We Found it in the field.

Dermatology

"When the horns came through, the skin condition made a bit more sense"

“Do you want a can?”

This guy on my bus last week was a full blown nutter. I’m not a fan of that word; never the less, this big mad-fox-eyed Shaun Ryder look-a-like managed to plunge the number 29 to Trafalgar Square into a state of panic. He was a real life nutter.

Everyone had a strained look of “I’m really trying to pretend this isn’t happening, although I am acutely aware that this might end in me getting kicked to death” as he paced down the bendy bus. It was happening though, but luckily it didn’t end up in an old lady getting a kicking. 

When something like this happens though, my mind instantly leaps to all those photos from the internal cameras on public transport where some anaemic looking, shirt wearing office worker (i.e. me) gets stabbed in the neck with a William Hill pen 47 times for politely suggesting to the maniac that maybe listening to Dub music really loudly and yelling might not be for the morning commute, it might be suited slightly better to say…3am, in Fabric.

Anyway, aside from randomly shouting at people, calling them “trannies” and declaring “Yeah, I was raised by Yardies, bruv” this chap was having in-depth conversations with himself along the following lines:

“Do you want a can mate?”
“Yeah, I do, can I have one of yours?”
“Yeah mate, no problems bruv”

This is the sort of teeth gritting tension you don’t get on the tube, only the bus attracts this level of terror-inducing psychopath. He managed to shut off an entire section of the bus and keep everyone firmly away from his vicinity. And all it took was an external/internal monologue, some wild golf ball style eyes and a lifetime of substance abuse.

"I really love metal!"

“Work for Bread”

I got really depressed the other day at work and walked all the way to the BT tower, for a bit of fresh air. It was a nice walk, serene even.

Work seems to have become an actual ‘toil’ recently, a word that conjures up images of Russian peasant women, covered in dirt and ploughing away in barren fields grafting for a loaf. Okay, it might not be exactly like that, but it’s been a bit much recently. Long hours and bigger work loads have led to staff morale dropping through the floor. Not that it was ever massively high anyway but I distinctly remember that there was a period where people weren’t randomly bursting into tears in the kitchen and weren’t being as short with each other:

“Let me hold that door for you”

“Yeah, you will wanker”

Its all fun and games though isn’t it, what other options are there around? Not much, although I have toyed with the idea of making extra money on the side by dressing as the late husbands of wealthy widows. It won’t be hard work I imagine, dressing in old suits, going for walks along the pier and listening to the wireless with them at Bridge club. And even if they did want to rekindle a certain carnal fire…I’d still probably prefer it to coding invoices.

Introversial Loves Paul Burrell

The first in our 'Introversial Heroes' series, documenting our favourite human beings on this earth, is Paul Burrell.

For those who are not in the know, Paul was Princess Diana's butler. When she was alive he did really important things like iron her bra, make her some mint tea and pick up after her budgie*. Paul, like all of us, really really loved Diana. But unlike all of us, he stole loads of boxes of her stuff and kept them in a cupboard for years. And wore her underwear.

He made a name for himself, after Diana was murdered*, by going on TV and talking about Diana. This developed into Burrell going on TV and talking about folding napkins and eating bananas with a knife and fork. He wrote about 22 books, all about Diana, and he also had a flower shop, with loads of pictures of Diana on the wall. Oh yeah, he also says he's not gay. While in his flower shop, with loads of pictures of Diana on the wall. And while loads of gay blokes keep telling the papers they shagged him, with documentary evidence of the fact.

Problem is, we don't care about Diana that much any more. We, as a caring nation, have new obsessions to pull at our heart strings, like the skinny one with the big head off of X Factor and Karen Matthews, the fat woman who unsuccessfully kidnapped her own kid for money. So Paul has fallen out of favor, so he's not on TV anymore. And that's bad for Paul, because Paul loves being on TV.

So Paul has begun to tell the world he knows something. We don't know what he knows, and he said he will never say what he knows. He is getting back on TV because he keeps telling people he knows something, but he won't tell what. Genius.

The thing is, Paul doesn't know shit. Paul was a big fairy who was good at shining silverware and picking up corgi poo. He realised he had shot his load soon after Diana's suicide* so he had to keep making stuff up. And he really, really loves being on TV.

Introversial loves Paul because he really believes he knows a secret, a secret that could rock the very foundations of this sceptered isle. He just hasn't thought what it is yet. But while he thinks of something he is going to hold onto Diana's stuff for a bit longer, for safe-keeping.

Remember to tune in next time, blog fans for another Introversial Heroes. Each edition will come with a 'cut out and keep' face of our hero, like the one of Paul, up there. After 36 weeks you will have enough faces to poster a very small, sad bedsit.

*These facts may or may not be true.

What have you been up to?

"I've just been listening to Candle in the Wind a lot"

Tom's Pic

Hello,

Have look at the above picture, drawn by Tom Kollmann. We attended the same Cartoonin' class at the back end of this year. I love this picture, it's so grimy, full of movement and feels of a time & a place. The plan is to get it printed onto a t-shirt at some point but at the minute I don't have enough money to buy basic food stuffs. Although I do have £7 sat in scratchcards. Recession proof!

"Lady luck is fickle but a lady is allowed to change her mind"

The Fifth

Tuesday the 20th of January 2009,

A historic day, I mean...just wow. That's right, Battlestar Galactica finally made it's way back onto our screens. I never thought I'd see the day, hadn't even let myself dream about it. 'Hope', such a soft fragile world, often feeling like a small plant growing from dead, nuclear soil. Even the slightest breeze could take it away. On Tuesday it felt like something in the universe went right for once... I got to look at Adalma's grizzled face again.

It was an amazing hour of television but my God, it was bleak. Bleak like the husk that is Earth or wherever it is. If people weren't killing themselves they were trying to, looking a bit miserable. It was powerful though, stark and real (well, as real as space ships and robots can be). I think watching it might have actually stung a bit at one point. The use of 'Frak' has never been more blatant either. I'm sure in series one it was used far less frequently and the meaning was less obvious. Series 4 isn't 'fraking' about with lines like "She was fraking everyone in the fleet". It just means fuck and there's no two ways about it. I'm also fairly sure there was a reference to the urethra in this weeks episode.

There is one problem though which detracted from the feeling of sheer unbridled awe, Iggy Pop. Weird, gnarled skin bag Iggy. His lust for life style persona used rather nonsensically to try and sell me car insurance. The guy looks as if he's never worn a t-shirt, let alone driven a Fiat Punto.

That aside, that Barack chap became the President. I won't go on about it, too many people are. I saw these two fruity Brit lads who went all the way over there to see him being sworn in. That's a bit much, watch it on Al Jazeera like everyone else. I have his book, and his action figure. If you're ever on the 253 towards Camden in the morning, keep an eye out for a scruffy looking chap with hay like hair reading 'Dreams of My Father'. Note that he won't be reading a single word of it, he's just trying to catch girls eyes with a sort of "oh, this? Well, it's Barack's book - yes, I know" look.

CX

Tears for fears

"By the end we were both crying. I think it was then that I realised the whole 'gay' thing wasn't really me"

A support group?

The MDL

"Hey baby, do you like cloudy drinks and moist, dark car boots?

If so, pick me"

"I hate manure"

"Well at least I tried God damn it"

"Yeah, initially I was glad to see Wispas, but now I'm bored of them again"

The Black Dossier

Tales of intrigue,

I got an interesting message on Facebook the other day from the mysterious Ms Black. She isn't a 'friend' of mine on there (but how many really are?), she had no profile picture and she was asking who I was.

She wanted to know if I was the same Chris who was in the Army (!), the one who was stationed in Korea (!!). Wow, I wasn't really sure what to make of it. I have a namesake who's some kick arse G.I.

I had a couple of odd reactions to this. The first was this really existential line of thought where I started to think about my life, all the things I hadn't done. This other Chris had been off, fighting in that damn war. Probably fell in love with a local girl, shaped some experiences with his bear hands.

Secondly, and inevitably, my mind turned to sexual thoughts. I began to think, I could say that I'm the same guy. She may get on a plane from where ever she is, she may be beautiful. When she gets here it could be played one of two possible ways. First, she could get here and find my lies and deceit hilarious and endearing. We'd tell our kids the story of how I pretended to be a Green Beret before she found out I was actually a clammy office spore. Alternatively, I could sidle up to her and just say, "Yeah, well, I know that the last time we saw each other I was this 6" black guy but, y'know, this war has changed us all baby".

Lee (co-author, constant kick and the occasional finger up, the arse) thought that it was some CIA plot. That I'd end up in the same cow shed where they hanged Saddam, having the shit water boarded out of me.

In the end I decided to do the right thing and tell her I wasn't the same guy she was looking for. I told her that I probably couldn't be further away from this other Chris and that the closest I'd ever been to being in the armed forces was my big long stint on Call of Duty. Not exactly the same, but it probably gave me a 15 rather than a 1000 yard stare.

I wished her luck though, especially if he was on the lamb from paternity payments.

CX

No, I love YOU!

"Okay, it turns out I'm not nearly as good looking as I thought I was.

Whadda ya say we give it another shot babe? I mean your life must have lost a lot of music after I split"

Sketchbook

"It's bigger than hip hop"

Hello,

This is a self portrait.