Tuesday, November 18, 2014

New look Brabbles & Boggitt, or old look; you decide

To be brutally honest with you, I've been in an almost 365 day 'quandary' session, and it's been driving me insane. It has been almost a year since I finished the first Brabbles & Boggitt tale and nearly a year since I was supposed to start the new one; in fact it's been almost that long that I've been promising you, me and a few Amazon that I will be putting it together and publishing the thing; yet still I have not.

Why? I hear you ask (I have very good hearing). Simple. The first tale was written in a standard comic book format where as the second is being produced in a Sunday strip format, and I quite like it.

So I can either, re draw the first tale, then publish, restart the second tale to fit with the first or hang it all and have the first book forever at size odds with what comes after.

So in my usual manner---and after a year of mental wall blocks---I'm going to throw it to you to decide what you prefer the best, and to help you I have republished three sample pages from the first tale and below it the first three pages of the new story with its Sunday strip format.

Please leave a comment or email me if you prefer, either way PLEAEEEEEEEEAAAAAAASSSSEEEEE help me out of this fix so I can move on with my life...

First 3 random pages from Brabbles & Boggitt, book 1...

Page44
 Page 45


 Page 46



...and now for the second book and the Sunday page format.

Page 1


Page 2

Page 3



Like I say, your input is most welcome so please do give it...

Thank you.

Saturday, November 15, 2014

The Spiders are Back!!

At the time of writing this I am coming out of my final session with the therapist about what the spiders in my back room did to me last Christmas. Below is an account of that day:

Mad Friday, Fighting Friday, Black Friday. All names given to the last Friday before Christmas, when tradition dictates that everyone must go out and consume far too much alcohol for their own good and then raise holy hell, and last night was one such night; not for me, but for certain anarchic members of my household.

I’d come home around 7am from a very hectic night at work and was just about to partake in a relaxing cup of tea when the door bell went. I grunted and went to open it and was confronted by two very burly and stern looking Policemen and a laconic WPC who looked directly at me and then to the ground and said:

“Are these your spiders, sir?”

I groaned inwardly as I looked at the four worst offenders in my fraternity of creepy, unwanted lodgers. The one leered at me though 40,000 drunken eyes, the second was looking up the WPC’s skirt while the third was holding the fourths legs back while he was being sick down the drain.

I groaned again, this time lacing it heavily with resignation: “What have they been up to this time?” The copper frowned and said: “Can we come in, Sir?”

My shoulders slumped, but I stood aside and waved them in, the spiders staggering along behind them. I looked at their team leader and exclaimed out loud:

“My god, is that another tattoo?!” He just grinned and staggered off to his web, looking into the fridge on his way to pick out a pack of dried bluebottles he’d stashed there last August; apparently he had the munchies.

Once I’d got them all settled into their webs, telling them they were grounded, and had provided a bucket for the sick one, I returned to the Police officers who were eying up my large stash of pens suspiciously (the ones I’d been collecting from broken crackers at work). I slumped into my chair and bade them continue with the rap sheet.

It turns out that after I had left home for work the spiders had found my stock of Christmas drink and a bottle opener, and after a crash course on how to open bottles from YouTube, had downed most of the real ales and had decided to go up town for a bit of action and a pizza.

This had involved, and I quote: Managing to get themselves inside two barrels of Doom Bar ale and drinking them dry, abseiling drunkenly on thin strands of web with party hats and obscenely shaped candy canes, while frightening the local girls into hysterical screaming fits, doing line after line of Jäger bombs, picking fights with the bouncers and taking out a local county councillor with a taser gun disguised as a blow tickler; the police were eventually called in when they managed to coerce a pack of nuns--- who were on their way to midnight mass--- into the pub and had them cornered and were force feeding them Black Sabbath songs backwards on the Juke Box. Apparently the screams could be heard all over town.

When the police finally arrived, the leader was making lewd suggestions to a very startled looking Rhinoceros beetle and the nuns were genuflecting like epileptics at a light show.

I looked suitable chastened, promised I’d keep a closer eye on them and the officers let me off with a warning. Once they had gone I slumped into my chair once again and released a slow valve sigh of frustration; then the door bell went again.

I grunted my way to the door thinking, ‘what now?’ only to be confronted by a pizza delivery guy with a double pepperoni and jalapeño pizza. I turned to the spiders who had somehow managed to pilfer my mobile phone and were sniggering while they hacked into my Facelessbook account.

So any odd statuses (well odder than normal) appear on here then blame it on the spiders...Bad spiders, very bad spiders!

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

A little help please

Its been a few months since I uploaded my first book---the Night of the Village Idiots---to Amazon Kindle, and so far it has had a nice little pile of downloads. But now I am looking to start marketing it more heavily, and this is where you all come in.
What I want is reviews, a new book from an untested author desperately needs reviews so as the browsing buyer can see what others think before purchasing. So what I'm asking---to all my Diary of a Cartoonist and Writer friends and readers---is if there are willing participants out there who like a laugh and to read humorous tales and would like to give my book a go FOR FREE, then please message me, either on the contact me page or by pasting and copying my address which is toonart11@gmail.com with your email address and I will send you the file, and all I ask for in return is a review...bad or good, but preferably good.
Your help is very much appreciated.

Friday, October 10, 2014

101 uses for a Dead Mother-in-Law

A oldish project that I've been working on with a collaborator---not something I normally do---is called 101 uses for a dead Mother in  Law.

Yes, I kn ow, not a very salubrious theme, but with the silly ideas and Warner Bros type slapstick humour, I hope to win people over.

Anyway, the first cover is done---I'm sure there will be changes---but its a start. So along with the syndicated strip ideas I will be updating with this project as and when news comes to me.

Monday, September 29, 2014

New comic strip, new hopes and new ideas...


Well, once again, here I am apologising for not having gotten around to posting on this, my launch pad site for the many ideas I have and the projects I undertake that you, my wonderful followers, follow.

As you can see I have been busy, and today I can announce the completion of my first comic strip submission for syndication in over 10 years. And to celebrate this mile stone I've attached the character sheet and all 30 strips, as I have submitted them, for your delectation and enjoyment.

The cartoon strip is titled simply 'Bib'. and below is the synopsis description from the cover letter that has accompanied it to the top three American Syndicates: King Features, Washington Post Writers Syndicate and Universal Uclick.

Strip Synopsis

Bib is a scientist one moment, an impressionist artist the next, (which he slams and criticises vociferously) a child psychologist (holding forth with his own particular brand of views and opinions, from the coal face as it where), inventor, poet, bohemian, food critic, marriage guidance councillor for the two argumentative garden Gnomes outside and on Thursdays, the leader of the crèche escape committee. Other than that he worries the cat next door, has adventures and flights of fantasy using the kitchen pedal bin as the vehicle for his imagination; avoids the attempts of the amorous dribbling baby from down the street, experiments through his department of dubious sciences on his hapless Grandma, the cat next door and an even more hapless travelling salesman, and wages a campaign of evasion against his slobbering aunt who seems unstoppable and indestructible in her quest for a kiss and a cuddle.

In short, Bib is not your quintessential little baby strip. He tears and howls his way through life as his diminutive little body tries to catch up with his overly developed imagination and mind.

I hope you like what you read and please do leave any comments--- and or your thoughts--- on Bib. Also please, PLEASE do keep coming back as I have so much to share and talk to you about.

Thank you

Karl 
September 2014



Character Sheet and Strips


















Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Sleepy Hamlet--Official book launch

Well it's here at last, The Night of the Village Idiots, my first soiree into the grown up world of book publishing--- my first novel--- and its being self published through Amazons' Kindle programme, and soon to go hard copy with CreateSpace.

A lot of you will already be aware of this long overdue event. I have been talking about it's imminent arrival for probably over a year now, and have even published sample chapters herehere and here.

But the good news is that the moment has finally arrived; it is here folks and now its time to big it up and this is where I need your help and the help of anyone you think would be interested in a piece of countryside tom-foolery.

But first of all, let me introduce those of you who are new here and have no idea what I'm wittering on about to the odd-ball, eccentric, nut-job inhabitants of the village of Sleepy Hamlet by way of a synopsis for their first tale, the Night of the Village Idiots.

Synopsis for the Night of the Village Idiots

How could the removal of a family painting, a childhood fear of thunder and lightning and the pub landlord's flu cause so much trouble?

Simple, add a dotty half wit Lord of the manor, place him next to his short fused and volcanic wife, refer to the butler, who is the very model of decorum and upholder the old ways, as the family pet, ignite the head cooks flatulent backside with a lightning bolt, have Mrs Heppleheimer: a crazy octogenarian Bavarian barm pot run the village pub and bring her own brain battering, soul sapping brew of the Norse Gods, get the villagers to try and get her drunk in an ill fated drinking competition which will eventually end up with the mass hypnotism of the village quoits team,  while all the time have the incumbents of Hamlet Hall running around a darkened stately home that's been blacked out by the worst storms in living memory; have an old suit of armour nearly decapitate her Ladyship while she attempts to head her portly husband off in his search for a stepladder and something to remove a picture with, then add to the mix a nervous maid with a curtsying fixation  and a concussed and amnesic head cook who's wondering around the house covered in fruit preserves and compotes, and you have the ingredients for a stormy night with a village full of idiots.

Intrigued? I hope so. Tickled at the thought of what comes next? I hope that to. Have a bit of money burning a hole in your pocket? I really hope for that.

So now all that is left for you to do is go forth and spread the word, my children. Let the people know about the word, and the word is Sleepy Hamlet (well technically that's two words, but for the sake of omnipotence, which is the look I'm going for at the moment, well say it very fast so it sounds like one word), tell them of the gloriously crazy inhabitants of this Eden, inform them of the very low purchase price, and how through a wondrous blog (that's this one, if you were wondering where I was talking about), you can simply click on the book's cover image atop the right hand column and lo, it will be sent via the heavens to your kindle, android or app within seconds, and angels will sing and sinners rejoice and then you to will have the word.

Okay, so I got a little carried away there, but you get the picture. And if you or your friends really like what you read, please pop along to the review section and leave a few favourable comments and lots of stars.

And if you keep coming back here, I will keep you updated as to the next novel in the Sleepy Hamlet chronicles called Tourists in Season, which is already under-way and of which chapter 1 is published at the end of the Night of the Village Idiots.

Of course I will also be keeping you up to date on all of my other projects and ideas, both art and written, so please, don't be a stranger and keep coming back and I will do my best to entertain you.

Thank you in advance.

If you like my blog and the things that I say and do, please tell your friends; mention me on Facebook, Twitter and any of the other fine social media networking sites you use. I would love to have my work reach a much larger audience and although I could no doubt eventually get there under my own steam, I'll get there a lot quicker with your help, so please, please spread the word.

Thank you








Saturday, June 7, 2014

...and finally in the news...

For over twenty years now I've been drawing cartoons to illustrate news stories for the local newspaper market, and its a job I have loved.

I can happily say that some of the best stories you will ever read will come from a local newspaper; mainly because they have to fill their pages with copy, and when that happens you can guarantee some real corkers are going to get printed.

Over the years I've illustrated stories about Orchestras who's instruments are made up of plumbers piping, or tales of the Bog Snorkeling championships--- believe me, I have covered some seriously weird stories.

But the relevance here is that whenever I do one now I will be sharing it with you, and to get you started, here's two previously published gags with a little write up to accompany it, and a bonus one that was never printed, but I just had to do it anyway.

This cartoon covers a story about a perfumier in York, England who have decide to launch a range of deodorants called 'Viking'. The idea is to make the wearer smell just like a real Viking warrior---the only problem is the aromas' vary from, sweat, dried blood, wood smoke and stale mead.


This next one deals with a North Wales (UK) water authority that wants to cut back on its fuel bills by pumping sea water from the nearby Irish Sea and using it instead of oil to heat up and fuel their main pumping station in the area.

My thoughts are below.


The final one didn't actually appear in any magazine or newspaper---for obvious reasons when you read its content---but when I heard about the Santiago council in Chile who had built a giant lime green condom, the size of a building, to educate the cities people about sex education, I just had to draw a cartoon for the hell of it

Enjoy




Tuesday, June 3, 2014

Marketing the Bear---Part 1, Starting small

Quite some time back I wrote an instructional post on How to Draw a water colour cutie. The character I drew then was a character called Big Ol' Bear.

Since then I have been working up a range of designs to self publish him through the greeting cards market. This process has not only dragged on and on, and seemed to have spent an eternity on the back boiler, it has also made me both realise a major problem and discover a new direction.

The problem I encountered was that to launch a new character into an already over populated greeting card market, and without the advantage of the huge marketing machine and vast sums of money available to the Hallmarks of this world, I was going to have to scale a mountain that even Mohamed would have taken one look at and said, 'Sod that'.

So I looked into sub contracting my idea out.

To do this would've involved me selling my designs direct to the small, independent reps who's job it is to service all the small greeting card concessions in their area; this would've given me a network of agents, selling to thousands of little clients, but at a fraction of what I could potentially realise from this project: not to mention the amount of phone calling, driving to and from these reps all over the British Isles and trying to manage the logistical nightmare of making appointments for all reps in each area, over a 24 hour period and managing the exact right amount of time to have the interview and make it to my next appointment.

After a short while it became obvious that this was not a viable way forward. It became very obvious that there had to be another way of getting the bear to market, a way that was not so cluttered and one that would build a good solid fan base--- that would afford me the luxury of taking a recognised brand to these reps and possibly negotiating a better deal.

So I needed a new way forward. A revolutionary way of taking my new creation, Big Ol' Bear to market in such a way that would not only get him noticed, but maximise his earning potential in a very short space of time; something that was going to be very important for someone who was artist, designer, salesman and publisher all in one unsure little middle aged package.

But its been done before, right? Didn't Hanna Barbera do just that? Didn't they have to re invent the cartoon wheel when their careers came crashing down around their collective ears? And didn't they invent the new medium of TV animation, a concept we take for granted nowadays, but was a revolution back then?

Now I've already said that I think I have come up with a new direction---my ground breaker, as it where---So the aim of this new ongoing set of posts within our Diary of a Cartoonist and Writer is to take you through the process that I'm about to embark upon. Over the next, god only knows how many posts, I will be sharing the journey of me and my character, Big Ol' Bear, with you as we move into the uncertain world of turning a water colour sketch into a greeting card brand---using only my wits and intuition as a guide. Because I sure as hell have no marketing skills or qualifications

So hang on in there and you may just be party to the start of the next big thing.

On my next post I will tell you Big Ol' Bear's back story, and how if it wasn't for the comments of a friend who just happened to stop by my studio for a chat one night, Big Ol' Bear may still be residing in my vast 'dead pile' of scribbled ideas.

If you like my blog and the things that I say and do, please tell your friends; mention me on Facebook, Twitter and any of the other fine social media networking sites you use. I would love to have my work reach a much larger audience and although I could no doubt eventually get there under my own steam, I'll get there a lot quicker with your help, so please, please spread the word.

Thank you

Tuesday, May 27, 2014

Creation of a new Character Part 4

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3


Now this really is a simple one, so far as tutorials go. I know you’ve all be patient with me and viewed the other three tutorials in this range and I hope you have taken something or a lot away from them.

In this tutorial I will be talking about how I script a comics’ page. I will not deal with how to make it funny, poignant, dark, sinister, light-hearted or any of the other emotions that go into producing the modern comic book, or graphic novel. But at the bottom of this post I’ll be publishing the page and a half story that is the end result of all four tutorials.

This should help illustrate what I'll be explaining in today's post and hopefully help you when you come to writing your first, all important, comics story

The comics’ page, as opposed to the comic strip, which is a much more compact and tighter version, follows these few simple rules:

1.       Have a beginning, middle and an end
2.       Introduction of the character
3.       Set the scene
4.       Run the story
5.       End it with a summarised point of the whole story


Have a middle, beginning, middle and an end 

Like all stories they must have a beginning a middle and an end. I know this sounds simple and logical, and when you are producing a graphic novel that sprawls over hundreds of pages, that may sound like good practice, but when you are putting out a two page story for a comic, or a collection of short gag pages, or even worse a one pager, this can be a difficult rule to work to. But without it your story loses its structure, and anything without structure will, as I'm sure your are aware, crumble and collapse.

Introduction of the character


Unless you have an instantly recognisable character, like Superman, Mickey Mouse or Bart Simpson, you will have to introduce your character within the first few panels and do it in such a way that your characters personality, or character trait, is established from the off. This is so much more important when introducing a new idea to a largely sceptical audience.

Set the Scene

This is the only chance you'll have to lay the solid foundations that will give your story or gag the desired punchline or ending.
In the page below this is illustrated when the refuse collector is trying to complete a simple task that Captain Alzheimer's problems and issues will turn into a mountain that Mohammed would think twice about. So in this case, the simple task not only set the scene but lined up the punchline.

Run the Story

Once you have the character introduced and the scene set you can then put in as many sight gags, comments and situations around that theme as possible---depending, of course on space. Once again the page and a half below illustrates the growing confusion and forgetful nature of the strips main character.

End it with a summarised point of the whole story

Put simply: when you think you've said all you wanted to, or exhausted the stories themes and gags you will need to fold the tale up.
Once again, in the tale below, I used the introduction of another character to remove the strips star away from the main scene and inevitable dead end. This enables the reader to clearly delineate from the main thrust of the tale to the story's end game; in this case his release into his long suffering wife's custody. The story then ends with a re enforcement of the main character's personality trait with the promise of what more strips on this theme would be like.

Now I know the subject matter may not be to every one's taste, but like I said in the first post, this character was created for a specific market. A market that relies on the off colour humour that is beloved by so many.

I hope you have enjoyed these tutorials and will want to see more. If you do please click on the tutorials page and soak up a whole load more. And if you really like what you see and read then please, please mention me on your social network sites, link this page and let your friends know of our little corner of the web; a place where the mind of this writer and cartoonist dribbles out all over the pages and gives you segmented cartoon stories, tutorials, humorous short stories and just plain silly stuff and nonsense.

Anyway, by way of a thank you for trawling through these tutorials, I have, as promised, posted the finished page and a half of the completed Captain Alzheimer strip.

Enjoy and Bonn Appetite



Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Do I come here often?

Now before I go any further, I want you all to know that what I am about to recount is not a sign of ageing or the onset of senility. I have been doing the stuff I describe below for as long as I can remember; it is a result of having too much stuff flying around my head, which in turn gets me into more sticky situations than I probably deserve to be in.

That said, here we go:

I got into the house this morning and shook off the effects of a momentary rain storm that had liberally sprinkled its presence all about my person. I wanted to put my phone on charge and went instinctively to my back pocket, only to find I’d left it in the car. So I went back over the road, along the street and into the car park only to discover I had forgotten the car keys. I went back home, took off my shoes, got the key, left the house; realised I’d forgotten my shoes, came back in, put them on went over the car and realised I’d put the car keys down while I was putting my shoes back on.

I went back to the house; kept my shoes on and returned to the car; stood there for a while, trying to remember why I was over here, opened the door, picked up my laptop and came home. Got to the house realised I’d put the house key down while getting the computer. So I went back over the car, got the key, came back, got in the house and realised I’d forgotten my phone and the laptop.

Over I went again, opened the car door and an alarm I didn’t recognise went off. It wasn’t until a very large, red faced gentleman--- who came charging over with intent sparkling out of one eye, murder flaming from the other and a baseball bat swinging from his hand--- that I realised I was sitting in the wrong car. Or to be more precise: His car. When I explained to him--- in what I considered to be perfectly innocent banter--- that I was looking for a laptop and a mobile phone, he seemed to become even more agitated and proceeded to chase me around the car park; his baseball bat flying about his head like an unstable fair ground attraction.

I, for my part, was trying to multi task by locating my car keys, evading the bloated heathen and his gyratory baseball bat and the commentary on what his hearts’ desire and fondest wishes were, vis a vi, him getting hold of me. I must admit they weren’t very imaginative and seemed to revolve largely around his baseball bat and my skull.

Eventually I realised that I’d left the car keys in the house again; so now I had to put him off the scent, as it where, lest he discover where I live and call upon more help from other baseball bat wielding members of his rather excitable but shallow gene pool of a family. Suddenly I shouted ‘Look, an England Rugby fan’ and with his anger momentarily miss-directed, I slipped out of the car park and into my house.

I waited for a while, checked to see if the coast was clear--- and that I had my car keys and shoes on--- tentatively headed back over to the car park--- where the large ginger man appeared to have either lost interest or widened his search for the elusive England fan--- nipped over to my car--- made sure it was my car--- opened it, picked up my phone and laptop then rushed home, thoroughly soaked but with everything finally under the same roof.


And people wonder why I get in the house at 7:00 but don’t get into bed until 10:30.

Saturday, January 11, 2014

The Birds and the Booze

Two young girls walk up to the bar...

No this isn’t a joke about nuns or crocodiles; talking dogs or bears who do un-comely things with bowel movements in densely wooded areas.
 
I've taken a job to pay the bills as I work on my various projects and I had just started my night shift and had taken over a packed bar when a delegation of drunken womanhood broke free from the main body of the local vets’ Christmas party and headed, very unsteadily, towards the bar.

By the determined way that they bobbed, weaved; zigged and zaged and bravely ran the gauntlet of groping hairy farmers hands across the packed room, it was obvious they were now regretting the stupidly high shoes they were wearing and the dresses that ended two point five inches below the dental floss that passed for their knickers.

But eventually they arrived at the bar and made a half hearted attempt at pulling their dresses down. Sadly they were woefully unaware of Newton’s law of the little black number; that states quite clearly: what comes down must also follow, ie; when they pulled the dress down at the bottom, the top half followed suit and only narrowly prevented their inadequately secured breasts from making a surprise guest appearance.

The girl with the little black numbers friend piped up and slurred her concerns as to the fact that she was ‘shinning’. Her little blond compadre turned--- a little too quickly as it would turn out--- to find out what she had meant and sank ignominiously, and wide eyed with shock into a pack of rugby boys, who, at that very moment had been discussing their respective Christmas lists; chief desire of which was for the sudden arrival of something blond, comely, loose of morals and with inebriated senses, directly onto their laps, when seemingly out of nowhere the little blond appeared in their midst with her legs akimbo and still grasping her depleted glass of Jägermeister and port slammer.


There was a brief moment of calm while the pub held its collective breath. The pack stared blankly at her as she tried to get her legs to stop waving around in such a come-hither-to-fashion, then the rugby boys erupted into a shark feeding frenzy. Drinks flew everywhere as they closed in on the helpless little blond like a collapsing scrum. It took three night porters, two barmen, fifteen waiters and a referee to break it up; four of the boys were sent immediately to the sin bin and at least two were deemed to have been caught offside.


Once we had the girl safely upright, and her hair facing vaguely in the right direction, we began the task of reassembling her eye lashes. The right one had slipped furthest away and gave the impression that she was sporting a nifty goatee, while the second was reposing under her nose, looking like one half of a handle bar moustache.


Her friend, who was still banging on about how unfair it was, and what a martyr she had become to her ‘shiny’ predicament (we never did get to the bottom of that little conundrum), hadn’t noticed her friends disappearing/reappearing act, while the blond, after our sixty second makeover, slipped effortlessly back into her friends drunken conversation as though nothing had happened.


They then continued to order their own body weight in Sambuca and Malibu before returned into the bosom of the happy throng of hammered vets. But moments before they re docked with their fellow party goers, the little blonde’s heels finally gave up the ghost and parted company with the main body of the shoe and she went down like a sapling in a storm.


Once again the Rugby boys headed towards her like heat seeking hormone missiles, howling at the blood moon as they did so. But luckily one or two of the vets saw their approach and with the deft movements, worthy of a police marksman, they darted most of the front row and were holding back the wingers and props with fully charged cattle prods.


Apparently, when questioned by a very impressed Policewoman who was attending the scene later, the vet said:
“We never leave home without a cattle prod or a tranquillizer gun, as you never know when it will be needed”
And as the rugby boys were led dazedly away to the JPR Williams home for the slightly bewildered, I thought about my youngest daughter as she totters around town on sixteen foot heels, glowing a little too much for her own good; tanked up and turning her blood from a life giving liquid into 400% proof alcohol, I closed my eyes and whispered through barley parted lips:
“Please Santa, let there always be a vet and his cattle prod near my little girl this Christmas”

Monday, November 25, 2013

Still here folks!

I am so sorry for not having posted anything for what seems like an eternity but I have been busy.

First I was in somewhat of a quandary as to whether I should do another Brabbles & Boggitt story, but comments on Facebook and Twitter have put paid to that; Brabbles & Boggitt are definitely coming back, and within a few weeks, if I have my way.

I also wondered if I should revamp my blog over worries that it was getting a little too confusing, but having taken a few weeks out to reflect I have decided to keep it just as it is; although I'm still a little unsure as to if I should give Brabbles & Boggitt its own site with links from here: what do you think?

Also I'm still pondering over giving, or rather re launching, a Sleepy Hamlet site that would be devoted to the countryside eccentrics, and push that a lot more?

Naturally any thoughts you may have will be gratefully received, this site is, after all, all about me doing stuff to entertain you.

And finally, the Brabbles & Boggitt story you have just finished will be in print soon with an added, never before seen, six page mini tale called 'Profit or loss'.

So do keep coming back and I promise to get back on board and start sharing my thoughts, art and life with you all again

Cheers

Karl

Friday, November 1, 2013

Brabbles & Boggitt Page 46

This is it, folks! The final page!!

 Well there we go, 46 pages and a few panels re-draws later and we have the final page.

It's been a great year and these little characters of mine have more than done their bit to grow the traffic to our little corner of the web. You've taken them so much to your hearts, in fact, that I've decided to make them a permanent feature of our world and continue to write and draw even more of their crazy tales and modern twists on fairy tales and folklore.

All that's left now is to put it all together and offer it up as a complete story collection, and to add to it I will be re illustrating more panels, giving you a back story to this very popular feature and producing a six page, never-before-published-anywhere Brabbles & Boggitt story.

Also, come back next week when I can tell you what plans I have for the next Brabbles & Boggitt tale, including the new format. Interested? I hope you are, because I'm doing it for you.

See you then.

Karl

New to Brabbles & Boggitt? click here and start reading from the beginning.

If you like my blog and the things that I say and do, please tell your friends; mention me on Facebook, Twitter and any of the other fine social media networking sites you use. I would love to have my work reach a much larger audience and although I could no doubt eventually get there under my own steam, I'll get there a lot quicker with your help, so please, please spread the word.

Thank you


Sunday, October 27, 2013

Heap Big Rubbish Writing

 Just been watching a typical western where some native American Hollywood Indian--- sounding like he was from the Bronx--- called He who jaxcars, is chasing a runaway bride on behalf of some jealous cavalry General called Ornery William Cuthbert Custerstone III, or something like that.

Anyway, the Indian halts the whole platoon of soldiers as he spots something in the distance, he charges across vast and open prairie only to leap off his horse and study a horse track that he has spotted from five miles away. The cavalry come charging behind him with the bugler sounding the charge, followed by a meddle of hits from Showboat and the Pirates of Penzance, and they in turn stop to take in the near miracle hawk like abilities of this native American with the strange lower east side accent and study the hoof print. 

He grunts one word which sounds faintly like bita-bing-bita-bong and the Colonel looks meaningfully into the misty mountains beyond and states, while taking his hat off and mopping his brow with the back of his sleeve:

"He says she passed here two days ago carrying a saddlebag full of her worldly possessions, a ruck sack, two guns and a bootleg copy Debbie does Dallas"

With that the Indian saddles up, grunts and they all charge off to a rousing accompaniment of Pappa's got a brand new bag, played on the bugle, and we are left looking at the solitary hoof print.

All I'm thinking is: isn't finding a hoof print in the middle of cattle driving country a little like discovering a tyre track on the M25 and what happened to the other four hoof prints? Surely they should be looking for a severely disabled horse or one on a pogo stick

I lost interest in the end and wondered, not for the first time, does no one keep an eye on the scripting rooms in Hollywood, or do they just keep on feeding them bananas and hope for the best?!


Friday, October 25, 2013

Brabbles & Boggitt Page 45



NEXT WEEK: The Judge's sentence and the final episode in this Brabbles & Boggitt tale

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