Stream of unconsciousness

Ladies and gentlemen, in order to demonstrate why I don't put stuff up on the internet very often, I invite you to spend a week inside my head. There follows a relatively unedited presentation of all the stuff I saw fit to draw on my hotel notepaper during one week on the road.

Monday, and what better way to start the week than with a godawful pun and a joke that maybe one person in the entire universe might get? There was also a horoscope reading:

PISCES
I'm getting sick of your antics. If
you don't STOP IT, I'm coming over
there to sort you out MYSELF.
for more, dial 0-500-123-STARS

Tuesday is a day for controversial slogans and apocalyptic vision. See, the iPredictor is this thing what can predict anything. In the future. And this causes riots. Somehow. Note how a skilled artisan can subtly create the impression of a crowd, making it look like he spent more effort than he really did? You'll admit it's uncanny.

Wednesday was a day of consumer paranoia, coupled with the shocking revelation that when nobody's watching, I really don't bother to draw hands properly.
Thursday seemed to continue this theme, in a half-hearted pastiche of The Running Man...

See, if I'm going to see a film based on a book that I would one day like to have read, I like to make the effort to acquire and read that book before the film comes out. That way I can sit in the cinema going "ohh, they changed that bit!" with the other proper fans. Anyway, it's good, because that way I can picture the characters in my own way, even if as in this case they just end up looking like people I used to live next door to and couldn't stand.

Friday... oh, all right, I actually just drew this now. I did think of it that week, though.
Damn that cookie hypocrite.

And that's why I keep a lot of stuff to myself: because it isn't funny and doesn't even make any sense. But then, you knew that already. Good day to you!