I get sad sometimes, when I reduce the artwork down to a sensible size. Sad about how the lines become a hazy approximation of themselves and the tones begin to munge and lose their variation. Compare this excerpted panel to this week's strip to see what I mean. In order to make the features visible, I had to fade the washes on her face way out, apocalyptic drama sacrificed for the sake of legibility. It happens a lot. Disappearance through reduction of Tony Blair's head on a melon. Even the Insensitive Crow lost detail. So I've picked out some panels and posted them over here, in a gallery imaginatively called "illustrations", to soothe my troubled sense of artistic achievement. I always did mean to sort out a better way of posting my strips. Another of those things I never get around to ...

add it to; buying a new duvet, hoovering the sitting room floor, sorting out that bag of toys, de-duping the early 90s comics, getting rid of the dresses I wore at precious parties, cutting the scary thorn tree, tiny shiny dykes, putting some of the rarebits on ebay, making the upstairs table into a workspace again, getting rid of that stupid barstool and the broken chair and the old leather jacket I loved so much, getting back on my bike, repotting the bathroom money tree, going through all those damn photos, phoning my mum, going to visit my sister, going to visit my sister, going to visit my sister and going to visit my sister.

And so on, and so forth, for ever and ever.