Stick man cartoons

I've made a few of these before, but the past month or so the ideas have been coming faster. I promise that as soon as I develop vestiges of artistic ability I will make something 'proper'.

Sadly there's no way of decently embedding them into the blog, but just click the links below to see them.

Sofa

Coffee

Housemate

Paris (Based on my recent trip to Paris. It had a white tuft on its head!)

Cupboard

Computer

Crying

Beatbox

Door

Hope you like them; I'm sure there's more to come!

Red Tape

Sign here, date here,
And here please write an obscure number that you were given for your 14th birthday
And told to keep safe.
Here, please provide us with a form of identification you do not have.
Or failing that,
Two forms of identification you do not have.

Enclose a passport photo of yourself
Not more than 3 days old
In which you must be wearing any one of the pre-approved colours listed in appendix 3b.
Photos not reminiscent of the living dead may be returned.
Or may not,
We like to keep you guessing.

Section 10 must be countersigned by somebody you:
Do not live with
Are not related to
Have never worked with
Do not know.
You must have known them for at least forever.
(If nobody meets these criteria, your parents will be accepted,
If they can both independently guess what number I'm thinking right now.)

This form will be returned to you within a working week
But we won't tell you why.

Empty

My mind is full of nothing
And it's filling to the seams.
The blank eclipses memories
And hopes, ideas and dreams.
I sit here staring emptily
And long for some reprieve,
But this unwelcome squatter
In my head just will not leave.

It's a blankness that's spread to my body
A blankness corrupting my soul
It's clear in my eyes that as each feeling dies
It's left me less polo than hole.

I'm lucky charms with no marshmallows,
The sky without the stars,
I long for freedom from my mind,
Please remove these bars.

I'm empty like a city with no-one on the streets,
So I'll write awful poems and compare myself to sweets.

Champ

Champ the three-legged granny-napping dog
Hangs round the nursing home.
He steals the lady pensioners
Like most dogs steal a bone.
He buries them in his back yard,
Their heads above the ground,
And there they'll stay until the day
Those grandmothers get found.

Champ the three-legged baby-saving dog
Will run headfirst through flames;
Mortal peril, falling walls,
He treats them just like games.
And when he's saved those babies,
He isn't even burned.
But they withhold his prize of gold
Till those grannies get returned.

Champ the three-legged solent-swimming dog
Can brave the fiercest storm
To make it to the Isle of Wight
(The place where he was born).
He could battle sharks and ferries
And he wouldn't even tire,
He travels the seas when not stealing grannies
Or saving babies from the fire.

Champ the three-legged superhero dog
Leaps kennels in one bound.
He flies faster than a speeding bullet,
He beats the speed of sound.
He has super x-ray MeatVision,
He wins in every fight,
He breaks down doors with his bare paws.
But his weakness is Marmite.
(It's like his Kryptonite.)

Champ the three-legged wonder dog
Is going to the vet's,
Where many dogs before him
Have become neutered pets.
I think he's lost his powers,
Although he looks quite fine,
They held him down and went to town
And now Champ's a normal canine.
My totally normal, un-super, powerless,
Granny-napping, baby-saving, solent-swimming friend.
The End.

Counting the seconds

Counting the seconds
Quickens my breath,
Longing for freedom,
For life after death.
Losing the moment
In keeping the dream,
Counting the seconds
I silence the scream.
I gaze at the heavens
From which I fell...
Screw it, this poem's
As emo as hell.

Starving African Kids

It's criminal, you know, the way we live,
With our ipods and mobiles and stuff.
More food and more clothes, how can we forgive
Wanting more when we've got quite enough!

When you're in bed tonight and you close your eyelids,
I want you to see Starving African Kids.
Starving African Kids! Think of them every day,
They'd be glad for the meals that you've thrown away!
So donate stuff to Oxfam, that's what I did,
To save the life of some African kid.
They're skinny, and naked, and covered with flies,
Can't you see the pain in their puppy-dog eyes?
You're used to hearing appeals and alerts,
But I want you to give, and to give till it hurts!

If I don't walk the talk then I'm not being fair,
But I've done it all. This is how much I care:

I sold my computer, my car and my phone,
Donated my clothes and remortgaged my home,
Cut back on food to see how the live.
There's nothing I had that I did not give!

I'm hungry, I'm homeless, I wish I was dead,
But not one starving African have I seen fed...

Lest we forget

Shut up, shuttup, I'm trying to make a point!
Just wish I could remember what it is.
Erm -
Anyway, I care very deeply about -
About whatever it is, and
I will NOT tolerate complacency!
We must FIGHT for -
Uh -
This Thing, and ensure that it doesn't slip through the cracks.
The fate of the world could well depend
On - on -
Escapes me right at this -
But what was I -
Err -
Yes -
Um...

WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE?!

I'm over him

I don't think about him at all any more.
Why, just the other day,
I told my friend how I don't think of him -
But she just laughed and turned away.

I don't think about him at all any more,
I barely remember his name,
Or the colour of his eyes or the warmth of his smile
Or the way we always thought the same.

I don't think about him at all any more.
I wonder, does he think of me?
Or has he forgotten me, like I have him,
Erased me from his memory?

I don't think about him at all any more,
I'm busy with more crucial things,
Like money, and TV, and that gorgeous song
That his friend's younger brother's friend sings.

I hardly think of him at all any more,
I'm over him; totally fine!
No, I don't think about him at all any more.
Well, except for most of the time.

Duel

"I challenge you," cried the count, "to a duel.
Of fencing or boxing or something more cruel.
I'll make you suffer, yes I'll make you pay,
For stealing my lady-love's heart clean away."

"Stealing her heart clean away?" roared the King,
"She barely used it with you, my old thing.
I'll meet your challenge. A swordfight at dawn!
We'll duel here, but please don't get blood on the lawn."

The count and the King both grinned from ear to ear.
The duel was a custom, they fought every year
In memory of their good lady most fair,
Who'd kissed them both in one night for a dare.

She'd kissed the count by the warm candlelight,
Then the king by the moon, then went home with a knight.
No doubt she was wealthy, and noble, and hot,
She may be a doll but a lady she's not!

But the king and the count still meet every Spring
To duel on the lawn of the love-stricken King.
No-one gets hurt, and it's all good clean fun,
Then they toss a pound coin to decide who has won.

They usually battle in chain-mail and shorts.
But would it affect their good friendship (of sorts)
If they knew the lady they both so adored
Was not just no lady, but also a Lord.

Stick comic

Boring Book

Old cartoons

Witchery

Essence of sunbeam, oil of love, half a chestnut, one old glove.
Boil until the moon goes red, then add a flea (be sure it's dead).
Wear a silly pointy hat, cackle madly, add a bat.
(By which, I mean the cricket things, not some high-pitched rat with wings.)
By now, if you've done what I said, the stuff should froth and turn bright red.
And so you'll have the perfect brew...
Love and glove and bat flea stew.

Manic Lullabye: Part 2

I woke up from my fearsome dream,
And yelled, in an almighty scream,
“Where is my kipper? Oh my word,
The fish has turned into a bird!”
Leaving its cage, the kipper flew
Straight down Manic Avenue,
And flew into a rusty bike
(Or a park bench, if you like).
This bike - or bench, I don’t mind which -
Threw my kipper in the ditch.

The kipper-fish, whose name was Bob,
Turned into a gooey blob.
I swallowed it (for I had run
After my kipper when it done
That thing, you know, that thing it did),
And then the park bench ran and hid.
(Or wheeled, if, as I suppose,
The bicycle your favour shows.)
Fed up of this crazy tale,
I visited inside a whale.

And Jonah there, inside the belly
Of the whale, (both damp and smelly,
The whale, that is, and Jonah too,
He couldn’t leave to - well, you know.)
So anyway, our Jonah lad
Was pleased to see me, oh, so glad.
The whale too, the happy boy,
Puked up on the beach through joy.
(An experience, I’ll make it plain,
I never hope to have again.)

At this point, I bade him farewell,
For I had heard the dinner bell.
And, in the canteen of the school,
I landed in the swimming pool.
The diving teachers, doing flips,
Were soaking all the students’ chips.
Bored of this noisy, tiresome place,
I jumped and landed on my face
Among the mermaids, on the sand,
In a crazy water-land.

The mermaids, though, were dull and slow,
So I told them I had to go.
So I swam up to get some air -
Just to find it wasn’t there!
Just water, from the ocean floor,
Continuing for evermore!
At this point I began to fret.
Five minutes without breathing yet.
At this point, oh, for goodness’ sake,
I felt myself begin to wake.

My mother said, “Oh darling, please
Lay off of all the late-night cheese!”

Pussycat Ladies

Don'tcha wish your girlfriend was a person of moral fortitude and character like me?
Don'tcha wish your girlfriend was intelligent and engaging lady like me?

Don'tcha? Don'tcha...

Beautician

My darling, you look lovely!
You're the only one above me.
In terms of sheer beauty,
I do feel I've done my duty.

I've turned you from a grungy slob
Into a Playboy bunny.
Sweetie dear, I've done my job,
Now give me all your money!

Rrrromance

As we danced among the flowers blue,
You looked at me and I at you.
You looked again and I looked back,
I wish your face were in a sack.
We lay down on the soft, green grass.
I watched the stars, you scratched your arse.
Romantic as a tonne of bricks,
I hate all men, the stupid... people.

Cartoony goodness