Expect the unexpected.

In days of yore if you worked in a large office then there might have been a tea lady. These fine servants of the company would wheel around a huge tea urn on a trolley and dispense much needed cuppas to the work force, sensible really as the workforce did not need to leave their desks. Urn brewed tea and a solid digestive made for great productivity. The introduction of computers, those beige blocks with electronics everywhere were also coming into view. This drawing, done for a campaign to encourage people to back up their data, was for Christie Electronics, … Continue reading Expect the unexpected.

Politically incorrect?

I’d no idea of the meaning of the phrase when I was commissioned by Radio Rentals to produce a calendar for them back in the 70s when I was really just starting on my career as a cartoonist. The artwork does not exist as far as I know, any more, nor does Radio Rentals. They would hire a TV to you for a few quid per month. Those tellies were generally walnut encased monsters that sat in the corner of many sitting rooms with their 3 channels ready to leap into colourful action at the press of a button. Remote … Continue reading Politically incorrect?

Industrial Fruitcake

I’m a big fan. There are some cakes that benefit from the introduction of industry to their production and to my mind fruitcake is one of them. It’s the sort of thing that one ponders at this time of year. The weight and substance of a decent industrially made fruit cake must be dense enough to make the feet warm and keep a draught from creeping under the door, in this sort of weather. When I left college I did for a while deliver slabs of this stuff to various bakeries in the North West from a very large factory … Continue reading Industrial Fruitcake

Your parcel is on its way.

The new mode of customer service when you buy on line is to tell you exactly what’s happening, relentlessly. Even when it goes to other people to deliver it. Text number 1 “ Your parcel is on its way, your driver has it and is about to set off from the depot in a green van at 4 in the morning after a breakfast of toast and Tesco value jam, which is red but has never been near a fruit farm. You will be updated ( your name in here ) regularly on its progress, and be treated like a … Continue reading Your parcel is on its way.

Pont, my appreciation.

Way back in 2016 I completed a series of drawings in celebration of Pont They appeared on my website and some of them have now been put on this one, just look for the page under cartoons. I’m retiring my old website and gradually moving images from there to this site. Pont’s drawings were a comment on British foibles, we have plenty of them still! Here’s one of my drawings done at that time. An appreciation of seafaring. I’ve taken a small break from blogging, been busy with sorting out stuff, but am back now and this is some of … Continue reading Pont, my appreciation.

‘Doove’ has died.

Tony Woollaston , aka ‘Doove’ , a former student with me at Manchester College of Art, has died after a three and a half year battle against Motor Neurone Disease. Why he called himself that in those days, is a mystery to me these days, but it was a name he thought up at the time, the late 1960s. We shared a house together for a year in Whalley Range in Manchester. He had the sub basement and I had the front first floor bedroom, others in the house were Alan at the back bedroom, Jim in the sitting room, … Continue reading ‘Doove’ has died.

Sticky post

Butter on the ceiling

I went to boarding school, many years ago. At meal times, if you could call them that as the cooking was a not the very best, but there was alway bread and ‘jam’ to fill up on. The bread was thick white sliced, the butter was margarine in a plastic bowl, and the jam was normally red stuff that tasted of red stuff. No fruit was harmed in the making of this product, except for the year they had a glut of rhubarb and to save on costs, someone in the kitchen had made rhubarb jam. This, like the margarine, … Continue reading Butter on the ceiling