Happy New Year

Once again I'm stalling to let the stock get back up. I've started hosting here: http://mi-uk.smackjeeves.com/ too since it's better for comics, but I'll keep posting on this blogspot until the first case is over.

Christmas Incorporated UK

Yeah, so I've caved and done a Christmas special. I'm even using festive green on red text! To be honest it's mostly to give Robyn a chance to catch up on the drawing a little since her computer broke, but there's a picture in it for you if you make it to the end.
THAT'S RIGHT; IT'S A PROSE STORY, BITCHES!

“I can’t believe you’ve got us working on Christmas.” Complained Jacob, trudging through the snow behind Rowan.

            “Ah, quit complaining;” replied the latter, “we get paid triple. Besides, I thought you weren’t really into Christmas?”

            “’Course not! It’s not like I’m gonna miss the food, the drinking and the family togetherness;” Jacob said with a tone of bitterness suggesting that despite his inflated claims of apathy, he did indeed mind missing Christmas “I’m just worried that we’re gonna learn some ‘heart-warming’ lesson or something, and you know I’m allergic to that crap.”

            “You got your anti-allergy meds?”

            “Yeah,”

            “Then we’re sound.”

            “I really need to join some sorta union. So what’s the deal here?”

            “Some rich guy…”

            “How rich?”

            “Rich enough to hire the only detectives who’ll work Xmas (at quadruple rates) in order to find out who stole his spoilt son’s Christmas presents. Anyway, he…”

            “S’alright, you just explained in your aside. Actually, that’s the other thing I’m worried about: that there’ll be a ‘shocking’ twist where it turns out you set all this up and stole the presents so we could get paid.”

            “Eh,” Rowan replied, with alarming nonchalance “money’s money.”

            “Your seduction by and fervent support of the patriarchal industro-capitalist ideology sickens me, Rowan.”

            “Uni’s changed you Jacob.”

            “Go play with lights, worst-boy electric!”

            The two sunk into a nicely familiar silence of animosity. A suitably festive metaphor would be a cosy Christmas stocking that’s been in the family for years and is adorned with the knitted likeness of a scowling Frankie Boyle stabbing a reindeer in the eye with a syringe. They trudgingly trudged onwards through the snowy snow and this sickeningly, self-consciously ‘ironic’ badly written sentence.

            The two (Alexandra and Elliot being absent for reasons so hilarious I’ve had to withhold them for fear I might be sued by grieving families for literally one case of terminally split sides) reached the door, and Rowan rang the bell. A few moments later the pair saw something that made them instantly forget their quarrels, for the young maid who had answered the door had cleavage so deep that, diving into it (as so many longed to do) one would be unsurprised to find the wreck of the titanic nestling at the bottom. It would, however, be chauvinistic not to describe the rest of her too.

            The half of MI_UK present were shown into a large living room. In one corner was a MAHOOSIVE Christmas tree with a noticeable lack of presents underneath, and above the fireplace hung empty stockings – though none bearing the countenance of Scottish comedians famous for their dark humour. Of course there weren’t – that was an overwrought metaphor, remember?

            Even more noticeable than the lack of presents was the man awaiting them, resplendent (and as Douglas Adams has taught us, the word ‘resplendent’ is hilarious used in certain contexts) in a solid gold dressing gown and top hat.

            “Great;” muttered Jacob to Rowan upon seeing Shiny McShine (which in his head he had instantly nicknamed the man) “another eccentric! At least this one isn’t a fucking Cluedo character!” Then, turning to the screen “That’s the game known as ‘Clue’ to any Americans reading, since someone in marketing decided that a portmanteau of ‘clue’ and ‘ludo’ would spin you out so much you’d all go on high school shoo---mmph!” {At this point Rowan wisely covered Jacob’s mouth.}

            Shiny – who apparently follows the conventions of Shakespearian theatre and had not noticed the aside – began to speak. He had the kind of voice you’d expect from someone wearing a solid gold dressing gown and top hat:

            “Ah! So you must be the unorthodox detectives I…”

            “With the greatest of respect;” interrupted Rowan “save it. We’ve heard the brief and you’re not paying us for manners.”

            With that, Rowan headed over to the stockings and Jacob to the tree. After some close examination of the floor around the tree Jacob discovered an unusually coloured hair. He picked it up, sniffed it, licked it, and then wrote a 2000 word essay to confirm his thesis. He held it up to Shiny and Rowan:

            “Green. Grinch hair. You can probably get them sprayed for or something. That’s where your presents have gone. Mystery solved, let’s go get pissed.”

            “And,” chipped in Rowan “since its Christmas, we’ll only charge you quintuple our usual rate!”

            “But aren’t you going to find my very expensive and valuable stolen presents?” inquired McShine, taken aback.

            “Look;” said Rowan bluntly “we solve mysteries. We don’t solve mysteries.”

            “Besides,” Jacob added “when a Grinch nicks your presents you’re supposed to learn” {he shudders} “an important lesson about what’s really valuable at Christmas time.”

            Eventually, McShine (or whatever his real name is) managed to haggle MI_UK down from five times their normal rate to 3.9 times their normal rate seeing as half of them didn’t show up, the half that did show up where half-hearted and half of the half that showed up given half a chance spent half their time hitting on the maid (who it turned out disappointingly lacked a French accent).

            Elliot, however, never quite fully recovered.

END

Ok, here's the Christmas picture I promised - a reindeer eating pizza drawn by Kirsty Judge, who is excellent at drawing reindeer eating pizza and an even better writer. (And if it seems like I didn't ask permission to use it, well I'm sure that's just because the message got lost in the ether of the internet's tubes.)

Merry whatever...

Hastily filling in important plot information we forgot to disclose

The story trundles on, like a one-legged child on a tricycle.

Unfortunatley, Robyn's computer's packed in, so there may be some more downtime coming up. Again. I know.

You may have seen this coming...

We applogise to our reader for the terrible writing quality.

A new low...

I actually rememberd that Friday exists this week!

Also, new worst joke so far. Seriously, what was I thinking...

Your Search - Butler - Did Not Match Any Persons

Mama-mia! It was Friday?! Damn essay distracted me. I appologise to all 3.1 of our readers.

When you thought it couldn't get any worse...

Little warning: When it says worst joke 'so far' in the title, it means 'so far'.

I also have another blog now (one which I have been forced to make) with various other dregs of writing on: http://blogs.warwick.ac.uk/jandrews

Back in black

So everything's stable now and thus this is up. I think this one took Robyn ages to draw as well.

Technical issues

Hello everyone. I've got a shiny new MI_UK to show you...

Unfortunatley, the computer it's on is playing up (this is being written on another) so I can't upload. This should be fixed by Monday, so I'll uplead it then.

And Lo pt 2

The uplifting* and highly popular* 'And Lo' concludes! Back to MI_UK next week.

*Ok, so it's neither of those things.

And Lo

So here's that other project I promised while the buffer regenerates. It's something I wrote and Robyn drew for a Vintage (as in the publishers) graphic short story competition, causing us to run out of MI_UKs.
Anyway, we didn't win or run up so here it is. Be warned, it's nothing like MI_UK and probably depressing and stuff.

Pages 3 and 4 will be up next Friday. After that back to MI_UK.

We're Back!

Well, for a week anyway. Next time, bar a small miracle, I'll be posting the first half of the other project that caused the buffer to run out, in order that we can get another buffer going again. Anyway, here is our underwhelming return:

We apologise for the inconvenience.

Robyn's been having photoshop (or whatever she uses) issues but I think they're sorted now. By next week I should either be able to reveal the new project or have a new MI_UK to put up.

I'm also out of filler, so I'll leave you a Sam & Max quote (since being comedy mystery solvers themselves they were a big inspiration for this strip.

Max: "Hey Sam, if it's always getting later and later, then how come it's early sometimes?"
Sam: "That's one of the great mysteries, little buddy."

More filler than Katie Price...

Sorry, Robyn's had a hell of a week so nothing new once again this time. I'm knackered from Freshers' too, and have already been set a load of work.
Here is some of that work by way of filler. A recounting (not even an anecdote - the point was the event written about was inconsequential) of me fetching some Cider, converted to the style of a fairy tale:

Once upon a time, in the Kingdom of Warwicke, there lived a Scholar who sought the Elixir of Inebriation. To acquire this Elixir the Scholar had to travel far, to the Cave of the ‘Great’ Tesco; a giant, faceless entity that valued gold above all other things. Though his path was long, the Clerk was unburdened and with company so his journey was fair.

            But alas! This Tescos’ Cave (for he had many) did not contain the Elixir of the Woodpecker, which the Scholar most desired, so he must fain settle for the Elixir of the Bow. But Yea! The Elixir of the Bow was three-quarter-score phials for ten gold pieces, so the Scholar was happy.

            But fie! This happiness did not last! For the phials were heavy and this self-same Clerk resided in the village of Cry-Fielde, which lies in the corner of Warwicke furthest from The Cave of Tesco. And he was now alone, his fellowship having sought other and fewer things in the Cave, and he having consented to separate from them. And thus, the Scholar’s journey home was arduous, and caused him great pain in his arms.

            That Scholar did purchase other things that Tesco’s cave, but none were other forms of the Elixir of Inebriation.

Yeah, that's the kind of thing they've gotten us doing for now.

Sorry...

Unfortunatley there's no new MI_UK this week since Robyn and I have been working on another project, which I'll reveal in a couple of weeks.
Anyway, she's been drawing this other thing for all of September and the Mystery Incorporated UK buffer has finally run out.
So instead, here's a drawing I did in a bar once. It's done on the back of a pub quiz sheet. Enjoy.

We can has Mystery?

The plot thickens, like a soup, or someone's waist entering middle age.
I apologize for an episode low on funny, but we need these occasionally for plot purposes.

Ikea, guitars and a squirrel

Someone else's nose has dissapeared. That'll be the mystery. I'm sure of it.

The second mystery is why someone rich enough to live in a mansion is shopping at Ikea.

Minor Characters a-go-go!

The real mystery is where have MI_UK's noses gone?

And anyone who hasn't figured out that the suspects are all Cluedo rip-offs; are you sure this is the right webcomic for you?

Bye-bye-Blobby

Robyn enjoyed drawing the first panel.

Who reads newspapers in this day and age?

Robyn is one of a few people I know with an intense hatred of polkadot nightmare Mr. Blobby. Just what is he anyway? Answers on a postcard.

Facebook

Just a quick request, could anyone who likes the comic please join the facebook group. This thing'll only go past one case if there's an audience for it, and it'll hemp me keep track.

At last, a mystery

All trained up and introduced, Mystery Incorporated UK have finally been asked to solve a mystery.

The lack of dialogue ("...." don't count) was Robyn's idea, and works really well. The owl with monocle was her idea too. I'm really pleased with how this turned out as a whole actually. The alliteration was me though - sorry about that.

Profile: Timmy

Timmy

An old VW Beetle with no seat belts in the back. Despite Rowan's care, it has seen better days. Timmy functions as MI_UK's signature vehicle, but has had a number of previous owners and jobs including the trafficking of moonshine, drugs and Jelly Babies. It eventually came into the possession of Rowan, who knows nothing of its past and of the hundreds of Jelly Parents whose lives it helped devastate. Rowan named it Timmy and loves it/him dearly.

Profile: Jacob

Jacob

"Rowan, you're a bastion of originality(!)"

The sarcastic one, and a thoroughly te'nebricose presence. Though solving mysteries was his idea, Jacob is happy to take a side-seat in order to make snide comments. Possessed of a great wit (he thinks) Jacob can be cold sometimes, but rest assured that he does have a heart, albeit part-mechanised with brambles growing on it.
 
Jacob is one of the millions of people worldwide who like cheese.

Profile: Alexandra

Alexandra

"I kinda feel sorry for him..."

 Being 'Token Girl' presents Alex with a chance to break the mould. It's a chance she does not take. Alexandra acts as the group's heart, contrasting Rowan's practicality and Jacob's icy cynicism. Depending on the individual, Alex's sympathy and/or looks can coax information from suspects and victims that the others never would have found.

Profile: Elliot

Elliot

"I was thinking about guitars."

GUIIIIITAAAAARRRRR!!!

Profile: Rowan

Rowan

"We're Mystery Incorporated UK, bitch!"

MI_UK's leader, he has many qualities befitting of the role: He is intelligent (but so is Jacob), he is perceptive and resourceful (but so is Jacob), and he is charismatic (but so is Alexandra). Despite all these traits, there is one overriding reason that Rowan leads MI_UK:- He owns the car.
Rowan cannot tightrope walk.

Latin means we're classy!

The Hitler salutes are unintentional. Rowan also looks nothing like the Soviet propaganda I had in my head, but that's my fault for not sending Robyn a reference picture.

Training without a montage? Preposterous...

We don't have much of a budget for special effects. But everyone knows Zombie-ghosts wear braces (suspenders). Stephen Fry said so on Qi once, so it's true.

Ok, so that never actually happened.

Does machines

You don't fuck with the Omniscient Narrator.

Does anyone else actually get this joke? Please say it's not just me... Also, I'm really happy with how well Robyn's drawn both Elliot and the terminator here.

Role up for exposition!

Subtle exposition is for plays. Here at MI_UK, we tell you just how it's going to be!

See what I meant about Jacob's sarcasm? I love Elliot's face in this one as well.

Boot Camp

Art style change! Robyn was still finding her feet last time, it stays like this.

Omniscient narrator is usually a narrative technique. I made him a character. Robyn made him speak in Courier for some reason. We also get our first taste of Jacob's sarcasm.

First Page - An Unlikley Begginning

And so it begins. In a very similar way to how the comic was concieved actually. Don't worry, the writing gets better.