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New Year’s Eve 2020 And so 2020 passed ignominiously and pathetically, with a whimper and a whinge. Brexshit by the skin of some vampire’s teeth; dodgy vaccines; allegedly novel mutations of the lurgy; culled minks; ice shelves crumbling; divisions multiplying and the Masters of the Universe conquering like it’s going out of fashion; the Left Continue Reading
Cold Waste Blues. Things are bad. Really bad. Really, really bad. I’ll tell you how bad things are: even the Repulsive Moon Beasts of Leng are having massive fits of the megrims, that’s how bad things are. In fact, things are SO bad that even they, the RMBoL have had to rig several off-the-cuff support Continue Reading
Oops & Mates. Series Old Wine in New Bottles No 3 Same story but not quite. This is a crude, B & W reworking of a much more colourful and refined version of one of the last vignettes of The Story of Oops, the one and only comic strip I have ever attempted so far Continue Reading
Euclid’s Chagrin. Series Old Wine in New Bottles No 2 This is a reworking, like No1, At The Lighthouse, of some ancient stuff I did on the elderly (but still functioning, look you!) Sonny Reader. I just fancied revisiting some of those doodles, authentic garabatos, done in the massively crude drawing tool wot came with Continue Reading
Solstice Shubby. Here she is, the one and only, the splendid, the ineffable Black Goat of the Woods With a Thousand Young -currently on holiday in the Plateau of Leng and hence not in the picture. She’s commanding us wretched souls to have a fab Solstice in spite of the all-pervading crap that’s engulfing us. Continue Reading
Birds of a Feather. Have a little sequel to this year’s Ash Memorial. This is what might (or might not) be going on in that splendiferous place that Ash’s particles might be kicking about right now (or not…). Gossip is rife there and often of the most frivolous kind you can imagine. Here you can Continue Reading
Ash’s 8th. I’ve changed my mind and decided to do yet another Ash Memorial. I still can see him as he was the last time we met, there, standing in my kitchen, arms waving, eyes ablaze, ranting like it was going out of fashion about the absolute need of this wretched country to acquire a Continue Reading
At The Lighthouse. Here’s a little something, a wee pre-Solstice snack to cheat this gut-wrenching hunger for light we feel. Have a grand week if at all possible. Stay sane.
Spiny Forest. The Barbed Borderlands is a strange, dour region. Exceedingly fertile and therefore half impenetrable, its forests tend to bring forth minimalist types of tree and shrubs, all branch, no flowers. To this austere place the tiny One-Eyed Itinerant Babbler has come to try and induce said stern trees to let their hair down Continue Reading