I made this comic about Darlinghurst soon after settling in Hardie Street. The day I moved in there was a big poo on the front doorstep. It wasn't a particularly good welcome sign.
A few weeks later my family paid me a visit and there was another poo near the front doorstep. So I suppose I was a little shocked (after the relatively sweet homeliness of Surry Hills) and also disappointed about the amount of rubbish that overflowed from people's garbage bins and on to the streets.
I think I was also saddened by the number of old, male alcoholics who used to rant and rave on the streets. Are there less of these men around today or have I just become immune?
The comic was published in the Spring 2002 edition of Strewth magazine, a small, independent publication that no longer exists.
For those without sharp eyes, the text reads:
On her way home very late one night / Violet Tingle found the city was not quite right.
A sour stench of urine hung in the air / And a plague of pigeons shook dirty feathers everywhere.
The ageing gum flowered fast food wraps / While beneath lay a bed of syringes and scraps.
She thought Oh perhaps I got lost on the way / But no! With relief she saw it was familiar as day.
A weak homeless man trying to put up a fight / And a sloppy brown poo glimmering in the moonlight.
Yes, I know, it's terrible, but I still make these hopeless little comics when I'm inspired and have the time.