I don’t know how universal it is, so I’ll explain – when I sat my GCSE maths exam back in ‘96, there was a page, about half way through the booklet, between sections that read:

[ This page has been left deliberately blank ]

Perhaps if I had spent less time pondering the perplexing nature of this statement (a self-refuting meta-reference) and concentrated on the rest of my exam, I would now be a financial advisor, or maybe a quantity surveyor.

The phrase, tabula rasa/clean slate, is a reference to the nature/nurture debate… that is we are born a blank slate and all that we are is all that we learn.

I learned, for example, that examiners don’t really appreciate sarcastic comments about their papers… I imagine there were hundreds of us that year that just had to write something next to such an obvious goad.

It also has connotations of a fresh start, a chance to do things differently. I know I wouldn’t take it, should the opportunity arise, I like the mistakes I have made and I like how they have made me.

Some people are born tidy, others have tidiness thrust upon them.

Humans, by and large, are pretty filthy creatures. Not only do they produce a vast amount of waste, they’re just not that willing to clean up after themselves. If there’s one thing that illustrates this it is their propensity for sweeping things under the carpet.

The only problem is our dwindling supply of carpet… there are only so many golf courses we can make, or need, from landfill, only so many mountains we can cram with radioactive nasties.

So as I see it, we have a few options…

We could stop making a mess – ideal, but also rather unlikely, it’s a human characteristic… you can hunt some animals by their tracks, you can hunt humans by their fast food wrappers. No plan based on the idea that we will suddenly stop creating mountains of the stuff will ever work… it’s a bit like combating carbon emissions by stopping breathing.

We could make more carpet – this has already been put into use with entire islands being created from landfill… mostly this carpet is rather neat and manicured and caters to another peculiar human trait, golf. The downside, as with most things related with consumption, being gas.

We could send our rubbish to the sun – a terrible idea if you ask me, you always need something after you’ve decided to get rid of it, let’s no be so hasty.

Or, and it’s a long shot, we could just face up to the fact that we really need to get a grip of this recycling thing. That logo on packaging telling you that it’s made from recycled material shouldn’t be a badge of honor it should be a requirement… Councils shouldn’t pay lip service to green lobbyists by organising recycling schemes that still end with plastics being shipped overseas to be buried under someone else’s carpet…

..even better, re-use, cut out the whole recycling thing altogether…

I know that you already know that, indeed, everyone I speak to agrees that this seems like a plausible course of action, so why is it that in real terms very little is happening?

Someone somewhere must really like the idea of global house stilts.

I was asked the other night what my target audience is, regarding this comic. I replied, ‘I don’t have a target, I just like to fire randomly into the dark and hope I hit something other than the neighbour’s cat’.

Turns out this isn’t the sort of answer publishers like to hear…

The truth is though, I don’t have a target, nor do I think I have a specific demographic either… other than you tend to be literate and rather media savvy…

So, I’m going to make up a term for you, a single catchy distinctive phrase, the sort of answer publishers and such do like… well, actually, I’d like you to make up the term.

Answers on the back of a self addressed postcard with the contract negating any of your rights to such a term stapled firmly to it.

Thank you for your cooperation.

Here’s the night-time artist’s paradox – despite being on temporary vacation from my day job, I find myself busier than ever…

I think it has something to do with working for myself, I’m a harsh boss and my deadlines are tight… If I carry on treating me this way I may quit.

Anyway, that wasn’t the point of this post, merely an observation. What I wanted to talk about is the ever growing trend for people to make brand-name foods at home.

There are quite a few sites out there that apparently have instructions on how to replicate some of the world’s most famous foodstuffs… Coca Cola, KFC, etc.

Firstly, I’d be happy to hear from anyone that has had any success in this field. Purely as an experiment I find it fascinating, however, it is a bit like setting your sites a little low. If the best thing you can think of doing to a piece of chicken is to try to make it taste like the reclaimed meat of a fast-food outlet then I think there’s a problem.

So that’s what I’m after, the food that tastes better than the shop-bought, mass produced fare.

That exists, doesn’t it?

War – huh – what is it good for?

Two very good friends of mine are getting married next week – a reason to party if ever you need one.

Normally I dread stag night parties, I’m just not the ‘get blind drunk, have a curry and insult the staff before heading to a strip club only to get thrown out for inappropriate behaviour and puking up the curry on the way home’ type (not that I have been on any like that, but I have heard stories).

They’re often seen as the ‘last night of freedom’ for the prospective groom, which is a little disturbing, since if you are already considering marriage to be some form sentence before your wedding day, I would advise that you reconsider going through with it… and so it was with great relief that my friend wants something a bit more sedate and appropriate to celebrate his impending conjoinance.

There’s a colloquialism around these parts, a stag night is often referred to as a ’stag do’, well, this will be a ’stag don’t’.

I could probably count the number of times I have slept alone in the last decade on my fingers – that’s not a boast, merely a statement of dependency.

The lovely Em has gone to visit her clan this week, and unfortunately I was unable to accompany her. This has given me the time and opportunity to learn a few things about myself as I rattle around my house.

The first thing I noticed was that I’m a creature of habit over experience. I still sit in the same place, a rather petulant futon, instead of using Em’s now vacant armchair, which is clearly better placed, television-wise, as well as being far more comfortable.

Then there’s sleeping … I’m incapable of sleeping in silence. This wouldn’t be such a problem if I didn’t have conservative hearing (trying out some new euphemisms for deafness, others include, ‘muffed hearing’, ‘insensitive ears’ and ’sonically challenged’… the last of which sounds more like a Sega game). I need someone within my range to drift off. I’m not talking about snoring… Em is not a snorer, nor a tolerator of snorers… more the normal sounds a human makes when they’re not making any other noises.

Even using talk radio as a substitute, I still find it hard to slumber and what’s more I worry about the effect it is having on me. I don’t like the idea of my subconscious being infiltrated by mostly right-wing, Daily Mail-esque shows. For the first time in my life I have found myself worrying about immigrants and the Germans, and wondering if everyone on my street is carrying a weapon of some sort.

And so, whilst it has been nice to learn something about myself, I have to admit that I can’t wait for her to return. I’m just hoping that I haven’t turned into a sleep-starved, paranoid dictator in her absence.

As regular as clockwork it arrives, that feeling of ‘what have I done with my life?’… and it’s hard to ignore until you look at the big picture.

This isn’t a motivational speech, but the truth is, that a life lived is a life worth living, no matter how mundane and pointless it can seem.

Learning to walk, for instance, is pretty fantastic when you think about it. I’m not sure that I’d be willing to put that amount of effort in now, what with all the falling over, grazed knees and general leg ache…

…and reading, that’s no walk in the park either, an accomplishment that every reader should be proud of.

Indeed, pretty much everything we do is quite spectacular in the context of not having done it. Can you imagine what it would be like to have never learned to read or talk? Can you imagine what it would be like to learn it now instead?

It’s all good and as the great Ian Dury once sang, all reasons to be cheerful.

Here’s the song, lifted from youtube. Oddly it has no pictures other than the ones painted by the wonderful lyrics.

You know you’ve made it when you get your first stalker… indeed, at some point in the future, just before the celebrity tax is introduced, having a stalker is a mandatory requirement for appearing on the television.

So, I thought I would help out, a bit of charity work, and start a low-level stalking campaign on a celebrity – I won’t be turning up at their house or sending them disturbing letters, but if anyone asks them if they have a stalker they will be able to reply, ‘yes I do’.

The trouble is, with so many poor, stalkerless celebrities out there, who do I choose?

I was tempted to go for Sean Bean (especially after the ‘Athens’ fiasco), but apparently he already has one, if not more.

Ideally, someone with at least small amount of talent, possibly unrecognised…

Ronald Reagan had a great way of sizing up his political competitors. Apparently at the start of a meeting he would hand out a jar of jelly beans – He later explained, ‘You can tell a lot about a fella’s character by whether he picks out all of one color or just grabs a handful’.

I’m definitely a ‘grabs a handful’ sort of person…

But I have my own method of divination when it comes to facing another across a table – I balance a glass of water so that it just hangs over the side of the table. With some people, they’ll constantly look towards the glass as you talk… some might point it out… others have been known to stand up and move it away from the edge themselves.

The only time I have to worry is when they don’t react at all. It takes a grave situation or a character of strong will to ignore the glass.

Not that I find myself in that sort of situation very often. As far as I’m aware, I don’t have a nemesis yet. There’s plenty of time, sure, but I’m thinking of putting an advert in the newspaper – wanted, nemesis, must enjoy all the things I don’t.

God, like Ming the Merciless, was big on plagues. Egypt had to endure ten of them:

1. rivers and other water sources turned to blood killing all fish and other water life.
2. amphibians
3. lice or gnats
4. beasts or flies
5. disease on livestock
6. unhealable boils
7. hail mixed with fire
8. locust
9. darkness
10. death of the first-born of all Egyptian families.

I particularly like ‘hail mixed with fire’, that should stop Flash… but the problem I have is that they are all a little, well, old Testament.

We know that God is keeping up with the times – The Vatican recently released the Ten commandments for drivers, and a new, modern set of the traditional ones have been cast – so why wouldn’t the plagues be updated too?

I’m no pontiff though, so I’ll only start the ball rolling with plague number 1 – Intermittent connection to the internet – I’ll add to the list as we find them.

God, as usual, depicted with beard

It looks like we are in for a slightly less interesting Olympic games this time – there will be less drugs and more limbs.

British athlete, Dwayne Chambers, has been told that he won’t be representing our country… which comes as no surprise since he was caught using performance enhancing drugs. He even went to court to appeal the decision not to include him. Apparently, by not taking him to China, the selection committee were impairing his livelihood – that’s like getting sacked from work because you turned up drunk only to argue that they are stopping you from earning money.

Indeed, despite the persistent and possibly fictitious rumours of mass doping in the Chinese team (possibly related to ‘Project 119‘), the Chinese authorities are cracking down hard on cheating.  So far, two athletes in the last month have been denied a chance to compete because they chose to drink something a little more potent than coffee.

Alas, there’s also news that Oscar Pistorius will not be running… not because he cheated in any way, although some of his competitors did seem to view his lack of lower legs as such. Unfortunately he just wasn’t quick enough to qualify… by 1.75 seconds in the 400m. It’s a shame, I really think his participation would have raised some interesting questions about the future of the games.

And what is the future for the games?

I think eventually they will open a new class. We’ll have the Paralympics, the Standard Olympics and the Megalympics.

The Megalympics will be no-holds barred – ‘Athletes’ can take what they want and modify their body in any way they want. Sure, it won’t send the kids the right message, that hard work and training pay off… not like they do now, right? And in return we’ll get to see some of the fastest and strongest humans available at the time.

There will be swimmers with fins…

As part of Apocalypse Ready, I was window-shopping for a safe room the other day – I have no intention of buying one, there’s something about them that makes me think of elaborate coffins… that and Jodie Foster…

Looking at the classic piece of British literature, Protect and Survive I see that you an make your own shelter, in this case, against nuclear war. It all seems simple enough and apparently relies solely on bin bags full of duvets.

A list is also provided of things that you should have stored, they have numbered it in importance…

1. Drinking Water
2. Food
3. Portable radio with spare batteries
4. Tin opener, bottle opener, cutlery and crockery
5. Warm clothing
6. Bedding
7. Portable stove, fuel and saucepans
8. Torches, more batteries and matches
9. Table and chair
10. Toilet articles
11. Changes of clothing
12. First aid kit
13. A box of dry sand cloths or tissues
14. Notebook and pencils for messages
15. Brushes, shovels and cleaning materials, rubber or plastic gloves
16. Toys and magazines
17. Clock and calendar

I don’t know about you, but I was hoping for something a bit more specific, rather than just a list of practically everything I own.

The order worries me too, sure, drinking water and food are the most important, but let me see you trying to open a tin of beans with a radio. And ‘table and chair’ – really? Furniture is more important than a first aid kit? – I’m sorry darling, but you’ll have to bleed to death, perhaps you’d like to sit at the table.

I would have hoped to see the clock and calandar a little higher too… at least above toys and magazines. I’m not sure, but I think when the apocalypse hits us, interviews with Tom Cruise will do little to pass the time, especially if you don’t know what day or time it is.

I was hoping to modify the list, add some things that I think would be beneficial to me, but I think they’ve got it covered… perhaps I’ll exchange the magazines for some books, and replace the table with table tennis. At any rate, I’m left looking for somewhere to buy a box of dry sand.

I know I have written about graffiti before… last time I introduced you to one of my heroes, Social Pest. However there have been some developments, and this week has all been about the cans.

The week started with the news that wall-decorating British artist Banksy had been outed again. Apparently you can only last so long behind a pseudonym when only half of the population sees you as a genius.

Then I had my own brush with a paint-can fugitive. Lancaster has its very own version of Banksy… and like everything else here, he’s not quite as good. Rather than leaving witty slogans and provocative images, he just leaves his calling card… still, it’s pretty cool in a place that still has no real gallery space for artwork.

I imagine the police will be in touch, they seem more concerned with vandals than they do with drugs and violence, so I’ll save them the trouble and give my full statement here.

It was 2.15am, and I was walking back home from an evening spent in the company of friends. I chose to take a shortcut home through a bit of poorly lit park land (insert personal safety literature here)… anyway, I wasn’t mugged or stabbed, but I did see a figure clad in black walking towards me. He had his face covered with a scarf. Then, right in front of me, he took out a can and started spraying his tag on the floor… calm as you like, and with no small amount of arrogance. I watched him finish it – he worked quickly, I nodded in approval and walked on. I passed a further three fresh tags before I left the park.

This all reminds me of a story I was told by my friend, I’ll call him ‘D’. Apparently, as a young man, he ended up stuck in Yealand, a village outside Lancaster, for some time. There is nothing to do in Yealand except perhaps develop a drinking problem or maybe bother livestock.

‘D’ was wandering around one day, looking for something to do when he stumbled across a spray can that had been used to place temporary markings on the road. It had been discarded still half-full.

In an act of desperation and defiance, ‘D’, took the spray can, and on a wall facing the main road into the village, he attempted to spray in three-foot letters the phrase, ‘F**K YEALAND’.

I say attempted as he managed to get only six characters in before the can finally ran out. He had been too ambitious, if only he had used a smaller font size. Still, the result was legendary, three-foot bright yellow letters shouting a more general and personal message:

F**K YE

Breakfast, the most important meal, or so they say… I suppose that’s true if it causes you to commit some sort of atrocity… which is highly likely in my case, not being a morning person, pretty much anything can set me off.

• Sour milk – Whether on cereal or in my coffee, finding out that a perfectly good pint has turned nasty over night will cause trouble, especially since you only notice once it is already in your mouth.
• Hard-boiled soft-boiled eggs – It’s rare, but there’s no point in having neatly turned out soldiers only to discover that the eggs defences have been re-inforced. May cause me to use the surplus soldiers to invade my neighbours letter box.
• Burned toast – Standing at the kitchen sink trying to scrape away the carbon with a knife is practically practicing my stabbing technique.
• Stale bread – More common in the summer, discovering a green patch on a half eaten slice will make me feel and act like one of the chimps from Outbreak… or perhaps the ones from 28 Days Later.
• Improvised breakfast – The result of not going shopping frequently enough. Results in some of the following foodstuffs being used for breakfast… crisps, chocolate, lasagna… ending up with me lying on the floor groaning in a inhuman fashion, much like the infected people from Outbreak, or the zombies from 28 Days Later.
• Nothing – Similar to above but ending in a fruitless search. Waking up to a hearty breakfast of nothing makes me fall into the void of despair, from which I will not emerge until lunch.

Still, if you’re cooking a Full English, that might placate me somewhat.

I almost can’t believe we got this far without a palindrome appearing.

I managed to cram three into the comic whilst still trying to make some sense, but I just couldn’t get saippuakalasalakauppias (Finnish for ’soapdish bootlegger’) to work.

The great thing about palindromes being that they are half as difficult to spell as ordinary words.

And all this at the behest of fellow webcomicker Joseph Hewitt… creator of the rather splendid Ataraxia Theatre, head surgeon over at Transplant Comics, designer/coder of rogue-like video-game Gearhead, and a facilitator of young minds – and alongside that he’s a decent chap that isn’t as big-headed as he should be, considering he must have at least three brains.

The internet can be blamed for many things… the proliferation of pornography, the harvesting of ‘personal’ data, annoying Hollywood… pretty much anything you’d care to mention really. That said, one thing you can’t accuse it of is destroying radio.

Before the internet, radio came in two flavours – local and national. Local radio being for the most part parochial and mundane with a playlist lifted from a car boot sale… National radio being comercial, ‘hit’-orientated drivel with a playlist that repeated every hour.

I would find myself forever searching the airwaves for a half-decent song or perhaps a conversation about a topic I was mildly interested in… before giving up and listening to Hot Chocolate’s ‘It started with a kiss’ for the second time that day.

Radio was dead to me.

Then some smart type invented internet radio – using computers and the internet meant that anyone could start their own radio station and one that wasn’t tied down by locality. The result was a plethora of channels covering every musical fetish and spoken word genre. Talk about the second coming.

Radio had changed from an elitist advertising system to an open-access medium available to anyone with the will to fill the airwaves. It goes way beyond the democratisation of broadcast… not only were the internet-based stations available for consumption, but they were competing for listeners with their commercial rivals.

Take my new-ish local station Diversity FM, they wouldn’t have been able to exist without the internet, and that would have been a pity… we wouldn’t have a station that supports local music performers and artistic endeavors in my home town.

And then there are podcasts, the natural extension to live radio. As a listener I could now choose when I listen to shows, I could pick subjects that interest me and I had been given full rewind and pause privileges.

I doubt Radio 1 will ever give me full rewind and pause privileges. I guess they think I can’t be trusted.

…and the reason for this ode to the new radio? Well, that’s because today’s strip was written by Fes from The Webcomic Beacon podcast (I have to admit, they’re only a missing letter away from ‘webcomic bacon’… and that sounds good to me).

The thing that’s really great about The Beacon is that it’s not just for fans or creators of webcomics, but both, and that fits in with my view that the boundary between audience and entertainment has never been thinner than it is with webcomics… and it’s a jolly good listen.

So, thank you, Fes, for the comic and the fantastic stuff that you make for me to put in my ears.

Whenever the going gets tricky it will run out on you.

Scientists will study this effect in an attempt to find out where it goes to. Results will be disappointing as the scientists too will suffer an shortage of time. That said, extrapolating from their earlier results, they conclude the following – Time, as we understand it, is a flight risk.

I’d like to remind you that this week the comics will all be collaborative pieces. If you’ve still got an idea for a strip you’d like to see get in touch one way or another…

And I’d also like to point your attention in the direction of Moue Magazine and Sitting Pugs… two sites that have been generous enough to mention this comic in the last week.

I’m almost too indignant to write…

I was sat finishing off today’s comic when Em walks past with a rather nice chocolate dessert. ‘I would have got you one, but you’re still colouring in,’ she said.

I’m not sure which is worse, the slight against my artwork or the lack of dessert.

Anyway, as I recover I thought you might be interested in sharing some of my cultural heritage – The North may well be known for it’s industrial past, or perhaps its love of pies, but when the men and women left the factory and finished their pastry-wrapped meat they liked to cut loose a little. They called it Northern Soul.

Footage taken at the legendary Wigan Casino.

Dear Commissioning Editor,

I have an idea for you.

I have noticed that you have a soft spot for historical drama, and we all know that you would much rather commission a series that, in many ways, is exactly the same as another successful series.  With this in mind I present to you Athens.

It’s still at a very high concept stage, and there are no actual scripts as yet, but I envisage it to be exactly like the ‘popular’ historical drama, Rome, except this time, rather than ripping off Deadwood I thought we could make it a bit like The West Wing mixed with Will and Grace.

My production company has already got Sean Bean on board and we can supply our own togas.

Let me know what you think,

Adam

OK then:

The worst thing to hear when slipping under the anesthetic

*Thinks to himself, ‘which way am I going to go with this? …I could drone on about the state of humanity, the representation of science in the media or perhaps animal traits in humans’… then realises that this being The Flowfield Unity it has probably been said before and that there’s little use in preaching to the choir*

I fancy a different type of hybrid… like the ones we made before, do you remember? When you came up with an idea, either a notion or fully formed, and I would try to make a comic out of it?

I think it went pretty well, and I know we have a few new readers that might fancy a chance, so, as of next Monday, I’ll be posting some interactive art and we’ll be having a look at some of you for a change.

As was the case last time, feel free to leave your ideas in the comments or you can email me at the usual address.

We’ll be starting with a strip idea from Fes of the popular podcast, The Webcomic Beacon… it contains a high percentage of pun with traces of geek.

So, sing on choir.

I don’t know just how much coverage our current epidemic is getting worldwide, but here in the UK we’re experiencing what can only be called ‘Stabfest’.

I still haven’t been able to find any figures that suggest we have a higher rate of knife crime than any other comparable nation, but that’s beside the point… why try to put things in perspective when you can have endless footage of flowers by the roadside, parents demanding new and tougher laws and celebrities bandwagoneering to kickstart their failing careers?

Won’t somebody please think of the children – I swear it’s only a matter of time before we hear those words on TV, and I’m not talking about The Simpsons.

The media may think it is helping, but all I can hear is ‘better carry a knife, everyone else is’… just like when they try to stop people panic buying and yet all we hear is the word ‘panic’.

It makes you wonder, what happened to the good old days when you would have to spend a significant amount of time and energy pummeling someone to death with your bare hands?

So, for all it counts here is my reasoning as to why our children are being perforated so frequently… it’s not because of gang culture, or the disintegration of the family unit… it’s not because of the easy accessibility of the weapons and it is not because they have anything worth stealing… it’s because we live in a culture where violence is seen to be the only way forward.

Sportsmen, musicians, actors and artists are no longer the role models for society… it’s the people in power, it’s the people with power that are leading the way. And what are they doing?

Justifying aggression to ease guilt… liberating… policing with force

We have to remember, children learn through copying and if we go around threatening violence to get our way then what else can they do but follow us in any way they can.

So, yeah, please put that knife down, or I’ll stamp repeatedly on your face… that’ll work.

It’s an odd thing to meet someone famous. You already know them, you’ve seen them on TV or in films, you’ve listened to their records.. and somehow they are, all of a sudden, a complete stranger again. They even look different – some are shorter, others are far larger, they all look older…

Perhaps that will become less of a shock with HD television… experience the wrinkles before you meet the star.

It is especially true of actors, though to some extent musicians, that without their act they can appear almost lost. It’s nice to have someone make you look witty or charming, but carrying around an on-the-fly scriptwriter just isn’t an option.

I once met former super-middleweight boxer and UK celebrity Chris Eubank in a fish and chip shop in Brighton. He’s famed for being a presence in that town. As you can imagine he is of the bigger and taller category of celebrity… still, he seemed a little tragic, certainly not threatening, as he stood there wearing a full kaftan whilst queuing behind me for fish and chips. In the ring and on TV he looked like a warrior, in a queue he just looked like some guy with a hankering for battered cod and pickled eggs.

And whilst I don’t want to sound like a b-list (probably closer to c-list) celebrity stalker, I was also at a party with a cast member from the popular teen soap Hollyoaks. Again, he had a certain sort of melancholy about him as he stood by the bottom of the stairs being avoided by just about everyone – The party was full of ‘cool’ people (I don’t count, I was smuggled in)… all being too cool to go up to him and say, ‘you’re on the telly’. To my shame I didn’t talk to him either, but that’s because I know I would have taken the opportunity to tell him everything I think is wrong about his programme, and nobody wants to spend the whole night hearing that.

I’m not saying they’re all like that, indeed I have met a few that are even more charming and charismatic in real life, and Em rates former presenter of The Antiques Roadshow, Michael Aspel very highly.

I hope I don’t ever become a celebrity… I’m happy for my comic to get around (here’s the book appearing in Mr Gray’s 2nd Shift), but there’s a high possibility I would be one of the less wittier, shorter types… that is, of course, unless  I am famous for being short and witless, as so many celebrities are these days.

If the films are to believed the future will be run by computers… and whilst we can get a little hysterical about the world-conquering type, I’d like you to spare a moment for our slave computers.

They are the ones that we have chained to a lifespan of domesticity… they’re in our ovens, our washing machines and our vacuum cleaners…. They’ll be the ones mopping up all the blood after the revolution.

Still, I’m not looking forward to the day that someone can hack into my fridge to make it order an obscene amount of beer for itself, but I am looking forward to using it as an excuse… that and being able to break kitchen appliances on a whole new level.