Tag Archives: How to Draw 101 Funny People

Wanna Be Your Man

“Precarious masculinity” has been cited by psychologists as a possible reason why only 24 per cent of vegans are male (BBC Future 18/02/20)….


Ugg (image from me)

Ugg trudged wearily into the cave, flung his spear into a corner, then flopped cross-legged to the floor.

“Honey, I’m home,” he said.

“Hello Dear,” said Ogga. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

Ugg lay onto his back, letting the tension of a long day’s hunting ease from his muscles. Gradually, though, he felt uneasy. Something was different. He sat up with a jerk when he realised what it was.

There was no smell of bacon.

“I thought you said dinner was ready?” he called out.

Ogga came out from the back of the cave, looking nervous, and held out a stone plate. Small cubes of food were piled upon it. Ugg raised one eyebrow, this being the maximum number available to him.

“What’s this?” he asked.

Ogga gave him what she hoped was a bright smile. “It’s tofu,” she said.

Ugg glared at her. “Have you been hunting?” he asked.

“Hunting?” said Ogga, startled. “Why would you think that?”

“Because I certainly didn’t catch this,” said Ugg. “I’ve never even seen a tofu, with its beige skin and -” he looked down at the plate “- its apparently square testicles. So you must have caught it.”

Ogga (image also from me)

“No, dear,” said Ogga “It isn’t -”

“Is my hunting not good enough for you?” said Ugg. “Do I not catch enough boars, and oxen, and mammoths?”

“You’ve never caught a mammoth,” said Ogga, before she could stop herself.

“Well,” said Ugg defensively, “that’s because they’re huge. The clue’s in the name. You should try it sometime -” he stopped, realising where this was taking him “- actually, no, you shouldn’t. Leave the hunting to me.”

Ogga sighed. “I’ve been trying to tell you,” she said. “Tofu isn’t an animal. It’s coagulated soy milk.”

Ugg looked in disgust at his plate. “You’re not really selling it with that sentence,” he said. “What’s soy milk?”

“It comes from soybeans,” said Ogga.

“You milked beans?” said Ugg. “You must have used an awfully low stool. Anyway, why bother? Why not just roast some boar, like you normally do?”

This was the part Ogga had been dreading. “Because we’re vegans now,” she said.

“You’re saying that like it’s an actual word,” said Ugg. “What’s a vegan?”

“Someone who doesn’t eat meat, or fish, or eggs,” said Ogga.

“You’re thinking of vampires,” said Ugg.

“No, I’m not,” said Ogga. “I’m thinking of people who believe that animals and humans should share the planet, with no killing.”

“You should tell that to the bears,” said Ugg. “Anyway, if we don’t kill animals, there’s nothing to eat.”

“There’s loads to eat,” said Ogga. “There’s fruit, and vegetables. There’s seeds -” she saw the look on Ugg’s face, and hurried quickly on “- and pulses. Grain and rice. Nuts.”

“It certainly is,” said Ugg. He put down his plate and looked away from her, into the fire, the fire that he that morning had lit. He stared into it, through it, far off into an unfathomable distance. His meal remained untouched, and eventually Ogga took it silently away.

Then she came back, sat down beside him, and put her arm through his.

“You’ll still be my man,” she whispered.

“Will I, though?” he burst out passionately. He turned to look at her, imploringly. “I hunt. I catch our food. That’s what men do.”

“That’s not all that men do,” said Ogga. “You’ll still be my protector. You’ll still fart louder than I do (Ugg knew that this wasn’t true, but also knew enough not to say so). You’ll still understand the offside rule, though neither of us have any idea what its purpose is.”

She nodded at the fire. “You’ll still make my fire burn.” She hugged his arm tighter, and winked. “In every meaning of that phrase.”

Their gaze met and locked, bonded by a shared life, shared respect, shared love. Eventually he shrugged, then laughed.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I’m just thinking about the cave artists,” said Ugg, “having to draw men with spears, chasing a potato.”



Score Draw

This is Miss Ugg (so called because she is wearing Ugg boots, I suppose, they’ve obviously been around a long time, rather like Donkey Jackets) who made an appearance in Thursday’s post.

My Weekly Drawing Challenge is based upon the premise that I can’t draw for toffee (nor indeed draw toffee) and someone like Miss Ugg offers an argument against that premise, with a large club to back up her argument.

Her existence, however, is due to this book:


It is filled with pages like this one:


(as an aside, as I look at that page now I am struck at how quickly, even before she has picked up her bouquet, a bride learns to stand with her hands on her hips).

The book was a Christmas present for Tingirl when she was very small. It was part of a set of three, the other two being Funny Animals and Funny Monsters, and on Saturday afternoons the Tinkids and I would sit (in a quite corner of my local pub, I have to admit, well, we don’t have a McDonalds and the little coffee shops of our town were always too busy to encourage dalliance) and they would swap the books and draw different things while I read the paper.

Then one Saturday, with Valentine’s Day approaching, I noticed this page:


with the cave girl and her mate on it, borrowed that book (one of the Tinkids had to read the paper) and (aw shucks moment coming up) I made a Valentine Card featuring Mrs Tin and I as the cave folk and with a joke obviously so feeble that I genuinely can’t remember it.

It wasn’t perfect, of course. I remember that the me had one leg the width of an elephant’s (of an elephant’s what, I know you’re all too polite to ask) and my club looked like a chicken drumstick, but it was still the best thing I have ever drawn, and that is what reminded me of it yesterday.

I shouldn’t and probably won’t use it for the Drawing Challenge, as it seems like cheating, but occasionally characters might appear to enliven a blog stripped of visual adornments by SOPA, PIPA and their European cousin, ACTA.

And if I ever write a Horror Story called the Bride of Santa I know what to do.