I'm not very good at art. I did it at GCSE level, but only got a C, and I've always been a little bit suspicious that there was a sympathy element to that mark. When I look back through my old sketch books, it's obvious that art was not going to be the route I'd follow. Creative? Yes. Able to channel that creativity though my arm, into my hand and onto a piece of paper via a brush/pencil/other thing? More chance of visiting Woking and not seeing a single idiot. (If you've never been to Woking, I can confirm the odds are tremendously low.)
However, a few years ago I was sitting idly in a friend's kitchen, holding a pen in my hand and not paying much attention to what I was doing with it. When I looked down at the page before me the reality, nay, the gravity of the situation started to sink in. I'd created this man:
Ladies and gentlemen, it is an honour and a pleasure to introduce Derek the Ponce.
I don't know why he's called Derek, or why he is a Ponce. All I know is that he captured my heart. He's become something of a celebrity amongst my friends. Two people have expressed an interest in getting a Derek tattoo. As you can see, I happily obliged when requested to adorn a dining room table leg with my creation. He is, quite simply, the greatest creepy little man you'll ever see. I hope he touches you like he touches me (not in an '80s BBC TV presenter type way).
I've got big plans for Derek. I'll keep you posted. Please enjoy his face.