, not good goosebumps.

Sketch Diary: Lunatic of the Week

Another fascinating local loon. If he was a good tap-dancer, I'd just think he was a twat, but he's manic and rubbish and makes little Michael Jackson wimpers as he pumps away.




Not a particularly good drawing -his head is so big it barely fits between his shoulders -but the tube carriage is pleasing.