Sketch Diary: Falling Down

It's been a while since I posted a picture on here, because I am now a professional illustrator. Look how far I've come. I don't need this shit.

But when a lady who works in my office fell off a step and splatted her face into the pavement, I thought I'd better draw a picture.

Don't worry, I checked she was OK before laughing at her. And texting people about it.

I think these days, I enjoy watching the confused, embarrassed expression when they get up even more than the actual fall.

Sketch Diary: The Doors of Perception

I saw this unfair but amusing reflection of myself as I came home from work, a bit boozy, on Friday evening. Click on the image to make it larger. Please, come on, click on it.

PLEASE!

Sketch Diary: Smoking Bin

Here's evidence of Hammersmith's nicotine-addled office workers, hundreds of whom simultaneously dump their burning death sticks into a bin by the tube station as they rush home. It reminded me a bit of the smoking thing that mental Pope dude waves about.

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.

Sketch Diary: The March of The Miserable

Clibbetty cloppetty, clibbetty cloppetty.


This is a sketch of my daily trudge out of the clammy, flourescent funk of the Underground, toward the icy orange drizzle of the evening. We all want to get home, but can only coordinate this painfully slow shuffle towards the buses.

I often contemplate whether the destruction of the entire world would be such a bad thing at this point in my commute home. But only for a few minutes! I'm fine by the time I get home, after I've had a little cry.

Sketch Diary: Huge Jeep, Headbutt, Headache

My ten-minute jolly to Tesco Metro Hammersmith at lunchtime has sadly become the most fruitful time of the week for sketch diary material. On Wednesday, I slipped and smashed my head into a parked Range Rover.

Ok, Snow and Ice, we had fun, but it's been three days. You can fuck off now.

Sketch Diary: BINGE BRITAIN DISGRACE CRISIS

Here I am doing that thing we all love in this country, where you drink weak poison all night until you start to malfunction, then you buy disgusting food on the way home. Last night, we were celebrating the birth of the Lord Jesus Christ, so I got particularly spazzed up, and got given some rubber ducks.

I've found an effect on CorelDraw that simulates what the world looks like when you are cold and drunk. See how it makes everything a bit wobbly and unsteady? And it also blurs the picture round the face, which means you can't tell that it looks absolutely nothing like me.

If you don't like the effect, and want to see it unblurred, you can just sod off back to Facebook, you cheesegrater.

Sketch Diary: This took ages

This took a disproportionate amount of time to draw for the result. Drawing stairs from an unusual angle is a fookin' nightmare.

I'm still doing the little comments in capitals on my sketches that make it look like I'm trying to do one of those 'real life' graphic novels about having cancer or something, which isn't what I'm doing.
I think I was trying to be funny. Or maybe I thought for a moment I was actually writing a graphic novel, and this incident on the stairs was really significant and poignant, which it would be, if only I did have cancer and could put 'because of the medication' in the caption.

Sketch Diary: Something happens

Ah! Now this will make me look slightly interesting. Here is a representation of me being all nervous and shit, and failing to ask government health minister, Ben Bradshaw, a simple question, which is my job.
Look him up! He really does look a little bit like that.