Sketch Diary: Ganster Wraps

Here's some Turkish ganster types sitting outside their 'members only cafe' on my road.

Unfortunately they are quite scary so I drew this having looked across the road at them for about a second.

I like to imagine occasionally some idiotic Islington twerp goes in, asks for a gluten-free frappuccino and never comes out.

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: An unpleasant scene

Not everything I observe is funny lol

Don't you hate the way people use LOL as punctiation now lol

Even when things aren't funny lol x x

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: Taxi Driver

I saw this merry little scene near my house the other day.

I couldn't tell if his face meant 'for god's sake, help me' or 'you've seen too much. I'll have to kill you too.'

I walked straight past because it was freezing and frankly I've got enough problems of my own.

Sketch Diary: Poopy Time

I abseiled down a 100ft castle turret as part of a birthday suprise that was so fun, I won't be able to make my usual sneering, cynical, miserable little comments about how crap everything is.

I doubt I actually looked this scared as I lowered myself through the medieval trapdoor of doom, but you get the idea. Poopy time.

Sketch Diary: Park Tavern

Here is an incoherent old drunk from one of the grimmest pubs in my area, the Park Tavern.

Instead of telling him to shut up, I've drawn an unflattering picture of him and posted it on an obscure corner of the Internet. That'll teach him. Although I can't imagine him doing anything with a computer other than just shouting: "Karmo' ya cunt" at it.

He was the landlord apparently.

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: Silly Billy

On Saturday morning I woke and thought it would be nice to run the 0.77 miles to the shops to get a paper. It was an idiotic decision. I soon remembered I hate jogging, and I'm never doing it again. Then, later, I broke my brand new £2.49 Dunlop Tournament Pro table tennis paddle. I still feel physically sick with grief and fury.

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: 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: 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.

Sketch Diary: Beardy Weirdo

I really like this picture. This is exactly the kind of thing I wanted to record in my sketch diary. I'm fascinated by these loons and don't want to forget what makes each one interesting. I know they all smell of concentrated piss, but what was he listening to? A fresh Jamaican trance-hall mix maybe, but probably just taped religous babbling.

I pressed harder this time, and its a bit more ambitous, what with the bus interior and all. Yeah, I know, thanks. Cheers. Nice one. See you later.