Above is the cover of Scroobius Pip’s new collection of illustrated poems, entitled ‘Poetry In (e)motion’. It is released in a week or so by Titan books and you should most definitely all buy yourselves a copy.

It features work by yours truly.

Yes, I can finally announce that I was selected alongside several other artists to have my work represent the words of Mr Pip.

This is a massive honour and I am greatly excited about it all (I haven’t seen the finished product yet!). Many, many thanks to Scroob for deeming my doodles appropriate and worthy enough to include in this collection.

You can pre order the book HERE.

I can’t wait to read the  introduction by Nick Frost as well. ^_^

Why the Na’vi Are Making Me Blue (Essay)

By China Mièville

Rotund implausible pop culture icon Ron Jeremy has struck out against the gaming industry claiming that violent video games are a worse influence on children than pornography.

Sterling and profound words from a man who makes a living sodomising teenage girls on camera. Although, when I see the brutality and carnage that can be inflicted in some of these games, I may be entitled to agree. See how this disgusting advertisement actually encourages children to ‘take out your frustrations’ amongst the brutality of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

Witness how you can actually involve yourself in the depravity of John Carpenter’s Halloween. I’m affronted, appalled and I’m going to go and get sick now.

If you care, you can read what Ron Jeremy had to say here.

A good friend of mine gave me this for Christmas a few weeks ago. I think I probably came across as being taken aback somewhat. This was not ingratitude, oh no, far from it. I was simply thrown twenty years into the past, joyously so.

Then I opened the cover.

I remembered instantly how I would sit and look at this image for hours. THIS was Eternia,it was unseen Eternia. It is such a bizarre image, so much of it is drastically out of context with anything contained in the stories or the animated show. I particularly love the dragonflies in the swamp section.

It is the bottom row of images however, that really struck a chord with me. The giant centipede creature, the rivers of molten lava and oddly enough, some deer. All of this would set my imagination running and I would conjure up stories to accompany each individual section.

It also kind of made me slightly melancholy, but that’s probably just an after effect of being transported to more colourful times, when hope and dreams assimilated in a magical formation, undashed by the jagged, vicious path that lay ahead.

Maybe I’d have been better off taking my chances in Eternia.

I’m away to brave the roads and embark on the long journey home to my parent’s house in Wicklow for the holidays. It will be a brief visit as I will have to get back to work immediately after Christmas. My College portfolio and Mugwump won’t put themselves together (obviously enough). Still, I look forward to a few days of games, crap telly and food.

Have a great Christmas all of you, the very best wishes for a stress free and enjoyable holiday.

Hugs, love and extended backrubs all round.

Your pal,

Zombiehamster.x

Zombiehamster favourite and SLG Pin Up of the year Jamie Smart announced the arrival of Bearfoo.com today, a website that will showcase ALL of the Bear comics to date and will feature exclusive new Bear strips. It’s been a long time coming,and I am certain that I am not alone in my excitement at this news.

I got so excited in fact, I spent the afternoon drawing this, instead of doing college work like I was supposed to. This is the magical power of Bear.

Go to Bearfoo.com now and realise what you’ve been missing, or simply catch up on some old favourites.

For a zombiehamster interview with the delightful Jamie Smart, click HERE

Things have been slightly quieter around these parts as of late and I feel I may owe somewhat of an explanation. It’s a simple one really, I haven’t been here. ‘Here’ being by the pc. At some point towards the end of the summer, I had become increasingly frustrated with the lack of space in my apartment. It was impractical and nigh on impossible to work in, due to size and logistical restrictions. This was happening at the same time as a mass of ideas and potential projects that I wanted to get underway and so a solution had to be found.

A brainwave came to me when visiting a nearby friend who had a rather spacious garage / annex thing, which in my eyes, suddenly transformed into a thing of great beauty and possibility. The acquisition of the space was an epic battle of wits, with two minds meeting over such weighty conversation as:

‘You know your garage? Mind if I clear it out and turn it into a studio?’

‘Nah, work away.’

SEE! See the passion, and love that went into the very foundations of this adventure?

As if by some miraculous feat of circumstance, that very day I was returning home when we saw a nice dog in a van. We went over to say hello to the dog who was excitedly hanging out a gap in the window, when a gruff voice summoned our attention from a neighbour’s doorway.

‘Do y’want a couch lads?’

Thinking it to be some form of dubious sales pitch, we were cautious, but inquisitive enough to show that we weren’t entirely disinterested. It developed through conversation that there were two almost perfect leather couches being given away by our wasteful, affluent neighbours. It would ease the workmen’s load if we took them and we get two salubrious leather sofas into the bargain as well. An all round win. Strange, how even one day earlier, and I would have instantly declined such an offer.

With the couches now stored (for three days in my hallway, completely blocking access to the front door and ensuring that a Krypton Factor style assault course be completed to pass through the tiny hallway) and the agreement made, the clearing began. It took almost a week to get it looking like this:

It resembled nothing more than the bleak set of a particularly unpleasant grumble flick.

This was closer to what I needed, but still quite far removed from what I had envisioned in my head.

Weeks went by as bits and pieces emerged. Forgotten shelving units were resurrected from attics. Unused carpets donated and unwanted cabinets happily handed over.  An old TV and video were rediscovered.

I love having movies on in the background while I work at things. Maybe I never bought into the falsity that you have to listen to music every spare minute of the day to qualify as a music ‘lover’, sometimes a series or a good movie will keep you listening just as intently. To satisfy any musical desires I may have, an old record player / cassette deck combo that I bought for a fiver years ago at a car boot sale has been coming in very useful indeed.

Not being financially stable enough to invest much in the actual allocation of essentials for the studio, the next stage took about 6 weeks. I slowly bought materials with bits of cash I had put by and over those weeks, the work started to materialise as well.

For a very long time, I was using the massive board on my lap as a drawing table, which was leading to all sorts of new and exciting pains. Luckily, my dad had found a home made drawing table frame in an old shed and we attached it to a 20 quid B&Q table (seemingly made out of sugar paper and hope) and secured the back of it so that it would remain steady.

Now there is a professional style drawing table, something I have always wanted but never thought I’d be able to afford. Then when I was given a typewriter, I knew I was finally equipped.

This is where I’ve been. I am there most days for, well, most of the day. There are bits that you can’t see, like the expanding VHS collection (which will explode once I bring my stored boxes from home up soon) and the Street Fighter machine is out of shot because it’s being worked on at the moment and I don’t want to show her incomplete, naked as it were.

The first thing that will be completed is ‘Mugwump’ an upcoming independent comic which I am writing, drawing, lettering, shading and publishing myself. This will appear sometime in early 2010 and is something I am very proud, excited and anxious to share with you all.

I am still writing a great deal but in a very unpressured, natural kind of way (sorry if that sounds a bit pretentious), I was putting myself under too much pressure before and it didn’t result in good things. I am enjoying what I currently write and I think that when the time is appropriate, you will too.

There is half a novel that glares at me from its folder every day; I don’t think it’ll let me get away with not finishing it. The stack of short stories continually grows and soon will also be demanding I do something with them. Until then, I’m happy to work on them until they are of a standard that I would feel comfortable inflicting upon the public.

So, welcome to my world, this is my studio. She may not be the flashiest in the world, but she was restored and put together with love, time and care. With my Super Ser gas heater and a small fort of videos for company, here I will remain for the duration for the winter.

The website will continue, obviously, and will be used to showcase goings on, rustlings and strange sightings.

Here’s to better things.

Better times.

And better work.

Let’s do this.

x ZH x

A quartet of professors from the Erstrautzen Institute of Vienna recently approached me to take part in a study, having observed the goings on that occur on this very website. It appears that there has been progress made in the identification of a rogue genome that exists in quite a number of human mammals of my particular age.

The causes of this mutation are as of yet unclear, but its effects can be staggering and life altering for the subjects involved in such cases. Initial beliefs are that the genome’s origins are radiation based.

The thick tubular bulbs contained in 1980’s television sets contained a commonly used gas known as Carphoriclyde, the same used in early arcade machines. Unbeknownst at the time, Carphoriclyde was a far more organic matter than primarily considered, which developed over time. This allowed for an unprecedented assimilation of brainwaves and sonic frequency, ergo, the more that one was exposed to the radiation emanating from their screens, the deeper the effects resonated and penetrated the brain functionality. Permanently.

Carphoriclyde acts as a serotonin release; this is your brain’s ‘happy happy, joy joy’ juice. Its other, and arguably more damaging symptom is a distorted and unconventional perception of the world that surrounds the effected party. Structures of socio political normalcy appear jaded and confusion, often leading to feelings of isolation and disillusionment with the immediate and extrinsic environment. The result of this being that the effected party craves a serotonin release; this is a release that was prevalent in a certain time, when the Carphoriclyde emissions permeated the air we breathed like cigarette smoke used to in pubs.

The problem being, the last Carphoriclyde cylinders were last installed in multimedia sets back in 1996, and with the onset of ‘clean’ plasma and LCD televisions and PC Monitors, the effected found themselves feeling as if something was missing. Some unidentifiable charm had disappeared from their daily routine and victims found themselves searching endlessly for the feeling that they had lost and attributed incorrectly to age, misanthropy, life and growth.

Traces of this gas had permeated the images that were shown on the screens during this age of mass poisoning. This is why any individuals who were overly exposed are now in a semi cathartic state of dependency. They crave a brief glimpse of every image that they absorbed in those formative years, misunderstanding their true motives and attributing it to misplaced nostalgia.

This goes far beyond nostalgia. The images have carried with them, trace elements of Carphoriclyde, which is what draws the desperate soul to frequently seek out and publicly display fragments of a different, but universal past. A new generation of associated audiovisual material also contains a very mild, diluted form of the deficiency causing substance. Actors and directors, screenwriters and set designers, all worked as carriers, whether they are aware or infected in any way.

It rests amongst us, it infiltrates without detection, its hunger merciless. If any of you feel in any way like you could be suffering from Carphoriclyde Radium Syndrome, please get in touch with Dr Mattaius Graub, Erstrautzen Research Facility, 4566 876, Vienna, Austria. You will be contacted shortly afterwards and subsequently bundled into a van on a randomly selected night while you unsuspectingly sleep.

During an early morning discussion on the subject of toys from the 1980’s (M.A.S.K., He-Man & The Masters of the Universe etc), I was reminded of the existence of Super Naturals. I definitely had the guy who looks like Skeletor, as I still have that eyeball shield. The figure, I fear may have been lost to the annals of the history of toys that have to get thrown out/given away becasue you’ve left home and they’re turning your bedroom into a guest room, and you can’t bring them to where you live because you live in a hovel and everyone that you live with is an untrustworthy swine who would nick them / break them / give them away.

But anyway…

…thanks so much Jamie for the link and bringing this all back.

Beside that little nugget of forgotten wonder, I spotted this:

..which answered a long nagging question in my mind, which was:

‘What the hell were those little elemental monsters called with the tiny hologram on their chests?‘

Answer: Battle Beasts! I only had a handful of them, but anything with a hologram was pretty much the coolest thing ever in the 80’s. Finally, I thought for a moment on my favourite board game as a kid. It had a glow in the dark skull for Pete’s sake! How could you NOT want this?

GHOST CASTLE!!!!!!!

Which has all put me in a very good mood for the day and will maybe manifest itself upon my Christmas list this year!

(NB: I am still in possesssion of the vast majority of my toys and was never at any stage forced to give them away or throw them out. I am claiming creative license on that one. That and I got in trouble for saying it)

You would never have known there was a festival on as you approached Pont de St-Cloud on Saturday 29th August. The trains were sparsely crowded with the usual mixture of commuters, tourists and kids. Only walking up to the densely foliated parks, did crowds begin to assimilate and flow into the slipstreams. Promoters handed out everything that one might require for the festivities, programmes were supplied free of charge, as were condoms, earplugs and various other memorabilia. It was a great introduction to how the French manage their festivals, and manage them well they do.

The surroundings were so picturesque they belied the nature of the event in the best possible way. At no point did I see the thronging crowds of yahoos that exist at the likes of Oxegen, Electric Picnic or Glastonbury. Gone were the screeching hordes that act as if they were just let out of the house for the first time. Replaced were they with amiable, pleasant people in their thousands. I was confused and a little bewildered. More so once again when we sampled some of the amazing food that was on offer. The bars never had more than two or three people in front of you and accepted cash!

We wandered through the galleries and poster exhibitions that were on display and idled away a few hours underneath the shady trees until it was time for the first act, one which we (Lady P and I) had been anticipating greatly since seeing the lineup several months previously. Kitty, Daisy & Lewis is a (very) young London band, comprising of the synonymous Kitty, Daisy and Lewis Durham (and their parents). Their style is that of classic swing and rock and roll (I am not going to use the term Rockabilly, because it’s connotations of late have been more style oriented than musically descriptive). Switching instruments between each track, the siblings display something resembling a sixth sense when it comes to timing. They play off each other’s abilities and seem to be challenging each other within the songs, in regards to the impromptu tonal and pace changes that pepper the tracks. The crowd seemed mostly unfamiliar but exceptionally eager and they were met with a great response which is encouraging. Authentic is a dangerous word to use when describing anything, but I really feel that there is something timeless and beautifully imperfect about them which in turn serves to accentuate their unique and captivating presence. The setlist featured two covers, Johnny Horton’s ‘Mean Son Of A Gun’ and Canned Heat’s ‘Going up the Country’, both were met to rapturous applause. It was almost a shame to see them so early on in the day, as judging by the amount of dancing that was going on, a later slot would have guaranteed that the whole floor would have been swinging like it was prom night on Happy Days. (Kitty, Daisy & Lewis are signed to Sunday Best Recordings and seem to be on tour all of the time.)

A later set for K, D & L may have also meant that we could have missed some of the bends that we did see with more desirable slots. The Noisettes were so pointless and squeaky that I won’t even bother to elaborate any further. I’m sure they have their fans, but I don’t have anything nice to say and as my Granny always says…….

After The Noisettes, The Asteroids Galaxy Tour was up next. Now, I’m not going to win any friends with this one, but when I see someone walk onstage in oversized sunglasses, with a gold sparkly jacket and gold tights on, sporting the trendiest of trendy hair and then proceed to squeal incoherently over some insipid blibbidy bloop beats that don’t go anywhere, things are not off to a good start. My instincts were correct and after Lady P wittily dubbed them as The Hemmorhoid Galaxy Tour, we agreed that would be a good high note to leave on.

There were a few weird times during the festival when there was only one band playing, which could be heard echoing across the park. This was a bit odd, but the atmosphere was so relaxed that nobody minded, it gave for good time to get a few beers in and take another wander around the amenities. The crowd gathering for Ebony Bones was impressive in size, but unwilling to give away my energies to stand whilst there were luscious embankments to rest upon; observation was chosen in relation to participation. I doubt that I would have lasted too long anyway. EB lie somewhere between Fela Kuti and Basement Jaxx, except done very ham fistedly and having the downfall of being far too inane and saccharine. Day-glo felt costumes, endless shout outs to things like ‘Adversity’ and ‘Being different’ started to get on my nerves, especially when combined with entire songs in which every second line is ‘Now jump to the left, now jump to the right, now take a step forwards, now take a step back’, I’m not five, I hate the hokey cokey and I don’t want to play, needless to say, toys were gathered, gardens were left.

I was cheered up instantly by Dananananaykroyd! I love happy Scottish bands, they’re so much more fun than the misanthropic, yet fingernail removingly twee and painfully stylish ones (Camera Obscura you sit back down right now!). Just hearing someone with a strong Glaswegian accent announce ‘Hallow, we’re Dananananaykroyd!’ made me smile with so much glee you could have used it to bring a dead horse back to life. I was really surprised with how heavy they were live, so much shouting! So many really nice riffs! They were like a cute little Fugazi, and that’s not a comparison I make glibly. A band who are, dare I say it ‘fun’. You may not like them on record (they under whelm in that respect a little) but live, they are a must see.

The Horrors were next and they not only lived up to, but surpassed any preconceived ideas that I may have held. Thoroughly enjoying their debut when it was released several years ago, I was an enthusiastic champion of them, especially in the face of such adversity as all of my mates slagging me off and saying that they were shit. Well, I now have fewer friends and love The Horrors more than ever. Now, before you begin the onslaught, please be advised that I am aware of the arguments. I know that they sound like Joy Division; I know that they’re so Shoreditch that it hurts; I know that there are several other huge influences that bear down on their shoulders, threatening to disallow them to justify themselves. Faris stalked around the stage like some sinewy, goth mantis whilst the introduction of ‘Mirrors Image’ drifted through the trees like acrid, translucent smoke. The domination of the synths and bass being more reminiscent of ‘Pornography’ era Cure than anything else. And this is a bad thing for absolutely no reasons at all.

Highlighting both albums and captivating all who witnessed, The Horrors not only portrayed themselves as musicians who are more than ready to take on the world, they have settled into themselves so much more within the last two years. Just off the back of a support slot with Nine Inch Nails on their later tour, their fans extend as far as Faith No More, who referenced them directly in their set later in the night. They will have their haters and they will certainly take a lot of flack with their ascension, but I have a feeling that we are yet to see the best work from this band. They pulled off bleakness and desolation during the brightest part of the day; now get me to a smoky underground club with them as the headliners and we’ll talk then.

Unfortunately, this elation was somewhat short-lived, as to attain a good spot for Faith No More, it would be necessary to endure an entire set from The Offspring on the main stage. Not even alcohol or nostalgia could rectify the effects of this band. I admittedly used to like them when I was about 13 and ‘Smash’ came out, although their late 90’s return with such ‘classics’ as ‘Pretty Fly For A White Guy’, ‘Why Don’t You Get A Job’ and ‘Hit that’ simply annoyed me, having more sense by that stage. This was an almost two hour ideal of songs that I had happily forgotten existed until now. I was amazed when this bleached haired group of elderly gentlemen continued to play on, and on, and on…….. The crowd loved it and they have no small following (outnumbering the number of Faith No More t shirts on display that day easily), announcing that they were happy to have the number one rock album in France that week. Oh dear.

The awfulness continued for some time, with Dexter Holland having the audacity to send Grandpa Noodles and the gang away whilst he subjected us to a solo piano performance which made my bum rumble and the middle of my brain itch. Still, it ended and like any successful campaign we stood in our conquered spaces, front and centre, exactly where I like to be. Then there was the wait……..

This

Went

On

For

Quite

Some

Time

Well over an hour in fact, whilst they played us Abba songs and people smoked a lot. This was a long hot hour, feeling the occasional slimy passing of an exhausted reveller making their way to less crowded climes. The red curtain was up, Mike Bordin’s drum kit was on display and I reflected briefly on just how amazing their Download show was a few months previously and the initial excitement and anticipation that I had felt returned in electrifying sensation.

Then it was time.

Gliding onto the stage and launching into the now familiar ‘Reunited’, the band once again generated a feeling of elated relief and joy, the sharp exhalation of an entire generation, fulfilling one of their musical cravings that they never thought would be satisfied. Faith No More are well and truly back, over this summer they have become the talk of the forums, the seasoned concert goers and the bloggers, and every positive word is entirely validated. The band know this as well, they never disappoint and tonight was no exception.

Forsaking first leg second track ‘The Real Thing’ for ‘From Out Of Nowhere’ the crowd exploded. A sea of bodies rushed, swelled and swayed like a powerful current. This was not assisted in any way by the one flailing drunk who kept trying to send us both under so that he could take our spots. After an entire song of getting elbowed incessantly by this nine foot douchebag, I did the only thing that a man should do when presented with such buffoonery and I punched him hard upside the head, which made him go away promptly. The force from FNM continued with ‘Be Aggressive’ which continued the frenzy, albeit in a far more civilized fashion at this point. The favourites continued to be exhibited as ‘Caffeine’, ‘Evidence’ & ‘Surprise! You’re Dead.’ maintained a heavy, fast paced vibe which solidified FNM’s status as rock legends.

Patton has a beautiful awkwardness when he talks to the crowd, a modesty that belies his infamous onstage demeanour. Billy Gould was thrust prominently to the front of the bass heavy sound for the night, to wonderful results; this added heaviness and vigour to the show. When this element is combined with Puffy’s drumming and Bottum’s astounding keyboard skills, you have a magical outcome. John Huston erases all requirement of big sick hairy ugly Jim Martin (I think it was Metal Hammer or Raw used to religiously refer to him that way). There were some nice setlist changes from the first leg of the tour including ‘King for a Day’, ‘Just A Man’, ‘Midnight Cowboy’ and ‘I Started A Joke’ (All of which were magnificent, especially Patton making everybody give jazz hands for ‘Just A Man’).

Halfway through ‘Midlife Crisis’ during the breakdown, they threw in the Eastenders theme song, complete with whistling section, which was glorious, if a little lost on the majority of the audience. ‘The Gentle Art of Making Enemies’, ‘Ashes to Ashes’ and ‘We Care A Lot’ were stormed through with such force that the crowd were now feeling the fatigue. No less enthusiastic, just more eager to stand back and watch, enjoying for what will be many, a once in a lifetime chance to see their idols. It is not known how long this reunion will last, and so every fan is taking the opportunity to witness them with a reverence and admiration that would warm the coolest of hearts. A fabulous performance and another fantastic evening spent in the company of a band who may be more relevant now than ever before.

We though it was all over. A bit battered and sweaty, we strolled towards the far stages where, to our amazement not only all the bars and merch stalls were open, but the bands were still performing. This was unusual to find after the main stage has cleared, the last act on the second stage being Birdy Nam Nam. Their stage set up was equal to that which I have seen Kraftwerk and Daft Punk use, towering layers of luminescence split the silhouettes of thousands as some severe and enthralling turntablism was taking place. The four French DJ’s created everything from their decks and using the skills that they displayed at the 2002 DMC’s, combined with a wry awareness of electro and techno, blew me the hell away. We spent the next hour dancing like it was 1994.

Overall, the organization was excellent, the bands superb. The experience was sublime and the memories fantastical.

Here’s to next year.

(For more Mike Patton goodness, click HERE for an hour of his best tracks, for FREE!)