Viñetas Alberto Montt

jcreed found these great, Larsonesque cartoons by Alberto Montt. I thought it would be fun to translate some, so here is my attempt:

Trust me, Prudencio. Since I discovered the missionary position, it’s changed my life.”

Flight Simulator

I’m telling you this as a friend, Matías. Ever since you got that implant, it’s turning you into someone I don’t like.”

Don’t argue with me, boy! If you don’t do better in English, you’ll never understand 99% of the advertising in this country!”

Lamb again? Can’t someone ask these people to sacrifice a cow once in a while?”

Yes, Roberta, we do have some things in common, but it’s not enough. Can’t you see that?”

Boredom… Ebola… Nuclear explosion… Sniper… Cancer… Earthquake… Animal attack… Slipping in the bath… Air disaster… Spin again… Car crash…

What do you say we go back to my place and you give my tape a damned good rewinding?”

I might have expected this from her. But you, Max? My best friend?”

keithlard, Pope of Barbecue Town

I had a delicious barbecue with Jane and I invented a special new spicy barbecue dish called Steaks Finchley! It is some posh steaks marinaded in my personalised masala sauce with fresh ground roasted whole spices including cardamoms, fenugreek, cumin, cloves, dried chillis, black pepper and fiery North African harissa chilli paste! It is fun to make as it involves roasting and pounding up lots of spices while listening to jazz music.

Then you grill it a bit and serve in some pitta breads lightly buttered with ghee and dribble lemon juice all over it. Yum! I am probably Britain’s second most barbecue-obsessed man so I am always really excited to have a barbecue. As usual though there was way too much food and I ended up eating a bizarre combination of breakfast foods the next day including spicy chicken wings, delicately grilled sossidges marinaded in my special personalised masala sauce of crushed black pepper and sea salt, groundnut oil and dusted with thyme and rosemary, and crocodile sandwidges. The last bit is made up obviously as it was actually bacon, but I was experiminting with pretending to eat crocodile sandwidges.

Jane and Andrew were grand company and we lazed around in the garden until X o’clock enjoying the gentle crackling of a real fire, as we gradually burned the fence.

In other news, I went out grooving on Friday with Matt and a glamorous mystery companion, to one of London’s top disco bars! I did not really do too much actual grooving, although when called upon I do, like Jeeves, swing a dashed efficient shoe. But it was a warm, balmy summer e’en, ripe with the blush of the westering Sun (good writing) so we sat outside drinking quite a few glasses of drinks. I had Cosmopolitans as I was trying to impress a lot of good looking women there with my sauve sophistercation and general flânerie, except when I accidentally quaffed some all over myself. “Ha ha,” I laughed languidly, flicking a speck of cocktail from my otherwise immaculate lace cuffs.

I think I did quite well impressing London’s trendy youngsters with my street cred and hip-hop sensibilities, except when I slightly ruined it by reading Anne Brontë’s The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. In my defence it was quite an exciting bit. On the night bus home there was an American woman abusing her boyfriend. “You’re a f****** c*** Ben, and your friends are all f****** c***s too, you c***. Why don’t you just f*** yours*** you c***-******* ***** shit*** ***-hole? Oh thank you very much,” this last to an old lady making room for her to sit down.

Nature's bounty

This is when I was wandering around Hampstead Heath with Matt and Laia, and we saw a cormorant. It is a little known fact that cormorants sunbathe, they also smoke Silk Cut, drink sangria and have ill-advised holiday romances with a bloke named Gino.

Everybody thinks robins are really cute, in fact they are vicious, aggressive and fiercely territorial killers. So are crocodiles, but it is funny that you do not see any Christmas cards with crocodiles on, yawning widely to show their huge wicked carious fangs. Or if you did it would not be the type of thing you would hang over the mantelpiece.

It would be good if horses were exempt from the Congestion Charge, which they probably are, as everyone would ride horses in Central London which would be excellent. Except for the streets being waist deep in manure of course. These so-called ‘ecologists’ never think things through properly.

A cheerful crow yesterday. I guess people are not too excited about crows, but I like them. It is not their fault they do not get their clothes at trendy shops like magpies do. Crows are very intellergent and social birds, so it is a bit unfair that the collective noun for them is ‘a murder’. In fact speaking as a lawyer that is tecknically libellous, as very few crows have ever been successfully prosecuted for murder. Mind you they are a close-knit bunch and always give each other alibis.

It is fun to wonder what horses think about all day. “Hmm I’m bored with standing over here all the time… I think I’ll go and stand over here for a bit and chomp reflectively on this grass.” On the other hand they could be inventing wonderful horse poetry that they then recite to each other in horse language, and we do not know about it. So next time you see a horse, just remember: where would we be, without horses.

Back to the Welsh Harp

Photergraphing Britain

It is a special thing where you can submit your photos to this Flickr group How We Are Now, and they will be displayed on big screens in the Tate Britain, and there will be an exhibition of prints of the best 40! So if you go to Tate Britain and you see some familiar looking pictures, they might be mine!

You can send in 4 so these are the ones I have chosen.