Ancient Gods.

These are the two pages I've done for upcoming FutureQuake #6. It will out in time for the Bristol Comic Expo, which is on 13-14 May at The British Empire and Commonwealth Hall & The Ramada Hotel, Bristol. If you're in the area, pop in and grab a copy. If not, you can purchase it from the website. I've put the link elsewhere on this entry.

http://www.futurequake.co.uk/fq/index.shtml

Nothing on.

I'm at home on my Jack Jones tonight, the mighty Miss Maus out on a bender (Quite literally, probably, by now), and the hatchlings are safely tucked up. So I sit back and turn the telly on, and the shit that's served up appals me, like it does every night. It's like TV producers are like Alan Partridge, when he's trying desperately for new TV ideas. ("Monkey Tennis...")
British TV, for the most part, is caught in a kind of 'cheap and cheerful' mode. Stick 'Celebrity' in front of any piss poor quiz show, and you've got got Saturday nights main event. Reality TV is a creeping, overgrowing weed, that is stifling new growth. I mean, just today on terrestrial TV we've had To Buy or Not To Buy, City Hospital, Downsize Me, Car Booty, Bargain Hunt, Cash In The Attic, The Jeremy Kyle Show, 60-Minute Makeover, Run For Glory, House Doctor, How Not to Decorate, Trisha Goddard, A Place In The Sun, and No Going Back: A New Life In France.
I frequently finding myself watching old shows on the digital channels, as it's the only decent stuff on, but a dangerous precedent has been set! I used to watch Minder and The Professionals on 'Granada Men & Motors'; but that particular channel has now been replaced by 'ITV Play' a fucking quiz show channel!!!
AAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!

Hanging's too good for them!

Last Monday, I had the privilege to be part of an exhibition of comic art. (The flyer for the event is here on the left; it's on until the end of the month...please go! There's also art from proper comic artists John McCrea and Hunt Emerson) and, for the most part, it was a lovely evening.( Probably because I was still high from the day before when Villa trounced the scum 3-1 !) I had my picture taken for the local newspaper; I had lots of people saying nice things about my work to me; there was free booze, and my partner actually looked pleased to be sharing the same room as me.

But, as usual, there's always one fucker that ruins it.

A few days before, I posted the flyer on a website that deals with local events and issues. One of the members of the message board who has no life saw this and went.

As soon as he worked out who I was, he latched onto me like a leech who was more than a bit peckish, and could I fuck get rid of him again. He kept following me, asking where I was going after, and if me and the missus would like to join him for a drink. Having a stalker might be fun if the stalker was interesting, but this fellow was about as much fun as Heimat.

It was only when he was distracted by someone else for five minutes could I make my escape. As soon as his back was turned, I legged it. If this is what being relatively well-known is like, I think I might employ a bodyguard, or at least a bad hygiene problem, so the fuckers can't get that close to me in the first place!