It does mean that non-paying nonsense such as this blog are no longer a priority. I will add to it ocassionally though. Here's some cute animals and stuff, drawn in a bid to get a children's book illustration job.
No blind spots in the leopard's eyes
Can only help to jeopardize
The lives of lambs, the shepherd cries
An afterlife for a silverfish
Eternal dust less ticklish
Than the clean room, a houseguest's wish
He lies on his side, is he trying to hide?
In fact it's the earth, which he's known since birth
Face worker, a serpentine miner
A roof falls, an underliner
Of leaf structure, the egg timer
1. Dont Cry No Tears - Teenage Fanclub
2. I Just Don't Know What to Do With Myself - Dusty Springfield
3. 86 TVs - I Am Kloot
4. Main Offender - The Hives
5. Til the End of the Day - The Kinks
6. Straight Face Down - Smudge
7. Common People (Live at Glastonbury) - Pulp
8. It's Not the End of the World - Super Furry Animals
9. Sister, Do You Know My name? - The White Stripes
10. No Fun/Push It - The Stooges/Salt 'n' Pepa (Soulwax mix)
It's a list that I like and, best of all, it's meaningless.
Perhaps he was rejected because of the "T-shirt and no pants" look (the client's name was supposed to go on the shirt). It is widely believed that this sartorial choice led to Donald Duck being banned in Finland, but that is apparently an urban legend.
The character on the left I knew as Mr Paliarchin. He was a popular, mass-produced dummy in the Seventies. I believe it was marketed as Parlanchin, or something similar, but he was Paliarchin to me. I must have read the box incorrectly. You might think it odd, to look at him, but I was very fond of Mr P. He was a close companion for several years, much to the annoyance of my family. My uncle got so fed-up with Mr P’s comedy shtick one Christmas that he ran off with the wee plastic fella. Mr P was later found hanged from the light-switch cord in the bathroom. These days I could probably sue for emotional trauma.
The guy on the right was called Hugo. He was not a ventriloquist's dummy at all; his eyes and mouth remained stubbornly immobile. The point of Hugo was that you stuck disguises on him and hideous scars and wounds. Except of course that you were a child so you stuck them on yourself instead, and Hugo became the world’s most useless ventriloquist doll.
The thing is, looking at these slightly scary looking characters now, I’m amazed that I turned out so normal and well balanced. And it gets worse: I also had a ventriloquist doll based on Frankenstein’s Monster. No, really. But it seems that today’s models are no less scary. Witness the George W. Bush dummy:
For a while as a child I thought I would be a professional ventriloquist when I grew up. How absurd an ambition was that? Now cartoonist, that’s much more realistic …