Alright! So this domain is getting some serious content update. Starting out with these since they’re probably the oldest commercial (well, I say commercial, but what I actually mean is paid for pints) works that I have done. The oldest proper work that I did. Shitty gig posters and such totally don’t count.

While I’m on it, I’ll tag this in blog and make it a big one! Huzzah!

So these were the days. Nineteen years old with way too much responsibility whilst working 30-40 hours a week in a cocaine/ket/mkat/weed fueled environment. It.Was.Awesome.

From the top. I always wanted to be a designer when I was younger. Graphic Design was the new thing that NO ONE knew about (what the fuck happened eh? In fact, I’ll tell you what happened. India fucking happened. Ridiculously intelligent southern Asians happened with their “fuck you, I’ll steal your business and charge your clients £2 an hour for my service!) and being fairly ‘in to’ computers, I obviously had a cracked Photoshop. I was a beast at those dumb ass forum signatures.

Flash forward, aint a history lesson, I end up going to University for Graphic Design. Three months down the line my loans are empty, my lungs hurt from smoking, well, anything, and I am in dire need of a job. Get a job at the local Lloyds bar. Sorted! Start out part time, move my way up to full time, slowly fuck Uni off since I’m getting £200 to get coked off my tits on a weekend. Bye University!

I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m making it sound way more party orientated (which it was at first!) but I still had to do those week day shifts which weren’t fun. But fuck when you’re 19 and only have £80 a week rent/bills, £200 is an utter godsend. As staff changed and the pub started getting a lot rouger they eventually had to make it more family orientated but that first year, fuck my life, it was incredible.

At first my standard duty was glass collecting (I could not pull a pint in the slightest at first. It’s not even hard!)

but when you’re working in a club trust me, you want to be on floor duty. It was rough back then so you pretty much had to keep your eyes open for fighting and coke heads with toilet checks every ten minutes. This was the best part, this fucker right here – standard practise goes in this cycle:

Spot a dodge pot > Follow him to toilets > Wait to hear tapping > Knock on door and try to sound hard as fuck: “OUT NOW. GIVE COKE OR WE’LL PHONE POLICE > Moron gives you a gram > Take to office/staff toilet to dispose of in your nose > Party all fucking night on a free gram

This literally happened every weekend. All weekend. For a year. It was glorious. I mean, you spent the rest of the night trying to fight every cunt you see but who cares, eh?

So yeah, that’s how I started working at Spoons, and being a designer in University I got asked for posters to try and sell our out of date booze (or had just pretended to put alcohol in the cocktails to make up for missing stock that we had all been necking in the cellar) to ensure that we got a bonus for that month.

Here’s a few posters. They’re shit, but they’re well worth the story. I’ll post some more in due time. Shit, I might even tell you about the psychotic ex that is the main cause for my anxiety and depression (noooooooothing to do with the consumption of alcohol and drugs, I promise) – to the point that I still, four years after working there, can’t maintain and hold together fantastic relationship! Stay tuned.