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: I'm back.

I've been busy doing boring drawings for coins. Sorry for the lack of updates (mum).


Just as I decided 'tonight I will sketch somebody for the blog', a man got on the train and started rapping at me. Badly. All that really lame stuff about blowing your money on prohibitively expensive champagne in a nightclub to impress ladies so you can grind up against them for a bit (like a sick dog scratching his testicles on a tree, probably).

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: 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: 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: Is One Year Old

I drew this while vibrating slightly on a long hot train journey so it's not bad. And those are meant to be moles on my face, not splodges of poo or skin cancers.

It's been about a year since I started the sketch diary, and about six months since I chucked it all online. It's been an overwhelming success - the pages of the sketch diary have been viewed 1,805 times. That's more than the number of metres in a mile!

I've received at least several emails from fans and don't at all feel like I'm clogging up the Internet with pointless pictures of my own face. I'm guessing the anniversary of the sketch diary is likely to be celebrated by Time Magazine, but they haven't confirmed anything yet.

Sketch Diary: Primrose Hill Ponces

I sometimes envy the trendy indie kids of London, always looking resplendent in their tight bohemian costumes from Topman.
Then you realise the trendies still have to wear the tiny jeans and weird shiny clogs on a lovely hot day, and they look like stupid preening sissies because they can't kick a football or bend their legs properly.

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: 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: Jeered and Cheered

This is a really poor sketch, but my book is tiny and I had a lot to fit in.

Being booed and shouted at by hundreds of people is a great buzz - I really recommend it. This band were so vomit-inducing that 'You're shit!' just rose out of me from within, without me really having any conscious control over it - like a powerful belch. It just happened to be in the middle of a dead quiet bit, and the band stopped playing; the crowd turned on me like I was a paedo on the Jeremy Kyle show.

The annoying brown thing has re-appeared on the bottom right of my pictures. I think there is a bit of smudged biscuit in the scanner. It looks a bit like a copyright symbol though, which may come in handy.

Sketch Diary: I Hate Classical Concerts

Going to see a classical music concert can be punishing enough, let alone when you have to stand up for the whole show, looking over the shoulder of a fat smelly nerd who whispers what will happen next to show how many times he has been, while you try to catch a glimpse of your friend in the choir who you can't see properly anyway because you've got your old glasses on.

Perfect fodder for an interesting cartoon though.

Sketch Diary: Being A Bit Cool

In this picture I am putting up flyers in Farringdon for my friend's underground techno rave party. Sounds pretty cool huh?
I'm wearing Rayban sunglasses at night like a proper twat, a) to look a bit shifty and cool and b) because I thought it might help me avoid being arrested by the filth, who drove by, uninterested, twice.

This is the first sketch that bears a decent resemblance to me, in terms of head shape, hairline, and psychospiritual aura. I think I've become a better drawer in a few months if you compare this to the crud I was drawing when I started.

Sketch Diary: Skibby-dibby-dibby dong do-dong dong

Not a particularly good picture, but a nice reminder that I turn into a disgusting ferral ape-boy when I'm on my own for more than a week.

I really just need to get some balls and press harder with the pencil when I'm drawing. Mr Shackleton told me that ten years ago in school, and did I listen? No, I didn't, because he looked like Scatman John.

Due to the crapness of my scanner/ing a sneek preview of the next Sketch Diary entry appears in the background of this drawing...
...[update] which is the one above this post now anyway.