This'll get Snow's attention.

Originally published 27 January 2010

'Big fish, small fish, cardboard box' is a dance, akin to the Birdies Dance or the Macarena in that it goes with its own song, and is especially designed so that anyone, no matter how talentless, can twitch rhythmically along with it. It involves just moving moving your hands, big fish (open your hands wide), little fish (bring them closer together), cardboard box (turn your hands parallel to each other to mimic a cardboard box). The moves originated with rave culture in the late 80s, as it was a dance anyone could do no matter how drug-addled, and has now become a children's party song. Even Bob the Builder does it.

I was experimenting with colours in this strip. Eventually I decided that big bold hues weren't right, and gradually moved towards a more muted palette. An occasional blast of colour is useful, but used as a background like this, it's overpowering.

Smith is coloured the opposite way to most comics. My characters are mainly white, so the colour has to be put into the background. This gives the required contrast and makes Smith and Jones stand out better. The other thing that has to be taken into consideration is that the colours should not clash with Jones's beige points. Hence the muted colours.

Aquarium

Hastings Blue Reef aquarium. A museum of fish or a very exotic larder, depending on your point of view. Maybe Jones would have had better luck if she'd headed to the flatfish fondling pool instead.

A flock of seagulls

No, not the band that were 60% hair lacquer and 40% wheezy synth music. This is the real thing.

Yesterday I decided to get some sausages and chips from the chip shop (the Blue Dolphin in the Old Town - one of Hastings' many fabulous chippies) and eat them on the beach. On the way over there I dropped a sausage, so I put it to one side - I'd throw it away as soon as I came across a waste bin.

Then the seagulls saw me. Maybe it was the white newsprint the chips were wrapped in that attracted them. It started off with one hovering beside me. Then another, and another. By the time I'd reached the waves there were about 20 malevolent white birds following me, riding the breezee and waiting for their moment.

I sat on the beach and ate. The birds settled in a flock in front of me and watched. Finally there was just the dropped sausage left. I decided to break one of the big rules of seaside living - the one that goes DO NOT FEED THE GULLS.

I tore off a bit of sausage and threw it into the air. All the gulls were suddenly aloft and one of them caught the sausage in mid air. On the second bit of sausage I made a discovery. It is possible to chuck a bit of sausage into the melée, bounce it off one gull's head, and still have another catch it and eat it. I discovered I was able to set up a chain reaction - by the time I ran out of sausage I managed set a record of getting the sausage to ricochet off three separate gulls before the fourth caught it and ate it.

Most amazing of all. As soon as I ran out of sausage, the gulls settled down onto the beach and ignored me. I was allowed off the beach without being mobbed.

Maybe it was my attitude towards the gulls that saved me. They knew I wasn't afraid of them, and I gave them their tribute in the end. I've seen gulls mob terrified tourists for their chips - I won't be doing it again.

This entire run of strips was based on a pair of seagulls I saw on Rock-a-Nore, the road that runs in the strip between the cliffs and the fishing beach, fighting over a fish head and totally oblivious to the traffic that was backed up on either side of them trying to get past without flattening them.