Paul Brown 1960 – 2017


I somehow missed the sad news that my fellow student in Group XVIII at Motley Theatre Design Course and sharer of my birthday – Paul Brown, passed away in November 2017. I think all the students in Group XVIII were aware of his other worldly talents as he worked away diligently in the corner of our studio at the Riverside Studios in Hammersmith. My thoughts are with his family and friends.

R.I.P. Paul Brown – Designer

Resurrection storyboard
Resurrection storyboard v

10% to Shelter

Work. December 2017

I am selling some limited run signed prints & postcard sets of various designs and drawings from film and theatre projects. 10% from every sale goes to the UK charity Shelter for the homeless. 

Set of 6 Assorted Costume Postcards – £3.00

These costume design postcards are taken from original drawings for various theatre and film projects. They would make an ideal gift for anyone interested in design, costume, fashion or theatre. Each set of 147mm x 104mm postcards comes in a clear, sealed polypropylene pack (164mm x 118mm). Postcards are printed on matt recycled card. This assorted pack includes the following costume designs:

  • Queen Victoria. Early Morning by Edward Bond.
  • Lucette Gautier. Cat among the Pigeons by George Feydeau.
  • Baz. Hard Feelings by Doug Lucie.
  • Lodovico. The White Devil by John Webster.
  • Baroness Duverger. Cat among the Pigeons by George Feydeau.
  • Comic character design.

Set of 4 Queen Victoria Costume Postcards – £2.50

This set of 4 matching postcards shows a costume design for Queen Victoria from Early Morning by Edward Bond. The cards are are printed on matt recycled card and come in a sealed, clear polypropylene pack measuring 164mm x 118mm with the cards measuring 138mm x 107mm and would make a unique gift for lovers of old school correspondence.


Reproductions – £10.00

Also for sale are a limited range of signed reproduction costume drawings measuring 297mm x 210mm which are suitable for mounting and framing. If you would like to order reproductions of any design drawings featured on this website, please use the contact form to discuss your requirements.

Thanks for visiting. January 2018.


Personal. December 2017

Much of my life has been spent saying the same things over and over to no effect. This is a kind of cut up poem (after William Burroughs) which shows the evolution of some of those things, in an attempt to explain, and to make those futile years into something creative, which I have really struggled to do. I am writing them down in the hope that I never have to say or do any of them again.


Stop it

I have been assaulted by my dad
Nobody is listening
I am not working with that police force
Could I speak to my brother?
This is a dictatorship
I am worried about my finances

I have been raped
I am concerned about my personal safety
Could I speak to my brother?
I am unable to get a job
I am feeling physically unwell
The local authorities are corrupt

I’m not getting through to the people I have dialled
Could you stop stalking me?
I’d like to complain about aircraft noise?
My laptop has been hacked
I am scared
Could I speak to my brother?

I would like an advocate or go between
I don’t speak in numbers
I have withdrawn the rape allegation
I was preparing to move abroad but it fell through
Could I speak to my brother?
Could you use my personal accounts instead of my blog?


My laptop / phone / bank account / websites / social media are being / have been hacked
I am being framed
Could I speak to my brother?
I have malware on my laptop
Could you stop telling me that your products / services don’t get hacked?
Could you stop flying over the house?

I have lost thousands of pounds
My flat is bugged
I am a doxing victim
I have lost all my family
Could you stop the noise?
Could I speak to my brother?

Exhaustion | Breakdown | Silence


In memory of my mum – the tragic casualty of hacking in 2009



Personal News. October 2017

When I was 12 years old I eventually called 999 from a nearby phone box regarding aggressive behaviour by my dad which began when I was about 3 years old, only to be told off, returned home, and medicated for the whole of my teens. I was never questioned, no statement or discernible action was ever taken by the police, apart from to involve the NHS.

However, in my darkest moments since I was twelve, I have consoled myself with the thought that somebody, somewhere out there would now know what was happening, that they would be doing whatever it is that these people are supposed to do, and that in some dusty file, there would be a record which would eventually vindicate my story.

Well, here we are over 40 years later and it has taken until now, on receipt of a direct request by me, for the local authorities to actually admit what had become obvious to me, that they either never made, got rid of or ‘lost’ any record of my call. This is presumably why I continued to be assaulted and medicalised throughout my life and nothing was ever done.

Although I really have fought not to let the aggression or the subsequent medicalisation of me as a child determine the rest of my life, the truth is that it really has. Since returning back up north, those old fears and archaic medical attitudes began to encroach on many aspects of my life again.

One of the more enlightened personal decisions made during my twenties in London was to refer me to a cognitive therapist. I successfully used cognitive therapy techniques to help me to overcome my fears, restore my self confidence and remain positive whilst I lived down south, all the while imagining that piece of paper in that dusty file. Somewhere.

Since I moved back up here, I have been mining this technique for all it’s worth, but I don’t think it was ever meant for the enormous issues I have had to deal with, and I often wonder what my cognitive therapist would advise.

Sanctuary Knocker, Durham Cathedral

I saw the Sanctuary knocker (above) on a school trip to Durham Cathedral when I was about 14 years old, trapped at home, on medication, understanding nothing. Although the knocker at Durham was apparently intended to offer sanctuary to criminals, I remember wishing that I could knock on something like it and find some kind of sanctuary from things at home. This idea imprinted itself on my consciousness and I still find it a powerful symbol.

As my father is in his late 80s now, I think it is a bit late for recriminations against him at this stage, unless there are any further occurrences. My brother has never made himself available to discuss this issue.

I hope this post may be helpful to other people who have had similar experiences.