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The Events depicted in this story are fictitious. Any similarities to person living or dead is merely ‘coincidental’. NOT!
Prime Minister Leech announced in a speech, ‘The average person spent more than they earned’. The politicians were concerned about the news they had just learned. The government takes a quarter of what the average person makes. Then they waste it on silly mistakes. Journalist told, ‘Every year, £900 taxed from each household, had financed projects that aren’t properly controlled.’ A Dome, Olympics, NHS and roads are where some of that money went. As the costs soar and all the money was spent the government searched for more. A snow tax, internet tax and a tax for the dead are thoughts that went through the PM’s head. A tax to eat, a tax to sleep, a tax to sit on the toilet seat were other ideas said. A tax for dreams, for birth and sex and a tax for what you have read on this sheet are ideas that could come instead.
The average person is £33 000 in depth. The Economy’s under threat and politicians show insincere regrets. MP’s are happy to ignore the fact their country has a spending flaw. The tax system is ‘shambolic’ when you have a PM who is a ‘spendaholic.’
The average household income is £25 000 a year. This statistic is queer. The MP’s are out of touch because the majority of workers don’t earn that much.
The phrase, ‘Practice what you preach,’ meant nothing to Prime Minister Leech. Some of the tax funded government snacks. Prime Minister Leech thought that the ‘Credit Crunch’ was a bar of maize that people liked to munch. Perhaps it was the latest cereal craze. So what’s the point of having jobs when what you earn the government robs?
So let us applaud the tramp. He does not live with negative equity. Sure he lives on the street and does not have shoes on his feet, stinks of alcoholic drinks and when he says what he thinks it may not make sense when he speaks. The tramp that has nothing may have something. He is free of debts and is not taxed on any money he gets.
When politicians quote, ‘It’s time for change’, ask yourself what they really mean. Keep your change in your pocket and hold onto your wallet because their dream will wipe your bank account clean. Behind the politician’s charm there is a tax farm.
Brahms and Liszt.
Brahms likes deep meaningful conversations,
Whatever Liszt blabbers needs translation.
Brahms wants to create art with great taste,
Liszt wants to destroy it with sewage waste.
Brahms likes ice cream at Eastbourne in June,
Liszt enjoys wobble vapour flops from Neptune.
Brahms likes foreign food and original music,
Liszt thinks it is crude and will often refuse it.
When they work together on an idea,
Goblins and Dragons
The Goblin’s Gorge is guarded by a beast.
Traveller’s are at risk from being slaughtered for his feast.
Be quick and quiet to avoid an attack,
However, there’s little chance of preventing that.
His habitat is a dangerous trap,
to show off his awesome powers used in combat.
It breathes fire for mass destruction,
and beats his wings for stealth abduction.
His sharp claws can puncture skin
then inject poison in.
His strong jaws can break bones and his rough tongue will strip flesh.
Old people taste stale and young taste fresh.
Dragons find children easier to digest.
So quickly! Hide somewhere because dragons like to scare.
If there is a foul smell in the air
then someone may need to change their underwear.
Walk through the gorge and step into the cave,
to a place where goblins misbehave.
They display savage threats
for traveller’s assets.
It’s not gold or silver they require,
body parts are what they desire.
Every goblin is created
from the finest body parts amputated.
Don’t be shocked by this,
how else can a goblin exist?
One goblin needs new ears,
Maybe he can cut yours with his shears.
Another needs a new set of teeth
because his old ones are giving him grief.
So quickly! Hide somewhere
because goblins aren’t fair.
They will consume you down to every last hair.
I myself have escaped the goblins chop
And that is why I’m bald on top.
On the moon lives a community
that astronauts have failed to see.
This community is organised by hundreds of moles.
That’s why the moon has thousands of holes.
The pound on the moon has little weight;
therefore the pound has a poor exchange rate.
It is weight and not money moles like to discuss.
You could probably by more with a hippopotamus.
Jupiter inhabitant’s trade with length,
height is their financial strength.
For a sunflower and two giraffes
you could but a immigration pass.
The Minka sat next to the Stinka, it gave her a nod and a winka then bought her a drinka. ‘Do you come here often’ he said. Suddenly a rotten smell went to his head. This made him feel unwell. He did not know Stinka’s spoke by smell.
The Busy Body Blower said ‘Aloha!’ to the Phlegm Thrower then tickled him with a feather boa. In defence the Phlegm Thrower did something grim. It spat mucus over him. This was life threatening for the Busy Body Blower because he never learnt to swim.
The Big Band Theory.
The band played a Snooty-Tooty-Flutti and tooted tomorrow’s tunes. The drone of a Humpah-Trump-Umpah shook the moon. The Razz-Ma-Jazzoo buzzed blues, reds, and greens, and a Blabber-Bubble-Bass transmitted dreams onto plasma screens.
This went on for zillions of years.
The noise violated the creator’s ears.
He demanded silence so he could get some rest.
The band felt oppressed, and began to protest
The noise did not stop, this made the creator depressed.
So he moved to earth and set up shop and then created his best.
God Listen, Can you hear me?
Or are you just a theory?
I’ve been agnostic for to long
My mind has lost it and I’m holding on
For you to find the time,
reach out and give a sign
God Listen, are you there
and can you hear my selfish prayer.
I need a change;
I need a better life than yesterdays,
Lord can you send some luck this way
I need to hear you say,
things will be OK
Will you listen, to each time I pray?
I feel your universe
flow through my soul
I’m followed by a curse;
it’s a black hole,
Lord, for heavens sake,
I’ve made mistakes
Give me a break,
and listen to each prayer I make.
Are you proud of what I’ve done?
Because I’ve never won.
Tell me that I am good
Give me a chance
and some guidance
So will you listen?
Life has not been fair.
Yes Lord, listen, to my stupid prayer?
An idea started yet never finished. I'm sure you'd get the general idea where it was going.
This bedtime story is about a town nearby,
It’s a place in reach of the spider and the fly.
As you rest in bed, look at the ceiling above your head,
small folk live up there, within the cracks that are as fine as hair,
They’re known as Ceiling people who live in a unique lair.
Ceiling People live in ceiling town.
Their homes are built upside down.
Like a funhouse in a fairground,
every door and window is the other way round.
In ceiling town you will find
every character is out of their mind.
Listen carefully and you’ll hear the sound,
of Mr R-Tex walking around,
in the glow of the ceiling light
and he is out of reach and out of sight.
His hair flows to the floor, blood rushes to his head,
he looks like a clown who has been overfed.
Mrs R-Tex is at home cooking lunch,
‘fresh fly soup and fungi crunch.’
Their daughter, Rose, drinks from a cup,
but she holds it the other way up,
to stop her juice from pouring to the floor.
This will prevent her from making more.
To keep their stuff status quo,
they’ve been stuck up with Velcro.
This way of life is not infantile,
each object is functional for an upside down lifestyle.
Don’t ask how they use the loo,
you really won’t approve of what they do.
Their pet ’Damp Patch,’ is a quiz,
because nobody knows what it is?
Do they say ‘her,’ or do hey say ‘his,’ is it a Mr or is it a Miss?
All it does is move with a whiz and a fizz
into places where it does no belong,
but it doesn’t mean to do anything wrong.
In the Watt’s garden, Damp patch dug a pit.
When Mr Watt comes home, he’ll have a furious fit,
because their sixty kids could get hurt,
if they fall out of the pit get wounded in dirt.
The Watt’s love their children lots
and plan to make 100 Watts
Philip is the Watt’s brighter kid,
he wants to do what Einstein did.
To invent new ideas on how things work,
However he’s uncouth and acts like a jerk.
He makes marvellous machines and grand gadgets,
like hats with magnets and shoes with jets.
Hew is the nastiest of the Watt’s litter.
His role models are Stalin and Hitler.
He will lie and believes in an eye for an eye,
but he acts ever so innocent and shy.
If some thing goes wrong and you’re left feeling like a twit,
Replace who for Hew and that’s – ‘Hew did it.’
Trouble makers will retreat from PC White-Wash, a bob on the beat.
Any villains captured, will be thrown in the slammer,
that includes those who use naughty grammar.
PC White-Wash is brave, he fears nothing, not even an early grave.
The Cosmos Cafe
Welcome, friend, to ‘The Moon’s Cosmos Café,’
where we av’ some delicious dishes on display.
There’s ‘Moon Rise Surprise’ served with ‘Martian Fries,’
How about ‘Spicy Saturn Rings’ and ‘Frozen Comet Wings;
With a dash of lemon to give the taste zing.
For zee dessert there’s ‘Rainbow marshmallows, Astronaut Doughnuts,’
Or a slice of ‘Uranus,’ *this last sweet is dangerous.
For drinks there’s ‘Solar Cola,’ or ‘Luna Lemonade.’
These drinks have sparkled for decades.
The moon feeds little oxygen to the mind,
And can results to café conversations of the strangest kind.
It is easy to request a ‘Scary Dizzy Brain,’ instead of a ‘Strawberry Fizzy Rain,’
Or ‘Guilt Ache and Handy Loss’ in place of ‘Milkshake and Candy Floss,’
When you’ve been on the moon to long the words can come out wrong.
'The Spirit of Discovery' Words that have not been muttered in a long time. I am passionate about Plymouth and have decided to illustrate a famous Landmark of Plymouth once a month.
I hope you like it.
Christmas Gift Caricature.
She loved it. Thank you so much. I have another little project you may be interested in later, involves playing cards for teaching.
happy New Year to you and yours.
Ice Breaker Games.
Spot on, thanks Haydn.
I've never looked so good as on the money, I'll handle the printing of the money.
Thanks for your help,
We have one more story, which I received unexpectedly and has no artwork. It's about an imagined swingers' party with Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg. It's comical and silly but I like it and have made some space in the magazine. If you have time I'd love to see your take on it.
Illustration for a
Graphics for Flyers
BO THE SCARECROW.
The story is an idea that started as a paragraph over ten years ago. I revisited the idea last year and thought it was charming enough to tell as a story. Click on the image if you want to read 'Charlie's story'.
Scot Skid's Story.
‘Scots story begins at the end and finishes the same way it started. How? Dreams only have a beginning middle and end when they are parted,’ Dr Leggit told Scot’s dad. He then continued to read Scot’s file.
Scot’s incredible imagination has made his mother go crazy. As she recovers in a psychiatric ward Dr Leggit tries to convince the boy’s father to act as a full-time guardian.
Dr leggit’s notes tell an abstract story about what Scot’s imagination is capable of. There is fantasy, horror, humour written in poetry and illustrated for young adults.
I bear no resemblance to the musician, Franz Joseph Haydn. I am tone death, so that disabled any opportunities of a music career. Fortunately I still have an output for my creatively, this comes in writing and illustration. I am on a mission to get something published. So far everything I have done has been rejected, so I have setup a website to promote an awareness of my ideas. So please explore my website. Please forward it on to your friends to increase my popularity. Kind Regards Haydn
I am often asked where my ideas come from. The truth is from no where. My school teachers always told me I would get no where with my cartoons. To get no where takes some discipline. I have got no where many times and enjoy being there So how to get no where?. I let go of my worries and ignore the distractions of other people’s affairs. Nothing must disturb me. You see most cartoonist are already disturbed. I allow time to ponder. After a long day selling shoes, resolving customer queries and struggling to get by, desperately fighting to find my own space in the public transport system, my mind retreats in to a day dream. As I escape from the chatters of commuters and the grinding noises of traffic, I wait in a comfortably numb state of mind. Then a odd moment triggers some ideas. This moment could be a split second where a word amoungst the chitter chatters is said or a curious noise happens and then fiction washes over me. Then I need to be some where urgently. That place is home, where I barge past the wife, trip over one cat and kick the other, dive for the broken, used and abused lap top and CREATE.
Love light and peace.
THE CARTOONIST FORUM
If you are interested in learning more about cartoons then you can join a community of people who share the same interest. It does not matter if you are a professional, enthusuast or a beginner everyone is invited. It looks like a useful tool if you want to know more about how to draw, indusry secrets and perhaps a way to promote your own work.
Greeting Card SUBMISSIONS
This is a great page to start of your submissions if you want to get your work published in the greeting card market.
Great magazine by non-profit making team who are exploring the Beat Generation where Allen Ginsberg, Jack Kerouac and of course William Burroughs experimented with literature, rhythm and liberation.
Become a official fan by
clicking the link below.