World of Why?

The Information Age

2007-12-16T22:20:00.000+01:00

The Quest

2007-12-11T23:40:00.000+01:00

A Request and a Solution

2007-01-17T18:02:00.000+01:00

Hi again. I haven't been on here for a while, and in my absence the company that was hosting my images has lost them. This is a bad thing. I've managed to find some of them using various methods, and I've made them available here: http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/nickjamesuk/Comics
Now for the request: If anyone reading this has any of the comics I made that aren't in that album would you please, please e-mail them to me at nickjamesuk at gmail.com. Please? I'll put up any that I recieve in that web-album, and you'll have my infinite gratitude.

Nick

Science

2007-01-15T06:01:00.000+01:00

See my new blog! It's about science! It's more interesting than it sounds!

Click Here

The Other Half

2006-01-05T11:07:00.000+01:00

Holiday

2005-12-15T12:03:00.000+01:00

So, I went to Paris last weekend. Here's me enjoying the Louvre...

Shallowness

2005-12-05T23:08:00.000+01:00

Introspection

2005-11-29T18:09:00.000+01:00

Madame President

2005-11-21T19:58:00.000+01:00

Paradise

2005-11-14T17:07:00.000+01:00

Ok, it's been a while, but I think you'll agree that the artwork provided by birthday girl Marianne Krogbaek was worth the wait.

Doing Stuff

2005-10-07T23:39:00.000+02:00

Guest Writer

2005-09-20T20:04:00.000+02:00

Due to circumstances which I sincerly hope will change as soon as possible we're back to the old style for a little while.
This is a cartoon written by Redphi5h of Dawn of Man (I'm sure he has another name, but I'm buggered if I know it), which I highly recommend you check out.

Just Say What You Think

2005-09-19T08:53:00.000+02:00

In Dreams

2005-09-16T13:55:00.000+02:00

Timewatching

2005-09-15T13:10:00.000+02:00

Guest Writer

2005-09-14T13:56:00.000+02:00

In a bit of a change to our regularly scheduled program, Ash from A Neutral World? has written this episode, and I've given him something which should be up on his site later. Enjoy!
Oh, and while I'm on the subject, there's another guest written World of Why cartoon here.

Forget Aging Well, Like Some Treasured Splendour

2005-09-13T13:06:00.000+02:00

Oprah's Back

2005-09-12T12:05:00.000+02:00

With thanks to the inimitable Marianne Krogbaek.

The Fairway

2005-09-09T19:37:00.000+02:00

Lapses

2005-09-08T21:54:00.000+02:00

Fasten Your Seatbelts

2005-09-07T21:24:00.000+02:00

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

2005-09-06T17:47:00.000+02:00

Aging Well

2005-09-05T21:03:00.000+02:00

Gone Fishin'

2005-09-02T16:58:00.000+02:00

Haircut 100

2005-09-01T21:28:00.000+02:00

Like Gods

2005-08-31T12:05:00.000+02:00

The Game of Kings

2005-08-30T13:38:00.000+02:00

Liquor Spree

2005-08-29T13:06:00.000+02:00

Holiday!...Celebrate!

2005-08-18T13:16:00.000+02:00

I'm off on holiday to Budapest tomorrow, so no new comics until the 29th. How will you survive?
Maybe you could try here:
Neutral World
For phlosophical discussion, including a piece about yours truly.

Or here:
Frontier Psychiatry
For music

Or here:
The Onion
Because it's awesome.

Or here:
Dawn of Man
Because it's also awesome, and solid etc.

Don't forget:
This!!
Although I accept no responsibility for what you might see.

And finally, if you're missing comics, here:
Bifsniff (for some reason)

Laterz

Gifts

2005-08-18T10:13:00.000+02:00

Never on a Sunday

2005-08-17T11:40:00.000+02:00

Burden of Years

2005-08-16T19:05:00.000+02:00

Natural Naturism

2005-08-15T13:23:00.000+02:00

Violence. You got a problem with that?

2005-08-12T17:29:00.000+02:00

Love is...

2005-08-11T17:05:00.000+02:00

Self Acceptance

2005-08-10T14:49:00.000+02:00

Shopping Centered

2005-08-09T13:59:00.000+02:00

The Circle of Life

2005-08-08T19:13:00.000+02:00

Game, Set and Match

2005-08-05T20:56:00.000+02:00

On the Seat of Learning

2005-08-03T14:37:00.000+02:00

Behind Closed Doors

2005-08-03T11:48:00.000+02:00

The Connoisseur

2005-08-02T15:21:00.000+02:00

Semi Skimmed

2005-08-01T16:28:00.000+02:00

Musk, Musk, Glorious Musk

2005-07-24T16:32:00.000+02:00

The Eternal Question

2005-07-16T20:26:00.000+02:00

Oprah as Deity

2005-07-15T18:50:00.000+02:00

Oprah's Fans II: The Revenge.

2005-06-30T10:50:00.000+02:00

"At one point they were the most feared women in society. They would indiscriminately fall upon villages, devouring the inhabitants and ripping the infants limb from limb. It was a ghastly spectacle, and in 234AD it was the subject of an imperial decree. The madness had to stop"
"Wait," I interrupted. He had accelerated from introduction to screed with worrying swiftness, and there was something I wanted to know: "How did you get my name?" I asked, slightly timidly; this was getting a little weird.
"Well, only one man has ever e-mailed Oprah, only 3 have phoned her hotline, and two of them wanted pizza. We kind of put two and two together."
"OK, thanks" I said, not entirely convinced. The man had power, even if he momentarily seemed interested only in using his gateway into my life to bore me to death.
"In 236AD," He continued, "The work was completed, and the cults would never be heard from again. But that wasn't the end."
"Let me guess," I had read the Da Vinci Code; I could see where this was going. "The cults went underground, only to resurface in modern day America, with Oprah at the helm"
"That's a good guess" He said "In fact, the boys and I were considering making that the story, but the truth is different. When Oprah was only 14 years old she had, due to her excessive weight and lack of social skills, a lot of time for reading. It was in an illustrated volume of ancient Greek customs that she came upon the cults. She wanted that kind of power for herself. While munching on some hotwings, she came up with a plan. It was simple but brilliant; all she had to do was…"
His voice trailed off, and my mother's face filled my vision. Her hand was on the cradle of the phone. She'd cut me off. Later I would reflect on her status as a current member of the Oprah fan club. Was she carrying out orders? At the time though I apologised and sat down to a delicious meal of roast beef.

It was 3 weeks later. I had phoned the hotline many times, on each occasion mashing the buttons and screaming powerlessly at Oprah's disembodied voice. I had not reached the mysterious man again. I had found a number of books on the ancient mystery cults of ancient Greece, including one illustrated volume which I took to be the one Oprah had read on that fateful day. I stared at it for hours at a time, trying to put myself into Oprah's corpulent 14 year old head. It was horrible.
I had taken to watching Oprah every day. At first it was simply to find out more. Was Dr. Phil her lieutenant? Did the book club have some kind of sinister indoctrinating purpose? I then began to watch because I wanted to. New questions presented themselves. Could my flat use a makeover? I would scan the empty kitchen and overflowing ashtrays and conclude that, yes, it could use a little sprucing. Was I saying no to love? The almost palpable lack of female presence in my life said yes. Could Oprah help me? I hoped so, God knows I needed it. I'd wake up at awkward hours of the night, my well thumbed copy of "Chicken Soup for Your Inner Child" clutched in my sweaty hand, worrying vaguely about the menopause. Then the phone rang.
"Mr. James?"
"How did you find me?" I had recognised the voice immediately.
"The purchase of 'Chicken Soup for Your Inner Child' at the same time as 'Heiress: The Paris Hilton Story' is almost unheard-of. It was either you or a very unbutch lesbian. It was you."
I looked guiltily at my Paris biography. I had only wanted to find out her rags-to-riches story. I had been sorely disappointed.
"You have to stop watching Oprah."
"But I don't want to. Tomorrow she meets Robin Williams; the comedy is bound to come thick and fast."
"Listen to yourself, man!"
I did, and I realised I was wrong. So very wrong. Robin Williams wasn't funny. He was hairy, but that hardly equated to the same thing.
"Oh God, you're right. How has she done this to me? Many have tried: Ricki, Jerry, even Phil himself. What makes Oprah so powerful?"
He took a deep breath. "At first, like her 2000 year old predecessors Oprah used drugs. But there was only so far she could go. She wanted to spread the righteous sisterhood worldwide. Even with Dr. Phil's help she could only drug the Southern states. Desperate, she and Phil set up a research lab deep in the substrata below Harpo productions. They developed subliminal messages so powerful they can affect the body's oestrogen levels.
I saw it all now. The cleaning, the cooking, the vestigial breasts and terror of the menopause had all been side-effects of an excess of the female hormone in my bloodstream. Oprah had got to me, but no longer. I thanked him and hung up. He had explained everything. I had discovered Oprah's filthy little secret, and exposed the truth behind her frenzied fans. I would never watch Oprah again.
I have been clean for two months, but even now I find myself cleaning sometimes, or even eyeing the Mind Body and Spirit section at my local Waterstone's. At these times I smile a little. Oprah had got me, but I'd exposed her in the end. During the course of my research I had discovered that if Oprah had retained the cumulative weight she's lost through decades of yo-yo dieting, she would be the size of an angry bull elephant. This fact made my victory seem sweeter still.

Oprah's Fans, part 1: And Here it Begins.

2005-06-07T21:12:00.000+02:00

What is it with the audience on Oprah? In every episode I've ever seen they've been whipped into a kind of religious fervour. Normal housewives displayed the kind of inability to rein themselves in which once characterised the more orgiastic of the cults of the classical world. Who does this to them? Are drugs involved? Sensory deprivation? Flickering images accompanied by the Oprah theme music? I had a pet theory that it was Oprah herself who did the whipping, clad in black, carrying the badges of her office, inciting the crowd. The answer, I was to discover was both tamer and more wild than anything I could have conceived.
When you're unemployed, Oprah takes on a kind of mystical significance. For some she becomes a household god, her prescriptions for living followed dutifully, even slavishly, worshipped at the same appointed hour each day. For others she becomes a demon, briefly glimpsed between channels, cutting into valuable real estate which should be the domain of Quincy and Dr Mark Sloane, brave doctors both, men who let nothing stand in the way of their relentless pursuit of the truth. Oprah was wrong, but on closer inspection, how can something so wrong command such devotion? Further information was needed.
I thought about it for a while and since, 4 days later, I had an appointment to leave the house, I decided to do some research. I worked out a two-pronged approach:
1) I would ask the guys in the pub.
2) I would send an e-mail to Oprah herself.
The e-mail sent, I went to the pub and asked some hard questions of the regulars. They either didn't know, or they weren't talking. I thought I saw some shifted glances among the grazers at the bar, indicating they knew more than they were letting on. I was getting nowhere, and, additionally, I was being derided for my interest. Cursing the narrow breadth of knowledge of your average pub-dweller, I retreated and slept.
If the 1pm sun was anything to judge by, the next day dawned bright and clear, full of the promise of answers to be revealed. Revitalised, I decided on a dangerously short TV break of two hours before heading out. I even, in the interest of fairness, managed to force my way through 10 minutes of Oprah, despite the fact that the menopause is of extremely limited interest to me.
I hit the library and while waiting for an internet terminal to free up I browsed through references to ancient fertility cults. These were exclusively female, and composed entirely of desperate women. The parallels to Oprah's audience were clear. Excited, sensing a breakthrough, I continued on. Their Bacchanalian frenzy was aided by the ingestion of certain poisonous plants, cut at awn on days where the magic of the moon was strongest. An image flashed into my mind: Oprah, silhouetted against a full moon the colour of drying blood, holding her silver sickle aloft, striking down at a branch of poison oak, ripping it and secreting it in her already full basket. I was close; I could feel it.
At that moment, as if preordained, a computer became free and I fell on it with a silent cry of triumph. I hurriedly entered my details and discovered that Oprah thanked me for my interest. I was gutted, and for a second the fight went out of me. I took a deep breath and read on discovering, at the bottom of the page, a phone-number for further information. This was better, I wrote it down and left as silently and mysteriously as I'd arrived, like the wind through the dread hunting grounds of Thessaly and Lesbos all those years ago.
A problem remained. How was I going to pay for a call to America? The question drifted in and out of my consciousness over the next few calorie starved days. Then it hit me: I didn't need to. I could go home to my parents' and use the phone there, maybe even get a good meal. With meat. Oh truth! What sacrifices I make for thee.
'Hello parents' I said, as they opened the door, the smell of clean living wafting temptingly out.
'Hello son' they replied, with slightly less enthusiasm than I might have wished for.
I sat by the fire, waiting for my chance. Finally, in order to work up an appetite, they went for a pre-dinner walk. I snatched up the phone, dialing the number with a feverishness born of desperation.
'This is Oprah,' a voice said.
'Excellent, I've got...' I was cut off by the continuation of the message. The devious cretins had employed electronic devices to conceal their secrets.
'Your call is important to me,' her voice was soothing, like honey. 'If you wish to request a transcript, press 1 now. If you would like further information on the issues raised in today's show, press 2 now.' And so it went on, but there was nothing that I wanted to know. I mashed the buttons impotently and vented my rage at the telephone. I had been so close. Bitter tears welled in my eyes and I went to hang up. It was then that I heard the voice, masculine yet strangely subjugated.
'Mr. James,' he said, and I waited with bated breath. 'We've been expecting your call.'

I'm back

2005-06-06T01:19:00.000+02:00

I had hoped to delay this until I was sober, but I realised that this would mean an abnormally long wait, even by my lax standards. So, I have one question: What is Tia Maria supposed to taste like?

PS: A story about Oprah will appear soon, and shock everyone with it's brilliance.

Ladies and Gentlemen

2004-11-12T15:55:00.000+01:00

It's been a wild, if short, ride, but I have to give up writing these things for a while. The reason is this, my friends: I'm currently in Bangkok on the first week of a six month tour of this part of the world.
I am, however, toying with the idea of changing this to a travel diary. The sad thing is though, I'm sure it won't be as good as the comics. To anyone who has been kind enough to bookmark me, I won't take offense if you decide to reverse that decision.
So, keep safe, and if you ever want a place to go on holiday, Bangkok is very cheap.

The Thrill of the Chase

2004-10-28T22:53:00.000+02:00

I Just Don't Know

2004-10-27T15:21:00.000+02:00

Bicycle Blues

2004-10-26T22:27:00.000+02:00

Fresh Fish

2004-10-25T19:08:00.000+02:00

Metaphorical Breakups

2004-10-16T16:47:00.000+02:00

That's the last post for a week. I need a holiday, so I'm going on holiday.

Thanks, Dad

2004-10-14T14:39:00.000+02:00

Call Doctor Tomorrow

2004-10-10T15:51:00.000+02:00

Human Duality

2004-10-08T11:12:00.000+02:00

Love/Trash

2004-10-07T17:01:00.000+02:00

The Demon Drink

2004-10-06T15:06:00.000+02:00

One Appalling Pun

2004-10-04T11:01:00.000+02:00

"A Portrait of the Artist as a Sliced Hand"

To God, Joyce and my unfortunate readers: I am so very sorry

Bloody Apologies

2004-10-03T13:58:00.000+02:00

Today was going to be the day when I unveiled a very special, full colour, beautifully conceived strip. This would have been up to a stunning 2 times the size of the normal, weekday strip. Just imagine. However, my hand had a unfortunate encounter with a broken glass, suffering bleeding the like of which I have never seen. It took fully 6 pints of "recovery beer" until I felt even vaguely pain-free. But weep not for my hand, it will heal, as is the way of these things; rather, weep for the glass, which will never again contain liquid, its life destiny as shattered as its sorry form, now decorating the bottom of my local bottle bank.

Einstein's Party

2004-10-01T15:47:00.000+02:00

Physical Contraception

2004-09-30T13:33:00.000+02:00

Inevitably American

2004-09-29T13:58:00.000+02:00

Information Overload

2004-09-28T13:17:00.000+02:00

GUT Instincts

2004-09-28T12:49:00.000+02:00