HAPPY NEW DECADE,I'M GETTING OVER THE FESTIVE DEBAUCHERY,I'M LOSING THE WEIGHT ..DOWN TO 36 STONE AND FALLING!

After the disgusting over indulgencies of the festive debaucheries, it is now next year ,no, hold ,it is now the next decade. So happy new year and great new decade. I've got to get my booze- ridden; chocolate stuffed; food scoffed; telly watching unmoving sprawled (for weeks now) form into some kind of workable condition. Now i'm not talking going to the gymn to hone my body in the furnace of my will; to run marathons and equally silly things like that. Just to stand up under my own power and be able to walk the 15 feet or so to the downstairs bog'd do. I'm on a strict regime of diet and excercise......I'm changing channels twice as often on the remote control, using both thumbs and i'm down to 3 boxes of Quality street a day. And it seems to be working, the weight is falling off me. 36 stone and counting.

The family ,gawd bless us one n all have been coughing n spluttering for the last few weeks. I ,due to my regime of excercise and good healthy living have been spared ,plague ,flying pig flu and all the other festive lurgies that have beset our fine land and bunged up our health system as solid as a schoolboys snotty nose. But joking aside the LOVELY LYNNE has come down with a belter of a dose of PLEURISEY. I had 'a dose', years ago and can vouch for how much fun it is to have your inflamed lung linings ,(pleural cavities to those like me who've got biology qualifications)...rubbing against your rib cage. This results in a wonderful combination of feeling like shit and being in agony. Oh how i remember the joys of having a coughing fit whilst your lungs scrape against your ribs, as my beloved is discovering for herself even as i type.

To add to her joyous introduction to the new decade, we had booked train tickets and hotel rooms to go to London to see THE WHO in concert and go to a cartoonist do the following night. So thats up the spout....So thats how our new decade is kicking off, only 9 years 11 m0nths and a lump of days 'till the next one ,lets see how that one compares.

CARTOONISTS AND POP STARS ARE SEX SYMBOLS,MARK OWEN FROM TAKE THAT,TOOK LOTS OF 'THAT',I'D LIKE TO TAKE SOME OF 'THAT' TO,BUT THE MISSUS WONT LET ME!

Aaah after years of gallavanting around the world posturing and performing in front of thousands of screaming adoring gurls....It has come as an astounding shock to one n' all that the saintly Mark Owen, the 'nice guy' from 'Take That' has been a little too nice a little too often and took that what the adoring hormone riddled screaming gurls had to offer. Funnily enough his missus wasn't as understanding as myself and other such 'men(ok and gurls,chiz chiz) of the world'. This is possibly due to the fact being a cartoonist and caricaturist ,once of great renown, i would travel around weilding my brushpen to the adoring public. Admittedly i didnt have quite the response that maybe 'Take That' hitting town or a Boyzown, or whatever ,but a few kids seemed quite taken with me. Nah, i could've had my pick,gurls would gaze adoringly, i think, at the top of my head as i peered intently at the fine precise ink lines on the paper, then occassionally glancing up to see if her eyelids were the same size, if her ears were level, if she had a full set of teeth and how far down her top chin did her bottom lip droop. Important things for a caricaturist.Romance could've bloomed n' blossomed many many times but for the queues of people i had to bloody draw before i could lay the irresistable Leatherbarrow charm on anyone. By the time i'd got the chance there was only me and a curled up ham sandwich on a crumb riddled plate on one of the empty tables, if i was lucky, before my long lonely five hour drive through the night. But i'm having a quiet time of it these days. So i thought i'd ask the Lovely Lynne if it was ok for me to have ten affairs, as she's out a lot of the time and it'd be nice to have an outside interest. Much to my suprise she seemed quite keen, until i realised she thought i'd said something about me buying her some 'Furs'. She thought they'd look quite smart when she has to go to these banking 'do's', or if she's playing with her band at various 'gigs'. But when she realised her mistake she wasn't so accomodating. Why would i want to have torrid affairs when we've had SKY+ fitted? So my cartoonist sex appeal is laying unused, gathering dust. The last time it was put to good use, just to show you how uncontrollable i was, it was with the Lovely Lynne. I was working at her bank and she fell madly in love with me and married me...It's a dangerous thing this sex appeal.

"AND, GUYS 'N' GALS AT No: 1, THIS WEEK IN THE TOP OF THE 'WHAT DRIVES ME NUTS CHART ,IS.......

Now that a suitable period of mourning has passed since the sad loss of poor old Buster. Life, has settled into its usual parade and collection of tedium ,frustration and general irritants and annoyances. As you all know, on the whole i'm a pretty wonderful person. Theres always a smile. Just not quite sure where it is. I've looked everywhere for it, under cupboards, back of couches, but can't quite find it at the moment. So i'm making do with an old scowl i used to wear a lot when i was younger. But there is something that would wipe the smile off my face, if i had it. And even the scowl isn't enough to express my total, complete and utter anger and irritation of this 'thing' that 'gets on my tits', every single morning as i sit there with my toast and boiled for 4 minutes, precisely pair of eggs, in front of the telly.

Well may you ask what can drive such a sweetheart as lovely Tim, to the edge of sanity and the verge of total murderous rage. Well, even if your not interested i'm going to tell you. There is a channel called COMEDY CENTRAL on the SKY network. And as with all the sky channels, its constant repeats .And if by some amazing way you manage to miss the 475th repeat of ,'whatever', there' s a whole set of the same channel with a +1, after the name so you can watch the repeat, again an hour later.????.....I turn on comedy central ,or sometimes comedy central+1 an hour later depending when i'm having my breakfast. Its all Yank sit-coms, but one i like is FRASIER. But, before that is a thing called TELESHOPPING. This has been on most of the night, but whenever you turn it on theres always women in fitness bikini-like gear with socks and trainers and headbands. With them is a fellah with a bikini-like affair showing his 6-pack. The two of them comparing a variety of twisted metal frame things that you rock and pull on; machines you push, pull, curl, extend, step,cycle, and a variety of other unatural bodily functions to get the most of your tummy(Abs, as they call it in the body beautiful trade) ,biceps, triceps, quadraceps and tone all the other muscles and ligaments you dont pull or wrench. But, suddenly all this stops and is replaced by this COMEDY CENTRAL logo slowly bouncing around the screen as one of those symbols on your computer screen when you leave it for a while. This moving is accompanied by some kind of single banjo note being twanged once at a time. Now this might not seem like much to you, but it drives me F**k'in' nuts!... Try it for a few mornings. And if you don't find yourself smashing your boiled egg to a yellow and white mess splattered over the table and walls of the room, your a better man than i, Gungah Din!

A MEEK MILD MANNERED CARTOONIST,ALIAS SOOPERDOOPER-PINNY,FASTER THAN A THROWN USED TEA BAG;ABLE TO LEAP FULL FAIRY LIQUID BOTTLES AT A SINGLE BOUND...

(SOOPERDOOPERPINNYMAN)

As many of you, no doubt remember, or not by the lack of birthday greetings that flooded the infinity of cyberspace, or the not quite so infinite infinity of the Royal Mail. But, anyhow, another year 'flopped' over. Next year would've been the big Five-Oooooooh!!!...But i've found away of avoiding this tragic occurance. No, not at some suicide clinic in Switzerland. My daughter shares the same birthday as her beloved father(my words, not hers!)....So i bask, in the cold of her shadow, lonely and neglected. So, i shall put this situation to my advantage and start going backwards, not mentally,chronologically. So, remember in 33 years ,i'll be 'sweet 16'.....

A little while back,an article on the blog examining my station in life as a house husband, introduced a highly stained pinny. This inspired the lovely Cathy Simpson.(look at her link, over the other side of the page)..This in turn caused a 'knock on response from' around'. The stains on the pinny caused the creation of a seperate sentinate lifeform,that developed and evolved then ran away to become an MP and live off fiddled expenses. Cathy reported seeing it on a boat sailing the seven seas. This was probably after running away after being exposed in the Telegraph. But we may never know the truth as it all got very silly. But the Lovely Lynne saw how i had an emotional empty hole within me,(must've seen it through a hole in my jeans)that needed filling. So, for my birthday i got a superman pinny. So now when theres dishes to be washed or a carpet to be hoovered .Meek, mild mannered cartoonist Tim Leatherbarrow becomes Sooperdooperpinnyman. The pinny doesn't cause much trouble, but the telephone box to get changed in does(ever tried getting changed in a phonebox?I have and i'm covered in bruises.). It was awkward trying to hide an old red English phonebox in the kitchen. So, that was shifted into ,the utility room. Then into the studio, i've told the Lovely Lynne its there as i'm doing a strip about some fellah thats zips through time n' space in the phone box,crazy i know, but i think it has possibilities.

But now i'm older with the smells and stains of an older man .One day a super pinny could evole from the mature organic emissions of yours truly. Faster than a discarded soggy tea bag; Able to leap a full fairy liquid bottle with a single bound; Soap bubbles bounce off my chest .A new hero is born.

HOW CAN A GEEZER BLAG A BANK IF HE CANT GET HIS BALACLAVER OVER HIS NOSE ?

The other day i had a busy day ahead of me .So, i put the kettle on , boiled an egg, made some toast sat and turned the telly on. After contemplation of the multiple tasks that the day held before me, i put the kettle on again and thought something along the lines of "Oooh F**k it !"..I knew there were things that i had to do, and i wasn't going to neglect my responsibilities. One of the tasks that had to be addressed was catching up on the growing collection of films that was building up on the SKY+system. The first i'd been meaning to watch was McVICAR, starring a certain Mr ROGER DALTREY. It wasn't bad. A certain Hard man called John McVicar had, apparently this annoying habit of going out with some like-minded 'tooled-up geezers' to pull a 'blag' at various banks. Then 'gettin' nicked' and sentanced to 'a stretch', 'in the nick'. After many attempts at escaping and gettin' a kickin' from' the screws'. He is finally released to go through the whole thing again. But 'our hero' escapes, but 'gets nicked again. But he gets a degree and writes about crime on the telly and newspapers and the film is a success and he lives happily ever after. Except, apparently his son, such a cute kid in the film ,playing 'footy' in the park with Roger Daltrey, with a Daltrey backing song playing away. The kid now he's 'all growed up', is 'a tooled -up armed robber, who's been 'sent down', just like his dad, he must be so proud.

I thought i might become 'a geezer';Be 'the daddy'; Pull a few blags; Etc,etc....... But ,not many of you know this but i've 'done time'. I've been in the toughest 'nicks' in the land. I've attempted to escape hundreds of times. Once i made it as far as the landing. When i did get out, the dogs had no trouble following my scent. This was due to an incident with a bar of soap in the shower ,so i never showered for the rest of my 'time'.

I've always believed in wearing the right'gear for a job.."If you pull a blag, pull it right," as my ol' dad used to say on our visits. So, i'd wear a stripped shirt a beret,or bobble hat, and a bag marked with SWAG. I had trouble with balaclavers, as my somewhat aqualine regal, upper class nose wouldn't fit under the wooly covering properly. And, purely coincidentally, the main girlfriends i had through my formative years and even the Lovely Lynne have all worked in various banks, so every 'blag' i pulled i was recognised. The following morning 'The Old Bill ' would bust in telling me how "They were 'the Sweeney and to put my trousers on. Then, for some reason how they hadn't had their dinner". Then off 'For a stretch'. All fascinating stuff, topped off with how i gave up honest thieving to become a criminal cartoonist. I wondered if Roger Daltrey would like to play me in the film. But ,everyone thought with a nose like mine, PETE TOWNSHEND would be better.

I'D PREFER TO BE HIT WITH INSPIRATION, BUT A MILD POKE OR A GENTLE NUDGE OF INSPIRATION'D DO,AT THE MOMENT !!

Mon apologies all my followers n' fans out there in madbadninkyland for the certain lack of communications over the last week or couple or three, even , that all its been ,my you are an impatient lot! I sat at the computer ready for the torrent of creative jibberish to come flooding out....And waited.....And carried on waiting......But the expected torrent, the creative tsunami caused by the slipping and grinding of the brains stressed creative fault lines didn't happen. Does this mean that the disturbed brain that i rely on has settled down to a calm settled state. Thats wonderful if i'm a zen monk gazing at a cave wall for 30 years, but a bit of a bugger if your a blogging cartoonist.

Right so here we go , back to forcing jibberish and rubbish from the nooks and cranny's of my infertile imagination. I'l see about going to see a therapist. Not to cure myself of psychological disorders. But to see about 'getting' a few psychological disorders. This will cause the pressures and strains to build up on my brains creative fault lines and cause creative brain quakes; Tsunamis of the imagination, and the usual rubbish......

THE LONDON UNDERGROUND; SHAKIN' RATTLIN', N' ROLLIN' AND WOMEN PUTTING THEIR MAKE-UP ON ...

Last week i curled up in my missus's suitcase and was smuggled onto a train for a few day in London. Our beloved capital ,where the streets are paved with gold ,or i assume so under the burger wrappers and plastic coffee cups. I do like London and as The Lovely Lynne was about her business ,saving the financial systems of the planet . I had more important things to do . I had a cartoonist meeting to go to. I met my ol buddy and caricaturist(extraordinary or extraordinaire ,i'm not too sure.)..The one ,the only, GUY CARTER, we met in a pub,( funnily enough). As i was following Guys instructions, i had a tour of all the boozers around the area of Liverpool st station. But, eventually we met up and started to drink. After a 'good few' in various hostleries on the way to the CARTOONIST PUB. The Cartoonist pub is near to what was once the cartoonist dream street , where all the newspapers were printed. FLEET ST, and the hundreds of bars where the reporters used to spend their days boozing and swopping 'scoops' at the bar with each other. According to a lot of the barstaff ,some very famous news people renowned for their daredevil news reporting ,never left the pubs of Fleet street...








Ace reporter A would meet ace reporter B at the bar and one would say to the other for a large brandy. "Did you hear some war has started, or somebodies been assassinated?"...."Yer joking !.....Here's your drink...Have you got 10p for the phone ?", and with that our ace reporter would phone in his scoop. Aaahh those were the days. Cartoonists would drag their portfolios from one newspaper ,next door to the next ,maybe stopping for a 'quick one', in a boozer in between. Aaah those were the days....








The ace exuberant SIMON ELLINAS is planning to arrange a cartoon exhibition in London sometime. So that was the main reason that there was a congealing of cartoonists at the pub, as if there ever has to be a reason for cartoonists to congeal at a pub. Some very ugly faces were there, but sentimental ol' sod i am, i was glad to see 'em all. As ever cartoonists are always grumbling n' moaning and i wonder if a collective noun for a group of cartoonists should be a WHINGE OF CARTOONISTS,...or something. But eventually, braced with a few dozen pints of Guinness; A bottle of wine with big hairy ugly SIMON CASSINNI, and the not so big ,just as hairy, but definitly not as ugly SHEBA CASSINNI...(Ohh be still my beating heart.) ; A greasy cheesburger, then getting pissed on in the pouring rain,( i thought it never rained in the cissy south). I eventually arrived in the arms of my beloved as she shoved me over to my side of the bed in a very nice hotel room over by the old east end docks. nowadays all exhibition centres ;hotels; Luxury appartments, etc, etc, now .Non of your boats ,docks ,Jack the Rippers n' stuff there now ,y'know. Very smart n' posh.... I think i preferred it the old way.











The next day i wandered around town and ended up in the Imperial war museum .I'd always meant to go there one day . I'm glad i did , some,sad, amazing, inspiring, and plain impressive and exciting stuff there. A reminder of horrific times, but celebrating the human spirit of those fighting ;Caught up in the fighting ;Left at home; All victims ,in general. But then you come out into today! Again!.... Everybody, absolutly, everybody pushing past each other. Going either from A to B or B to A, for some no doubt, vitally important reason. with bloody mobile phones clamped firmly to their ears having, no doubt, very important world shattering conversations with very important people. If they weren't attached to a mobile phone, they were plugged into MP3's, totally disconnected from the world. I have a MP3, but i couldn't use it 'out and about. I hate not being aware of whats happening around me...Is it my primevil survival instinct ,or just i'm a nosey bastard?








The tube ,ahh the 'tube'. I amble along, getting knocked and battered by people rushing for trains in case they miss one and have to wait three minutes for the next. It is a point of fascination to me, coming from a part of the world where the gap between trains can, quite often be measured in hours, not minutes. Now, thats a good reason to rush. But as the train shakes, rattles, clatters and bounces along, everybody being slung from side to side much like the crew in the T.V. classic ;VOYAGE TO THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA. Getting slung from side to side as the submarine SEAVIEW took a hammering for some totally mad reason.... But even though the passengers hang on for dear life, lots wearing wooly hats so their MP3 ear phones wont fall out during the bodily shaking. But amazingly, seemingly unaffected by the shaking and bouncing about are the young girls who sit there applying make up to their face, using the lipstick with the precision of an electron microscope writing words on a human hair, but on a London tube train !!!!!

A MERRY THINGEY N' A HAPPY NEW WOTSIT,YOU GET OVER THE BLOODY FLU N' YOU'VE GOT TO SUFFER BLOODY CHRISTMAS!!!

Yup! Here we go again, now we've gotten over having the missus blown up and the deccies're up and the tree's thistles are all over the bloody floor and its not even bloody christmas yet and the bloody trees fallin' apart. I haven't seen the Lovely Lynne in days as shes behind a heap of presents wrapping, wrapping ,endlessly wrapping...I can't see her, but i can hear her through the rustling of forest loads of wrapping paper, the snotty sneezing and full flemmed coughing and spluttering of my beloved and her 'real snorter 'of a cold. The little 'un Elara, thankfully is at my ma 'in law's ,she's got the full dose of a real dose of flu. So ,hopefully Father Christmas'll bring heaps of antibiotics, oh and some presents......(That bloody WII, that everyone is going on about....It looks like people pretending to box,play tennis or ski on a set of bathroom scales when i see the ads on the telly.)

We had a slight embarressment today. Being the wonderful neighbour i am ,i delivered a card to the nice lady next door.(Kath, if your reading this, yer lovely!)...The dog was sniffing around behind her leg as she was speaking to me, then to my horror and then gut busting laughter the bloody stupid creature, cocked his leg and pee'd down the back of her jeans. I thought i'd better make my excuses and so in the spirit of good neighbouriliness(?) i 'legged it.' I told the Lovely Lynne over the phone, so the outcome a box of After Eights originally meant for a cousin was given to Kath next door as a peace offering.

Anyhow you lot have a 'good un and if you survive the festive excess's i'll be back to bore the arse off you in the new year. I've decided that i'll be back to being a productive cartoonist/blogger next year, i can resist Sky +, I can ,i tell you!......That was another 'balls up', with the bloody Sky broadband thats why we've been off line and my wonderous ramblings have been denied you for so long. Blame them shitheads at Sky broadband ,we had some real fights with the ,laughingly called customer support people......Anyhow i'm off. A heap of reindeer shit just landed in the back garden, its nearly time for all good boys n' girls to go to bed, the rest of you ,just hit the bottle.......(hic...Buuuuurrrrpppp!!!)

Ways to keep a cartoonist happy