Ton up! (As it 'appens!)

Jingle jangle jewellery! Sir Jim'll here! As it 'appens, it's Mick's one hundredth post! Urgherurgherurgh. Lovely, lovely, lovely. Now then, now then, now then, I, Sir James of Saville 'ave fixed it for young Michael to go back in time, as it 'appens, and pick out the best bits of previous posts. Urgherurgherurgh. This is the age of the train! Jingle jangle!
This is from his first post, as it 'appens, from way back in February:
"Yes, you guessed it, I am a comics nerd, but unlike most other comics nerds, I don't stink of piss and self-abuse. (Well, 85% of the time, anyway.) If you are also a comics nerd and are offended, I'm sorry, I do stink really, I'm just trying to sound all cool and that."
Now then, this is also from February, urgherurgherurgh:
"I should be on the Friends Reunited website, but I'm playing truant!"
Stoke Mandeville!Jingle Jangle! Young Michael went missing in March, as it 'appens! So, Sir Jim'll 'as fixed it for us to jump straight to April:
"Having a stalker might be fun if the stalker was interesting, but this fellow was about as much fun as Heimat."
Urgherurgherurgh! Women give you brain damage, as it 'appens. This next one is from May, the same month as Mick's birthday, as it 'appens:
" I'm the very slim, dapper, young-looking sex symbol in the middle. This was in the Birmingham Mail, my local paper, about a week ago. It could've been worse; I look nearly normal. My friend Mikey Ball (top right) had his full name printed, which gets him confused with a chubby chanteur who was in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, and his photo makes him look like a sex case."
Now then, now then, a few days later, Mick posted this little gem:
"On the way to some grub, what appeared to be the last surviving archaeoptyryx shat on both shoulders of my coat."
Lovely, lovely, lovely. At the end of May, as it 'appens, jingle jingle, he posted this:
"There were a few explicit comic strips of WW having sex with various superheroes, and there was one of her getting raped by the Hulk, which may be morally and politically and legally wrong, I object to because Hulk is Marvel and Wonder Woman is DC! If Hulk was going to rape anyone, at least make it someone from his own universe!"
Urgherurgherurgherurgh! A bit naughty of young Michael to mention the subject of 'surprise sex', as it 'appens! I'm just glad the Duchess isn't here to hear it! Now then, now then, let's skip across to June, as it 'appens:
"Drawing old people moaning about their feet has really worn me out. Chore I hate: Sketching podiatrists!"
Couple of days later, this came in:
" Keep going, turn left. I did today, and there is a kind of pricing war going on. Firstly, there is Poundland, the first and most well known of the Pikey Paradises. As you can guess, everything in there costs £1. Round the corner is the "99p Store". Every item costs 99p! Stick your extortionate quid, Poundland! Everything here is ONE WHOLE PENNY CHEAPER! Around another corner, though, and I kid you not, is the"98p Chinese Store"! It's like a backwards auction."
Now then, now then, now then. Lovely, lovely. This next one is, as it'appens, jewellery jewellery, also from June:
"Yesterday, there was a sale of £10 million pounds worth of Princess Margaret's personal belongings, apparently to help pay Lord Linley's inheritance tax bill.Why didn't they just take the empties back?"
Urgherurgherurgh!! Now then, 'aving a pop at the Royal Family is not on, as it 'appens, they do a good job, God bless 'em. Not least since they made me 'Sir' Jim'll MBE. This next one is not nearly as republican:
"Remember Dustin Diamond? He was the waste of skin whose only talent was to talk in an annoying voice. "
This next one is from when the World Cup was on. Now then, now then, Sir James is not so keen on football. Gives you brain damage.Urgherurgherurgh. Wrestling's the game for me! Jingle Jangle! Stoke Mandeville!
"The thing that annoys me most, though, is those stupid call-centre microphones the panel insist on wearing. They don't have to! The second string on ITV4 don't wear them! You won't see the BBC crew wear those. Which is just as well because it would make Alan Hansen look more like Captain Scarlet than he does already."
Now then, we've finished with June, as it 'appens, so lets fast forward to July!
"It's like my mom used to say: 'Cheaters never prosper'. (Saying that though, she also used to tell us we were about to have 'shit with egg on' for tea, and Henry and Matthew Kelly were brothers, so I'd take a lot of what she says with a whole handful of salt.)"
Urgherurgherurgh! Showing disrespect towards his dear old mother! Now then, now then! If I said owt like that to my dear old lady, the Duchess, God rest her, as it 'appens, she'd confiscate me cigar! Jingle Jangle! Now then, this next 'highlight', and I use the word sarcastically, is also from July:
"Here in Birmingham, the local radio station, BRMB, stopped broadcasting for two minutes to join in the paying of respects for the victims of 7/7. Just before, though, they just happened to play Going Underground by The Jam!"
Stoke Mandeville! He's 'aving a go at us Disc Jockeys, now ! Wait 'til I tell DLT! Hairy cornflake, as it 'appens!! Needs his bottom smacked, as it 'appens!
This next one is also from the World Cup:
"Apparently, Theo Walcott has tested positive in a drug's test. They found traces of Calpol."
He's having a go at little kiddies now! If I see 'im, I'll have 'im in a Boston Crab, just like when I was a wrestler! Urgherurgherurgh!!!
Now then, now then, July was a busy month for young Mister Trimble's blog, as it 'appens, this next one being from that month also:
"Despite the prelim being written by your typical piss-smelling comics-nerd virgin whose knowledge of what a naked woman looks like is gleaned from Rob Liefeld's shitty drawings in X-Force, the ten books chosen make interesting reading."
Sir Jim'll has sympathy for young Mister Liefeld. Now then, it just so 'appens Sir James can't draw feet either. This Mister Trimble's giving me brain damage!
Now then, I've started this marathon, I might as well finish it. Jingle Jangle!This next one is also from July:
"While at Bristol Comic Expo last year with the comic Stuffed, I was sat behind a table drawing for a very nice, but mental Dutchman. While I was doing it, a middle-aged moustachioed man sat down next to me and starting drawing. He asked If he could borrow a rubber (eraser, if you're american-it's not that type of moustachioed middle-aged men story!) I didn't have one, so he borrowed it from someone else. It was Brian Bolland!"
Gaze into the fist of Sir Jim'll MBE!! Urgherurgherurgh!!This next one was written during the hot weather:
"I can't take my shirt off to cool down for health reasons. Other people will get sick if they see my pale chubby midriff."
Take my advice, young Michael. Wear a shell-suit. Very cool in hot weather, as it 'appens, and it's flame retardant! Now then, isn't 'retardant' another word for someone with Brain Damage? Urgherurgherurgh!! Let's jump to August now:
" Increasingly, these days, it is getting harder to buy comics in comics shops. It's even more difficult to buy what us bona-fide piss-smelling self-abusing comics nerds really want (besides a good bath): Back issues."
You see, the wearing of a light shellsuit stops you sweating and smelling, as it 'appens! Now then, seeing as you're a comics geek, I could lend you my suit that's got Superman all up the front of it. Lovely, lovely, lovely! Now then, is this Marathon anywhere near finished yet? Should've took the locomotive! Jingle Jangle Jewellery! This is the age of the train! Urgherurgherurgh! This came in a few days later:
"I was in there the other day whilst my better half was looking for a birthday gift for a colleague. While I was doing that obligatory 'man shopping' thing (ie. Huffing and moaning and saying 'Yeah, that's nice' to everything I was asked for my opinion of)"
Now then, now then! I told you, young Mister Trimble, all women except the Duchess, God rest her, give you brain damage. Anyway, the next excerpt is from another 'hot weather' type subject, ice cream, as it 'appens:
"The ice-cream man was called Clive and if you only had 10p, he would give you what was called 'froth'. You'd give him a bowl and he'd fill it with unwhipped creamy fluid that was either going to be ice-cream, or had been in its youth. Anyway, not only was Clive a purveyor of frozen ices, 99s and crushed nuts, he was the local loan-shark. So you'd stand there waiting your turn in the queue, behind a crying alcoholic asking to be 'let off' that week, as he'd pissed his giro up the wall. Very strange. "
Now then, Sir James of Saville can't stand ice cream, as it's temperature reminds me of the dead young flesh. Urgherurgherurgh!
Next up, also from August, as it 'appens:"Oh dear.I remember seeing this on 'Live And Kicking' and Andi "spell it with an 'I', it's wacky!"Peters saying how much he loved it. Having Andi "spell it with an 'I', it's wacky!" Peters liking anything is going to put me off that thing forever."
Stoke Mandeville! He's only knocking kiddies TV presenters! Urgherurgherurgh! Hardest job in the world, young man. You want to try getting kids to eat ice cream and jelly on a roller-coaster! Jingle Jangle! This next one concerns his artwork, as it 'appens:
"This is my latest creation. He is called the Arts Champion, and he goes around Birmingham unlocking Brummies' creative powers at bus stops. In my experience, most Brummies' creativeness at bus stops extends as far as writing 'VILLA KILL BCFC' or 'SHAZZA IS A SLUT' on the window in permanent marker, but never mind."
Lovely, lovely, lovely. I reckon all vandals have got brain damage. Spent too much time with women. Now then, now then, let's jump over to September:
"I had another go at that face recognition/celebrity lookalike thing I've seen on a few other blogs. I've used at least four different pictures, and it keeps coming up with the same result: Pete Fucking Doherty. He's got the same colour hair as me! That's all! He's probably only weighs about eight stone wringing wet! I'm at least two-stone overweight. I wear glasses, he doesn't. He has an up-and-down relationship with a stroppy cow, and I...err...well, you get the idea."
That young Mister Doherty would do well to just use drugs and kick young Miss Moss into touch. Less chance of brain damage. Jingle Jangle! This is also from the lovely month of September, as it 'appens:
"This Pope has said a silly thing which has upset people. I mean, before, he was just a nice, straightfoward, ultra-conservative homophobic ex-Nazi in a dress, but now he said all wars are unholy, I've gone off him."
Is no-one safe from this man's gob?! He's 'ad a go at the Royals, his dear old mum and now the Pope!Urgherurgherurgh!
Now then, let's see if it gets any better:"I was so full of urine my usual shy-bladder syndrome was disabled; Sing Hosanna! I could piss freely at the urinal! Whilst I was there, a man (well it was the Gents') was making really wet noises. My curiousity was piqued. I had to look. This man had a penis at least twice the length of mine ( so it must've been at least 20" long!) and instead of shaking it like the rest of us, he was spin drying his with a kind of helicopter-type motion. It was like he was trying to throw a grapple hook. But it was the sound that got me, it was like the wet, slapping noises a fish might make if it's flying against a wall."
Jingle jangle! In-depth descriptions of a stranger's personal private hospital (Stoke Mandeville) parts .Now then, now then! Jim will fix it for you to see a shrink! You've obviously got brain damage! Now then, now then, we're finally entering October:"He's had an ear infection for as long as I've known him (12 years) which sometimes results in a piccalilli-type substance running out of the side of his head. Once, while eating a kebab, a farmfoods one you have to warm up yourself, a bit of bone in it blocked his passages and was choking him. After lots of wet retching and sucking sounds, he regurgitated what he'd been eating into his hands, flicked out the offending piece of bone, and swallowed it all back down again. "
Lovely, lovely, lovely. That finally brings you up to date.We've finally crossed the finish line and got our foil blanket and Mars bar.Urgherurgherurgh! So young Michael's reached one hundred not out, as it 'appens! Let's hope, once his brain damage is cleared up by my good friends at Stoke Mandeville, his next hundred are in better taste! Jingle Jangle Jewellery!

Gone to the dogs.

My younger brother turned thirty this week. I can't tell you how old this makes me feel. Well, I just did. He was going to have a big 'do' i.e. hire a room, shit DJ and have a buffet, while my family destroy the room's carpet with fag-ends. That idea got nixed, but he wanted to do something different for his thirtieth. I suggested he doesn't punch anyone for the whole evening, but that's just crazy talk, so it was decided we spend an evening at the dog track in Hall Green. I've only ever done it once before,at a different stadium, at a friend's stag night (God, we're wild up here in Brum!) and while I had a nice time, I decided it wasn't really for me. So I set off with trepidation last night.
But it was a good laugh. I won on the first three races, which might have coloured my mood for the rest of the evening, even though I subsequently won fuck all.The whole notion of grown men and women shouting at dogs in a vain effort to make it run faster makes me laugh. The fact they try and encourage it by shouting "Come on, number two!!" which isn't even the dog's name, it's just what the animal leaves behind. I was also surprised at the amount of young attractive ladies that were there. (I wasn't looking too hard, promise!) The last time I went to the dogs at Perry Barr, I wasn't sure if we were in the bar or in the kennels. The women there were that rough they brought their own rohypnol with them. I digress.
Afterwards,we went to Broad Street, which, if you don't know Birmingham, is the main road for pubs and clubs for people who like that sort of thing. This was rubbish for me as I hate standing in a crowded bar shouting at the person next to me because the music's too fucking loud. I told you I was feeling old. Besides this, It was a good night, and the birthday boy didn't hit anyone, but his mate did.

Hanging's too good for them! (my pictures, I mean.)

This is the flyer for the upcoming book launch event for MC2, our anthology that we've been working since February, 1865. Not Really! It just seems like it.
I've seen a copy of the book now, and it looks great, so get yourselves a copy. It will be in some comics shops, but you can get it from Forbidden Planet's website, and as it's distributed by Diamond, you can probably get it from any online comics supplier.
If you're in the area on November 8th, drop in! There's an exhibition of most of the original art, plus we'll be signing and sketching all night. If the prospect of seeing me in the flesh doesn't exactly get your juices flowing (what's wrong with you? Are you dead?) There's our two most well known contributors, Hunt Emerson and John McCrea, who will also be there.
Please come along. I'm missing the Chelsea/Villa cup match for this, so no excuses!

S.I.G?

I finally watched Torchwood on its terrestrial debut last night. I went to bed early on Sunday in a failed attempt to catch up on some missed kip, so I missed it ( and our video's fucked, so I couldn't tape it).
It wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. It's certainly derivative. It's a bit Gerry Anderson- Captain Jack is Captain Scarlet. They're both captains, they look similar, and they're both indestructible. Harkness even has a little mic thing to shout into, just like Paul Metcalfe (Captain Scarlet's real name, trivia fans). Making your main character immortal kinda kills all tension- you always know he's going to survive. They even come out of the floor on a hidden elevator, just like Thunderbirds.
The first episode was better than the second, although they killed off the pretty Indian lady with the metal resurrection hand, so there's no-one at Torchwood I can fancy now.( I bet they're all breathing a sigh of relief now). I could've done without all the shots of people on tops of buildings. There was one of Jack just standing there for ages. It didn't move the plot along, there wasn't even a subtext.
The plot of the second one was just silly.What are the chances of a gas-alien that lives on the energy of male orgasm randomly possesing someone who actually works in a sperm bank?!
Why does the Doctor's hand still move about like Thing Addams?
Despite its faults, I enjoyed it and it's fun. I'm just glad I didn't let my kids watch it! (They were nagging me to let them; they're both Who nuts)

Didn't you used to be Chris Cornell?

The new and final mix of the theme song for 'Casino Royale' is now online. Every thing else about this film looks brilliant(although, I may be biased as I am a Bond geek), but this song You Know My Name is shit. Saying that though, it's better than Sheryl Crow's caterwauling, or that aural diarrhoea that the man-armed baby thief that is Madonna threw up at us for Die Another Day. Tina Turner's was crap as well. I take it back, then, Chris Cornell is just following in the tradition of modern 007 movies. He must've done a brilliant one first, but then the producers came in and said 'Chris, it's for a Bond Movie! Make it shit!!'
What the hell has happened to Chris Cornell? Soundgarden were brilliant. His post break-up solo album was also good, if a little morose. Then came Audioslave, the band he formed with the remaining members of Rage Against The Machine. Their first album was passable, the second terrible, and I can't comment on the third one because I've refused to buy it. His is one of the most formidable and unique singing voices in rock music, yet he's wasting it on shitty Led Zep rip-offs and crappy Bond themes. Sort it out, Chris!
Oh, and tell Tom Morello to try a different guitar solo.

What I did at the weekend, by Mick (aged 72)

I've had a fairly shit weekend. We got new workshirts on Friday. After being told they were to be navy blue, they arrived looking decidedly royal blue. Royal blue is a shit colour. It is the colour of Birmingham City Football Club. It gives licence to the soap-dodging bluenoses to take the piss out of me and my fellow Villa supporters. Still, I can take heart from the fact that my team goes from strength to strength, while their team is in worse shape than their manager's nose.
My supposedly better half buggered off to the big smoke on Saturday (and told me off for also having a big smoke when she got back.) leaving me with two children on a day when it was pissing it down with torrential precipitation, and subsequently stuck in the house, except to go out to get my other half's main birthday present, which weighed a fucking ton and totally bollocksed up my wanking spanners.
Also, I'm having trouble sleeping. Insomnia sucks big badger's bollocks. I feel like I've not had a good night's kip for about three millennia. My body clock has not been right since I started working regular night shifts about eight years ago. I did month on/month off twelve-hour night shifts (sometimes seven a week) for seven years. I've since given up doing night shifts to concentrate on my artwork (with my tongue sticking out, as is usual whenever I concentrate) but my sleep patterns have not righted themselves. I can only spend about an hour at a time asleep, so I keep waking up during the night, looking at the ceiling in the dark whilst mumbling 'Fucking Hell!' or some similar epithet. My brain doesn't want to shut off, it seems. This problem was made worse by my good lady, who is suffering from lurgey, and was snoring very loudly next to me. I know it's probably poetic justice for nights she's spent in similar fashion, but when you have to get some sleep urgently, listening to what sounds like someone drowning in quicksand makes you want to elbow them in the throat. I got up this morning at 5.25! Fucking hell! So mostly, I feel both run-down and pissed off and about forty years older than I am, thanks for asking.

Fast Times at Hero High.

Check out this cool video; it's kinda like Smallville in as much as it shows superheroes as they were at high school. I liked Daredevil best, but then I've always liked laughing at the afflicted.
Fast Times at Hero High

Special People; Smarten Up!

The bus I have to catch to get to work used to stop right outside where I work for a living. It doesn't anymore, since Travel West Midlands (they were, until quite recently, called West Midlands Travel until they rebranded themselves. The difference is both subtle and incredible!) revised all the routes and decided my bus route would better serve me if it was less frequent, stopping further away and with single decker buses instead of double deckers. All this means that I now have a ten-minute walk to my bus stop after work, at which I wait for ages while single deckers packed full of passengers zoom past.
During my aforementioned walk to the bus stop, I happen to go past a factory that employs a large number of what are now called 'special' people. People with learning difficulties. They must finish about the same time I do, because there's loads of them at bus stops or walking past me. Now, these people are generally mocked and frowned upon by society, and I reckon it's got fuck all to do with their disabilities, or the fact they talk very loudly about wrestling or bark at the end of every sentence (the two that get the same bus as me) I think it's the fact that they are always dressed very badly. You can't blame anyone for the fact they're yampy, but someone has to be blamed for dressing them in half-mast trousers, or brown Chairman Mao/Ernst Stavro Blofeld safari suits or filthy anoraks that have 'Football '87' or some other bollocks printed on them. Maybe if Remploy or Mencap or whoever spent less time trying to get them into work and more time dressing them smartly, they wouldn't be stigmatised by the rest of the world.

(Phew! I got through that whole post without mentioning the words Mong, Belmer, Spacker, Joey, or Retard! I think I'm getting better at this!)

The picture is of me (before my recent well-needed haircut) holding up a picture (it was a get-together for comics artists, so just drawing a picture isn't weird behaviour. Well it is, but not at this do) of a chicken wearing a hat I did whilst in a 'refreshed' state, explaining the poor quality of said fowl illustration.
I thought it fitted the theme of this post, for some reason.

Boards don't hit back.

Being as busy as I am these days with eating, working, eating, sleeping, eating and eating, I never get the time to watch new films. I rarely rent new DVDs because of this. I can take the kids to the cinema, but if the film I want to watch is 15 certificate or above, it means sorting out babysitters and that gives my arse headache.
What normally happens is that I see a film I want to watch for £3 in Music Zone (which, funnily enough has less and less music in it every time I go in), so I'll buy it. Last Saturday I saw Ong-Bak in the sale for £2.97. I'm a big fan of Martial Arts movies, ever since I was about eight and allowed to stay up to watch Enter The Dragon on the telly by my Dad, who was a big Bruce Lee fan, and wanted me to see what all the fuss was about. I saw what all the fuss was about. I was knackered at school the next day though, and got told off for yawning.
When I say Martial Arts films, I mean the proper ones from Hong Kong, not Jean-Claude Van-Damme, Chuck Norris or Steven Seagal, or the American efforts of Jackie Chan or Jet-Li.(Hollywood has a tendency of squeezing all the energy and talent out of talented easterners- Jackie Chan, John Woo, Chow Yun-Fat, Jet-Li, Sammo Hung. Ang Lee sort of saved himself with Brokeback, but it was looking dodgy for a while after Hulk. Bruce Lee's career died after his American debut Enter The Dragon, but only because he did as well.) Many an evening or afternoon during my formative years was spent watching Project A, or Armour of God or Police Story (All classic Jackie) or Once Upon a Time In China or Fist Of Legend (Jet) or loads of shitty but still enjoyable chop-socky movies starring either Yuen Biao, Cynthia Rothrock, Sammo Hung and Michelle Yeoh, or combinations of them all.
Since Ang Lee's Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, the martial arts movie has had a bit of a renaissance, with Hero, House Of Flying Daggers, Kung-Fu Hustle and Ong-Bak.
I finally got round to watching Ong-Bak at the weekend after wanting to watch it for ages. It is awesome. Finally, there is a worthy heir to Bruce Lee's vacant throne in Tony Jaa. The man moves like a hyperactive monkey. His style is Muay Thai, (or kickboxing to you and me) so he uses his elbows and knees as weapons rather than his feet or fists, and his fight scenes and stunts make Jackie Chan look like Mollie Sugden. The film also has a lot to say about the rape of Thailand's history to find antiquities to sell to western Buddhists, and the unwelcome side of the tourist boom. See it.
I've posted a clip from a chase scene, which has been re-edited and re-scored for some strange reason, but even in this diluted form it's still phenomenal.

Reasons I Love Comics (issue #8): Stupid Merchandise.

Greetings, true retrievers! It never ceases to amaze me what the proper piss-smelling comics geeks will spend their hard earned cash on. Instead of soap, or a fashionable wardrobe, they will spend their money on Randy Bowen Busts, lifesize replicas of Batman's utility belt( actually, that sounded kinda cool, until I found out it really didn't have smoke bombs or high tensile climbing wire or a gas powered grappling gun!) or costumes for their dogs. I was directed to these pictures today, and they are cute, if a little bit sad. They reminded me of those Silver Age superhero pets such as Krypto the Super-Dog (avoid the new animated series-it's shit.) and Ace the Bat-Hound.
But why stop there with Superman, Batman and Robin? Why not have other comic-related doggy costumes? This gave me the opportunity to indulge myself in one of the things I love best; punning. There are already dog-based characters such as Strontium Dog and Jack Russell, also known as Werewolf By Night. But what about non-canine characters that I can make into a shit joke? Such as The Scarlet Bitch, The Blue Beagle, Doctor Mange, Tony Bark- Iron Man, Cloak and Dogger (Though that may have a seedier connotation), The Flash-hund, Kilodog, Collie-sus of the X-Men, Durham Redsetter and last and very much least, Labra-Thor!
I've enjoyed thinking of those rather too much. Why don't you lot join in? It's great! Let's see if you can do better than my eldest daughter, who came up with 'The Green Arrrroooooooo!!!!' (It's like a dog howling- it doesn't really work in written form. I thought it was funny, any way!) Steve-I know you won't let me down on this. See if there's any more non-Marvel ones out there, as I've wracked my brains, and come up with a few cacky ones. Also, you can't have characters who already are dogs like Fred Basset.

Is It You?

Today, my Clustr map (see it there, in my sidebar? That is how you spell it!) finally updated. It's been on the fritz lately, telling me no-one had visited this blog when people had been and left comments, and other lies. Since I got the map, I've had nearly 2,500 hits, mostly from the UK, but the update told me, I've got two frequent lurkers-one in the U.S. and one in Norway. (I think it's Norway; It's definitely Scandinavia, anyway.) Neither of them have left any comments

Who are these mysterious people? Is it you? If it is, you have impeccable taste. Please leave a comment, and you could win a Mick Trimble rucksack* (pictured) manufactured in yellow polyester as most of my posts concern urinals and/or piddle.

*This is a rucksack from a GPS company. It's fuck all to do with me, really.

What's the Serbo-Croat for utter shite?

There was a really sad weepie on telly last night. England were playing Croatia. Six of Croatia's eleven players ended with 'ic', whereas all of England's did-Pathetic. (Or you could swap it with either Chronic or Imbecilic.) I cannot see how the manager Steve McClaren is the answer to England's troubles when he was part of the problem to start with. He tried a new 3-5-2 formation to give England 'width' but this formation needs someone who can cross the ball, but we are lacking such a player in the England squad.
The best crosser of a football in the world is English; a certain player called Beckham- but McClaren won't pick him. I've never been a massive fan of Beckham as a person, he was the wrong choice for captain, in my opinion, but as a footballer, he still has a lot to offer England. Making him the scapegoat for the shower of shit that was England's World Cup displays is wrong.
Many of our 'stars' just aren't performing. Rooney and Lampard are shadows of their former selves and Crouch has never convinced me as a striker. He has scored a lot lately, but only against shit teams, and he never scores in the big games where the pressure's on. I remember the useless long streak of piss when he was at Villa. Useless. Ashley Cole is also an overrated player whose performances have been below par-but he'll probably blame that on Arsenal. He blames them for everything else. McClaren should have the bollocks to tell these players to either shape up or fuck off. I'd rather he picked a squad of lesser known players who would run their hearts out for the team than this current shower who think they just have to turn up.
The FA have made a fuck up appointing McClaren. Just like the fuck up they made by extending Eriksson's contract. The man they should've appointed is now, I'm happy to say, the manager of the mighty Aston Villa. Martin O'Neill has taken a team that was terrible last year, and with largely the same players, we are now three points from the top of the Premiership and still unbeaten. It's a pleasure to watch the Villa these days.(I hope I'm not jinxing them, now! We're playing Spurs on Saturday and I'm hoping Robinson has a similar game to the one he had last night!) O'Neill is passionate, tactically aware, and can turn ordinary players into good ones. Three qualities lacking in the current England Coach. I hope McClaren proves me wrong.

The Pits.

You all probably know by now that I hate my day job. I realised one big contributing factor of that hatred today; a lot of my colleagues stink. Really bad. The notion of deodorant or even soap is viewed as heresy by these malodorous morons.
Lately, because we've been busy, the management in their infinite wisdom have decided to get temps in to help out. We get our temps from a company called 'Best Connections'. Well, I'd hate to see the worst ones. Every one of them is yampy (that's a Brummie word meaning 'mental' or 'daft') and has severe personal hygiene problems. The newest one we have could kill a canary at two hundred paces. He smells like he wipes his arse on his hair. He has a pungency that mere words cannot even begin to describe. I reckon we get the damaged ones because they're a bit cheaper; Kind of like broken biscuits.
It's not just the temps; there are blokes who've been there for donkey's years who are just as bad. Don't get me wrong-everyone has the right to be smelly, but these fuckers abuse the privilege. There's the mud-monster, let's just call him T- when he last washed his hair, John Smith was leader of the opposition. He did it under duress as well. He recently ate a yoghurt with the communal tea-spoon, scratched his filthy head with it and then put it back, unwashed, where he found it. Many a time has he come into work with his dinner down his shirt. He's had an ear infection for as long as I've known him (12 years) which sometimes results in a piccalilli-type substance running out of the side of his head. Once, while eating a kebab, a farmfoods one you have to warm up yourself, a bit of bone in it blocked his passages and was choking him. After lots of wet retching and sucking sounds, he regurgitated what he'd been eating into his hands, flicked out the offending piece of bone, and swallowed it all back down again.
Then there's B, who has wore the same shirt as long as I've known him, but apparently he wore it long before I joined the company. I don't know what colour it was originally, but it's a kind of pale blue now, with yellow patches under each arm. He once told me that deodorants "are for poofs" which precluded him from using it. B also has half a pound of lard in his hair, and grey teeth that resemble Witton Cemetery. B was recently caught pissing in the sink, probably to keep the urinals clean, because he used to leave his sandwich, half eaten, on top of the pisspot, while he was having a slash, so he could carry on eating it when he'd finished. B has a kind of musty smell to him, not as strong as some, but it smells like he sleeps under a tarpaulin in the shed. He's ugly as well; he fell out of the ugly tree and smacked his face on every branch on the way down. Having a wash won't change that, though.
The worst one, though, is no longer with us. (He's left the company-he's not dead; just smells like he is.) He used to just work in his vest, as this was best for giving us, his colleagues, the full benefit of his armpits. His name is funny, as it relates to his smelliness, but I daren't tell you, just in case. He used to do strange things like dip a steak and kidney pie in his tea. His face and legs were always covered in scabs. Once, when he bent over to get something out of a bin, I saw a brown stripe on the back of the underpants that were on show, because of his ill-fitting filthy tracksuit bottoms.Whenever he was near I used to stick my finger up my arse and then hold that finger under my nose. Anything than smell that bastard. (Not really, though I was tempted) What made him the worst was that he knew he was a smelly bastard. He didn't have the ignorance of other stinkers. He'd stand next to you just to drop his guts and do a 'hurr-hurr' laugh like Fergie from Judge Dredd. These kind of farts hang in your clothes and hair for at least an hour afterwards.
How difficult is it to keep clean? How do you tell a smellly fucker that he stinks without causing upset? Lately, I've found out that shouting "YOU FUCKING STINK!" in their grubby boatraces doesn't help.

Making an exhibition of myself.

The long awaited (by me, anyway) MC2 anthology will be launched on the Wednesday 8th November at the Custard Factory Vaad Gallery. If you're in the area, pop by, and buy yourself a copy. There will be an exhibition of the original artwork from the book as well as some light refreshments. I'll be there, (as long as the free beer lasts, anyway!) pimping my artwork so come along for the novelty value of seeing me in a suit. (I've got a nice tie now, BB!) I might even sign the book for you, as I've recently learned joined-up writing and I want to show off.
I've posted the picture of my last exhibition at the Vaad, as we found this lurking in the camera the other day.

Uncanny.

You Are Cyclops

Dedicated and responsible, you will always remain loyal to your cause. You are a commanding leader - after all, you can kill someone just by looking at them. Power: force beams from your eyes

Waste five precious minutes of your life by finding out which of the X-Men Are a bit like You.

I pinched this from Jemima's blog. The X-man , when killed in The Last Stand , it took the other cast members about five months to realise. We both wear glasses, I suppose. He's known as 'Slim' where as I'm definitely not! He is their leader, though, so that's kinda cool. What I need now, is a Jean Grey to hold my force beams in check with her mind. Or a Madelyne Pryor, or an Emma Frost, or a...well, anyone really.

Pow! Biff! Part 6.

This post could almost be in 'Reasons I Love Comics', as I do love an unintentional laugh when reading the old funnybooks. Anyway, the series documenting funny comic panels, covers and sound effects is back! Aquaman is squirting Aqualad with white fluid. I can't quite tell whether there's a subtext here. Is it just my dirty little mind?
There is no subtext here. Just text! Suffering Sappho!
This is brilliant. The people they last touched are in mortal danger. Wally West thinks about his wife's full name! The Atom and Green Lantern think about their girlfriends, whilst Batters thinks about a young boy. "Robin. What have I done to you?" just sounds sinister.

MeMe Me! Me too!

At a total loss as to what to write about for my next post, I decided to do this meme I've seen on the lovely Jemima's blog. It took far longer than it needed to.
ARE YOU:
1. A cuddler?
I'd like to think so, but I'm sometimes hard to get close to, because of two factors: one- When I'm in a mood, I hate my physical space being invaded. and two- My fat gut stops anyone getting their arms all the way around me. I also think that, whilst cuddling can be nice, someone who's clingy can be a real pain in the arse.
2. A morning person?
I have to wake up at six every morning to go to a shit job where I hate at least 78.5% of my colleagues. I just want to go in, sit down for a bit, drink my coffee and read my paper without being bothered. But then you get some inconsiderate wanker come up and ask "How's the family, Mick?" and they get upset when you reply "Fuck off!" So, no, I'm not a morning person.
3. A perfectionist?
I think I am to a certain extent. With my comic art, I do get supremely furious if I can't get it right,and my figures all look like they've escaped from an institution for help with physical abnormalities but when there's a deadline looming, you kind of have to let it go at some point. I do take pride in my work, even when I'm at my shitty day job, but not to the point where I'm losing sleep if something's not quite right.
4. An only child?
No. I have two brothers and, much later, after the three of us had all but grown up, a half sister. I've always liked the fact that I have two brothers. We look out for each other, which was helpful during the horrible childhood we all had.
5. Catholic?
I'm from an Irish family. My Granddad's a left-footer. My Dad was baptised, but he's a seriously lapsed Catholic, and brought me up to have a healthy distrust of all religion. I'm a prolapsed Catholic, you can stick it back up your arse.
6. In your pyjamas?
I'm fully dressed now, but I hate wearing anything in bed. I might keep my boxers on if I'm staying at someone else's house.
7. Currently suffering from a broken heart?
It's probably the only thing in or on my body that's not aching at the moment!
8. Okay styling other people's hair?
While I was at school, I worked at my uncle's barber shop for five years, sweeping up and making the customers tea or coffee, and washing their hair, if they wanted it. Seeing as most of the clientele were from the leafy borough of Castle Vale, they very rarely wanted it. I don't think I could trust myself with sharp implements near people's ears.
9. Left handed?
No.
10. Addicted to MySpace?
All the other comics artists I know have one. I keep meaning to get myself one, but I can't be arsed at the moment. And Rupert Murdoch is the Antichrist.
11. Shy around the opposite gender?
For a long time, whilst a teenager, I was extremely shy around girls, and make up for it by pulling their hair and running away. Not really. I'm kind of stand-offish around most people-whether they have a vagina or not!
12. Loud?
I have my moments.Mostly involving alcohol and/or football. I relieve a lot of my boredom at work by shouting "What a fucking row! " at the radio.

DO YOU:
12. Bite your nails?
Not really. I have really, really long nails for a boy.
13. Get paranoid at times?
Who told you that? Is that what they're all saying about me?
14. Currently regret something that you have said/done?
I'm always regretting something. Things I've said in anger, or things I've done whilst inebriated which were inappropriate. I also regret buying a canary yellow Ben Sherman shirt in a sale that I've worn only once. I also regret starting these questions.
15. Curse frequently when you get mad?
Are you fucking joking? I curse frequently when I'm calm. When I'm angry, there are whole strings of swearwords with no real words in between spewing from my blue lips!
16. Enjoy country music?
In this country, our country music is the Wurzels. OohArrr!! I think C&W music is as valid as any other artform, but generally, it does nothing for me.
17. Enjoy jazz music?
No. Whenever I listen to Jazz, it seems to be played by five blokes that have a vague memory of what the tune should be, and they're just pissing about until they all remember it exactly again.
18. Enjoy smoothies?
They're alright, but they are just a stamped on banana in a cup. A stamped banana in a cup you've paid two quid for.
19. Enjoy talking on the phone?
I absolutely fucking loathe talking on the phone. I'm so glad e-mails and text messages have been invented.
20. Have a lot to learn?
Absolutely. Life is one big lesson. I need to learn how to use a telephone.
21. Have a pet?
No. I hate cats, my partner hates dogs, so we're at a animal-based Mexican standoff.
22. Have a tendency to fall for the "wrong" person?
Probably. Although I have been with her for fourteen years.
23. Have all your grandparents died?
No. My Nan and Granddad on my dad's side are both still with us. Just about.
24. Have at least one sibling?
I think this was answered in question 4.
25. Have been told that you are smart?
As a child, quite a lot. Then I went to Grammar School, and was told quite frequently that I wasn't. Now I work in a factory, they think you're an intellectual if you read the Mirror instead of the Sun. The fact I've got A-Levels and read books puts me up there with Stephen Hawking in the minds of the Cro-Magnons I work with.
26. Have had a broken bone?
I broke the ulna in my right arm when I was about nine or ten. I broke the ulna and bent the radius. I did it by falling over a bench in a park at highspeed. I went home crying with a forearm shaped like a U-bend. It's probably the most painful thing I've ever endured.
27. Have caller id on your phone?
No, I have caller ego and caller super-ego.

HAVE YOU:
28. Changed a diaper?
Many times. I'm a father of two. I think baby shit is the worst substance known to man. It's smell is still lingering around here at least eight years later. People who don't know us come to our house, take one sniff and ask "You have kids, don't you?"
29. Changed a lot over the past year?
Not as much as I should've done.
30. Had friends who have never seen your natural hair colour?
Friends? What are them, then? I've never, ever dyed my hair, so everyone who has met me has seen my natural hair colour. Just look at people's eyebrows-that tells you their natural colour.
31. Had surgery?
Never. I was present at both my children's caesarean births, which doesn't really count.
32. Killed anyone?
What a dumb fucking question. If I had, am I likely to say yes? Go on then, it's a fair cop, I am Jack The Ripper. I feel so much better for getting that off my chest.
I've killed loads in my comic strips, and once, a strip I'd written and drawn concerning a man fantasising about murdering his wife got me into a lot of trouble.
33. Had a haircut in the last week?
No, but I really need one. I look like Worzel Gummidge.

LAST PERSON WHO:
34. Slept in the bed beside you?
My wonderful better half, who I don't deserve.
35. Saw you cry?
See above.
36. Went to the movies with you?
The missus and kids. We went to see Pirates Of The Caribbean 2. We liked it.
37. Went to the mall with?
My eldest daughter. We were meeting people there before we went to a football match.
38. You went to dinner with?
The missus and kids again. We went for a curry. It was great. I'm going for a meal next week with some relatively famous and some relatively unfamous comics artists at a bloody vegetarian restaurant. I will NOT eat tofu.
39. You talked to on the phone?
It was probably my Mother-In-Law. She didn't want to talk to me.
40. Said "I love you" to you and meant it?
See question 34.
41. Broke your heart?
I don't think it's happened. There are lots of girls who have pissed me off, though.
42. Made you laugh?
My family always make me laugh. They're kind of funny-looking.
Only joking! I think the fact we're always laughing together has kept us relatively solid for the last fourteen years.

WOULD YOU RATHER
43. Pierce your nose or tongue?
I'm not really that keen on any kind of piercing. If I had to choose though, it'd be my nose. I'm not letting any fucker near my gob with sharp tools.
44. Be serious or be funny?
Funny. I do have my serious moments, but don't like them very much.
45. Drink whole or skim milk?
I'd rather drink whole milk, but we buy semi-skimmed. Skimmed milk is just white water.
46. Die in a fire or drown?
Whatever's quickest. If I'm burned to death, my surviving family save money on my cremation!
47. Spend time with your parents or enemies?
I'm not Batman. I don't really have enemies. At least he doesn't have to put up with his parents.

ABOUT YOU:
48. What time is it?
It's about quarter past Chico time.
49. Nicknames?
I don't really have any. 'Mick', I suppose. My brothers call me 'Mickey', which I hate nearly as much as being called 'Mike' , which I seriously detest. At work I'm referred to as 'Big Mick' sometimes, because there's another Mick who's a bit smaller.
50. Where were you born?
I was born In Good Hope Hospital, Sutton Coldfield.
51. What is your birthdate?
The twenty-second of May, nineteen seventy-four. I am now expecting a card from all of you on my next birthday.
52. What do you want?
I've been wondering about this my whole life. The Answer, I suppose.
53. Where do you want to live?
Not bothered. Anywhere nicer than where I am. The Lebanon, maybe?
54. How many kids do you want?
I'm extremely happy and proud of the two kids I've got, and I don't want any more, thanks. Like most blokes, I'd have liked a son, but it wasn't to be. I'm really looking forward to being a grandad one day. Far in the future.