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Land Lubber

Land Lubber back

Joe List


Page 45 Review by Stephen

Signed and sketched-in for free!

Jonathan writes:

I had a lovely treatment from a true Reiki master this week. After a solid half hour pounding to loosen me up from hard days’ till monkeying and hard nights’ child-wrangling my daughter off to sleep, she asked me if was ready to get into the Reiki zone and uttered the incantation, asking if any spirit guides would like to join us. Then, already considerably more relaxed than I’d felt in months, as she laid her hands on me to begin the process of realigning my energies, I started pissing myself laughing. Intermittent, intense hysteria continued for about ten minutes before I managed to get myself under control. Used to her clients experiencing flashing lights, sensations of weightlessness, hallucinations and even visitations from the dearly departed, she presumed it was merely a by-product of her Reiki treatment. When she asked me about it afterwards I didn’t dare confess that in fact, one of the four hilarious ‘Find The Right Tattoo For You!’ strips from this work had popped into my mind...

The Cat Top: A great look for cat lovers who are also bald. People will stroke your head at every opportunity.

The accompanying illustration features a bald man with the outline of a meowing cat drawn, from shoulder to shoulder, right over his pate. There are no prizes for guessing who, in my mind’s eye, I could see sporting this particular piece of facial finery, and thus why I was reduced to tears of laughter...

The rest of LAND LUBBER is chock full of equally surrealist humour!

Stephen writes:

Shut up.


LAND LUBBER is squelching with ghastly urban or household oddities, glimpsed out of the corner of Joe List’s eye: feverishly imagined freaks of unnature like The Man That Sits On My Ear, The Half-Frog who hides behind lounge lamps, his body hunched under the umbrella of their shades, and the Speakerphone whose proclamations can never be more than others’ grating, static-strewn instructions. Most haunting of all is the Grey Man. He could be anywhere, absorbing the residual warmth of your abandoned bus seat or soaking up the steam in your shower only to shiver it off under a much needed towel that is now clammy and damp in your room.

There is a melancholy here that is so memorable that you will never unlearn what you know. And soon, my kitty-kins, ever so soon, you too will start seeing these creatures in the corner of your own eyes, and wondering if you left the oven on at home.
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