Tilly

Firstly, let me apologise for the lack of action round these parts of late. Things have been a bit intense, to say the least. I promise to try harder in future. Maybe not as hard as scatman Stan, who seems to be able to bang out posts as fast as he soils socks, but definitely harder.

Anyway, the reason things are intense is Tilly (which is as good a name as any). Ever fallen in love with somebody your flatmate thinks you shouldn't have fallen in love with? Love might be too strong a word, though maybe I'm just being cautious.

It's just that, after all the shit I've been through this past year, she's arrived on the scene and all the scary stuff that leaps out at me in the middle of a dope-induced paranoia attack - wheelchairs, life support machines, a load of indifferent, coke-snorting fuckstains at my funeral - suddenly doesn't seem so bad. Life feels like it's being lived rather than waited out right now. Life is crack.

Anyway, meet Tilly:

Bring out the Branson

You've probably already seen it, since it's been on Betty's blog for a while, but I'm going to post it anyway. This is in no way due to me having nothing else to post. At all.

Urethra Franklin

I can now reliably inform anyone who's interested that having your urethra swabbed is the fetish of tomorrow. All tomorrow's sex parties are going to be all about the swabbing.

All clear. Thank fuck.

Here's a celebratory pic. Which could have also been a commiseratory (is that even a word?) pic.

I make that Pimms o'fucking clock.

Creepy Man With Creepy Hand

Back to biro again because I'm an utter coward.

Disappointed Robots

Or disappointing robots? Can't decide whether this one is a turd or not.

The case for:
Girl robot's arm too fucking long
What was an ok drawing ruined by colouring it in. I can't fucking paint. It looks like I coloured in a picture from the Colouring Book of Robot Pictures With an Impotence Subtext.

The case against:
There's an ok drawing in there somewhere, which reminds me of the boy who wanted to be a 2000AD comic artist. Pissed off with that forearm, though.

Turd or triumph? YOU DECIDE.

Speed Dating, Part III... Two heads Are Better Than One

Stan is writing a story about a baby with two heads. Why? Fuck knows, but it's shaping up nicely and I fancy myself as the illustrator. This is a merely a preliminary sketch however..

Speed dating, Part II... The Girl With The Pearl Necklace Earrings

You might notice a bit of mirroring here between mine and Stan's site. Well it's the same way that when women live together they start to bleed together. We live together and we're starting to blog together. My posts are mirroring his. but where his are massive and wordy, mine are tiny and much more visual. You can read about the Girl With The Pearl Necklace Earrings here. And here she is here in the flesh, the nutter.......