It's surprising to think sometimes that the book Fatbag, my first professional (i.e. paid!) job as an illustrator, was 30 years ago this year. I remember creating the drawings like it was yesterday.

Having graduated from Manchester I moved to Norwich, where my parents had decided to re-settle during my absence. Rural Norfolk was a complete contrast to Manchester. I knew nothing about Norwich at all, but there was a burgeoning music and arts scene which I slipped into pretty quickly. With virtually no budget I started anonymously publishing an indies music/arts fanzine The Blue Blanket, through which I interviewed bands, touring and local, ran local event listings, plus there were odd features on the arts, and opinionated flippant essays under various nom-de-plumes.
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There are a lot of anniversaries in the UK this year, most significant for me being the 30th year since my first professional illustration job. The commission for Fatbag in 1982 was an important threshold on a journey that had begun years before. Recent programmes on BBC TV and radio celebrating punk and it's legacy have brought back a lot of memories of that time.

First let me say I was never truely a punk, the revolution was arguably already over by the time I cottoned onto it all in 1978.
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I like my royalty in fairy tales and history books, but I have to admit I've little enthusiasm for, or interest in the real thing. I've more of a Cromwellian leaning shall we say, more a disciple of Liberté, égalité, fraternité so to speak.

Just because the venerable lady is old and has been in the job a long time doesn't make her any more attractive to me, the royal family has as much relevance to me as I personally do to the Queen herself.
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