Posted on February 23rd, 2014
So I had to get up early yesterday. On a Saturday. I didn’t like doing it, because I like my sleep. And because I like my sleep, I feel that it is crucial, world-changing even, to make sure that you know that you are being cheated out of it by malevolent forces that want to make you suffer to make you more suppliant to their demands.
It’s time the people knew. It’s time to tell you all what They don’t wan’t you to know, what They are trying to hide from you.
TIME doesn’t actually exist before 8am. It’s actually all a conspiracy that the alarm clock cartel keep perpetuating for their own business ends.
Think about it: why else do you think we struggle to get up in the morning? Why do we need alarm clocks to force us out of bed? It’s because the human body rejects getting out of bed to deal with something that doesn’t even exist.
Look, I know what you’re thinking. What would the cartels stand to gain from this? Hasn’t science shown pretty definitively that the length of a day is determined by the speed at which the Earth rotates on its axis? But think about it, yeah? Have you ever actually seen actual proof that a day is 24hrs long, or are you just trusting the word of some man in a lab coat no doubt paid off in full by Casio? The clock companies let us think we need these devices to force ourselves up, when really it shouldn’t even be possible.
Maybe you’re thinking “I was out at the weekend, and I’m pretty sure I stayed out until 7am before going to bed”. But did you? Or were to just too drunk or high to notice that it was all becoming a bit of a messy blur towards the end? BECAUSE THAT TIME DOESN’T EXIST.
And if you’re just thinking “Mike, STFU, this is just because you don’t like getting up early, quite whining you baby” then it’s too late for you. You’ve already lost.
Posted on February 16th, 2014
Here’s a new strip, from what I like to call my “Viz Reject Strip” phase. I almost feel like I should apologise. Almost.
Either click here or on the picture of Arthur above to go to the strip.
Will we be seeing Arthur again in the future? Maybe… just as soon as I can work out more ways of extending a joke that’s possibly laboured by the second panel.
Posted on February 11th, 2014
Here’s a short comic that I’ve had bouncing around my head for a while, finally committed to (digital) page. It’s the heroic tale of the most fantastic journey to the outer reaches of the galaxy that’s ever been imagined ever.
Am I being slightly sarcastic when I say that? Click here or on the picture above to find out!
Posted on February 4th, 2014
For pretty much all my adult life I’ve been engaged in guerrilla warfare with a group of insurgents who know the terrain better than I do, which is weird because the terrain is me, or at least part of me. I’ve tried heavy artillery, and I’ve now had to destroy myself to stop them. It’s a war you can’t win – you can only try to not lose.
Like most other people, I’ve never particularly enjoyed going to the dentist. I even once drew a comic about it. It’s rarely ever painful these days thanks to advances in anaesthetics, but that doesn’t mean that it can’t be unpleasant, particularly when two other people need to use both their hands to cram stuff inside your mouth. It’s basically as uncomfortable as my life gets, really.
I had a crown put in last week, a few months after a large chunk of my back molar just broke off (eating salad, of all things). It’s been weird adjusting to it. I don’t know if you’ve ever had a chunk of tooth break whilst eating, but it’s an unnerving sensation, a loud crunch where there should be a soft mushing at worst. It didn’t hurt because it avoided the root, but it left me vulnerable. That’s why (after several false starts) it’s been encased in metal.
I feel like I’m constantly aware of it right now. It’s clawing away at my mind. It’s the concept of being permanently… disfigured that I find hardest to bear. Barring some miracle I’m stuck with this crown (or some replacement) for the rest of my life. There’s no going back from this. There’s a permanent shiny reminder at the back of my mouth.
And it’s all my own fault. I’m the one who’s had a sweet tooth as long as I can remember. I’m the one who hasn’t been brushing their teeth for long enough or in the proper manner, at least according to NHS guidelines (I bloody well am now). I should’ve been taking better care of my mouth, but because it’s hidden away inside you it’s so easy to dismiss. It’s harder to do that now.
So brush your teeth, kids. It’ll save you hassle in later life.