reflections...

To cram my life into a few paragraphs... here goes!

Born in East London, England – raised with a Cockney accent ( if you’re familiar with Cockney rhyming slang, you’ll know where I’m coming from ). Home to the best street markets in the world and boasting it’s own cuisine – pie mash and liquor served with vinegar and jellied eels.

Spent best part of my childhood living in a converted ice cream van whilst my dad, Tom, was a coachdriver. He then got into singing country music in pubs so we moved around a lot.

He met a woman, had kids (my sisters), got involved in cowboy stunt shows and at 11 years old I found myself gallivanting around stuntmen performing shoot outs, knife fights, horsestunts etc. I had a bit part – a pion boy wearing white vest and flares – had to run out into the mayhem screamin’ “PA PA”, just in time to get shot by one of the bad guys.

The shows were very exciting. We’d set up a mock town in a park or wherever the show was to be held within a festival and spectators would come watch in their hundreds. There were about 50 – 60 involved in the show. Everyone played their roles well, from outlaw and Indian to squaw and whore, marshall and deputies… etc. All these people had everyday jobs… and the show was their escape from the monotony of real life. This added pzaz and excitement.  To my father… this was his life and he shone in his role.

No wonder really – real life aside, wasn’t too wonderful. Debts needed paying and a couple of separations and the traumas leading upto and after them reduced my dad to a wreck… and me with him. My dad was learning his lessons the hard way and he’d often say to me “learn from my mistakes and you’ll be alright!”.

Can’t say if I ever did… I’m nearing 30, have been a cartoonist for as long as I can remember and feel content. Have learned my own lessons and made my own mistakes worth learning from, so don’t compare to his much.

I left home at 15 with a smile and a handshake, me and my father said our goodbye at the crossroads. He took one road – and I told him that the time had come for me to take another – a decision he respected.

My life took a real dramatic turn of events when I moved to a hostel in North England and experienced the “cutting edge” of drug abuse, alchoholism, gang violence and eventually Christianity, which changed my life. You’ll be glad for me to assure you that I’m no ravin’ biblebasher – but experiences in the field are well worth hearing about. Read on later in “Reflections”.

I witnessed some heavy self abuse with young men destroying themselves, using solvents, drugs, alcohol, glue… anything that would ease their insecurities and pain, but I kept a strong head and didn’t get sucked into the pit – if anything, it made me stronger and I earned a lot of respect for that. Being held hostage in a hostel bedroom at knifepoint whilst the guy hallucinated of a Mexican walking through the room with flames coming out of his spurs and red beams shooting from his eyes to the sound of Mark Shreeve’s “Legion” LP is one incident which comes to mind, or when I witnessed a guy jack up heroin using a dirty fix in a room painted red and boasting a mural of Iron Maiden’s “EDDIE” holding a skull – and the same guy missing a vein and screaming the hostel down whilst a lump the size of an egg grew from his arm – you can read more later. There was some scary shit going on in those days and I’m glad to be away from it!

My decisions to escape the pit came at 19 years old – and that’s when I had to work on repairing the damage in myself.

Since then I’ve travelled most of the UK and abroad, developed my cartoons into something original and special and will eventually become one of the most established cartoonists in the world – the reason being that it’s not a job – it’s my life!

There were no positions available, so I created one. I’m not a college trained, qualified artist – I’m a time served, naturally inspired cartoonist… Not to be vain, just to emphasize the depth of my commitment…