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 !!!!!
If you were lucky enough to have been stranded on a frozen moon a billion light years beyond our galaxy, you will have been spared ,for a billion years or so ,just about enough time to avoid the light speed news signals beaming across the cosmos to inform you of the death of, 'the king of pop'..Michael,Whacko Jacko, Jackson himself. The stories about prescription drugs; A skeletal body covered in needle holes, like a tea-bag covered in little perforations, but not as much mass ; Stomachs bunged full of tablets; And his kids who aren't his. And they're not even their mothers???/Now thats a headscratcher for a simple country lad like meself. The Lovely Lynne told me the other day that apparently he was totally bald. Jeez! Could you imagine what he'd of looked like without that ridiculous head of hair to cover that mess of distortions that passed for an Airfix kit of an early Star Trek aliens face ,that was the' Whacko's kipper'. Jacko's face and he's bald ,god thats a sight that i'd say would ruin your day.
