I'm A Cartoonist

IS CARTOONING VIEWED as a ‘folk art’ along with macramé, pottery and morris dancing?

As a cartoonist I am often asked, “Why don’t you bugger off?” This is usually from prospective clients.

One receives the impression that cartoons are expected to be free, or at least, cheap.

The rejection slip has gone down in folklore as a euphemism for the above treatment but is used mostly in connection with unsolicited single frame joke cartoons. Jokes and cartoons ABOUT rejection slips pour effusively from the wounded souls of The Cartoonists’ Club of Great Britain. Thus is humour the product of pain and suffering.

My own experience of the “Why don’t you bugger off” syndrome usually occurs during the negotiations with a client.

Common tactics employed by the client are as follows:

• “Just a simple line drawing” results in numerous roughs and amendments

• “We haven’t got any money but it’ll be good exposure for you.” Yeah, right. That one doesn’t work anymore, sunshine!

• “What? £50.00 for a cartoon? I can get someone in the accounts department who can draw a little bit to do it for nothing!”

But, of course, in the end the client is always happy! Except for the one who comes back like this:

“Brilliant! It’s excellent! Everyone thought so! Fantastic!”

Because they go on to say:

“Now, could you just change this bit here, tweak it there, add a World War 2 tank in the corner, rework the final ten…”

So, why does this country treat cartoonists with such disdain?

Well, it doesn’t really. It’s just that people are blissfully unaware of our existence.

I'm An Illustrator

One can’t help but get the impression that photographers, illustrators and freelance journalists are up high on a pedestal while cartoonists are scraping about for breadcrumbs with the pigeons.

Maybe the word Cartoonist is detrimental to our cause. It could be that we are seen, when thought about at all, as motley-clad, pigs bladder swinging jesters grateful for a pint rather than a reasonable cheque. Maybe we should don the grey suits of the corporate world, abandon the title ‘Cartoonist’ and adopt a word that translates as ‘Expensive Professional’. Jocular Image Consultant? Humorous Resource Operator? 2-D Levity Creator?

Perhaps we have to lose the trivial image in order to avoid being told to bugger off all the time!

Cartoons and caricatures by Simon Ellinas

Mu Ling noticed that the door was ajar

THE MASTER OF Wisdom was well-known to the authorities as the foremost proponent of the twin techniques of thoughtlessness and mindlessness. Released into the community, he was often visited by an eager young student called Mu Ling who had inwardly digested a copy of Zen and the Art of Marketing and wished to impress the Master with his own spiritual progress.

Mu Ling entered the Temple of Timeless Moments and took the lift to the tenth floor. He approached the Gateless Gate and hammered hard on the Knocker of the Higher Being, ignoring the ignorant graffiti daubed on the Eternal Door.

There was no answer.

“If there is no answer,” thought Mu Ling, “it is because I am asking the wrong question.”

In fact, he was at the wrong door. Twenty mortal minutes later, Mu Ling had become sufficiently enlightened to progress down the Infinite Corridor to Number 37.

The door was ajar. The door was a jar? Mu Ling meditated upon this apparent linguistic impasse until he passed his entrance exam. The Master of Wisdom never locked the door. He had no fear of theft, since he was staying at his cousin’s flat.

Mu Ling glanced around the ransacked room. The Master lay in a very deep trance atop a mountain of ‘Special Brew’ cans, snoring with the deep, steady resonance of the ages.

Mu Ling could find no coffee in the Kitchen of the Gods and so he commenced the tea ceremony, intoning his personal mantra:

“Those little perforations. Oh, it’s those little perforations…”

The Master of Wisdom awoke and asked him to keep the fucking racket down.

“Anyway. What the hell time is it?”

“Ah!” replied Mu Ling, “it’s always later than you think!”

Mu Ling was well pleased with his wit and equally pleased with his agility which enabled him to dodge the lager can that flew towards him.

Whilst the Master of Wisdom tried to get back to the Sleep Whcih Refreshes The Parts Other Sleep Just Cannot Reac, Mu Ling explained his unexpected presence:

“O perfect Master, I dreamed I was a fish which was itself dreaming of being human. Was I truly dreaming of this fish or am I indeed the fish which is now dreaming? What do you think? Hmmm?”

The Master of Wisdom understood that actions speak louder than words; and so, without saying a word he seized Mu Ling and battered him.

Thus, did the Master of Wisdom create his Cod Zen.

WHY-OH-WHY do you find so much dog poo on the only path through a large field?

WHY-OH-WHY was Absolutely Fabulous such a success?

Watford was awash with young Marlon Brandos and Marilyn Monroes-not-quite. Locals were trying to look tourists on holiday and businessmen were being slowly steamed inside their suits.

An all the while during this torture-by-sunlight a miracle occurred outside Watford High Street Station. A two foot by three foot block of ice was melting away on the flowerbed.

Was this evidence of global warming gone mad? Or do Watford fishmongers drive very carelessly?

“STOP! Bring all your dry cleaning here!” scrawled all over a dirty bit of cardboard in a sweet shop window.

Of course, I couldn’t pass up such a wonderful opportunity. I caught the next train back to Sheffield to scoop up all my dirty washing.

Twelve hours later, I returned with three bin liners full of clothes. The sweet shop was closed. So I stretched out on the pavement to wait until morning. The opportunity was too good to miss and I was first in the queue.

So, I lost a client but gained a wardobe full of clean clothes. All because of a craftily-planned advertising campaign. Entrepreneurs all round the globe could learn from this. Advertise on cardboard in sweet shops.

The theory is that if you show such a video to someone with violent inclinations it will propel them to commit such acts. And there are so many videos/dvds depicting chainsaw massacres and supernatural nastiness that their effects are bound to infiltrate society and disturb tea at the vicarage.

The Authorities are going to be hard-pressed to know what to do with all the murderous maniacs spawned by such readily-available digital indoctrination. Well, I may just have the answer.

The cure for a person suffering from heartburn because of too much acid in his stomach is to provide the opposite to acid: something alkaline.  Milk of Magnesia neutralises the acid effects. Ergo, we must find the equivalent treatment to neutralise the effects of those Video Nasties.

Pinafore Dress

Wheel in the Video Nice-ies, straitjacket the patient, strap his head into direct viewing line with the screen and assault him with Mary Poppins, The Railway Children, Captain’s Courageous and other similar films

If he was so easily impressionable when exposed to violence, he will most likely be equally influenced by niceness. So much so, that he will be able to skip out of the maximum security wing wearing a pinafore dress crying: “Daddy…oh, my Daddy!”

Of course, not all dangerous psychopaths will respond the same way to the same film, so a wide selection should be available. There is no telling if the more unstable mind might be inspired to even more nauseating deeds of carnage simply by exposure to the Truly Scrumptious episode from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. And who can possibly predict the adverse effects on such minds by any Robin Williams film?

Chimney Sweeps
So there is a small margin of possible error, but the basic tenet of this theory is sound. Or rather, video. The possible side effects are a justifiable risk in our quest for a safer society. And how society will have been changed as these formerly-crazed inmates pour into the streets and shopping centres.

The prison hospitals will be empty. Innocent pedestrians will walk dark streets not in fear of muggers, but in dread of a long lost relative hugging them. Some neighbourhoods will be kept awake by chimney sweeps dancing on their rooftops. It’s a hard choice, but which would YOU prefer? Fred West or Julie Andrews roaming your streets at night?