"He's an ugly little spud, isn't he?"

Right now, this is my favourite out of everything I've ever drawn, not least because it doesn't look like I drew it. 

This never happened to the other fella.

Was talking to one of the writers at work today about my love for OHMSS. So I drew George Lazenby. Or at least copied him from a photo.

Poor old George. He never gets the credit he deserved. The film gets its plaudits for the score, the direction, the editing, John Barry's cracking score, Diana Rigg, the skiing, the vistas, Blofeld...but rarely for its Bond. Which is a shame. I like Lazenby. I think it would have been a very different beast with Connery. As much as I like Connery - I think there are things this Bond asks of you that you might not have bought from Connery. Not at this point in Bond's career. Connery had become too superhuman; only the movie before he'd been Japanese, a Ninja, an astronaut and shot down three helicopters from a fancy go-kart. OHMSS' Bond had to be out of his depth. He'd have to fall in love, rather than seduce. He'd have to be vulnerable, and even afraid. There's a great bit in the movie when 007 is being stalked by SPECTRE agents round an ice-rink. Bond is cold, exhausted, out-numbered and out-gunned. And he just sits down and turns his collar up. He doesn't know what to do. He just waits. He looks like he might give up. And there's no way we'd buy that of the Connery Bond. We'd totally expect him to be able to handle this and more. What's a few thugs in a fun fair compared to being locked in Fort Knox with a Korean wrestler and his deadly hat? Would we have even wanted to see Connery cry? It's Poor George who delivers. Poor George who gives us the vulnerable man alone, but also the young, bon viveur - very much in love and thrilled when Diana Rigg skates up to him offering a way out. And it's George who punches, runs, kicks, skis, bobsleighs, shoots and chops his way through the rest of the film. A proper action man, like we wouldn't see again for 37 years, near enough (although Dalton headbutts like a pro). The thrills are simple, but made effective because he seems a bit more like a real person again. Having to cling to the gears of a cable car with only his ripped out pockets for gloves...it just feels that bit closer to jeopardy than the excesses of a laser inching towards his inches. Not saying one is categorically better than the other, but I am saying Lazenby convinces. Lazenby is as much a part of the suspense as the music, the cuts, the design of it, and for that I salute him. Even though I couldn't draw his eyes properly.

Anyway. It's late now. And I pretty much spent my evening lying on one side, or drawing sketchy pictures from photos from movies. So I must beddie down.

Night.

I'll take a quiet life.

finished my work for the night. so i drew this sketchy-looking thom yorke as a reward. but i fucked it up and didn't put the blue pencils on a separate layer. but maybe it worked out okay. i'm fine. i went to abingdon once to visit a friend. she wasn't well and spent most of my visit in bed, eating mackerel out of a tin. it snowed, but no-one told me, and when i woke up most of it had melted. later i went into oxford for a sandwich. there was a girl in a fashion boutique and she had no customers and so she picked up a dress and danced with it in front of a mirror. when she saw some bear-looking dude could see her from his seat in the sandwich shop she smiled and waved. i can't remember if i smiled back. i probably did but it would have been slow.