Shove over Iskanders, with your surly, disagreeable staff and your “if you’re not so pissed you haven’t already shat yourself, you can’t come in” door policy.  Last time I was in there it was about half past two in the morning and there was an English guy with his forehead split open, blood pissing down all over his face, who was insisting on having a kebab before his equally inebriated “mates” brought him to wherever it was they were going to bring him to.  Not the hospital, obviously. Probably to Tripod or some other equally disheartening back-alley whore house.  He got served, not an eyelid was batted.

I admit that I was drunk too, but in a reserved and charming kind of way.

Mezza on Parliament Street (right opposite The Turk’s Head) now officially have the best kebabs in Dublin.  Official because I say they’re the best kebabs I’ve ever had, and I’m a man who likes his kebabs.

Look at the size of this Lamb Shawarma.

The picture doesn’t do it justice.  That pile of exquisitely seasoned lamb is almost two and a half inches tall.  That works out at easily over half a pound of slaughtered and slowly-cooked infant sheep.

I had to abandon the salad a third of the way through and just concentrate on the lamb.  I still wasn’t able to finish it.  Then I got the meat sweats.

A friend of mine posits that the reason Iskanders is always crammed with belligerent drunks is due to simple muscle memory.  They’ve been there before and so they go there again.  On auto-pilot.  A bit like the zombies in Dawn Of The Dead, only not as fresh or bright-eyed or intelligent.  Or as well-dressed.  Also, zombies, as a rule, don’t tend to accuse you of skipping the queue before you’ve even had a chance to join it.

So, take my advice.  Try Mezza.  That’s Mezza, for kebabs.

Jim Boswell has started work on Project Luna: 1947.

Here’s a tiny peek at what he’s been up to . . .

I especially like the fact that the fellow on the right somehow ended up looking like HP Lovecraft.  This makes me strangely happy.

More images over on Jim’s blog.

Here’s John Cahill’s spiffing inked version of the panel I posted a couple of days ago - top cropped off so as not to give the game away with word balloons and what not.

I’ve been reading about WWII while I’m writing Project Luna: 1947, which is how I found this (yes, I am using the Pete Townsend “research” defence).

The Swastika Laundry, Dublin. Didn’t shut down until the late sixties.

Picture from carlbphotos.

Wikipedia.

“In Dublin, Ireland, a laundry company known as the Swastika Laundry existed for many years in Dartry and Ballsbridge (both on the river Dodder) on the south side of the city. It was founded in 1888 as the Dublin Laundry Company. Upon the outbreak of the Second World War in 1939, the company’s customers were concerned about the company’s name. Accordingly, it was changed to “Swastika Laundry (1912) Ltd”.

The Laundry’s tall chimneystack was emblazoned with a large white Swastika, which was clearly visible from the surrounding streets. The name and logo eventually disappeared when the laundry was absorbed into the Spring Grove company.”

Just noticed that scfi.com have the full text of Thomas M. Disch’s classic short story, Descending, in their archive.

It is magnificent; a story which starts off as innocent and playful as a kitten with a ball of yarn but soon turns into a syphilitic eight-cocked demon with an utter absence of empathy in its eyes that wants nothing more than to make you pay for all the awful things that you’ve done.  At least, that’s the mood I took away from it.  Your experiences may be entirely different.

You can read it here.

Disch shot himself in his New York appartment on July 4th, 2008.

Sneak-peek of John Cahill’s pencils for Bad Static, our five page strip that’ll be appearing in Something Wicked.

Out in November, I think.

Impossible as it may be to beleive after seeing John’s brilliant rendering of a loveable old geezer, the story doesn’t contain even a single mention of Werther’s Originals.