Rub-a-dub-dub, Four Men...
It's been a tough week. Whatever about the good weather outside; it's been snowed-under here in the studio. Preparation, which is almost complete for my onslaught on France through the Marie Bastille Agency and projects for American clients have kept me slaving over my drawing boards. Then the Irish Times presented me with a mind-warping piece of financial text. Anyway, between the editor and myself we fixed on an idea over the phone, which I quickly scribbled onto a receipt. Whoever heard of an illustrator who had decent pads of paper handy?
That evening, on the settee in front of the telly, I worked up the idea into a more finished sketch and squared the drawing up for the following morning. Luckily, summer TV schedules determined that there was bugger-all worth watching on the idiot's lantern [as my old French teacher, Mr. Dansie used to call the telly - Me: 'What does 'bateau' mean, Mr. Dansie?' Dansie: 'It means you haven't been listening, McShe…
That evening, on the settee in front of the telly, I worked up the idea into a more finished sketch and squared the drawing up for the following morning. Luckily, summer TV schedules determined that there was bugger-all worth watching on the idiot's lantern [as my old French teacher, Mr. Dansie used to call the telly - Me: 'What does 'bateau' mean, Mr. Dansie?' Dansie: 'It means you haven't been listening, McShe…