Friday, 20 April 2007
Thursday, 19 April 2007
Wednesday, 18 April 2007
Saturday, 14 April 2007
Thought for the Day
Language:
The word "geriatric" refers to old people. There was a popular music band in the 1960s called "Gerry and the Pacemakers". I imagine Gerry would be quite old by now.
Another word, "midget", is used to describe short people. Another luminary from the world of popular music is Midge Ure, who had, amongst others, a hit record with "If I Was" in 1985. He wasn't the tallest person in the world.
I believe popular culture is affecting our language (and who knows what other aspects of our everyday lives) more than any of us would care to imagine.
Or perhaps the influence is working the other, or indeed both, ways?
Answers on a postcard, please.
The word "geriatric" refers to old people. There was a popular music band in the 1960s called "Gerry and the Pacemakers". I imagine Gerry would be quite old by now.
Another word, "midget", is used to describe short people. Another luminary from the world of popular music is Midge Ure, who had, amongst others, a hit record with "If I Was" in 1985. He wasn't the tallest person in the world.
I believe popular culture is affecting our language (and who knows what other aspects of our everyday lives) more than any of us would care to imagine.
Or perhaps the influence is working the other, or indeed both, ways?
Answers on a postcard, please.
Thursday, 12 April 2007
Sam, When I Said... 2
I've done four cartoons with this character in the last couple of days. This is the second.
Thought for the Day
"I say to-mar-to, you say to-may-to, let's call the whole thing off."
NO! That's a stupid idea! It makes things even more confusing!
Whether you say to-mar-to or to-may-to, people are generally going to understand what you mean.
But if you're in your local BURGER BAR, and you ask for some "off ketchup", you're probably going to end up with FOOD POISONING!
So let's just stick with the existing nomenclature, shall we?
NO! That's a stupid idea! It makes things even more confusing!
Whether you say to-mar-to or to-may-to, people are generally going to understand what you mean.
But if you're in your local BURGER BAR, and you ask for some "off ketchup", you're probably going to end up with FOOD POISONING!
So let's just stick with the existing nomenclature, shall we?
Wednesday, 11 April 2007
Washing Up Liquid
Thought I'd hand draw one and try out how my Mum's scanner works with it. Quite happy with the result...
Saturday, 24 March 2007
Shoe Box Shelley
You'd see her in the High Street
From noon 'til half past three,
Then find her in a coffee shop
With her afternoon tea.
Laden with her shopping,
The fruits of her sojourn,
Her purse considerably lighter
Than it had been in the morn.
She used to fill four tables
And sit there by herself,
'Til the cafe staff had specially
Installed a set of shelves.
It always stacked so neatly,
So similar were the shapes.
'Twas just one type of clothing,
Not skirts, not hats, nor capes.
For footwear was her focus,
Though she didn't try them on,
She'd buy a pair in every size
From twelve right down to one.
Then she'd drive home in the lorry
That she'd borrowed from the lad
Who'd come to fix her telly
When reception had been bad.
Pulling up outside her house,
She'd reverse into the drive.
She'd unload all the boxes
And remove the shoes inside.
She'd cart them to the garden
In a trolley from the shops,
Then dump them in a hole whose depths
Just never seemed to stop.
Returning to the boxes
With a needle and a thread,
She'd fashion a card bonnet
To wear atop her head.
She'd make herself an outfit
Out of card for the next day.
She thought she'd save some money
If she clothed herself this way.
Blouses, skirts and stockings,
And bras and knickers too,
And also made from cardboard were,
Ironically, her shoes.
She'd sew a pair of breeches
For riding on her horse,
A horse she'd made from cardboard
And with staples reinforced.
Everything she owned was made
From this packing she brought home,
Her cutlery and crockery,
Her car, her garden gnomes,
Her musical instruments
That she learnt to play at school,
Her collection of standard lamps,
Even her swimming pool.
Her house was made from boxes,
The walls, the roof and stairs,
And all the furniture within,
The tables, beds and chairs,
And all the building services,
Even electric lights
That broke the laws of physics when
She turned them on at night.
She'd replace all the water pipes
Once every week or two.
Though that's not quite as often as
She would replace the loo.
But one day she came home to find
That her garden hole was filled
With rainwater that had came down
And was falling harder still.
She didn't heed the warning
And she slept in her own bed.
She should have rung her sister
And stayed round at hers instead.
The soggy ceiling sagged and sagged
Beneath the moon and stars,
As she dreamt of knights in armour
Made from laminated card.
She woke to find cold pressure
Bearing down upon her face.
She tried to move or call for help
But by now it was too late.
As she slowly suffocated,
She contemplated life
And realised how impractical
Had been her carving knife.
From noon 'til half past three,
Then find her in a coffee shop
With her afternoon tea.
Laden with her shopping,
The fruits of her sojourn,
Her purse considerably lighter
Than it had been in the morn.
She used to fill four tables
And sit there by herself,
'Til the cafe staff had specially
Installed a set of shelves.
It always stacked so neatly,
So similar were the shapes.
'Twas just one type of clothing,
Not skirts, not hats, nor capes.
For footwear was her focus,
Though she didn't try them on,
She'd buy a pair in every size
From twelve right down to one.
Then she'd drive home in the lorry
That she'd borrowed from the lad
Who'd come to fix her telly
When reception had been bad.
Pulling up outside her house,
She'd reverse into the drive.
She'd unload all the boxes
And remove the shoes inside.
She'd cart them to the garden
In a trolley from the shops,
Then dump them in a hole whose depths
Just never seemed to stop.
Returning to the boxes
With a needle and a thread,
She'd fashion a card bonnet
To wear atop her head.
She'd make herself an outfit
Out of card for the next day.
She thought she'd save some money
If she clothed herself this way.
Blouses, skirts and stockings,
And bras and knickers too,
And also made from cardboard were,
Ironically, her shoes.
She'd sew a pair of breeches
For riding on her horse,
A horse she'd made from cardboard
And with staples reinforced.
Everything she owned was made
From this packing she brought home,
Her cutlery and crockery,
Her car, her garden gnomes,
Her musical instruments
That she learnt to play at school,
Her collection of standard lamps,
Even her swimming pool.
Her house was made from boxes,
The walls, the roof and stairs,
And all the furniture within,
The tables, beds and chairs,
And all the building services,
Even electric lights
That broke the laws of physics when
She turned them on at night.
She'd replace all the water pipes
Once every week or two.
Though that's not quite as often as
She would replace the loo.
But one day she came home to find
That her garden hole was filled
With rainwater that had came down
And was falling harder still.
She didn't heed the warning
And she slept in her own bed.
She should have rung her sister
And stayed round at hers instead.
The soggy ceiling sagged and sagged
Beneath the moon and stars,
As she dreamt of knights in armour
Made from laminated card.
She woke to find cold pressure
Bearing down upon her face.
She tried to move or call for help
But by now it was too late.
As she slowly suffocated,
She contemplated life
And realised how impractical
Had been her carving knife.
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