Mick's BICS

Last weekend, I attended the British International Comics Show (BICS) here in Birmingham, and it was a really enjoyable weekend. The venue, as it as has been for the last couple of years, was Millenium point, a giant, grey building that looks like it should be in Mega-City One. this means that the two guys dressed up as Mega-City judges looked right at home when they were milling about the place.

Our friends Jamie and Theresa came up to stay with us for the weekend, so this meant Jamie and I could go to the show whilst the ladies went shopping. They also went to see Fame at the cinema, and apparently it's a load of shit. What a surprise.

When you get there, you have to go into the lift to get to where the event is being held. This must've been the right place, because sharing the lift with us was a stormtrooper. Not the historical Nazi-type, you understand, the imperial type, from Star Wars. After we got out of the lift, Jamie, who is a Star Wars nut, saw a group of blokes dressed up as various types from the space saga. There were Clone Troopers, Stormtroopers, Mandalorians (well, a couple of guys dressed as Boba Fett, anyway)and TIE-fighter pilots. He gave me his camera and then went and asked them if he could have his photo taken with them, and they duly told him to get on his knees and pointed their blasters at him. As usual, I pressed the button and nothing happened. I have a real problem with digital cameras. It's as if my hands turn into cow's tits.(That's why all of our holiday photos have just me in them!) It's a shame, it would've been a cool photo.

After we got in, we had a mooch about, and there seemed to be quite a lot fewer stalls than there were last year, but this meant there was more room to walk about. Unless you were stuck behind the Dalek, which seemed to revel in blocking the gangways. This year, as I didn't really have anything new to sell, my plan was to show my portfolio around and hopefully get some work. Everyone I showed my work to really seemed to like it, and I've already had a couple of emails asking me if I'd like to do something.(more on that when I know more myself!)

The main reason for going to these things, however, is to catch up with people you only ever tend to see at these things or shoot the shit with the creators you've worked with before. I tend to find that you hardly ever talk about comics with comics creators. The main topic of conversation seemed to be how shite the launch party was. I was glad I didn't go. It was held in the Panama bar, which is off Broad Street (Birmingham's 'Golden Mile' , which is only golden in the same way a stream of piss is golden.) I read somewhere that BICS special guest Howard Chaykin described the women he'd seen on Broad Street as “the sluttiest, trampiest women” he’d ever seen. Sounds about right.

As usual, we met up with Andy Winter, my collaborator on Septic Isle (still selling well), and moaned about the state of the world, as we tend to do, and we arranged to go out for dinner later on. I also showed him the two pages I've done for the four-page web comic I'm doing for him right now. (preview panel above) Also, over the weekend, I bumped into a couple of people I've not seen for a couple of years. Firstly, there was Michiru Morikawa, who was on the StripSearch course with me way back in the mists of time, and anyone who lives in Brum will be familiar with her art, as it is her work that's on the back of many of our buses, asking people if they want to adopt. Anyway, she's gone back to live in Japan, but she was back to promote her book Buskers, published by Imsomnia Publications. Her work is fantastic, pick up a copy. It's worth it.

I also bumped into fellow Brummie and Villa fan Ben McCool, who wrote the script for the Stuffed comic, which included my very first published comic art. He lives in the Big Apple these days, writing for DC. As usual, he had a stinking hangover when I saw him. He told me that he was taking his DC editor to Villa Park for the match against Manchester City. That's got to be a culture shock for the poor sod. He probably now knows very well what Karren Brady gets up to of a night-time, after having it sung at him by 40,000 people.

I also had a couple of stints manning the MC2 table, which was right next to Diamond Distribution's table, which had loads of free comics on it. During both of my stints, I never sold any books, but I was asked about sixty times 'Are these free?' by punters looking at the Diamond table.

On the Saturday night, Me and my glamourous other half, Jamie and his, Andy Winter and Andy Radbourne (creator of Brit Force, another comic you should go out and get) all went out for dinner and a few drinks, and a cracking night was spoiled when I got home by me not looking where I was going in my garden and ending up falling into some bushes and skinning my knee. The less said about this the better.

We went back on the Sunday, after being forced to watch Strictly Come Dancing, which seems to go on forever. There have been wars that have taken less time. Most wars are probably less psychologically scarring, too. I showed my portfolio to the people I didn't get a chance to see the day before, and again, generally positive feedback. I ummed and aahed about forking out for some Copic pens. They were very expensive, and despite hearing 'they're what Adam Hughes uses' at least twenty times, I decided not to, as I'm not Adam Hughes.

Generally, though, it was a great weekend, and I'm hoping it happens again next year, which is likely, as more people came this year, apparently. More normal-looking people, too! Since I've been going to Comic-cons regularly, I've noticed that the clientele is getting more and more normal-looking; glamourous, even! The days of the BO-stinking hunchbacks are long gone.

Shock News! Something Interesting Happening In Birmingham!

This weekend, I'll be attending the BICS (it used to be the Birmingham international comics show, but it has been upgraded to the British international comics show this year.), which is held at Millenium Point, here in Birmingham. I'll be manning the MC2 table for a wee bit each day, and no doubt I'll be lurking around the Moonface Press table at some point, too, so if you want your freshly-purchased copy of Septic Isle signed by me, hunt me down. Figuratively speaking, of course.


It's really strange attending one of these things in your own town. I'm used to going to Bristol and staying in a hotel, so just hopping a bus to go to a major convention like this doesn't seem right, yet. This event is going from strength to strength every year, and with the Bristol show seemingly shrinking away into nothing, it's possibly now the UK's premier comics convention. I just hope all the publishers do something original this year, the last couple of years have been dominated by zombies. Marvel zombies 1,2& 3. Zombie variant covers. Barack Obama vs. The Army Of Darkness (okay, I made that one up, but I wouldn't be surprised if something like this turns up in Previews in the near future.) And last but not least, DC have jumped on the bandwagon with Blackest Night (which is apparently quite good, although I'm yet to read any of it). I'm fed up with the reanimated dead. You wouldn't catch me jumping on that particular bandwagon.

Okay, maybe I would. It's good to see the Zombie-Mick would still wear his glasses.

Anyway, come along to BICS! You know it'll be good for you!

Oh, and following up on my last post, I thought I'd put this video up, too. You've probably seen it, as it's done the rounds, but it raises a smile, even on my dry, black-hearted , cynical lips.

BICS

This weekend I attended the BICS (Birmingham International Comics Show), a much improved convention than the one last year. And it was much busier, with people queueing for at least an hour to get in when it first opened. The ThinkTank at Millenium point was a much better venue than the Custard Factory was last year, the convention actually seemed like a proper comics convention and not a church hall-type fete.
I didn't know there were function rooms at the ThinkTank, which is the new home for the old Birmingham Museum of Science and Industry. I thought they'd stick all the tables in and around the exhibition, and I was dreading our table being by the exhibit which is a giant model of a colon, which would send out the wrong impression of our comics!
I spent most of Saturday manning the MC2 table, and catching up with the bods I'd not seen since the Bristol Expo. I left early to watch the England footy match (wish I hadn't-what a shit game!) then I went back out to meet up with the other Mc2-ers at the 'official' bar for the event, which was Bennetts, a pub that used to be a bank on Bennett's Hill. Just as it was getting warmed up, though, they decided to call time, so there was a mad exodus of comics creators and fans across the road to a pub called the Briar Rose. Afterwards we went back to the Britannia Hotel and had a few more in there.
I spent most of the night drinking with John McCrea, and meeting a few new people, at one point I seemed to be surrounded by everyone from Northern Ireland who had anything to do with comics. This isn't a bad thing, as a good time was had by all.
What spoilt it was the two hour wait for a taxi when I left. I'd forgotten it was Eid, so most Muslim taxi drivers weren't at work, so there were less taxis. I didn't get home until five in the morning. So, subsequently, I slept in 'til late, and didn't bother going to the con on Sunday, as I wouldn't have got there until about three, and I felt as rough as a badger's ballbag anyway.
I'm just hoping there'll be another Comics Show next year. I was talking to Shane Chebsey, one of the organisers, on the night, and he told me that they can't afford to do it again next year, unless they get a sponsorship for the event. Let's hope so, it'll be a shame if this event never happens again.

Right, I'm off to catch up on some kip now.

Connections, Carlisle, Conventions and Celebrity Chefs.

Hiya! I know it's been a long time, but I've been a busy lad just lately.
This is my first post from my new computer in my (fairly) new flat, I've just this minute plugged myself back into the 21st century, and I've missed it. My ex is probably very glad that I don't have to usurp her computer throne any longer to make various emails , delete the hundreds of spam emails I've received since I last logged on, use it for various comicky/arty reasons, or generally take up space in her living room; space that she fought hard for by fucking me off in the first place!

I've just come back from a trip to Carlisle, which is a great looking city (old fashioned stone built houses, twisty streets and a castle) but of a night, filled up with the same pissed-up wankers you get in any town centre, and there were rather a lot of coppers about. I thought Cardiff had Plod-overload the other week, but Carlisle was like Mega-City One in comparison. (I think the impending visit of Millwall F.C. to the local footie stadium might've had something to do with it, though.) Weirdest sight of the weekend was four Policemen interrogating a dwarf on the Carlisle Road, outside the hotel I was sleeping in. Although I wasn't actually sleeping at the time, I was outside, staring at four burly coppers questioning a PORG.
Ah, the hotel! Wasn't it lovely? Well, no, actually. The toilet made this noise whenever you flushed it that put me in mind of the noise a Harrier VTOL might make whenever it takes off. It was this loud 'BOOOOM!!!' which I was certain was waking everyone else up in the city of Carlisle, never mind the next room!
As I was going out with a nice young lady, I thought I'd make an effort and actually iron my shirt. I know! Crazy behaviour!! As this hotel was shit, there was no iron or ironing board in my room, but there was a leaflet in my room telling me about the special 'ironing room' which was on the second floor. I walk up the stairs, clutching my crumpled shirt, towards the ironing room, imagining a pressing paradise, rows and rows of ironing boards, hundreds of young professionals, like me (okay, not like me, then!) ironing their garments with a beatific smile plastered all over their boatraces, the combined outpourings of steam turning the second floor of the hotel into a sauna...
Let's say the reality didn't match up. the ironing room was a windowless room about the same size as the bedrooms, with a smattering of litter on the floor, unheated (it was bloody cold) with one ironing board and battered-looking iron in it. It has to be the most soul-destroying room in the whole world .(Actually, Birmingham City's trophy room is probably worse, but seeing as no-one has ever needed to go in there, we'll never know.) I quickly ironed my shirt and got out of there before the Devil realised I was trespassing on his property and try to claim my eternal soul as compensation. It worked, anyway, as the afore-mentioned evening with the young lady was a great success.
The weekend was nearly ruined by the British Rail network returning to form after lulling me into a false sense of security with a hassle-free journey up, with a return journey that took twice as long, and an enforced connection because they decided not to stop at Birmingham New Street anymore. I can't really blame them for this, it is a shithole, but I've got no choice, I have to disembark there! So, I had to get off at Stafford and wait half-an-hour to catch a train that did stop at my station. While waiting, I went outside the station for a cigarette (it had been at least five hours since my last one) and noticed that the bloke smoking a fag next to me was none other than celebrity chef Paul Rankin (the longish-haired Irish one who sometimes has a goatee). He got on the next train as well, and got off in Wolverhampton. The lady in the seat behind me asked her friend "Isn't that that chef? Irish one off of Ready, Steady, Cook? Thought so. You'd think he'd travel First Class, money he's got!" He was only going one stop!! He wouldn't have had enough time for a cup of tea, let alone any of the other treats First Class has to offer! Silly woman! Then I remembered we were in Wolverhampton, and there's more brains in a butcher's sink than there is in the whole town (sorry, it's a city, now, isn't it?) of Wolvo.

Anyway, I'm home now.

Next weekend is the Birmingham International Comics Show (BICS) at Millennium Point, Curzon Street, funnily enough, here in Birmingham. I'll be there at the MC2 table, trying to flog our new comic Ghosts , which I didn't contribute to, as I'm busy with Septic Isle, still (I'll post some more images from that as soon as I get this sodding new computer to recognise my old scanner. Don't want to buy a new one as it's an A3 one, and them are dear!) If you can come along, please do, as the guests include Mike Mignola, Kevin Nowlan and one of my all time faves Mick McMahon, who I reckon draws the definitive Dredd, and doesn't do many conventions, so it's worth checking out. We need this convention to be a success! Not least because I know how much work the organisers are putting in! Come and meet me-I'll be the four-eyed one sweating out a hangover at the Midlands Comics Collective table (found out today that there exists a Manchester Comix Collective! First they pinch our big wheel, and now this!) and buy one of our books. You could purchase the ones I'm in!! See you there!

It's amazing how quickly sitting here typing gets boring. Not missing it anymore!)

Fame Remaining: 14 mins and 59 secs...

Last night the BBC, as part of its Ramadan season, broadcast a programme entitled She's A Thoroughly Modern Muslim. I mention this because I was in it. For all of one second. Maybe a second and a half. The programme featured four Muslim women from around the country and how they're getting on in 21st Century Britain. One of the women was a member of the Midlands Comics Collective and rising star in the world of cartooning Asia Alfasi. The programme showed her at one of our meetings and I was in the background in my rather cool Silver Surfer T-shirt looking all handsome and talking to fellow MC2-er Mikey Ball (possibly also looking handsome, but you couldn't tell, as you only saw the back of his head). For all of one second.

Anyway, none of these thoroughly modern muslim women were quite as thoroughly modern as the lady I saw the other day. She was wearing the hijab headscarf, and she was also wearing quite revealing denim hotpants! Nothing illustrates the east meets west melting pot that is Brum better than that!

Maybe they should do another, similar documentary about another misunderstood minority in this country called He's A Thoroughly Modern Nerd, where I could talk about how society stereotypes me and thinks I'm oppressed, and think I'm forced to wear strange clothes, clothes like my rather cool Silver Surfer t-shirt. (NB. said garment was bought way before the Hollywood travesty FF2 came out and made Norrin Radd a bit rubbish. It depicts the cover of Silver Surfer #19 and has groovy John Buscema art on it. I love John Buscema's art.)

Anyway, us thoroughly modern nerds have something to shout about, as BBC4 are currently having the Comics Britannia season, the Comics Britannia show itself was quite good, focusing on the history of the Dandy and the Beano and all their spin-offs and imitators. It was good as I found out what Kevin O'Neill looks like, and he surprised me as he doesn't look like his drawings. People say the characters in my strips look like me (although, looking at my strips, I've yet to draw a fat four-eyed bastard, so maybe they're wrong), and a lot of the fairly well-known artists I've met over the years look like their drawings. Especially Bisley! But Kevin doesn't. That would be quite difficult though,as Kev O'Neill's characters are a lot more abstract than most other mainstream artists. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't expecting them to be interviewing a real-life Nemesis The Warlock on his love for the Beano, but that would've been cool, though, wouldn't it? My main problem with the documentary was that a lot of the original creators and fans said that political correctness had ruined the D.C. Thompson comic books, but I'm sick of this notion that all P.C. is bad and restricts any kind of freedom of expression. You can't have a comic book aimed at kids (or anyone, really) that's as full of racial stereotypes as the Beano used to be, especially as a fair number of the readers of these books are now from a non-white family. And having bullying and corporal punishment used as entertainment just can't be right. Despite this, I enjoyed the documentary, and I'm looking forward to the next part. Also, on Sunday is a show called In Search Of Steve Ditko, in which Jonathan Ross interviews the Spider-man co-creator. Also fab, are the re-runs of the old '60s Batman TV show, which are great. The sight of Batters disco-dancing with Jill St. John is fantastic and gives me an excuse to re-post this clip, one of my YouTube favourites:

See you all again soon.

TW3.

It's been a while since my last confession, sorry, blogpost, but I've been stuck away from a computer for most of the time, which is probably a good thing as it means I can get some proper work done. Since my last post I went to see Transformers with my nippers, which, even though I am of the right age and in many other ways I'm your typical geek, I had no interest in seeing.
(The whole Transformers craze passed me by as a kid, probably because for a lot of the eighties my dad was one of Thatcher's three million and the toys were so fucking expensive. When I moved house recently, I dug out some of my old 2000ADs from the early eighties, and some of them had adverts for the Optimus Prime playset, and that cost £25 back then! I remember one of my cousins, you know, the more affluent branch of the family tree, the uncle who got a VCR first, the first microwave, the first inside toilet (I'm joking! I've always had an inside lavatory really!) having an Optimus Prime and realising even then, at about eleven years old, what a waste of money it was.)
Anyway, my eldest wanted to see it, so we went, and even though I'm not a fan, it was enjoyable enough, despite the fact that during the fight scenes I couldn't tell what was going on at all. I just spent the time perving over the female lead of the movie, and being a typical dad. ("HOW much for Pick n' Mix?!!")

Saturday night I went drinking with my brothers, and I found out something about what Joan Collins does sexually that I can't repeat as it is totally unverified and probably legally actionable, but it seems to work for her. That's all I can say.

I got another page done this week, started the next one, and I seem to have got into a rhythm which is good. That's the thing with relationship break-ups and house-moving, it don't half bollocks up your schedule.

Went to a Midlands Comics Collective meeting on Wednesday, I told them I couldn't take part in the next anthology ("Ghosts") as I want to concentrate on Septic Isle, but I don't think my absence from the next book will be noted especially, as the rest of the guys are just so damn talented! At the meeting I also got some free comics from Hunt Emerson, including the American Splendor anthology for Vertigo he did a strip for, as well as a fantastic Robo-Hunter trade paperback. Ian Gibson is fantastic, always been a major fan of his stuff. Free comics are always good!

Yesterday, I attended the funeral of my ex's Granny, my kids' Great-Granny and it was a good service which went without a hitch, and as far as 'nice' can be said about funerals, this was a nice funeral. If she was looking down, I'm sure she would've appreciated it.

So, that was my week. It'll probably be another week or so until my next confession.

Pictures Of An Exhibition.

Hello there. This motley crew here is a 'squad photo' of the Midlands Comics Collective, taken at the book launch of MC2 for the Birmingham Post. That's me, wearing the whistle and the poppy. (It was taken in November! I'm not one of those weirdos who wears one all year round, or too lazy to take it off, like those people still driving around with Comic relief noses stuck to the front of their cars.)
I'm posting this because I recently acquired these photos from the nice lady who took them for the Birmingham Mail (she also happens to be my youngest brother's girlfriend. My heart goes out to her! Her familial relationship with me explains my photo's prominence in the Mail article!), because Mikey (the one with the V For Vendetta T-shirt and beard, top left) wanted the photos for the collective's website.

Also in the photos she sent me were the ones she took of me for an earlier exhibition called The Mathematical Explanations Behind Silly Drawings. (A wanky title, I know. Rest assured I had fuck all to do with it!) Above this paragraph is the one they used for the article, and it makes me look quite normal. Almost good-looking!
I think, when it comes to how I look, I'm kind of in the Coca-Cola championship in the English football league of looks, up there with the Ipswich Towns and Southamptons (also, quite aptly, those teams' glory days are long behind them!) not up there with the Man Uniteds or Arsenals, but not nearly as ugly as the Walsalls or the Leyton Orients.
(While I'm on football, I read an article last week about those people going to the FA cup final who didn't deserve to go [ and, after watching the shit that was served up, probably won't accept their free tickets next year.] and it mentioned Conservative leader David Cameron had professed himself an Aston Villa supporter. Aaaaarghhh!! Although he said he can only name about three players and didn't understand the offside rule, it makes me feel dirty that the leader of the Tories supports the same football team as me. He probably thinks that him saying stuff like that will make people like me vote for the twat, but it's more likely to make me stop supporting the club I've followed since before I could walk! Prince William and Tom Hanks have also said they follow the Villa, but I've never stood behind them in the queue for pies in the Holte End at half-time. I have stood behind Nigel Kennedy in the queue. He's still a twat, though. But, I digress.This should have been another post!)

Like I said, I thought I was a Championship-looking bloke. Then I saw the pics she didn't use! This one above makes me look like I've escaped from Highcroft Hospital. (This is a joke specific to Erdington, Birmingham, and I've moved from there now, so I don't get the reference anymore, either!) I look like someone who sleeps in a rubber room, and spends his days colouring in and cutting out pictures from magazines with plastic scissors, (as I might hurt myself with metal ones) and has been let out for the day to look at pretty pictures. Two of which I've just stolen because I like them. I've been relegated to Coca-Cola league one.

After seeing this one on the left, though, I've gone into freefall, had another bad season and dropped into the bottom tier for the first time in my club history. Just look at it! The rictus grin, the three chins, and the pig trotter-like hands! the only good thing about it is the fantastic statue of the Green Man behind me, with his plant-life penis. I love this sculpture. It reminds me of DC comics' Woodrue and Tolkein's Ents. (It's at the Custard Factory in Birmingham, if you ever want to take a butcher's at it.) I'm just glad the picture editor at the Mail knows his onions. Man, I feel low. What I need is a new chairman and a fresh injection of cash. Some young talent would be nice as well!

Okay. The football club analogy finishes here.

Anyway, if you want to see the pictures of me and the rest of the collective, check out the 'Convention appearances' section of the MC2 website, or look at the pictures on the Collective's MySpace.

Ignoring A Cameraman.

On the first Thursday of every month, the members of the Midlands Comics Collective (or MC2) meet up to discuss our next joint project and also show each other what we're working on individually.

Normally, only a few of us (myself included) show up every month, but an e-mail went around earlier in the week that told us all that one of our members, Asia Alfasi (who is a genuine rising star in the comics world, and is having a graphic novel published by a proper book publisher, Penguin or Bloomsbury or someone, I can't remember which), was going to be accompanied by a cameraman making a film for the BBC. Subsequently, loads of people showed up, like those churches you see on Songs Of Praise that are bursting at the seams, but you know that the week before, that same church had a congregation that numbered at about seven. And one of them was only in there because it was pissing down outside. The fact that we're all going to get our fizzogs on the shit-pump was a powerful incentive to actually turn up.

Apparently, the Beeb is making a film about four prominent Muslim women, and Asia is one of them. Muslim comic artists are thin on the ground, and Asia being female puts her in a field of about one. She's doing well, and fair play to her.

Anyway, we all met up in Costa's coffee, on the bottom floor of the Bullring, and this bloke shows up with a camera. We're all supposed to ignore the cameraman and act naturally, but considering the cameraman isn't supposed to be noticeable, he's drawing attention to himself by standing on chairs or shoving a lens in your mush. The other patrons of the coffee shop are watching and wondering what the fuck is going on, but not actually asking anyone, in a typical Brummie kind of way. Also typically Brummie was the fact that the cameraman was stopped three times by three different security guards in a generally brusque tone of voice. A show of an official permit and we were back on. What wasn't typically Brummie was the fact that no-one attacked him and pinched his camera.

So, it'll be on BBC2 in the next few months, so look out for me. I'm the chubby fucker who is swearing profusely in the background with a Silver Surfer T-shirt on. It looks like this will actually be broadcast, unlike the last time we were filmed by the BBC. I think I should be on the telly more, can't be any worse that the shit that's on lately. I mean, Dancing On Ice? For fuck's sake!

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?

BrumConvalescence.

Went to a comics show yesterday. I would've gone today and all but my digestive system has collapsed and gone mental and if you add this to the cold I already had, it means I spent today vomiting, sneezing, coughing and farting whilst lying on the sofa and watching the Hulk movie on ITV2( "You wouldn't like me when I'm Ang Lee!") , instead of shuffling around the Custard Factory, bothering people that have met me before and therefore are trying to escape.
Anyway, yesterday, We sold all of six copies of MC2 between us. Very Poor. I caught up with many of the faces I hadn't seen since the last con at Bristol. I met two people I'd only previously known through this blog stuff. They weren't weirdoes, either! I executed my secret Santa obligation with extreme prejudice, and I bought Dave Gibbons a pint of Boddington's on the night. (See the picture of us both on the left, a comics legend standing next to Dave Gibbons. Snap taken by Stevie Wonder. I'm the one on the left.) Oh, and I might have bagged myself a gig which means I can give up my shitty day job and live at my drawing board instead. I may be working with an up and coming writer named Charlotte Bronte. More on that later when I know more about it myself. Still it's worth celebrating-bottoms up!

(Right. Back to the sofa. The good thing about being sick is that you're allowed to not go to work. It's just a shame I'll spend tomorrow watching Jeremy Kyle and Cash In The Attic whilst spewing my ring up.)

Pros and Cons.

Next week, It's the Birmingham Comics Show, and I've managed to scav myself a free weekend ticket! Huzzah! The nice people behind the StripSearch initiative (which started my comics arts adventures), Hi8us, are paying for all the ex-StripSearchers to go! Yay!
I'll be manning the Midlands Comics Collective's table from 10-12 on the Saturday, and from 2pm on Sunday, if you want to pop by and have a chat, and possibly even buy the MC2 book. I will also be propping up a bar somewhere from about 7pm onwards.
I'm glad there's a con in Brum this year. Last year's con in Brighton was fun, but it was a wanker to get to. I don't know if I've regaled you all with the story of last year's trip, but if you have already heard it, stop listening now.
My lovely girlfriend specially booked a train that would take us straight to Brighton. It cost a bit more, but we didn't have to fuck about changing trains. That was the plan, anyway. It turned up half an hour late. The heating in the carriages had packed up and as this was November, it was fucking freezing. We got to Leamington Spa and stopped for forty-five minutes only to be told to get off as there had been a derailment a bit further down the line. We get off in the fantastic town that is Royal Leamington Spa, and after fighting through what appeared to be a world record attempt for the biggest rugby scrum ever attempted I managed to see the man at the information desk to ask how the hell are we going to get to Brighton. He said there will be coaches along in a minute that will take everyone to Banbury, and there we can get a train to Reading, and there's loads of trains from Reading to Brighton.
The coaches took ages to arrive. When they did, it was like Royal Rumble in Royal Leamington Spa, with people wrestling with each other to get on the coaches. People were getting speared with umbrella points, getting showered with hot coffee, falling over them stupid fucking little wheelie suitcase things and generally being squashed and sworn at. We finally got on the last coach and head to Banbury.
At Banbury we got on a train that we thought was going to Reading, but was in fact heading for London. So we got off it, and waited for the train to Reading. This train finally comes, but it is full to brimming with people so the journey down to Reading is spent with me and my partner stood up outside the toilet the whole way there. The bog was one of those automatic things, but the door wouldn't shut properly, so we had endless fun watching people who are desperate for a piss struggling like fuck trying to keep this door closed.
We disembark in Reading only to find out that, contrary to what the poxy print-tie wearing motherfucker had told us in Leamington, that there are NO trains to Brighton at all! This particular bit of news breaks my patner's resolve, and she starts crying. Bloody women. Anyway, through the tears she asks the nice man behind the counter if getting to Brighton is beyond the realms of possibility. He told us we had to get a train to London (remember that train we got off earlier?) and get a tube train to Farringdon, from where we are to get a train to Brighton. This part of the journey went to plan, except for a minor incident when the turnstile at the tube wouldn't accept my ticket. We finally got to Brighton at about half-five, ten hours after we left. You can get to Canada in less time. So we missed almost all of the first day of the con, and because we had to go early afternoon the next day, didn't really spend much time at the actual convention at all. Still , on the night, we got royally pissed, and I met Glenn Fabry, who was out of his tree and talking to a door. We also got bought drinks by the editor of Nuts magazine and Dez Skinn was also breathing fumes on us ao we made our excuses and buggered off.
We get back and complained to (surprise, surprise) Virgin,filling a form very similar to the one below, who gave us rail vouchers, despite the fact I never want to go on a train ever again.
Well, at least this year I won't have that problem. I've just got to rely on West Midlands Travel.
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

Super,super,super...Superman!

Hello friends. (Are you my friends? You're not just taking the piss, are you?) Here's a nice little film from those super talented people in Bollywood. (I thought Bollywood was called that because it was in Bombay, but we don't say 'Bombay' anymore, it's 'Mumbai' these days, so surely their film industry must now be called 'Mollywood'. Just a thought.) It's the Indian version of Superman but India's version of Kal-El is a niftier mover than the boring Yank one, especially that morose motherfucker in the latest movie. The Indian Supes has a sidekick that's a lot prettier than Jimmy Olsen, but for some reason, she's dressed as Spidey. It goes on a bit, so just get a flavour of it then skip to the rather excellent fight scene. I love Superman's way-too-large 'S' crest and his half mast trousers with black chelsea boots combination. Great Caesar's ghost!
In other, more personal news, the world famous Nostalgia & Comics store, on Priory Queensway, Birmingham, has, on last time I heard, sold all but one of their copies of the MC2 anthology we've just launched, and they're ordering more. I don't know whether this is good news as I don't know how many copies they had to start with! If they orderded in just two, it's a bit shit, really. It'll be on sale at the Birmingham Comics Show, which is now in a couple of weeks (click on the link in my sidebar), so I'll see you there. If you're coming, of course.

Dancing to our own toon.

Here is the online version of the article about the Midlands comics Collective that was printed in Saturday's Birmingham Post. I won't post the picture up as half of my head is missing from it thanks to a flash-flare or something. Although the article is mainly about rising star Asia Alfasi, my story Never Strikes Twice is mentioned, being called a 'poignant, postmodern superhero tale', which was kind of what I was going for (even though the ending was changed, with the editor's insistence I put a pointless speech caption in the last panel) , so I'm glad it's been received that way. Quite chuffed, actually.

Gone To Launch.

Guten Tag! Last night was the launch party/exhibition for the MC2 book . I say party, but unlike every other party I've been to, I didn't vomit. It went very well, and I think I got away with pretending I was a real comics artist. We signed and scribbled on and sold a fair few, almost enough to cover our costs with frames and so on. Thanks to everyone who did come along, especially the ones I know, as I know it was midweek, there was a match on nearby,etc.,etc.,but I appreciated you making the effort and coming along. We had pictures taken for the Birmingham Post, and my ugly mug will be in there this Saturday. I ruined fellow contributor Andy Baker's copy by drawing a classic ejaculating cock (You know, two drops of spunk coming out of the end, the classic public lavatory doodle) on the inside cover. He liked it, though. He nearly ruined a young friend of mine's book by drawing a spidey with his balls hanging out, until I told him how young my friend was, so he covered Parker's penis with pants. Oh, how grown-up and mature we all are! The exhibition continues until Saturday, so if you can make it to the Vaad Gallery at the Custard Factory, pop in and have a look! (I'll be there invigilating on Friday, so if you need extra paper just put your hand up.)
Afterwards, we went to the local boozer, where hardcore comic artist John McCrea had a pot of tea. Hunt Emerson got a pot of coffee. Rock and Roll! After a short time, though, just me and another contributing artist Jason Dennis (Who will be a big star one day. He's so talented he makes me sick.) were left. We ended up talking to some students who had bought our book, were enthustiastically nice about it, and dragged along, against my better judgment, to a student night at Snob's, an exclusive plush exotic nightclub in our city centre. As you can see, (well you would've done if Blogger actually let me upload the photo. Bastard thing.) I was wearing a suit. Everyone else had wildly coloured hair and dreadlocks, I was dressed as a lawyer. I stuck out like a blind cobbler's thumb. Jason was alright, though, as he always dresses like Michael Ryan; well, he's always got a camouflage coat on, anyway, so he fitted right in. Even though we're both at least a dozen years older than everyone else. Despite this handicap, though, it was a good night, but I am too old for this shit, as Roger Murtaugh keeps saying in all them bloody Lethal Weapon films.

Addendum: Blogger has now been gracious enough to include the photo, finally.

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!

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.

It's coming...

The release of the Midlands Comics Collective's ( which I'm a part of) anthology book MC2 is getting ever nearer. Because it is being published through Knockabout Press and distributed through Diamond, you can now pre-order it at lots of comics websites. Please do. It has my magnum opus Never Strikes Twice within its luxury glossy pages, as well as many other great tales (not so good! Only kidding![You don't know who's reading this shit!]) from other Brum-based artists and writers including seasoned pros Hunt Emerson, John McCrea and IMAF award winers Asia Alfasi and Michiru Morikawa. Plus plenty of other non-award winning artists!

You can order it at Forbidden Planet for the weird price of £5.03!
If you're American, you can order it at Wizard Universe .
I first saw the book onTFAW , and if you're of a Teutonic origin you can get it atKauft Comics .

With the book at the printers now, and all artistic work complete, we're trying to publicise the thing. Now I've told you five about it on this blog, my work is done!
Not really. We're launching it with an exhibition and a boozy do at the Custard factory here in Birmingham in November. We will subsequently re-launch it at the Birmingham International Comics Show in December and at the Expo in Bristol next May. We're also trying to get some kind of signing event at the legendary 'Nostalgia And Comics' store, also here in Brum, and we will soon be on BBC 2, shamelessly plugging the thing.
Now that was weird. Once a month, the members of MC2 meet, usually at the aforementioned Custard factory, as one of us works there and it costs us nothing. One of our group, Asia Alfasi, is attracting quite a bit of attention. Her stuff is manga-influenced, I suppose, which is popular in itself, but the fact that she is a woman cartoonist, which is rare enough, and a Muslim woman cartoonist to boot, which probably puts her in a field of about one. Anyway, as I said, her work is getting her a lot of attention. She has big publishers vying for her work. She has BBC2 filming her.
The director thought it would be a good idea to film Asia at our meeting, but BBC lady turns up late, so we had to pretend to have the meeting again and keep saying the same shit over and over, because the light wasn't right. Hunt Emerson must have told us the book was out in November about twenty times in a row.I don't know when it's on, but I'll let you five know when I do, so you can watch me rub my beard and nod sagely in the background, trying to pinch some of Asia's limelight!

Comics coming home.

After the Brighton convention was cancelled, it seemed to us in the comics world that the winter would be a cultural wasteland, with only the meaningless and temporary distractions that Christmas brings.

Well worry no longer! I know to some that this is old news, but I was talking to one of the organisers, Andy Baker, last night. There is to be a comics show in good ol'Brum! Birmingham held the first ever comics expo back in 1968, and this new one will be a belter. I can confirm that I, megastar Mick Trimble, will indeed be there, behind a table, trying to flog the excellent MC2 anthology to punters with discerning taste. (It will be out in November, we're having a launch party at the Custard Factory, the same venue as the comics show, sometime during the second week of that month.) Andy told me that John Cassaday and Mike Mignola also said that they were doing the show, only now Cassaday has pulled out, and Mignola might not appear as he has 'family vacation issues'. Even so, there is still a strong line up, with gods-amongst-men Dave Gibbons and Alan Davis confirmed to show. More on the show here. The Custard Factory will be an excellent venue with plenty of galleries, bars and atmosphere, with everything on the same site, unlike Bristol, which suffers sometimes from having events in two venues. Please come!

Stopgap.

I will post some new pages soon! I'm hard at work doing a five page strip for FutureQuake, but the heat and my arm disability have prevented me making real progress. Yesterday, I got the final, lettered pages back for the Never Strikes Twice strip I've done for the forthcoming MC2 book. So look at that instead. I won't put them all up, just the spectacular splash page. If you want to read it all, buy the book. It's out in October, (I think) through Knockabout Press.Click on it to see it bigger. If only that worked on everything.

We got it covered!

This is the newly completed cover for theMC2 book out this autumn. The cover is by Michiru Morikawa, a hugely talented artist. MC2 stands for 'Midlands Comics Collective' which is a group of both amateur and professional comics artists, all living in and around Birmingham. We managed to get an Arts Council grant to get this book published. It will be published by Knockabout Press; publishers of From Hell and Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers. The blurb on the back was written for us by Dave Gibbons, and it says:"If I remember my quantum physics correctly, then MC squared equals energy, and this anthology certainly proves that Einstein knew his onions. From whimsy through teen angst by way of dark thrills, this anthology is full of strangeness and charm. It should set the Geiger counters of the world ticking like crickets!" That's only Dave Watchmen Gibbons! Not only can he dance like a charm, he can say nice things about our book!