FOGHORN
The best of British cartooning talent tale
Issue 44
NEWS
FOGHORN Issue 44
Published in Great Britain by the Professional Cartoonists’ Organisation (FECO UK)
PCO Patrons Libby Purves Andrew Marr Bill Tidy Martin Wainwright Foghorn Editor Bill Stott tel: +44 (0) 160 646002 email: billstott@lineone.net Foghorn Sub-Editor Roger Penwill tel: +44 (0) 1584 711854 email: roger@penwill.com Foghorn Layout/Design Tim Harries tel: + 44 (0) 1633 780293 email: foghorn@procartoonists.org PCO Press Office email: media@procartoonists.org Web info PCO (FECO UK) website: http://www.procartoonists.org BLOGHORN http://thebloghorn.org/
What is Foghorn? British cartoon art has a great, ignoble history and currently boasts a huge pool of talent. It deserves a higher media presence than it currently enjoys. Our aim is to make sure it gets it. We want to promote cartoon art domestically and internationally by encouraging high standards of artwork and service, looking after the interests of cartoonists and promoting their work in all kinds of media. Copyright All the images in this magazine are the intellectual property and copyright of their individual creators and must not be copied or reproduced, in any format, without their consent. Front Cover: Alex Hughes Back Cover: Bill Stott Foghorn (Online) ISSN 1759-6440 Glossop Watch: 1
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FOGHORN The magazine of the Professional Cartoonists’ Organisation (FECO UK)
As the ice–sheet slowly recedes and all manner of things twitch with quickening life out there in the garden and beyond, even across the lately frozen tundra of our countryside, [get on with it. Ed.] It’s Foghorn time! And what does Foghorn time mean? Erudition of the very highest order, that’s what it means. Great cartoons Private took its Eye off; wise words from otherwise unbalanced people; and the heady prospect of Shrewsbury International
Cartoon Festival! Music, balloons, merry lads and lasses in the Market Square calling to toiling cartoonists, “Wot’s that, then?” Still unclear? Read on friend! [it won’t help. Ed] Bill Stott, Foghorn Editor
It’s that time of year...
Roger Penwill gets us in the mood for festival fun. Curiously undeterred by six previous cartoonist invasions, the brave souls of the Shropshire town of Shrewsbury are flinging wide the town gates yet again, raising the portcullis and lowering the drawbridge to allow in the marauding exponents of drawn wittiness. The festival weekend is 22nd-25th April, with the main activities focused on Saturday 24th. This April’s extravaganza has the creepy theme of Magic, Myth and Mystery and, as ever, the main festival cartoon exhibition (“I Don’t Believe It!”) bats the theme about in many diverse ways. A bunch of Greek cartoonists have created a special new exhibition for Shrewsbury on the festival theme, as have our colleagues from Down Under. Their exhibitions will be shown for a couple of months at the Theatre Severn. Greek and Aussie cartoonists will also be joining in the drawing for the public activities, lending a wild, cosmopolitan air to the jollities. Private Eye regular Grizelda has a one-woman show at Cath Tate Cards. Talks, workshops, clinics, caricaturing, together with Shrewsbury original concepts: humurals, big boards and reverse caricaturing, will be happening as usual. The S-mile featuring cartoons in eighty shop
windows in town opened on 1st April. All details are on the festival website which can be found at www. shrewsburycartoonfestival.com and in the festival brochure. The festival welcomes two new patrons this year, Radio Two DJ Alex Lester and the just-about-everything Phill Jupitus. They are both avid cartoon enthusiasts and their support for the festival is greatly valued. We look forward to their active involvement in the event’s future. And to help the celebration of the best of UK cartooning, for the first time there is a festival brew, Happy Barry (a subtle allusion to the festival mascot Barry the Shrew), which will be available on draught in certain favoured local hostelries. Mine’s a Happy Barry!
FEATURE ROYSTON ROBERTSON
Spitting Image Royston Robertson is officially freaked out. For the cartoonist, your pen name is your brand. You scrawl it in the corner of your drawings and hope that people will remember it. All of us
spent some time, when starting out, wondering how to sign our cartoons. I settled on “Royston” quite early on – adding the “Robertson” bit seemed to make the signature a bit unwieldy so it seemed sensible to leave it out. I always had a nagging fear, however, that another cartoondrawing Royston might turn up. Then, a few months ago, one did. Luckily, this Royston came from the past. And from the other side of the world. I was contacted by Denise Miles, from Sydney, asking if I knew anything about the Royston gags she found in a 1941 book, published by Land newspapers in Australia, featuring nothing but cartoons from a saucy magazine called Man.
Scans of two of the cartoons were attached. The clash between the elegant drawings and the “naughty” jokes was striking. Like Peter Arno meets Donald McGill. And when I saw how similar the signature was, I was officially freaked out. I suppose there are only so many ways you can scribble “Royston”. WWW.PROCARTOONISTS.ORG
I knew I would need to uncover more about my namesake. After numerous emails to cartoonists in the UK and Australia, primarily John Jensen and Lindsay Foyle, plus a fair bit of poking around in dusty corners of the internet, I succeeded. And the headline news was: Royston was a woman! John Jensen revealed this fact. His father, Jack Gibson, also drew for Man magazine, and John had actually met the lady Royston. “Royston” was the pen name of Victoria Ethel Cowdroy, better known as Vic Cowdroy, an Australian cartoonist, painter, sculptor, illustrator, filmmaker and commercial artist. I started to feel like a bit of an underachiever compared to this Royston. Cowdroy was born in 1908 and moved to London after the Second World War. She married cartoonist Arthur Horner, creator of the strip Colonel Pewter. They lived and worked in Britain until the mid-1970s when they returned to Melbourne. She died on 26 June 1994. The Dictionary of Australian Artists Online said: “From January 1938 Cowdroy contributed numerous joke cartoons and elegant line and watercolour drawings to Man and other semi-salacious publications under the pseudonym ‘Royston’.” So, in other words, when this respectable artist wanted to do a bit of dodgy, risqué work on the side, she used the name Royston. Keep it to yourselves, but I’m now trying to think of another pen name – just in case I decide to do some respectable art on the quiet.
“I presume you know the story of the commercial traveller and the farmer’s daughter. Well, I’m the father’s daughter...”
Examples of Vic Cowdroy’s artwork (above) and Royston Robertson’s (below)
Product placement in cartoons THE FOGHORN 3
BLOGHORN
Bloghorn opines on the cartoon cuts at the Observer, while Andy Davey’s letter to the Observer editor has yet to receive a reply... The UK’s Observer newspaper relaunched with a “new look” recently, and to ensure publicity it grabbed the headlines with a story about the alleged workplace bullying of the Prime Minister. But the revamp also brought with it another controversy: it ditched cartoons. Gone are the funny and colourful spot cartoons by Robert Thompson, which were once scattered throughout the paper. Gone too is Andy Riley’s funny strip Roasted, which had been poking fun at the foibles of modern life in the Observer Magazine since 2002. In addition to editorial survivor Chris Riddell, the paper will each week feature a cartoon drawn for another newspaper from somewhere else in the world. Bloghorn suspects this art will be sourced from an agency which means lower costs for the impoverished newspaper. We think it’s both cheaper and cheerless.
Bloghorn believes this is not good news for British cartoonists, or the readership of The Observer. People like a laugh, it’s a given, particularly for a Sunday title published on a day that’s supposed to be about putting your feet up and forgetting the woes of the week for a few moments. Dropping cartoons is undoubtedly a quick cost-cutting measure for a newspaper that was recently staring closure in the face. But Bloghorn believes it is confused thinking. Other newspapers understand the power of cartoons: The Telegraph knows it needs Matt and The Daily Mail made sure they got a replacement sharpish when Ken Mahood retired recently. Why has the Observer been so short-sighted? You can add you comments at http://thebloghorn.org/2010/02/22/ shortsighted-observerfound-wanting/
PCO featured Artist of the Month for February 2010 was cartoonist Robert Duncan. He specialises in cartoons for advertising and his client list includes many well-known companies. He was one-fifth of the recent winning team of cartoonists on the Eggheads TV quiz and his comedy play Cluedo holds the all-time box office record at the Theatre Royal Windsor. His book, A Rum Do is a bestseller in Barbados (but nowhere else). He estimates he has produced over 3000 greetings card designs in a long and varied career.
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Dear Mr Mulholland, The UK Professional Cartoonists’ Organisation (PCO) notes with sadness that your recently redesigned paper carries far fewer cartoons than previously. We regret the apparent passing of Robert Thompson’s and Andy Riley’s work, and the substitution thereof with the work of much cheaper syndicated cartoonists. The Observer is not alone in a move away from publishing cartoons, despite the enduring and growing popularity of the art form with the general public. We know they like cartoons. They tell us so. Aside from our anecdotal evidence, we’d ask you to check out the nationwide popularity of, for example, The Big Draw. I personally would be as rich as Croesus if coin of the realm passed into my sweaty palm each time somebody told me “Oh, I love cartoons”. How many people say that about puzzles, advertisements or recipes? A picture is worth a thousand words and a good cartoon a good deal more (experts tell me the figure is 1023). Under the strong
patronage of papers like The Observer, this country produced outstanding cartoonists over the last century and still boasts some of the best. Newspapers are the natural habitat of the topical cartoon, now an endangered species. Recent years have seen the outlets for such work shrink at an alarming rate. We are sure The Observer does not wish to contribute to the death of this art-form. Cartoonists debate vigorously on the reasons for your decision, as with every loss of another outlet for their talent. It surely can’t have been reached on the basis of quality – you have just culled two of the top cartoon talents around. As ever, finance is a favourite explanation but that seems too simple for such a distinguished end-user of our visual skills. So, the PCO would like to invite you to please explain your decision making, ideally in reply to this letter, or in the comments under our blog entry; http://thebloghorn.org/2010/02/22/ shortsighted-observerfound-wanting/ Andy Davey PCO Chairman
Bloghorn asked Robert what caused him to take up the noble art of cartooning in the first place? I became a cartoonist because I was hopeless at sport at school, and funny drawings kept me out of trouble. I was always fascinated by the fact that you could draw a single frame and tell an entire story. It struck me as a great way to earn a living, because you would get better at it all the time, and retirement would not be an option… visit: www.duncancartoons.com
WWW.PROCARTOONISTS.ORG
FEATURE LADY VIOLET
Random acts of humour
Foghorn’s very own ‘Agony Aunt’ Lady Violet Spume, answers your nasty little personal problems. (Dictation by Lady Violet’s private secretary Clive Goddard) Dear Lady Violet, As you work for a cartoonist’s magazine I wonder whether you could offer some advice. My neice, Frangipane (7) is awfully good at drawing and would like to be an artist when she grows up. You really should see the wax crayon picture she did of her pony, Pixie Sparkle-dust. I have it in pride of place on my Frigidaire! Can you tell me how her work might grace the pages of The Spectator or perhaps The Lady within the next few weeks? Yours hopefully, Muriel Hedge-Fund, Basingstoke
“I don’t know why there’s no sun up in the sky stormy weather?” WWW.PROCARTOONISTS.ORG
Lady V: Ms Hedge-Fund, I am happily in no position whatever to offer such advice to your wretched neice. Though I may currently find myself in the employ of this tawdry little ‘cartoonists’ rag, I am certainly not in the habit of mixing with it’s other contributors. The very idea of a woman of my breeding mingling with those awful bearded sorts with their ‘rolled up cigarettes’ shabby trousers and ‘brown shoes’. Awful! Does no-one remember my days on The Countrywoman? Has my twenty year tenure at Tweed & Tweed Products Monthly really been so quickly forgotten? Am I now, in my twilight years, reduced
to being associated solely with this dreadful ‘comedic’ Boghorn thing, or whatever it’s called? I once met the Queen Mother you know! And had scones with Anita Harris! Dear Lady Violet, As you work for a cartoonist’s magazine I wonder whether you could offer some advice. My tortoise ‘Mister Toddles’ is a natural comedian. He regularly has my wife and I in fits with his antics! My brother Reg tells me that tortoise humour is very much ‘in’ at the moment, so I was wondering whether you might be able to suggest a route he might follow into ‘slowbusiness’. He really is ‘turtlelly hilarious and I don’t mind ‘shelling out’ for acting classes. Mr & Mrs Hernia, (and Mr Toddles!!!) Guttering, Norcs. Lady V: Dear Mr Hernia, I refer you to the answer given above. Tortoises are, in my not inconsiderable opinion, not the slightest bit funny and never will be, so kindly disabuse yourself of these nonsensical aspirations. And to think I once spent an afternoon in the charming company of Princess Michael of Kent’s chiropodist. Oh, what dark and bitter days I find myself enduring! THE FOGHORN 5
FEATURE CHICHI PARISH
Cool for Cats Chichi Parish on why S.O.B. and cats are good for the kitty Cruising down the virtual motorway of the web, at a semi-conscious speed in fifth gear with the occasional zap back into reality thanks to static shock generated by my acrylic slippers, vampire-red dressing gown,and a fur lined hot water bottle tied around my waist, was how I spent most nights in sub-zero January. Living is dangerous, opposites attract. One evening, my soporific internet journey screeched to a halt when a photograph of a man sitting on top of a Harley- Davidson, flashed indignantly back at me on my screen. But for an arch smile, a large overweight tortoiseshell cat, and an ankle bracelet, the fellow was stark naked. My hair stood on end. The biker called himself ‘King,’ his real name is Ken Shapiro, retired teacher and child psychotherapist. This was first internet encounter with the Maryland SOB. The photograph caused hyperventilation. I am, after all, an excitable single woman with a cat allergy. Time for a pit stop; I stuck my head out of the window into the midwinter chill, briefly distracting myself by catching falling snow flakes on my tongue, (dogs and children perform this feat with remarkable success, but not me) I almost fell out the window. Back at my computer, somewhat surprised to still be alive, I soon learnt that fans of the highly charged Irish comedian Graham Norton, were already familiar with ‘King’ Ken. When ‘King’ Ken Shapiro’s naked Semites on Bikes ‘Kitty Porn’ calendar
featured on The Graham Norton Show in 2009, a flurry of media interest ensued. Cats make good shock absorbers. The ‘Kitty Porn’ calendar was a sell out. Nudity and cute fluffy cats are good kitty generators. I am not a driven woman, I don’t have the testosterone. However, within the next few snow-storm days, non-Kosher eating, Buddhist-guided biker ‘King’ Ken Shapiro from Baltimore, agreed to an interview with Foghorn. I found myself activating a dormant Paypal account and purchased all manner of items in the name of research, namely: a can of anti-static spray, Debrett’s Correct Form and of course a‘No Kill’ Pet Rescue of Maryland 2010 Pet of the Month Calendar. The calendar arrived long after the snow had melted. Semites on Bikes Pet Rescue’s 2010 Pet of the Month Calendar is an amusing PG-13 rated humorous essay on man’s relationship with non-human animals. Ok, let’s cut the crap, it’s a photo calendar of mister bikers and lady bikers posing nude alongside their pets and seemingly pristine motor cycles. The bikers are of all ages, all sizes, some with tattoos, some without, some wearing hats, some not, but most members appear to entertain a lusty appetite for food and a gusto for plein-air living.‘Sir Freedom’ wears a Santa hat and coaxes Carla, his goat, with a chip, ‘Gar’ shows off Misha and Masha, his budgerigars, and ‘When’ has a bemused hound called ‘Funny.’After eyeballing the calendar for a full week, followed by a brief read through of Debrett’s Correct Form, I was ready to address the ‘King.’ Q: Your Majesty, tell me a bit about Semites on Bikes. ‘King’ Ken Shapiro: Many years ago I was looking for a like-minded group to ride with. I found a Jewish group in nearby Washington D.C. I’m what Alan Ginsberg described himself as... a “Delicatessan Jew”... no religion, but all the ethnic “goodies”... humor, the food, liberalism, etc. The group in D.C. quickly frustrated me. I left and told members I’d be starting a group for “Non Stereotypical” Jews up in Maryland. A few followed and media interest quickly got me more members. Q: Your Majesty, tell me a bit about your governance and your courtiers. I wanted no officers, politics, meetings, dues, charters, rules, etc. so I’m “King” for life. “Knights” are heavWWW.PROCARTOONISTS.ORG
FEATURE CHICHI PARISH
ily involved members and names are given based on a significant event or characteristic. “Kickstand” forgot to put his down at a gas stop one day and dropped his bike. GAR smokes cigars. Q: Where do you ride? We have one “Official” ride per month. A few are over-nighters (Virginia Beach, Skyline Drive, etc.), but usually ride every weekend. We even ride in the winter, as most of us have purchased Gerbing heated clothing. We’ve ridden in weather as cold as 11ºF as long as the roads are dry. Our motto is “Ride to Eat/ Eat to Ride”. Jews eat a lot. It’s all for fun... no religion at all. In fact, about 1/3 of our members aren’t even Jews. Q. How many members are there in S.O.B? We’ve been as high as 100, and now have 38 members; people come and go or get booted out for nonparticipation. Q: Tell me about S.O.B’s charity work. Our MC had been raising money for the Sudan G. Komen group (breast cancer) for a few years. Then Michael Vick was caught with his dog fighting “business” and I decided to use our abilities to raise money for animal welfare. Our first calendar raised money for the Humane Society of Baltimore County. We had raised over $16,000 until one of our models quit the club and threatened the project unless his picture was removed. Now I get signed releases. Anyway, this year we went with Pet Rescue of Maryland because they are “No Kill”. I was inspired by the movie from across the pond...”Calendar Girls”. The models are volunteers, so there’s never any “convincing”. The pets are all owned by the respective models. Q: Would you describe yourself as Dr Dolittle on a bike? No...not Dr. Doolittle on a bike, just a biker who also loves animals. We have an overweight cat named Bandit and a guinea pig named Maddie, both rescues. We also have a pond full of fish and two Eastern Box Turtles.
Letters to the Editor Snail Mail: The Editor, Foghorn Magazine, 7 Birch Grove, Lostock Green, Northwich. CW9 7SS E-mail: billstott@lineone.net
A real letter! I’m not sure whether Foghorn wants any responses from its customers, that bloke from Glossop gets a lot of air time! I do feel that some of the articles deserve a comment. Re. Clive’s cinema article, it reminded me of my youth, and I am... a lot older than young Collins. There were about 30 cinemas in Leicester in the 40s and 50s and you could dash between 4 or 5 of them to find out which one had the shortest queue. Being “arty” I liked the Floral Hall which showed foreign films... La Ronde and The Seven Deadly Sins were amongst them. Smoking in cinemas was normal, one could hardly see the screen, particularly from the back row where all the sex education went on. And you could see a Tom and Jerry, the News, the “trailers”, a second feature and the main
film. And stay in and see the whole lot again! All that and fish and chips in the pink Leicester Mercury, on the way home. Re. Roger’s articles, very entertaining and informative, I do so agree with his observation of the banality of English houses and although living in Essex I have not heard of The Essex Design Guide. Yes that Prince Charles should be put in the tower for his fairy tale village! I don’t agree with Pete about Miranda Hart, like a lot of her ilk they don’t know their limitations, she was good as a walk-on in ‘Not Going Out’ but carrying her own show... ummm. Ah Paul’s education memories. Takes me back, organdie or silk stretched over a rigid frame. Wielding a squeegee… Neil Dishington
Q: And finally... Are there plans for a 2011 calendar? Yes...we plan to do a 2011 calendar. It’s in the works as we speak. If anyone would like to buy a 2nd hand copy of Debretts Correct Form, please write to Ms Parish c/o Foghorn (preferably on non-static writing paper). If you would like to purchase a Pet Rescue Calendar or make a donation to the charity, please contact www.petrescueofmd.org WWW.PROCARTOONISTS.ORG
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THE POTTING SHED
The Potting Shed with Cathy Simpson. ‘Spring in the air!’, we called cheerily to the man on the next allotment. ‘Jump in the lake!’, he growled back… but, miserable old gits notwithstanding… welcome to the Foghorn Potting Shed! The days are getting longer, the birdies are in flower, and Gordon Honkmonster, Binkie Homebrew and Euphorbia Marmelade are on hand to assuage your agronomic agonies. Your referee for the day is the luscious, pouting, Alan Goatrouser! We kick off with an email from Dorky Burgerbuns, all the way from Humptulips, USA: “Hi Guys! My house was situated a little way away from one of those giant redwood trees. As time’s gone on, that tree’s just gotten closer and closer. If we look out of the window all we can see is a giant trunk. Tree trunk, that is. Smaller suckers off that giant number are popping up through the living room floor. Question is – are the roots liable to be damaging the drainage system?” Our Gordon’s onto it … “Frankly, Dorky, if that’s your situation - the drains are really the least of your worries. Your best option is this… take
the roof off your house to let in the light, let the saplings grow and enjoy your own private bit of woodland. Meanwhile, you’ll need to find somewhere to live. If you can - choose a tree house as your future home; not only would this be poetic justice, but subterranean drains need never bother you again. In time, of course, the trees will raise your old house far above the ground – and you can move back in again!” Well, that sounds like planning for the future, doesn’t it? Gardening is always a long term vision, after all. Now, we have a letter from Ravilious Pratt, from Knutsford, He’s just got his first allotment and wants to grow beans:
joy your favourite – straight out of a can (which is probably where you got the picture in the first place)! Remember not to add water or overheat, as this may impair the flavour.” As we all know, you can’t beat the taste of home-grown vegetables! Now our next one is a reply to Maisie Tonkers, aged 8, who had sent us a text message: “Maisie – no, you mustn’t nail your little brother to the fence by his dungarees, no matter how many of your sweeties he nicked. Let him out of that shed, yes, right now. Or we’ll tell your Mum!” Isn’t it wonderful to see such enthusiasm for gardening in one so young? Sadly, that’s it for today, but don’t forget to keep those letters coming. When we get rid of them all it makes it look as though we’re into recycling!
“I’m very picky; I mean, not just any old kind will do. I’ve been along to a shop which sold all sorts of bean seeds in packets. They didn’t have what I wanted. I’ve enclosed a picture. Can you help?” Euphorbia’s frowned – but she’s come up with the answer right away! “This looks like a variety, one of 57, known as the ‘Heinz’ bean. Unfortunately, it’s notoriously difficult to grow it in Knutsford. You’d be better off trying one of the packeted ones from the shop; just follow the instructions. In the meantime, you can continue to en-
Random acts of humour
“We’ve been playing tag, mum!” 8 THE FOGHORN
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FEATURE SHREWSBURY
Shrewsbury International Cartoon Festival is a long weekend of cartooning activity on 22nd - 25th April and features several exhibitions of cartoon art that open before the Festival weekend and continue afterwards. During the Festival around 40 professional cartoonists from around the UK and overseas converge on Shrewsbury and are set loose around the town to caricature and cartoon for the public. The Festival offers unique opportunities to see artists at work; 20 of them on huge boards in The Square, others more informally in the Darwin Shopping Centre and The Lion Hotel, and others leading workshops and drawing free caricatures. All events are free unless stated.
“Wait! - according to Delia it should be TWO eyes of newt...”
Selected Festival Highlights I DON’T BELIEVE IT! 13th April - 8th May, Bear Steps Gallery. Open daily 10am - 4pm New cartoon originals and quality signed prints created for the Festival themed exhibition. Wide range of styles, media and interpretation from professional UK cartoonists. A selling exhibition and a great opportunity to buy high quality cartoon art at affordable prices. SHREWSBURY SMILE TRAIL 1st April - 30th April Find the cartoons as you stroll round town, enjoy magical spaces, haunted shops, mythical carvings. The trail links the Festival venues with many more shops, cafes and venues displaying cartoons on the Festival theme of Magic, Myth and Mystery. S-MILE trail leaflet available from Visitor Information Centre, Shrewsbury Museum and Art Gallery or from Bear Steps Gallery. A GUIDED GHOST TOUR Tuesday 20th April, 8.00pm from The Square Ghost Tour of Shrewsbury based on the S-Mile Trail. Please book at Bear Steps Gallery on 01743 356511. Tickets £2.50 WWW.PROCARTOONISTS.ORG
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FEATURE SHREWSBURY
“Arcadian Brian! It’s an arcadian evening!” GIANTS IN THE SQUARE Sunday 25th April, 11am - 3pm 8ft x 6ft cartoons drawn during the Festival will be exhibited in The Square accompanied by Shropshire’s own giant, town crier Martin Wood in character as Hagrid, whose body double he provides in the Harry Potter movies. URBAN MYTHS 13th April to 1st May at Cath Tate Cards Open Mon to Sat 10am - 5pm Exhibition of original and printed cartoons by Grizelda Grizlingham whose cartoons are regularly seen in publications such as Private Eye, The Times, The Independent and The Oldie and in card form from Cath Tate Cards.
“We think it was some sort of baggage reclaim.” 10 THE FOGHORN
WWW.PROCARTOONISTS.ORG
FEATURE SHREWSBURY
AUSTRALIAN SCRAWL 27th March - 20th June The Chapel Bar, Theatre Severn Australian Cartoonists give their unique take on the theme of Magic, Myth and Mystery with an exhibition of cartoons in, where else, the bar. YE GODS! 27th March - 20th June The Gallery, third floor, Theatre Severn Greek Cartoons on the theme of Magic, Myth and Mystery. Especially myth…
“Hugo’s so high and mighty with his fancy hybrid.” WWW.PROCARTOONISTS.ORG
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FEATURE SHREWSBURY
(c) Kate Taylor
“You wanna get some WD-40 on that, mate.”
“She said she didn’t like some types of holly. I said ‘Which?’ then she thumped me.”
“Oh, that’s just an urban myth.” 12 THE FOGHORN
“No, you’re right, magic pants don’t suit men...”
The Mythical Australian WWW.PROCARTOONISTS.ORG
THE FOGHORN GUIDE TO
Only one alternative? Surely not, we agement staff were actually consumed, ty seriously too. There is often a school hear you cry. There must be scores, others escaping with a few nasty bites.] song. Favourite is to do with feet and anyou say, and indeed there are. Some The trouble with having a pop at the cient times closely followed by vowing include not going to school at all, as toffs’ schools is that many of their ex things to one’s country. There’s an exam practiced by the children of Home Ed- – pupils are in positions of power [every to be passed to get into Grammar School. ucators – you know, that couple with Wednesday afternoon, Whips permitting, This is a sensible precaution against them principles, solar heating, bicycles, a with *Miss Kandi [I’m not really a lady] getting lumbered with thickos. vegetable patch and chickens at No 27, Cogswell, if the then Lib Dem Social Seror indeed, truants. vices spokesperson is anything to go by] Secondary Modern Schools The purpose of these few scant lines is and could have us killed, or at the very This is where the thickos go. I know. I was to tell it how it is and look beneath mis- least, set upon by Ant and Dec. one. Sec Mods were big on woodwork sion statements. For the uninitiated, all *It should be noted that Ms Cogswell’s and metalwork, both of which produced schools must have a mission statement services were never claimed on expenses – and may still produce – items essenthese days. Pretentious ones use Latin. tial to everyday life, like solid oak toast Recently a comp quite close to the FogSo here we go, in no particular or- racks, and wrought iron pokers. Metalhorn research Centre was told to change der and with only the slightest of nods work offered an understanding of things its mission statement after a passing pub- to accuracy – a wander through the mechanical, especially when members of lic school type pointed out that it translat- Groves of Academe. Innit. staffs’ cars were due for an MoT. Girls ed as “God. This place gets on my tits” went off and did much less useful things Well, not ALL schools are the same, ob- Grammar Schools. like make food and clothes. viously. Some, like Public Schools are Usually retained by right leaning Counshrouded in myth and mystery. Places cils, they are the poor man’s public Comprehensive Schools where pitched battles are fought on the school, with many maintaining the single Do all of the above. They are educational playing fields by young men who could sex ethos apart from Miss Barnsby [chem- panaceas, and massive with it, sometimes possibly be sexually mixed up or poetic istry and games] about whom nobody’s boasting 2k+ pupils. In comps, everyone or psychotic or just a bit numb. One can quite sure. Rugby and hockey are played is equal, from the intellectually gifted never be sure. They’re all pretty rich religiously, whilst religion is taken pret- who do Sanskrit, Mandarin and Quantum though. Mechanics, to Special Educational Needs Many of these noble piles boast who do Chaos Theory. something called the Combined Comprehensives are run by Senior Cadet Force, a sort of Dads’ Management Teams and Line Army Hitler Youth, which Managers often made up of ex guarantees entry into the – PE teachers who’s knees Diplomatic Service once have gone. you’ve decided which side Comps are so successful that you dress. Or which dress some are better than othto wear. ers. Ordinary ones are called There are, as everyone “bog – standard”, whilst the knows, Public Schools for best more than equal gramgels, but these are so scary mar schools in terms of A we felt even the most fleetstar passes achieved in essening examination of their tial subjects like Media and truly horrendous ways enSports Studies. And they take tirely unsuitable for this pupils skiing a lot. Parents Guide. often move house, change So we won’t be touching names or enter witness prothose with a barge or punt tection programmes in order pole, preferring instead to to place their children in such examine the local comp schools. and its spin - offs, which So, that’s more or less it. are much less able to deThere are other school catfend themselves. [Except egories of course. Like Faith that Special School near Schools which are based on the bus station where there one religion being better than was an outbreak of cannianother religion, but as an exbalism last year. InterestSec Mod thicko, I really don’t “Loves his new school. Look, there’s a real spring in his trudge.” ingly, only Senior Manunderstand them at all. WWW.PROCARTOONISTS.ORG
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THE CRITIC
The Critic
Random acts of humour
Sunday Cosy Sunday!
Foghorn’s resident critic Pete Dredge watches telly so you don’t have to.
“Haven’t you heard of PDF’s?”
“High tide today?”
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There was a time when the BBC TV’s Sunday Classic Serial epitomised all that is great and good in television drama. The works of Dickens, Austen, Dumas, Wilkie Collins, Hardy and their like provided a constant source of cultural, dramatised masterpieces that so perfectly filled that particular slot in the weekend schedules. Classic adaptations such as Wilkie Collins’ “The Moonstone” stick in the mind. But a memory that is permanently laser-etched into my increasingly forgetful memory bank is that of the murder scene from a 1962 Oliver Twist production. In those days recorded in glorious black and white, and featuring Peter Vaughan as Bill Sykes and Carmel McSharry as Nancy. The brutal bludgeoning of Nancy, the expanding pool of glistening blood, the distressed Bullseye. It was all stunning, dramatic stuff for a ten year old schoolboy to absorb. In fact, such was the candid portrayal of the violent, vicious beating that there was a huge public outcry from shocked viewers and monitoring organisations of the day. Oh how times have changed. Indeed my own children now find another equally dramatic scene of shocking brutality from my tv viewing youth, the shower scene from Psycho, mildly amusing and naff. It still gives me the proverbial ‘willies’. However, I doubt very much that a callow youth of today would be seriously disturbed by the BBC’s current Sunday Classic ‘Bonnet and breeches’ offer-
ing – the insipid “Lark Rise to Candleford”. Now, incredibly in it’s third series and with a liberally sprinkling of “Dorcas’s”, “Queenie’s” and “Edmund’s” this everyday story of ‘turn of the century rural/ small town folk’ is undoubtedly popular with some but would be more suited for ITV’s “The Darling Buds of May” countrysidebutter-sponsored easy on the eye rural-nostalgia-hokum slot. Such is the ‘earthy dramatic realism’ of “Lark Rise” that I half expect a Brian Cant opening voice-over : “Here is the clock, the Candleford clock. Telling the time steadily, sensibly, never too quickly, never too slowly. Telling the time for Candleford.” Cue music and flittering, stopanimated plasticine figures of pinafored, spinstery women folk pursuing Windy Miller-type character across hand painted backgrounds. Cant can do all the voices. Save the BBC a fortune. WWW.PROCARTOONISTS.ORG
CURMUDGEON
Kiss and Makeup This is a thorny one... It’s so thorny it doesn’t really have a name anymore. It used to be called “make –up”, or “face cream” or “shampoo”. Ulay’s become Olay. Gone are the days when women had to make do with soaking their heads in warm goose – fat in order to defy time’s wrinkling process, or, if they were loaded, following Good Queen Bess who swore by whacking a couple of pints of white lead solution onto the royal fizzog to maintain that just died look. Now thanks to science, shampoos have become “hair solutions”, face cream is “crème du visage” and make –up, developed in laboratories which make the Cerne Particle Accelerator look like Stephenson’s Rocket is something without which women
are worthless. Laboratoire Garnier. Where’s that then? Paris. No its not. Its Garner’s Laboratory and it’s in Stoke – on – Trent. The range is vast but research suggests that you should only buy something containing stuff with scientific names. Shampoo [hair solution] without Trivobulate is rubbish. If you want your skin to look ”plumped – up” you absolutely must shell out fifty quid for a tiny bottle of, erm, plumper upper [contains Trio – Plumpinovin]. Presumably, overdosing would result in excessive plumpitude. And if things have gone way too natural and LINES [Epidermal Plasticity Recess Syndrome – gasp!] have begun to appear you can always lay hands on a pot of Dermaplastiovivre, a sort of rubbery cement which fills in the fissures. Jane
Fonda [103] uses buckets of it. Marketing executives [liars] have targeted women for eons,by playing on all manner of insecurities, but now men are advised that in order achieve a decent shave, and become instantly desired by the beauty grinning in the background, they must first apply a pre – shave facial toner with Grinolulin, followed with enough lanolin – rich foam to insulate the cavities of several terraced houses, and only then introduce razor to stubble. And not just any old razor, oh dear me no. This one is designed by aeronautical engineers and as the quadruple blade, lubricated no doubt with essential oils, glides over the jaw of the geezer with the bleached teeth, fighter jets roar across the screen. Designer clothes I accept. But designer people ?
Random acts of humour
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“Yeah? And I don’t think you’re a real knight.” THE FOGHORN 15
CARTOONS THE SURREAL McCOY
16 THE FOGHORN
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FEATURE GERARD WHYMAN
King of the Roundabout Gerard Whyman hits the road (but misses the wing mirror) I passed my driving test over 21 years ago. You might assume from that statement that I have over two decades of road experience under my seat belt and burned thousands upon thousands of miles of rubber on our roads. Not a bit of it. With the exception of one motorway driving lesson soon after I passed I haven’t been behind a wheel of a car in all that time. I am not sure why; quite possibly I’ve felt that I have never had the need of a car and the increasing expense of running one is certainly off putting especially when it’s not a necessity in my life. So what exactly has led me to book up refresher driving lessons after such a gap? Occasionally I get the itch to go motoring again, usually when I’ve seen something I’d think I’d like to drive. For a long time my affections were for the BMW built Mini and I jotted down the numbers of the driving school I had seen use them – just in case. However, when I saw one particular driving school car tootle up and down the road outside my studio recently I knew instinctively I had to drive it. Does anyone remember the original Fiat 500? I seem to recall that they were a familiar sight on British roads in the 1970s. A dinky bubble shaped car with a tiny but feisty 500 cc engine in the rear – hence its name. Well, it’s made a comeback – and it’s signalled my motoring comeback. It might have been the car I’ve been waiting for all these years! The reborn 500 looks fantastic with great lines though a lot chubbier than its predecessor, like it’s acquired – like me - some middle aged spread. The critical motormouth Jeremy Clarkson called it an ‘instant classic’ in his Sunday Times review. Praise indeed. I jotted down the number of Kelle’s driving school that adorned the WWW.PROCARTOONISTS.ORG
side of the white 500 I’d taken a shine to, when it stopped one time near my house and, like the Mini numbers I had taken down in the past, didn’t ring it. However, a couple of months ago I saw it parked at my local Tesco. A tallish lady was loading it with shopping and a toddler. ‘Excuse me, are you the instructor?’ I enquired, followed quickly by, ‘do you do refresher lessons?’ She replied in the affirmative and only baulked slightly when I told her I’d passed my test in 1989 – and had not troubled the roads since. She said it was a great car to learn in and great fun. I could believe that. For a start it’s got a white steering wheel. I mean, how cool is that?! A couple of weeks later I was gripping that white wheel tightly – and far from coolly - as I started the engine and drove for the first time in two decades. It may be a fun car to drive but it didn’t feel like it – my heart was racing and my mouth was bone dry as I reached the heady heights of 23mph down a deserted road on a quiet estate. Like riding a bike it all comes back to you – as ‘they’ say. I wouldn’t know having never ridden one, the result of a financially deprived childhood. But the brain is an amazing organ – it retains a lot more than you think and the mechanics of driving a car did indeed come back to me. That, or the survival
instinct kicked in. I knew when to change gear, when to use the brakes effectively and, most importantly, how to keep the thing to my side of the road. Kelle sounded genuinely pleased at how well I had done when my first lesson was over. Perhaps she thought I’d be rather like an old Fiat; that is, a lot more rusty. Of course, cars have come on a bit in my absence. Power steering makes manoeuvring less arduous and gear boxes are more precise, there’s no fishing for third in this beauty. Not forgetting, as well, the constant stream of instructions from Kelle telling me what lane to be in, what dangers to look out for and giving general road using advice that my short motoring career lacks. It’s true that you only learn to drive after you’ve passed your test. Since my first outing I’ve graduated to busier roads and even done a short stretch of motorway albeit with a speed restriction of 50 mph. Ever the tough task mistress, Kelle has made me drive a main road that’s dotted with roundabouts several times. They’re evil things. Her aim is to make me ‘The King of the Roundabout’. I’m not sure what my aim is. To drive for an hour with the minimal amount of instruction would be ideal. At the moment I settle for going through a course of lessons keeping both wing mirrors having come close – twice – to losing the passenger side one to nearby objects. I suppose my ultimate aim would be to have a shiny Fiat 500 of my own. It could happen if the cartoon business ever picks up. They may decide to make a van version of it so perhaps I could change career and become a van driver. More likely I will take another long sabbatical from the driving seat and wait for the next ‘classic’ car to be resurrected in 20 years time, whatever that will be. The rebirth of an updated Kia Pride anyone?!! THE FOGHORN 17
BUILDINGS IN THE FOG
Putting on the style Sometime back in history, those that considered themselves architects, or the historic equivalent, became conscious that the way they constructed their buildings gave a certain consistent look to the final result. Architectural style was thus born. I guess the Mesopotamians take the blame. So style was there almost from the start of serious building. Stone age jobbing builders doubtless had a certain look they were aiming for when they knocked up the odd henge here and there... This use of a style was kind of okay when it arose out of the necessary construction method and building use. But man, being the inherent graffitiist he is, almost immediately started to add functionless frippery to tart up his structural elements. Carved decoration adorned the functional. Over time this decoration became formalised and identified and being intrinsic to the building style. In this way the Classical Orders of architecture (Doric, Ionic and Corinthian for the Greeks; the Romans added Tuscan on a whim) came into being. This was Order in the meaning of “order! order!” rather than “Two pints of Black Sheep and a side order of crisps, please” The underlining struc18 THE FOGHORN
ture remained pretty much the same, but the adornment became more elaborate as time passed. There was some variation in building proportions, but these were usually for aesthetic rather than structural reasons. The style manifested itself mainly in the look of the columns and whatever they propped up. It was hard enough to build in stone without all this timeconsuming carving lark. It does beg the question “Why bother?” (Mind you it was better to have stone acanthus leaves than the real thing, Anyone who has tried to dig up an acanthus in their garden knows that their roots go down so far they snare kangaroos.) The concept that just the building structure in its bare unadorned state on its own is not enough to make a building look pleasing has had a long while to become deeply ingrained in our make-up. Inevitably the style, the look, become separated from the structure, and was largely defined by the superfluous add-on decoration. This became significant in the Renaissance period and later in the neo-Renaissance buildings of the 19th and early 20th century and, even in this day and age, Prince Charles’s Poundbury (which I may have mentioned before). The building go-faster stripes that are
pilasters (pretend columns) and fake porticos went big-time and still won’t go away. Renaissance and subsequent neoClassical architects adhered to some nonsense “ideal” proportion namely the Golden Rectangle, based on a particular mathematical relationship between the long side and short side of a rectangle, called the Golden Ratio (pretty obviously it is 1.6180339887:1 - but that is only approximate so don’t hold me to it). Building proportions, such as those for window openings, were based on it as it was considered to give the most pleasing appearance; the “ideal”. Total rubbish, of course; the slavish and often fanatical adherence to this ratio produced some of the most boring looking buildings known to man. Quite illogically it was applied to building types that didn’t exist in Classical Greek and Roman times and it has stuck in some peoples minds and on their buildings ever since (sorry to mention Prince Charles again). To some it is pinnacle of good, mannered design and no other design concepts and fresh thinking can match it, let alone better it. Sadly it is the style of closed minds. End of sermon. Roger Penwill
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THE LAST WORD
The Trevelyan Files Chapter One left our eponymous hero shackled to the front of a train. But fear not this issue’s guest writer Clive Goddard brings us the next thrilling installment... With a few deft swipes of his trusty railwayman’s hacksaw, Bert Nubbins sliced through the Trevelyan’s chain and set him free. “There you go, sir!” he said and raised a grimy hand to tug the peak of his moth-eaten cap, “And not a moment to soon, eh!” Trevelyan rubbed at his chafed wrists, ankles and groin, “Good man, Nubbins!” he shouted over the noise of the engine, “Can always rely on decent, hard-working chaps like you to get a fellow out of a scrape!” After giving the man a hearty, yet purely platonic, pat on the back he adjusted his trilby and leapt puma-like onto the scrubby gravel, landing firmly on both feet. The goods engine continued on its way with Nubbins offering a cheery thumbs up. According to his exceptionally intimate knowledge of local geography, geology, train timetables and ambient horology Trevelyan calculated it was now around 18.53 PM and he was on the outskirts of Bighampton, not 100
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yards from the slurry pits where his enemies lay in wait. A glance at his watch and the presence of a large sign saying BIGHAMPTON confirmed his suspicions. It appeared he had once again regained the upper hand. If Demenzia’s hired ruffians were expecting to find him bound to the engine and entirely at their mercy then they were in for a surprise! Instinctively Mansard Trevelyan reached into the inside pocket of his thornproof Harris tweed jacket for his gun. It was gone. Obviously taken from him by Demenzia’s goons while he lay unconscious. “The swines!” he muttered under his breath. Luckily, however, they had not thought to look inside his left woollen sock where he kept his small but powerful Knackerthwaite emergency pistol. The very weapon which had once saved him from an enraged bull buffalo on the plains of Mbezinga in ‘42. At the slurry pits three shady figures stood expectantly as the huge steam-
ing engine ground to a halt before them. “‘ere she is, gor blimey, an’ no mistake!” cackled Big ‘Arry through his mouthful of mis-shapen teeth, “We done certainly got him all done up like a kipper!” Johnny No-Nose and Red Angus joined him in a short bout of coarse rascally laughter unaware that the tables had been turned. Behind them, obscured by a hoarding advertising Spitcock’s Painless laxatives, Trevelyan levelled his weapon, only to find it knocked from his hand. He turned aghast and faced his assailant, “Great heavens!” he exclaimed, “It can’t be!” To be continued!... ... but only with your help! Here’s your chance to contribute to Foghorn! If you fancy your hand at writing a future chapter of The Trevelyan Files, let us know! email us at foghorn@procartoonists.org
THE FOGHORN 19
“Men! Such little tinkers. The things they get up to in their sheds!”
FOGHORN (ONLINE) ISSN 1759-6440