Word up Motherfuckers! I’m back. Kind of…

So, what have I been up to since I posted last? Well, I cleared my name of a crime I didn’t commit. But in doing so proved myself guilty of a number of considerably more serious crimes. So then I went to prison where my only crime was to love too much (often without permission). Eventually I was released from prison and set up a school for mocking the afflicted. That was closed down by a gang of spastics who took my dinner money and made me lick a poo. Then I started my own space programme and taught myself crime-fighting and freed all the Eskimos and burnt down my housing estate and ate all the feathers in my duvet and cried and bled and healed and rebuilt myself anew in the style of popular African American actor Denzel Washington. I now look and speak just like him.

And that’s pretty much everything I’ve been up to. Oh, and I spent a week or so trying to find out if I was like one of those prostitutes resistant to aids. Turns out I’m not. Still, it was time well spent.

Now I’m back with one more game. Fuck knows if I’ll do another, or a movie, or just a crude drawing of a man being forcefully sodomised by his own son (I’ve been pondering whether that’s ever happened in human history – Sadly though, I figure it probably has). Anyway, I’m back because I’ve got to be. Because once again that vainglorious prick has come out of hiding to perform his wondrous feats of sitting still in a Perspex container. Yup, Blain’s back, with his new act ‘Drowned Alive’.

Why the fuck they’ve called it ‘drowned alive’ I don’t know. It’s false fucking advertising. They’ve given him a fucking oxygen tube, cheating cunt. Anyway, that led to this new bit: The David Blaine Asphyxiation Game!

You get to help kill him again. Which is always fun. Hope you enjoy.

To all those who have written over the last 18 months or so, sorry not to have replied. I managed to reply to every letter I got for the first 3 years or so, then one afternoon everything just kind of stopped. But thanks to those who have written, and those who have called me a cunt and demanded I make more stuff. It’s been appreciated. I shall go through the backlog before too long and do my best to reply. Hopefully none of you have died in the interim.

That’s it for now. I might be back. I don’t know.




Well, I'm on the run from the law. It wasn't even my fault. It's like that series The Fugitive. In fact, it's exactly the same. Only rather than it being my wife that's dead, it's about 4 dozen dogs within a 2-mile radius of my house. I swear I didn't do it though. But will anyone believe me? No.

"What one armed man?" they say, and I can understand where they're coming from, as there is very little evidence to support my claim and a great many things to suggest that it was probably me. Like all the corpses. But nonetheless, I maintain my innocence.

So anyway, that's why I've had to go on the run. I'm in an internet cafe in Rhyl as I write this. I figured no one would ever look in Rhyl. It's quite nice here. I've been staying with a prostitute I met at the bus stop. She seems nice but is making me sleep on the fridge.

The long and short of it is that this may be my last movie for a little while, so I've made it a good one. It's the pilot I made for a show called Mung - Click to watch.

I shall update with tales of my adventures around the British countryside whenever possible, plus I've shown my dear old mum how to upload anything I might send her in the post. So to stay in touch, be sure to sign up to the newsletter.

All the best.


Wake up in the morning
Wanting some breakfast
What will I... Spread on my toast?
Excrement and staples.

Little song there, sung to the tune of 'Israelites' by Desmond Dekker.

This week I feel a bit musical as I've been hanging out with my banjo pickin' cousin, Sleepy Ed.

Ed picks a pretty mean banjo and I was impressed by his many banjo related stories (like how you get beaten with clubs if you play uninvited on the Carling sponsored spots on the London Underground).

Anyway, we recorded a little something together, Sleepy Ed pickin' and me singin' along. Then I drew this little green fella and made him play right along with us. It's only wee, but here's our ditty.

Click To Play



So, this week, Fancy Soup started on MTV (or it may have been last week - I've been on holiday so I'm not sure).

Anyway, I saw it last night and it looked good on the telly. Little MTV logo and everything. So if you want to watch Fancy Soup on TV, it's currently playing as part of the 'Turn on, Tune in & Drop out' show on MTV2 at 10pm.

Or if you want to see a wee preview of the fractionally tarted up Fancy Soup series, Click Here to watch Prison Redux (It's pretty much exactly the same as it was but now with a bit of music and a splash of colour...)

On that note, I've got to thank Trim, who sorted out the music for the series at a moments notice. He makes good music - employ him ([email protected]).

Finally, people have been asking for more Fancy Soup T-shirts for a while. After much procrastination I've now got round to doing them. Click the pic to view them all...

I fired a paintball gun up an elephant's arsehole this week. I had been intending to inseminate the beast using a doctored paintball containing the seed of a vagrant, procured the morning prior. My aim had been to create a man-elephant and parade him around for my own amusement and prosperity.

However it turned out that all the elephants at my local zoo were male and found the experience little more than unpleasant. So there will be no man-beast, no more entry to the zoo and, worst of all, I'm 27 quid out of pocket (£24.99 for the paintball gun and 2 quid for the tramp-juice).

In other news, I've a new game for you to play. It's the salvaged tail end of a client piece I made a short while back, deemed at the time to contain material of too sensitive a nature to go ahead with. As such, I repackaged it, stuck in a bit of nudity and voila:

The Jet Pack Escaper Caper.


Oh, and the other nice bit of news is that MTV have picked up my Fancy Soup series. So that'll be starting sometime in a couple of weeks. I'll post some more details as I get them.

I heard the other day that morbidly obese people absorb stuff into the folds in their fat. Stuff that they don't notice gets stuck there for ages, like pennies and buttons, and is slowly absorbed through the skin. I thought that was great news.

Anyway, I've been making a game with the kids at work. It's pretty cool actually. There's a bunch of little games in it and I like the one called Fly Shot. Though I can't beat it.

The game's called Chris Ryan's Sniper School, and as you might have guessed, it was paid work which means I get to go down the docks once it's dark and find me a wife for the night.


I've been a busy motherfucker lately. I keep wanting to spend all my time making the fun crap for the site, but I keep having to do work so I can get paid so I can spend all my money on collector's plates from the back cover of Radio Times. It's a fucking addiction, I tell you!

Anyway, this week: I've got a bit of the old paid work, a really lame animated song, and something I dug out from the deep recesses of my hard drive that I'd entirely forgotten existed. So let's start there...

About a year ago, the b3ta newsletter called for flash animators to guest direct an episode of their popular Weebl & Bob cartoon. I thought it sounded like fun and sent them my version. I must admit I wasn't hugely surprised when it was rejected as being a bit fucked.

So I put it down to half a day's fun and I filed it away under 'a bit fucked'. Until today...

So click here for a bit of fancy pie.

Also, as promised, an annoying song. The less said about this the better. I guess it was a kind of hungover doodle when I should have been doing other work. Ho hum.

And finally, Lungfish came to me and asked me to get involved with a piece of government work they'd picked up. I said OK, as I wanted to buy some more plates.

It's quite a pretty little movie really, though not quite the kind of stuff I'd usually make myself. I did suggest a few jokes for the script but the Foreign Office vetoed them immediately. What is it with my goddamn critics! Grrrrr.

It's kind of a public safety film for people going abroad to watch the football this summer. Click Here to watch. But don't blame me if there's no swearing or blood.

Back soon with more filth and sadness.


I remember when life was simple. When children could play in the streets and neighours could use one anothers bathrooms without permission. The good old days of the IRA giving warning phone calls, when terroism had manners. The good old days when I was young enough to legally go to bed with high school girls.

Now I spend all my time wishing I was dead.

In other news, here are the results of the Run Potato Run Competition. A lot of people sent in a lot of ideas and thanks very much to all those who did. Click Here to see the results and who won the free car! I mean T-shirt.

No movie this week, too much heroin, can't sleep.

I love nuns. Not in the biblical sense or anything. Well, I suppose it's a kind of biblical sense, they are nuns after all. But what I mean is that, while I don't have sex with nuns, I do enjoy them as a spectacle.

Anyway, I also like making games about nuns. So here it is, the frightening follow up to Nun Lander, the much hyped and eagerly awaited... Nun Gunner! (I suppose there wasn't a great deal of hype, there was a bit in Uruguay).

That's right, now you get to shoot nuns! And there's a story to justify it so you don't have to worry even if you are a Catholic. Actually, you probably do have to worry if you are Catholic, but you'll be so busy worrying about so many other things, this shouldn't rock the boat too much.

Also, new Nun Gunner stuff available. Nice. Click the pic.



So first thing's first, new Run Potato Run. It looks like the little fella may be in trouble now. But we still don't know what's chasing him. Watch the movie by clicking above, then, if you fancy, click here to enter the Run Potato Run competition!

There's even a prize this time. That's right, I've pulled out all the stops and made some Run Potato Run T-shirts (plus a whole bunch of others).

And you might just win the t-shirt of your choice by entering. It's a drawing competition as demonstrated here by Tony Blair.

So Click Here for details...

Little Tony Blair aged 50 & 3/4



Huh. That was a quick month. I meant to update sooner but I've been trying to make a bomb. It's nothing political. I just want a bomb to put on my wall at home. A real one. Just in case someone breaks in.

I think it would make a pretty good deterrent. I'd put a sign up on the door like people do when they have a guard dog. It would just read "bomb - I have a bomb" and there might be a picture of a bomb on it.

Anyway, my bomb was rubbish and didn't work. I think I got off on the wrong foot trying to make it out of stuff I found in my cupboards. Weetabix as shrapnel? What a stupid fucking idea. Fucking thing didn't even catch light.

I've made a new Fancy Soup too. It's called Swan.



Happy belated New Year. A man vomited on me on the tube, so it's going well already.

I've made a new game for you to play called Cèlèbritè Poubelle Magnifique! It's a quiz in which you can guess what rubbish belongs to what celebrity. Click it to play.

Also, I recieved this note. I'm very worried about it.

Dear Sir,

You will forgive my intrusion and impertinence of writing at this time. Unforgivable though this action to you is, a time of urgency requires my sharpest intentions. I am named Umbongo Capri. I am speaking with you from the Republic of Giardia. My father was Chief Tumbo Capri of whom reputation is entitled.

My request is one that enables me both shame and wonderment. As a request, it is humble of physical size, but in manhood, requires great prosperity. It is for this reason that my writing is addressed to you. You may think me unsensitive to have contact with you when our familiarity is unqualified. Of course when I heard of your business dealings I knew that I was eligible to trust you.

My government contains less reputable officials than in yours I am sure and certain corrupt offences have incurred. More than 100 thousand Terry's Chocolate oranges have been confiscated by our state and held against us. These confectionary delights were intended for the Giardian people whose ownership is qualified and entitlement settled. However, this entitlement has obviously become untrue with state official intervention.

You can help us free our lost rights and battle this oppressive intrusion by one action. If you might make sent to me the simple amount of $2000 dollars, a freedom has been arranged that would benefit us both. A ten percent return can be made for you generosity and upwards of ten thousand Terry's Chocolate Oranges will have your ownership.

Thank you again for kindness bestowed in your time spent with my letter and I await your responding with great joy!

Much Love,

Umbongo Capri.

Do you think I should send him the money?

Twas the day before Christmas, and all through my house, not a creature was moving, not even my wife.

She hasn't moved in hours. Days maybe. I've lost track of time in the darkness. I can't bring myself to open the curtains and let it all in.

Everything had been going well at first. I'd opened a bottle of wine and we were settling down to watch highlights of this year's wars. My wife had asked me if I wanted to have a nut based stuffing for the turkey. I just lost it. I remember reaching for coalscuttle, then it all goes red. Then black.

One of us is breathing but I can't tell who in the darkness. Short, stabbing gasps at the stale air. Her family will be arriving soon. I don't know what I'm going to do. I've not even defrosted the turkey.

Suddenly there's a knock at the door. I reach down and fumble about the floor for my wife. She hasn't moved. "Someone's at the door, honey" I say gingerly. Silence.

"It'll probably be Sue and the Kids. They said they might get here a bit early". My wife does not respond.

I make my way down the hallway slowly. It is Sue and the Kids. I watch them through the spy hole for a moment. Keith's there too. I didn't think he was coming this year. He's not treated her well these last 6 months. Sue really could do better.

I open the door eventually and smile as best I can. "Hello Brian" they all say warmly. I stand there, still smiling, blocking their way. I have to say something, they can tell something's wrong. Dreadfully wrong.

But when I open my mouth to speak, no words follow, just a low, anguished moan. My hands are shaking. I'm suddenly very tired.

"Brian" Sue says gently "has it happened again?"

I can only nod.

Merry Christmas,


P.S. All the Xmas Mews are ready so Click Here to watch..

Christmas is here again. It seems like only yesterday I was drinking alone and hurting myself with fairy light cable. What a magical time of year. And let's not forget baby Jesus who, as legend has it, took one in the chest for Biggie Smalls. Nice one baby Jesus.

So what news is there this festive season? Well, Little Mew is back to bring Xmas cheer to one and all. He's been given a new home by the nice folk at Nickelodeon. They've requested he sing five Christmas Jingles on their sprogs channel, Nick Jr.

But on the off chance that's not a channel you watch as much as you'd like to, here's the first of five Little Mew seasonal specials. Click Here to watch.

More Mew soon, and maybe some other stuff too...


New Run Potato Run this week. Cheap and cheerful animated fun featuring a potato with legs and this weeks guest star: Jesus Christ. Whatever's chasing our potato is getting very close. We may just find out soon...

Also, I thought it'd be fun to send the Myra sketch to BBC Talent and they only went and shortlisted it. Nice one. The prize if you win is to develop a TV show for BBC Three. So if you'd like to see a Mung TV show, click here for details.

Just imagine what I could do with a budget... Or any fucking money for that matter. I could finally buy some shoes!

The Name My Tortoise results are in Click Here to find out the little fella's new name...

This week, I shat myself in public. Nothing major, nothing that any passers by would have even been aware of, but, nonetheless, enough to make impossible any hopes I might have had of doing any Christmas shopping. Luckily, I found a Starbucks and headed inside to use their single capacity, unisex toilet. It was a pokey little dive but afforded me the privacy I needed to clean my soiled arsehole.

Upon finishing I reached confidently over for the toilet paper. Nothing. Not even a cardboard tube (and I've made use of the tube before). The only course of action open to me as I could see it was to use some item of my clothing to do the job. Though socks seemed the obvious choice, they lost out in the end to pants. They weren't my favourite boxer shorts by any means and they had already taken the brunt of the disaster, so the decision all but made itself.

Not confident that they would actually flush successfully, I instead shoved my shit covered boxers into the "ladies hygiene product disposal unit" and fucked off with a smile on my face. As I walked out, the young lady behind the counter smiled back at me, perhaps in anticipation of my ordering coffee. "I've just wiped my arse on my pants and shoved them in your tampon bin" I said to her with a warm smile "but I don't think I'll be buying any of your coffee today, as it tastes like the blood of exploited South American bean farmers. Thank you." Then I went to Safeway and spanked the defrosted chickens until I was asked to leave. The End.

New this week: Lord of My Ring II. More homoerotic tension with Frodo and Sam (plus a trailer for Return of the King...) Enjoy.

I've made a new film this week about the pleasure of getting injections. It's called Injections Are Fun! click it to watch.

Also, I've finally got round to making a newsletter. People have been asking me to do so for a while. Basically, when I make a new movie, I'll drop you a line to let you know. Click Here to sign up.

There's a been a hell of a lot of suggestions for the tortoise fella's name. Thanks for all of those. I'm not decided yet though, so keep 'em coming, there's still a fortnight left.

Lastly, there are a couple of new bits in the Press Section, including one in Creative Review. Ain't that lovely. Thanks to everyone who sent the cuttings.

Happy Halloween all.

Nice to see that people are still shooting little Mr Blaine in his box and still sending me notes about it. Cheers.

Continuing in the same vein as the Blaine bit, here's a game I did this week with the kids at work. It's about that Derren Brown fella who tried to shoot himself the other night on 4. It's pretty fun actually and you get to kill Uri Gellar.

Click Here to play The Derren Brown Game

Other new bits and pieces this week: I've had a spring clean and dumped a lot of crap in the new Stuff section. And now there's a competition up - Name My Tortoise! Click it for details.

And if that ain't enough for you, I found a really old film that I'd forgotten I made. It's nothing to write home about so I've stuck it in the stuff section, but fuck it, you might like it. Click to watch Guy Fawkes The Movie.

Oh, and thanks to everyone who wrote in about the Kerrang article, the radio bits and whatever else. Always appreciated.

What a week. I had no idea quite how many people wanted to shoot David Blaine. Particularly magicians. There's loads of magicians who have written to me to thank me for the chance to shoot Blaine. Best of all was when I got a note from Paul Daniels (click to read). That's pretty funny. And I assure you, it is genuine. I know I lie about a lot of stuff on this site but I wouldn't lie about little Paul.

Thanks to everyone who has written to me. I've had some great notes, but none so good as the hate mail. There's only been 4 bits of hate mail (Blaine fans...) and that's out of hundreds of happy emails. I might just publish them soon because they make me smile.

Thanks to everyone who wrote today and pointed out this bit in the Star:

Also, the Sunday People have been on the phone asking about it. Plus the kids at RISE on channel 4 were playing it this morning apparently too. Does this make Mr Blaine popular or unpopular? I can't decide.

Anyway, thanks again for the notes and check back soon, there's more Blaine fun in the pipeline...


Well, David Blaine is in a box this week and I for one am glad. No better place for him to be. Though 20 foot under the ground would probably be more pleasing.

Anyway, the poor little nutrient-starved anus freaked out this week when some kids shined laser pens in his eyes. He thought they were snipers out to get him. It gave me an idea. So here it is, the David Blaine Assassination Game!

Be sure to play right to the end because there's an extra special movie featuring David and all his magic circle buddies.



This week, I became a millionaire. It all started about a fortnight ago while I was asleep. I had this dream in which I was being chased by Denzel Washington's portrayal of Malcolm X. Apparently Malcolm was angry with me because it was still during his hustling days and he mistakenly believed that I'd been beating on one of his tricks.

I hadn't, of course, and make it a rule never to inflict bodily damage on a prostitute unless it's agreed to prior to the act itself and accounted for when totting up the service costs. However, it was one of those dreams where no matter how fast you run, you just can't seem to run fast enough to get away from Malcolm X.

Anyway, eventually he caught up with me and began to beat me in a way I've never been beaten before. It was during this remarkable assault that I had my idea. I was going to make dolls for little girls.

As soon as I woke up and realised I was not dead, I called my uncle at his toy factory and explained my idea. He said I was a "God-damned-to-fuck-genius!" and that he was glad that he hadn't drowned my mother when he could have. I thanked him and we agreed to start production that night.

It was a simple concept really. I'd seen dolls that pissed themselves, I'd seen dolls that shat themselves, but I'd never seen a doll that vomited. And why not? Babies puke all the time. But a puking baby wasn't enough. I wanted my girl to be 14! And life size!

Within 8 hours of our product going live, we'd shifted 11 million units. Mostly to the Japanese. And that's how I became a millionaire. By making light of a serious affliction that affects many young men and women throughout the world (mainly the western world).

Anyway, as I say, I'm a millionaire now. I imagine I'll spend it all on fags and scratch cards.

Here's the new Fancy Soup. Enjoy.

I've been in prison a lot lately. I was arrested for shooting Tony Martin after he broke into my kitchen for the 11th time this month. He said he just wanted to have a glass of milk and that he'd leave quietly when he was done, but I wouldn't have it and I shot him.

It's all been rather interesting. The police have been very understanding, a number of them saying that they'd have shot him too. One of them even brought me an Eccles cake and some pornography on my second evening inside. His name was Colin.

Eventually, I got to speak to a judge and he said that I had done the right thing in shooting him and that we couldn't have Tony Martin going into people's houses willy-nilly and drinking their milk. He said he was glad I'd shot him and that he wished there were more people like me. He said he might go home and shoot someone that same evening.

Anyway, I'm back home now and have been thinking a lot about it. I was probably wrong to shoot Tony Martin like I did. Technically, he didn't deserve it. He was only thirsty after all.

On the other hand, it was my milk.

I'm not sure at all now.

It's too damn hot in this country. I can't remember anything like it. I pissed steam this morning and the whistling sound woke my cat.

Anyway, I've been making a film for a while with some friends from work and I think it's turned out pretty damn nice. It's called Dog and I'd tell you what it was about but it's too damn hot and you'll just have to watch it and see. I hope you enjoy. I'm pretty pleased with it.

Also, there's a new guest movie today care of Justin van der Spuy from Cape Town, who takes with him the prize for most uniquely named man ever to write to me. It's called Good Idea/Crap Idea. Cheers Justin.

Well, for the last three weeks I've been in a coma. It wasn't bad at all actually. Like a prolonged dream of sorts. For the entire duration, I was convinced that I was a seven-year-old Japanese girl chasing a butterfly through a host of strange and exotic landscapes.

For many weeks I chased the little yellow butterfly, never quite able to catch it. And every time I managed to get my hands around it, inches from it's delicate wings, I would suddenly become aware of familiar, though distant, voices speaking all around me.

Snippets of conversation would become clear to me, voices I should have recognised but could not place. It seemed from the vague and inconsistent dialogue that someone was very ill, but it did not concern me and I continued to chase the dancing insect.

One day though, it simply stopped. I approached cautiously, not wanting to alarm the creature. It had perched atop a large, ripe orange, itself the pinnacle of a pyramid of like fruit on display outside the window of a city grocery. Inside I could see the old, oriental owner of the shop starring at me through the glass. He grinned and nodded slowly towards the insect.

As I reached out, my hands encircling the delicate wings that had danced elusively just beyond my grasp for so long now, the voices became intolerably loud. Booming in my head, I suddenly knew them. My mother, my father, my backwards uncle Larry, they were all there. I grabbed the creature and thrust it into my mouth. It tasted like chicken. Everything went white.

When I opened my eyes, I was in a hospital bed. No longer was I a seven-year-old Japanese girl, but rather a full-grown man, complete with unkempt beard and rapidly stiffening erection. My family were all there and greeted me warmly. All except backwards uncle Larry who had somewhere discovered a nurses outfit, which he now wore back to front as he sat weeping in one corner of the small white room.

So anyway, that's why I've not updated lately. I was in a coma and thought I was a young Japanese girl in pursuit of a small yellow butterfly which later turned out to represent consciousness and my own journey back to good health. It's my own fault really. Should have known better than to stay in on a Friday night and neck all my rohypnol.

I received this the other day:

Andy's Holiday Sanp
I think it's fucking great. Cheers Andy.

Anyway, I got some stuff back from work that I forgot I'd ever made. They sent me my version of Spider Man the other day. I made it just after the flic came out last year.


The fucking circus has come to town. What a fucking shit heap. They've set up on the green with their caravans and big fuck off tent and you can just feel the sickness creeping in. It's like a smell but you can't smell it. You just feel it.It makes your bones ache. Fucking Pikeys!

There'll be no bikes left in town by Monday.

Anyway, I found this the other day. It's the first film I ever made, over a hundred years ago when Flash wasn't half as advanced as it is today. It's called A Day to Remember.

Take a look, hope you enjoy.

This month I have been saving all of my bodily fluids in separate containers. At any one time, the body can produce liquid from five separate orifices (this does not include pores or self inflicted wounds).

I'm going to enter my various jars into the Turner Arts Prize. If they're not suitably impressed I'll just cut off one of my arms and feed it to a horse and say that Prince Charles told me to do it. I'll submit it on video tape. I'm bound to win.

With the prize money I'm going to have a celebrity arm grafted onto my body. Probably Charles Dance or someone like that. Maybe Pike from Dads Army?

With my super arm I'll be able to get into fancy clubs and bars where I will no doubt meet other celebrities (Lisa Tarbuck, etc...) and seduce them ruthlessly. Once Lisa is carrying my seed, I shall execute her live on Richard and Judy.

For more details of my plan, send a naked photo of your father to:

Details of Brian's Plan
PO BOX 1939


This week I have created a time machine. At first I assumed it would have no useful application and I was in the process of putting it in the shed when suddenly I thought I could go back in time and seduce my mother like what Marti McFly done.

An hour later I'm in 1961 plying my mother with gin. The more time I spent with her though, the less attractive I found her. She had this habit of rolling her glass eye about with her index finger. I don't know whether it was my father who eventually broke her of that habit but she had certainly never done it during my lifetime.

Anyway, I told her she sickened me and that I was her son and that I didn't want to seduce her anyway. She was quite drunk by now and I don't think she got it. In the end I just paid a sailor to take her home with him and I went off with a prostitute named Sally.

Now I'm back in the present and I've brought Sally with me. We've had her myriad of venereal diseases cured and I'm teaching her to feel again. If it doesn't work out I'll just murder her and bury her in my garden. She's been officially missing since 1961 anyway so I'm sure no one's looking for her anymore.

Here's a new Fancy Soup.

And now…


Tourette's Syndrome Haiku

Gash! Fucking-Witch-Cock!
Here it Comes! ShitFist! Grrr! Tits!
Cyst! Toadfish! Blitzkrieg!

Thank you.

I've made something cute and cudley this week. It's a happy little singing guy and his name is Little Mew. Click to check him out.

Well, I've had a nice wee bit of attention this week. First up, the good folk at Redline Magazine have once again seen fit to tell the spread the word about my stuff, this time Nun Lander.

Next, the FHM newsletter features none other our own little terrified potato from run potato run.

Many thanks to Gary Field and David Gore for pointing that one out.

In other news, here is a new Fancy Soup. It's the first in a long while and the first in a whole new set coming soon. Enjoy.



© copyright brian mung