Wednesday, 12 October 2011


Can't tell a joke: Take two.....
Think. Idea. Draw. Scan. Post. Pocket picked. Ideas, can't copyright an idea can you? Depressing. Hands off. Stop this nonsense. These drawings. These childish self conscious expressions of ink. Normal service. Sleep. 
60 is the new - 40. Fuck off. Golf. That's it dedicate myself to reducing the handicap. 
Invite to Vienna. I said how good is that? Wonderful he replied. An offer of 75% less than the previous project. Absurdly high expectations he said. 
Another publisher sent a royalty statement for the period January 2011-June 2011 they sold eleven books. Just the £4230.20 to break even. I could do that in an afternoon sell eleven Hot Dogs. Why don't you? Arsehole. Because it is by Sandy Turner and Sandy Turner is dead. The price of the airmail statement cost more than the Cool Cat Hot Dog royalties of eleven sales. 
I sold Hot Dogs at The Gaumont Cinema. Richmond. Tore in half admit 1 tickets, skewered their other half on a spike. Ushered couples to their viewing positions,shone a torch on their row number. I sold choc ices in the interval. Short changed customers in the dark. Saw Charlie Bubbles. Whom The Gods Wish To Destroy. Chitty Chitty Bang Bang 63 times. One couple who followed my torch-beam to their seat in the stalls was Franco Nero and Vanessa Redgrave. And another was Nicol Williamson.


  1. Haven't got a clue what you go on about David!... but still i find myself back here, again and again. Too much of this world already makes too much sense (the public get what they deserve, not what they demand).. and that can't be a good thing.

    I'll be back.( no Governator accent with that)

  2. What I write makes perfect sense-no? It was either a Lesser Spotted or a Great in the garden this morning. Size matters. Woodpeckers, a pair.