i'm not really sure if i even like this... oh well... it's done now.

i wanted to make something a bit weird, so i did.

jesus christ... i've become one of these annoying people who just throws gifs everywhere now - like at the beginning of the internet, when people first started making their own pages and just put little dancing hamsters everywhere - that's what i've become.

anyway, this is an idea i'm still working on for the excuse why i'm not getting anyone any christmas presents  (i'm saying there's no presents this year because all santa's reindeer called in sick, but they're actually just all down the strip club.)  if you can, play mr.oizo's 'steroids' (mr. oizo remix) to this, because that's the song i'll be using (especially the instrumental bit at the end).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q-2vIPFz6W8

don't mess about with gifs, kids - turns out they're a bloody nightmare. this is from some club visuals i tried to do.

someone inspired me to mess about with gifs, so here you go. this is from an advert me and my mate did ages ago trying to sell spoons to children on the basis you could 'heal the sick!' with them.

more wonkey portraits of people from history

by the way, this is supposed to be winston churchill (not a young orson welles)

gandhi (not alf garnett)

mother teresa (not an exhumed mummy)

jimi hendrix (not prince)

and queen victoria (not some bloke with a miniature cake on his head)

i guess this is kind of going okay so far... and yes, it is meant to be abraham lincoln, not that blue thing from the x-men. 

hmm... after my rather failed attempt to draw albert einstein this morning, i have decided to do an entire series of portraits of famous people from history in the vain hope that this will somehow make me better at them. i guess we'll see how it goes.

even though albert einstein supposedly once said "the true sign of intelligence is not knowledge but imagination", i still can't imagine him saying that.

... and yes, this is supposed to be albert einstein - not des lynam after a rough weekend.

this is from an idea i had about a rather hopeless guy who tries to impress a feminist on a date by taking her to see 'showgirls', on the basis that it's a nice little foreign film (because it's american) about interpretive dance. 

"Right... The first rule of 'Rule Club' is..."

"Don't talk about Rule Club?"

"Don't be stupid - how are people meant to find out about Rule Club and join it then?"

"... Rule Club sucks."

2 men leave the pub.

"well one thing's for sure - we're definitely not playing pool there again."

"... why? because they don't have a pool table."

"hmm... yeah. because they don't have a pool table."

top tip: although shaving foam in tea looks quite pretty, it actually tastes disgusting.

REUNITED

they stopped and stared at each other. caught in each other's gaze. all time stood still. pupils dancing, they stand in silence.
"it's me, charles... don't you remember me?"
the panicked hand slowly begins to roam the kitchen top looking for weapons.
"no!... who the hell are you?!... get out!"
"but of cousre you do, charles. how could you forget? i've always been yours..."
at last, the knife is found.
"you stopped being mine the second you ran off with 'that old slag' down the road!"
mr. tiddles defiantly licked his paw. charles erupts.
"get out, you swine! i don't have a cat anymore!"
"oh charles," mr. tiddles purred calmly, "you were always one for drama, weren't you?..."
submerging his left paw into his man-bag, mr. tiddles pulls out his revolver;
"so charles... " he mewed, deftly aiming the weapon at his owner's forehead, "... how do you want to do this?"

night dolphin (work in progress)

this probably isn't very obvious to anyone but me, but this is the story about when a dolphin snuck in my window one night.

in case you were wondering, the dolphin is a metaphor for biscuits.