Tuesday, 20 April 2010

The First Day Of Summer. Part 2.

During my epic rise from part time supermarket cashier and weekend valeting operative to one of the best known cartoonist on Google.com I have often been struck by how easy it is to do just about anything you set your mind to.

Only the other day I was waiting at the bank to make a very modest deposit to my business account, when I got talking to an old acquittance I once knew of old. His name was Bill, and I hadn't seen him since he was quite a bit younger on a Employment training scheme in the late to middle 1980's. He was now working as a plumber, despite the fact that he trained as a brick layer. Apparently, as it so turns out, he found lugging bricks around all day too difficult, what with his flat feet and bad back, so he decided to paint plumber on the side of his van instead, and has been happily unblocking old women's u-bends ever since. He knows nothing about heating systems, but he's quite happy to learn that as he goes along (for the usual rate of course).

As I walked home in the beautiful spring sunshine I realised that perhaps I might of have taken a similar route through life as Bill had done, and being forced to shove my hand down lavatories for a living for ridiculous amounts of money. But I didn't. I decided to be a cartoonist!

Being a cartoonist is a great life. The gel pens, the smell of the paper first thing in a morning. The endless free time to do whatever I want to do, like watch cash in the attic, with the marvelous Angela Rippon. And knowing that whatever I do, it's good enough for me! The Boss!

This weather makes being a full time professional cartoonist even better, as I can just bugger off to the park whenever the mood takes me. It's like winning the lottery, I can tell you.


  1. This is a wonderful article Leonard. 10 out of ten.

  2. You have Angela Rippon in your attic? And cash? Wow - you're even more successful than I thought, Leonard.

  3. Are you sure it's Angela Rippon, and not someone more sinister, locked in your attic, Leonard?