Summer Exhibition

I have put a few images of the wares I am selling at this year's degree show. Each print has been painstakingly and individually wrapped in cellophane pouches and lovingly adorned with a coloured sticker to denote price. I only hope that people use the honesty box system in the manner in which it was intended to be used, and, if people do steal my prints, that they do so with an air of purpose (zip-wires, cat suits, suction boots etc.) that suggests the items lifted are of enormous and important value to the country, like an Egyptian sarcophagus head-piece or a Fabergé Egg. Some kind of Zeta-Jones Entrapment Dance wouldn't go a-miss either, although preferably I'd like to be present.

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Alan is a trolley porter at Asda. He dreams of being Cornwall's strongest man and idolises the historic strongman, and his namesake, Alan B. McNab. His life is a stew of fantasy and fear.

I wrote, designed, and drew this 24 page comic in 24 hours, non-stop.
The following posts are sequential, but, due to the adverse nature of this blog, will appear in reverse.



A t-shirt idea (that never came to fruition) in which our Monarch's 20 lb head gives chase to a terrified young man named David.



A drawing I did for my mother. The central portal is a mono-print, which I then drew around in ink.


Haughty Culture

In December of 2009 I experienced another of my achingly unpredictable bouts of time travel. This time it was to the 1890s.

Posh flowers? Yes. This pack of four cards (from a seemingly vast library of collectable prints dating from around 1889) lets one into the pompous hierarchy of vase-life; a breath of humour that adds vim even to the dullest of Horticultural Magazines or Journals.

Mim and Jess

These are my cats. They made their first published appearance last year, in a newspaper, alongside this text:

R. Fresson is at home with his cats. He enjoys spending time with cats, especially his. They're names are as follows. 1. Mee-mee. 2. Jess. That is all of them.

They are ladies of leisure. They spend much time socialising and lying down, sometimes stretching. Occasionally, they eat. Mee-mee, or Mim (as she is affectionately known) eats more than Jess. As a result, Mim is fatter and Jess is thinner. Jess, however, is more sociable than Mim and is likely to approach visitors and entertain them with feline anecdotes. Some have suggested that Jess is too trusting, and, while on first impression seems quite conversational and jolly, given time it is Mim who inspires the greatest love and affection. Perhaps Jess is just simply more simple. This certainly follows if one were to examine either cat's gaze. For example, a visitor may stroke Mim and find her disinterested, possibly e'en a little disturbed by said fondling. Fine, you may say; it is due to Mim's apparent disinclination towards new faces; the fact that she requires time to warm to them. Conversely, one may observe the look on Mim's face when the visitor strokes Jess instead. Ferocious jealousy! and nothing less. When Mim was stroked Jess did not so much as raise a whisker, but when Jess received similar acknowledgement Mim stared daggers.

This suggests a bizarre complexity in Mim's character, namely that she wants what Jess has only when Jess has it. This is a common trait among sisters of the human variety, but middle-aged cats?

Evidence for Mim's inherent envy is further exemplified by the way in which she bullies her slighter sister. At mealtimes it is Mim who waits patiently, while Jess appears to be asking for food for both of them. Then, after Jess has finished, Mim will always check Jess's bowl for leftovers. Mim will even bash or scowl at Jess for claiming her own food. It seems, so it does, that Jess is not allowed to have anything that Mim does not. And Jess doesn't seem to mind. Indeed, it has been recently suggested that Jess is the smarter cat and feigns simple-minded-ness and an aura of 'being-hard-done-by' so that dim-witted humans will make all the previously made assumptions, placing Mim in the 'bad-books'.

R. (G.) Fresson, of course, finds no such distinction, preferring his cats only when sleeping. De facto, he is quoted as saying "They are only cats, God damnation! Now, leave me at once."

Sadly, Jess died in March. She was very old and was finding jumping onto to strangers' laps a struggle. R.I.P.J



After repeated death threats and warnings, I have had little choice but to publish the bear drawing. It was created to temporarily quell the wrath of an internet user who stumbled unwittingly onto my site whilst looking for rugsfresh.co.uk (a Turkish cleaning company) or regsfishing.co.uk (an angling forum). For all those people with dirty rugs or unquenchable fishing needs, and for those who just fell in love with the bear, here it is.