Who hasn’t had the displeasure of meeting quite a number of insurmountable unyielding characters in life? Narcissistic sociopaths are (amongst many others) my least favourite sort of brain profile. Here’s a strip about a fluffy cat. I am allergic to cats.

Postcards often serve as public diaries. I thoroughly approve of them.

The car should have been shampooed, the lawn scissored, and bones de-rusted, but I decided to contribute some dodgey doggerel to Illustration Friday instead.

I dipped into Mafia Wars, when the snow came.
That’s where I met Lucky, through an online computer game.
She fought tough. I got excited by her industrial strength skin, so I plunged in at the deep end and wrote:
‘Will you marry me, Lucky? I am all alone in the world.’
She replied:
‘Have you got a UK passport, Rocky?’
‘Of course my darling gold haired beauty.’
She asked me for my real name.
‘My surname is Dip. My first name is Sherbert.’
‘I prefer Rocky’ she wrote.

By the time Lucky arrived at Terminal 3, Heathrow Airport, the snow had almost melted. She said I looked older than on my photograph. Although I am 80, I sent Lucky a picture of me aged 30. Lucky did not have gold hair. She had brown hair. She was fat. This was not obvious in her photograph. I felt cheated.
After two days of honeymoon, I shed my trousers for the last time.
She wore them thereafter.
Lucky dreams about dogs and sings mournful songs about her homeland. I think she’s dipped into a depression, so I am back playing online war games again. Women are difficult and sometimes obtuse. Lucky tells me she is no longer interested in Mafia Wars because she now plays a war game of her very own making.