So I turn up at the venue (see previous post); a smart pub twenty five miles away, having got lost along the way. I locate the bonfire which I'll be doing my cartoony stuff next to and am told that the canopy that I was to be under has just blown away across the field.
My only alternative, apart from going home is to set up in the pub. At first this looks promising, the pub is full of families on this special night so I create a makeshift stand, erect the easel and start scribbling. Almost instantly, the pub empties. Nothing to do with the quality of my work (I hope), they've all made their way out to see the bonfire and fireworks.
Now I'm left with a handful of bored regulars who couldn't care less about having a cartoonist in the corner. One guy even rolls a fag on top of my merchandise and then puts his pint down on my stuff. I'm not happy.
I decide to wait to see if people pop back in after the festivities and while I'm drawing, a very drunk man wobbles over to my stand.
"So, why are you called Scooter?" he asks.
I give him the short answer: "Because I've got a scooter."
"Yeah? Well..." he slurs, "I've got an ensuite bathroom but, y'know?..."
and with that bit of wisdom dispensed, he wobbles back to the bar.