OMG. This dumb cartoon just won me an all expenses-paid trip to London on Tuesday to sit in a room which will have food, booze and Terry Gilliam in it! I will be allowed to put the food and booze into my mouth. OMFG. OMFFG. There aren’t enough F’s in the world, frankly.
Criminy. I have to find a tux from somewhere.
Link: 30 sec film comp winner announced.*
And thank you SO MUCH, NFM!
*The cartoon is thirty-eight seconds long. Is that ironic?
Mr Hughes and I were asked to design a bookmark for Writers’ Block (info here). So we did! This is it. We think it is the ideal shape, and that it will look excellent between the pages of your favourite book, perhaps with just the top 1cm sticking out to aid you in finding your place.
If you would like one, simply order a copy of The Story of Grass online.
Or just ask one of us for one. That’d work too.
It’s the exhibition! I am an artist! You will all have to take me VERY SERIOUSLY INDEED now. That includes you, Mr Mahan, my old art teacher. Yeah, you thought I was rubbish at art, didn’t you? Yeah, just because I couldn’t draw or paint which is discrimination, probably, but LOOK AT ME NOW! I WILL HAVE THINGS ON A WALL IN A GALLERY, AND WHERE ARE YOU NOW MR MAHAN? EH? HAHAHAHA. WHERE ARE YOU NOW? AND YOU MR BLYTH! YOU THOUGHT I WAS RUBBISH AT CHEMISTRY BECAUSE I WAS RUBBISH AT IT BUT WHERE ARE YOU NOW?
Ahem.
Anyway AND YOU, MISS PEACOCK! YOU THOUGHT I WOULD NEVER AMOUNT TO ANYTHING BECAUSE I WOULDN’T KNOW PURE MATHS IF IT SAT ON MY FACE AND STARTED BOUNCING AND DOING COMPLEX EQUATIONS BUT LOOK – I HAVE PICTURES ON A WALL. OF GIRAFFES! PURE GIRAFFES! HAHAHA!
It’s no big deal, really.
Mr Gus Hughes arrives in the country today – I haven’t seen him for around a year and a half – in fact it was when we were both at Bristol Encounters festival in 2008 for the launch of our Chad Banger animations with 4mations, and instead of going to see short films and all that we got drunk on free beer and started doodling ideas for a stupid comic, which we decided to call “The Story of Grass” because we thought it conveyed excitement and dynamism and because we were drunk.
I can’t wait to see him again! And then we’ve got 90 minutes to get into the gallery, fling our stuff on the walls and start drinking wine and being sophisticated. That’s art.
It should be fun. Hopefully see you there! BUT NOT YOU MISS WILSON! WHERE ARE YOU NOW? WHERE ARE YOOOOOOOU?
ps It was hard to write this because looking back I rather liked most of my teachers at school and college, and they were all mostly ok with me. Except Mr Blyth. He was a colossal twat.
Ramshackle Charm 