I used to be a werewolf, but I'm alright noooooooooowwwwww!!

This panel is from that top-secret project I told you about. You won't tell anyone about it, will you? It doesn't really give anything away, except that there's an element of werewolves versus cavemen involved. I'm pleased with how this turned out. I was bored with the clichéd rippped-shirt/tatty trousered werewolf look (unless it's Lon Chaney Jr., who had the top button of his shirt done up, as well as his sleeves button right down to the wrists.), so I gave them Jason and the Argonauts type armour, as I'm a sucker for the Judge Dredd/Strontium Dog shoulder and kneepads look. If only I could get away with it here in Birmingham. For the neanderthals I used my colleagues as reference, I just smartened my cavemen up a bit.
Anyway, I have to go now, I've got mammoth-and-elk kebabs for my tea! Yum! yum! Ug!!

Bloody Catholics.

The Catholic Church piss me off. They wanted a veto on allowing gay couples to adopt children from their orphanages. The government decided that they shouldn't have such a thing. Bloody right too. Surely, if anyone is prepared to make the sacrifices and love and look after these poor kids, then they should be given the chance, regardless of creed, colour or sexuality.
If it wasn't for the Roman Catholic stance on contraception, there wouldn't be so many unwanted children in the first place, and if you ask me, getting vulnerable children away from the Catholic church can only be a good thing. Remember, the current Pope tried to hush up all the claims of sexual abuse in Catholic institutions.
They say Homosexuality isn't natural, yet they deny Jesus had any kind of sexual relationship with women. they forbid their Priests from having sex or getting married. This tells me that they think men having sex with women is bad. You'd think they'd be all for homosexuality.
Think about it. Jesus knocked about with twelve geezers who were all 'fishers of men'. The only woman Christ loved was Madonna. If all that washing of feet stuff doesn't have a gay subtext, then my uncle wasn't Mr. Gay UK!
If God created us all, then he created gays and lesbians as well.
Surely any decent religion should be based on love, not hate. If these kids need a loving, decent home, and there's someone who is wiling to give it them, what harm is being done?

Invasion UK?

You may have heard through shitrags like the Daily Mail that Britain is being invaded by Eastern Europeans. It's alright for the middle class to worry and moan about these things, but generally, it's the working class that has to deal with it, after all, we have to work alongside these people and if there are any jobs at stake because of cheaper imported labour, then it's ours.
Recently, at my shitty job, we've had half-a-dozen Poles and a Czech start work, and so far, I've got no problem with them. They work hard, don't annoy me and keep themselves to themselves. If only my English colleagues were the same. One of my old (English) colleagues said to me :"We're being invaded by Poland! It's supposed to be the other way round!"
I told him that it wasn't us that invaded Poland, it was the Third Reich, but, judging by his comments, he was probably on Hitler's side. There seems to be the attitude that it's OK to be racist towards Poles, as they're white. (Although, saying that, a lot of them seem to think it's okay to be racist out loud to blacks and Asians, as well.)
The Czech bloke is great. He likes Metal music ( All the Eastern Europeans I've met tend to, and are genuinely impressed when I tell them that Black Sabbath, Judas Priest and Napalm Death all come from Birmingham. Not so impressed with Magnum, though.) supports the Villa, and is much brighter than the English tossers he has to work with. He can speak four languages and has been all over the world. He genuinely loves it here in Blighty.
Despite all this, though, I think there has to be a thorough debate on immigration. If the supposed thousands of Eatern Europeans are coming here, then the NHS is going to need more beds, we're going to need new schools, and the recent furore concerning the overpopulation of our prisons is going to get worse if the immigrants are going to start transgressing. Don't get me wrong, I think immigration is a good thing, it enriches our culture, brings us new skills, and if they are all working, they're all paying tax, which will help with the aforementioned problems eventually, if not right now. But this is a small island, and we have people born here who are sleeping in hostels and on the streets, maybe we should worry about them before we have to worry about housing foreign nationals.

Cheerio, Milan.

At the moment I'm working on a six-page comic strip. But I can't tell you anything about it. It's a top-secret project and I've been sworn to secrecy. All I will say is that it's based on a real person, and this is a pain in the arse. It's really difficult to get facial consistency anyway (which is why I reckon the superhero costume was invented in the first place; especially Spidey's.) but when it's based on someone real, it's bleedin' obvious when you haven't got it right. I must've used up at least half a rubber (eraser, if you're a Yank) on just one panel. Still, I'm enjoying it, and it's lightyears away from 19th-century Yorkshire, and that can only be a good thing.
Aston Villa finally won on Saturday. It was only Watford, and we struggled, but we got the result. We struggled mainly because of the woeful finishing of Milan Baros, A dud Czech we finally got rid of today. The shit I've had to put up with at work! They're mostly Birmingham City supporters (or Bluenoses, as they're called around here. I prefer the term 'tossers') who have been doing well lately. They beat Newcastle in the F.A. Cup 5-1, and to hear them talk, they'd already won the fucking thing. I'm not one for predictions, but I will say this. The only way Blues will get on an open-topped bus this year is if the club goes on an outing to Blackpool. Did you hear the one about the official Blues Diary having our honours in it? According to the official Birmingham City Diary, they won the European Cup in '82, the Super Cup in '83, as well as seven League Championships, seven FA Cups, Five League Cups and the Intertoto. They wish. All they've ever won is the Auto Windscreens trophy, a poxy wooden shield thing they had to beat the mighty Carlisle to get. Baros might've been shit, but even he could score against the scum. (see picture)
Doesn't anyone want Juan Pablo Angel? He's like a jigsaw puzzle; he goes to pieces in the box. All he needs to do is learn the offside rule and how to go faster than 'walk' and he might do the business for you.
I seem to have digressed. Football again. I apologise. Normal service resumes soon.

Channel Poor.

So the great white whale Jade Baddy has been evicted. Thank fuck. Every day this week I've had to sift through endless pages of Big Brother-related bollocks to get to some proper news. Big Brother is supposed to be watching me, but I'm not watching it. As I've never been a BB fan (that's big brother, not bb) I am only going on what I've read and seen on the news about the show. At first, I thought it was just a middle class press attack on obviously working class people (God, how that Goody woman makes me hate my own class), and a Jade backlash was long overdue. I thought (at first) that if the roles were reversed, and let's say someone like Tara Palmer-Tomkinson was in an Indian Big Brother house and acting all superior and spraying on fake tan, I could imagine pissed off Indian housemates remarking 'She wants to make herself brown' and not be considered racist. But then I saw the clips on the news. Bloody Hell. Jade is an evil troll, and her mates who laugh with her whilst she is shouting moronic drivel are just as bad. She probably doesn't even think she is racist, because she's not actually used any offensive racist terms of abuse (as far as we know) but saying stuff like 'they eat with their hands don't they?' and 'fuck off home' shows her up as the ignorant, useless, ugly waste of skin she is. Deep down, she resents Shilpa, as she is everything Jade isn't, ie. Clever, classy and attractive, whereas Miss Goody has a face like a blistered pisspot and if brains were shit, she wouldn't even stink. Hopefully, this series of Big Brother will lead to us never clapping eyes on the lying stupid bitch again, and also lead to us never watching Big Brother again, because it's been cancelled.
I mean, what's happened to Channel 4? It used to give us great shows like The Comic Strip Presents...,Vic Reeves Big Night Out, Absolutely, The Tube and Father Ted, whereas these days, Peep Show and Shameless aside, it churns out utter shite like Richard & Judy, Paul O'Grady, Location,Location, Hollyoaks, Wife Swap, Ten Years Younger, Deal Or No Deal ,The Friday Night Project, and Big Brother and all its shitty spin offs. Channel 4 used to lead the way once, these days, it's doing anything for ratings, and its failure to act or even answer any questions on the BB racism issue shows it up for the gutless channel it has now become. Below is an example of the total cobblers that passes as teatime entertainment on C4 these days.

Swings and Roundabouts.

I found out on Saturday that I'm no longer wanted to pencil Jane Eyre. The pencils I sent him that 'would take some beating' (as said in the original email) are now not good enough. Oh well.
I'm glad I didn't hand in my notice, and I regret telling everyone I'd got the gig in the first place, as these things have a habit of turning round and biting me on the arse. It is a bit crap to tell someone they've got a job (and be really enthusiastic about it) and then pull the rug out a fortnight later.
Now I've had a couple of days to think about it, I don't think Jane Eyre was really 'me', and I probably wouldn't have done it justice. I've got a few other irons in the fire. To be seriously considered for the job in the first place was a step forward for me. It was nice while it lasted.
Anyway, I drowned my sorrows with Herculean amounts of alcohol on Saturday, when I met up with some old schoolfriends of mine, and had a great time. Later on, after most of our original party had gone home, some other people (unconnected with our party and quite coincidentally)I went to school with turned up. They've all gone over to the Dark Side (they're all teachers) and they've all got no hair. It seems, in the sixteen years since I last saw these blokes, I've aged the least. But it's swings and roundabouts, as I've probably gained the most weight.

Review.

There you are! I can see you again! My glasses have returned from London. They said it was nice to go away, but it's nicer to come back. Anyway, I've got my vision back.
I might have mentioned that I'm in a book called MC2 , which is out now in most bookshops of quality. You just have to look very hard for it. It was weird seeing it in Waterstone's the other weekend. A story I've written and drawn is on sale in Waterstone's! It was tucked in between a history of Wonder Woman and a book on old Commando comic strips, but even so, it felt nice. I wonder if Salman Rushdie feels the same when he's in Waterstone's with his bodyguard and sees Midnight's Children? I bet he has a wry smile under his fake beard. Anyway, the book has recently gone on sale in the States, and it's been reviewed here, by a very nice man called Joshua Pantalleresco (how American is that name?) who obviously knows what he's on about, as he likes the book. Who said the Yanks are stupid?

"These aren't the resolutions you're looking for."*

The beautiful BB has come up with a brilliant idea on her blog. She's made a quote from Batman her New Year's resolution. It was 'It's not who I am underneath, but what I do that defines me.'
It's from 2005's Batman Begins. This is fantastic. I'm wracking my brains thinking of a similar superhero-based resolution for myself. There's 'With great power comes great responsibility', which is Spider-Man, of course, but I dismissed it as it's not really a resolution, as true as it is. There's Dredd's 'I am the law!!' which can be a resolution, but I'm not the law, not even in my own house. There's also Doctor Robert Bruce Banner's 'Hulk Smash!' which does fit into my philosophy, but my name's not Hulk. 'Mick Smash!' doesn't have the same ring, it just sounds like a brand of instant mashed potato you'd see in Lidl. The one I nearly considered was 'One more drinksh not gonna hurt, ishit?' from Iron Man, but in the end, as unoriginal as I am, I also plumped for Batman. It's this quote, from the 1966 TV show, with Adam West:

It sums me right up, that does.

*Title quote from Afro Ben.

Four eyes good; two eyes bad.

If you could see me now, you would wonder why I'm typing with my nose touching the screen. It's because my dopey other half has took my glasses. She's away in London for the weekend, and she took my glasses instead of her own. She has her contact lenses, so she's not blind. I think I might have to invest in a second pair, but I've never needed them until today. I have some prescription sunglasses, but seeing as it doesn't get light these days, I'd still be bumping into things.
It's totally infuriating. I keep wanting to push imaginary spectacles back up to the bridge of my nose. When I put my jumper on, or wash my face, I keep trying to take my missing glasses off. I totally sympathise with recent leg amputees who still think they have an itchy ankle.
I'm exaggerating slightly. I'm not like Velma from Scooby-Doo. I can function without them, in fact, I didn't even start wearing them regularly until I was 25 or so, when the years of being a self-abusing comics nerd took their toll, but now I realise how much I do need them. If I keep squinting like this, I'll end up looking like Lee Van Cleef by the time she gets back from the Big Smoke. Still, I suppose it gives us something new to argue about, other than the usual money and sex disagreements. I think she charges me too much.

Return to real life.

This week has been weird. I went back to work the day after New year's day. It's been kind of strange, as I know I'm not there for much longer, and that makes every day seem like a fucking leap year. Every day drags like a seal's arse.
We have a new temp labourer at work, who has just arrived from somewhere in Africa. All of our temps are from abroad lately, which tells me that our own British wastes of space don't want to work, so we have to import them from aboard. We've had Iraqis, Czechs, Poles, Pakistanis and now this African geezer. I'm not sure which part of the continent he's from, but they fucked him off today, because he's weird and useless, so it doesn't really matter.
His name is John, and he has this habit of suddenly breaking into song for no reason. He's not just singing along to the shitty radio. He's singing African songs. Out loud. Which is unsettling, because it means he is enjoying himself.
Yesterday, I was putting my water bottle back into my locker after lunch, and, unbeknownst to me, John was right behind me, and , unexpectedly, started shouting ANC-type chants. It scared the living shit out of me. The last thing I need at the moment is a member of Ladysmith Black Mambazo with dreams of a solo career practicing down my earhole.
Anyway, they got rid of him today, because he was generally useless at his job, which is a shame, because he added a bit of interest to a dull day.
Anyway, my new job might be delayed a while, as they're having problems with the scriptwriter, so I may be stuck in my daymare a bit longer. I've been designing characters while I'm waiting, and the picture above is my interpretation of Mr. Rochester. I did do a Jane Eyre, but I took the book's description about her being a bit ugly a bit too literally, and the publisher didn't like it. He did like ol' Rochester, though, so it's not all bad news.

Happy New Year!

I hope you all had a good New Year. I spent new year's eve at home, because we celebrated it the night before. You can see bits of what I got up to here, at BB's bounteous blog. It looks like a less polished but more amusing episode of Friends (which wouldn't be difficult, as I've been to wakes more amusing than that pile of over-rated shite.) A good evening was had by all, even if I didn't agree that Superman Returns was the classic other people thought it was, and here's me thinking some people could have different opinions about films. (Hence the picture.)
New Year's day is always rubbish. It's always the day before I have to go back to work (It won't be that bad this year, as I'm not staying there long as I've got to do a book and stuff.) The Telly today is shit. Bloody Zulu again. Half a Fucking Sixpence. Shitty Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Same old shite, year after year.
Every year I make the same resolutions ie. Eat less pies and pack up the fags (cigarettes, if you're American) but I'm still a 20-a-day man, and I smoke like a chimney. So this year, I'm making some resolutions I can keep.
I resolve not to shave for at least three days.
I resolve to go to the toilet when I need to.
I resolve not to relinquish possession of the remote control.
I resolve not to say anything bad about Superman Returns, despite the fact that Kevin Spacey was crap as Luthor, Kate Bosworth was insipid as Lois Lane, and overall, the film was dull. Bollocks, I've broken that one already.
I hope you have more willpower than I in your resolutions. Have a great 2007!