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: Physio gets weirder

I'm not sure if my physiotherapist hates me but she made me do this on a treadmill the other day.

Sketch Diary: Orthopaedo

An attractive blonde physiotherapist calls me into her office.
Hmm...she's nice.
She orders me to take my clothes off.
Ooh...interesting...
She has really cold hands.
Oh.
She assesses how enfeebled my shoulder joint has become and prescribes some light rotator cuff exercises.

Sketch Diary: Disclocation, dislocation, dislocation

Like Guido Fawkes' confession signature, this drawing was forced out in pain, and with my wrong hand. The things I do for you anonymous web-sods.

I have dislocated my shoulder, for the third time. Unlike the previous times, I was given gas, morphine, and a wheelchair, all fairly quickly. But, despite my protests, I was also fully conscious when they squelched my humerus back into my body.

SKetch Diary: Gym Junkies

I have taken advantage of a government scheme designed for fat diabetic crack whores and joined a gym. Luckily it appears to be a lame person's gym, full of other people walking round pretending to stretch and scratch and do anything except lug the huge heavy iron blocks up and down. There's even people just standing there having their buttocks vibrated for them by a big machine.

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: Greenway is.. Grap

Sorry about the considerably lower standard of drawing here.

This is my 'refreshingly honest' marketing campaign for the Greenway Walkway that runs from Hackney to Newham.


Newham's Mayor, Sir Bobby Spittle, says:

"Come to Greenway, a dead-straight tarmac path cutting through Newham's overgrown industrial wasteland and scrap yards. Try and escape the heavy stink of sewage as it follows you down the path's six, long miles! When you get to the end, you'll find yourself in a field, miles from anywhere, with some horses tied up, and wonder why it is advertised as a nice walk on the Walk London website. See you there!"

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: 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: 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 Great Blizzard of '09

In direct contrast to the last post, this looks exciting, but wasn't really . The tricky bit was keeping the sledge moving above that crucial speed called 'not moving at all'.

Sketch Diary: Sport and Leisure

Not even a sexy angle and some keerrraaaazzy perspective can make table tennis look exciting, but it is.

Sketch Diary: Sporting Legend

I am well and truly littering the Internet now, with a yawn-inducing sketch of me playing badminton.

I was going to apologise for the confused order of these 'diary' entries but then I realised this is my blog, and nobody reads it anyway.

Sketch Diary: Five Go Mad In Kemble

I had a spiffing weekend at a friend's relative's cottage in Kemble, Gloucestershire. Here I am bouncing off a trampoline into a giant paddling pool, which I did over, and over again.

Sketch Diary: Neither a mental nor a moonface

This is a picture of my girlfriend, holding onto a buoy, in Hampstead Heath bathing ponds. I thought it was a fantastic picture when I drew it, but I realise now I've scanned it in she does look a bit mental and a bit of a moon-face.

She's neither a mental nor a moon-face, by the way; she's lovely, and is quite possibly my only reader.