Actual Diary: Mega-stardom, at last

I've been given the opportunity to illustrate a short story and contribute to alittlepoison.com. It's a pretty little site for a bunch of people in London who, like me, ooze creative slime and would like a place to smear it.

Here's my first illustration for them: The River of Life

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: 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: 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: 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.