On Borrowed Time

It was a hot summer’s day. I had just completed what I can only describe as a productive session with the swatter.

As I surveyed the results, my mind started to drift — as it tends to after you’ve removed several creatures from the mortal coil in quick succession. I found myself wondering how many different ways a fly could, in fact, meet its maker.

As you do.

I started sketching. Flies on the loo — I’d encourage you to think about that for a second. Two flies on a date, sitting in what I can only describe as a pungent restaurant on a steaming pile of poo. Having not been on a date for many years, I eventually settled on a family supper.

I drew it first in a normal kitchen. Fully stacked cupboards. Proper stove. Finished it and looked at it for a while. Something was missing. It wasn’t landing the way I thought it would. So I went back to the original idea — two flies on the steaming pile — and redrew.

If you’re a parent with children old enough to vocalise an opinion just as you’re serving supper, you know exactly how I got here.

That was it, really.

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Here’s the thing. I’m still a bit torn on the caption of the cartoon. Which one do you prefer? The last supper or the Tiny Tim one?