In many ways, my entire graphic novel career was a long diversion. Originally, all I wanted to do was to be an underground cartoonist and maybe bring out a groovy underground mag.

Memory's so treacherous. One moment you're lost in a carnival of delights with poignant childhood aromas, the flashing neon on puberty, all that sentimental candyfloss. The next, it leads you somewhere you don't want to go.. Somewhere dark and cold, filled with the damp ambiguous shapes of things you'd hoped were forgotten.

With so much chaos, someone will do something stupid. And when they do, things will turn nasty.

Why do we argue? Life's so fragile, a successful virus clinging to a speck of mud, suspended in endless nothing.

In many ways, my entire graphic novel career was a long diversion. Originally, all I wanted to do was to be an underground cartoonist and maybe bring out a groovy underground mag.

Our masters have not heard the people's voice for generations and it is much, much louder than they care to remember.

I'm the king of the 20th century. I'm the boogeyman, the villian, the black sheep of the family.