My pages have entered a period of less and detail, and sometimes I mourn this. I don't really have the time to slave over pages like I did when I was a Student, which is equally sad of an explanation.
I will start picking up on detail again, call it a new-years resolution.
Walking through the North East of Britain, sometimes the place feels very much on its knees, not sundered, but certainly not flourishing.
Lots of lines help capture this feeling, giving a mucky detail to stuff, a characteristic that to me personally, feels of my area, even if I'm only drawing a loose imitation of that in another world, populated by confused, concerned and potentially one day consanguineous canines.

I spend my time on these pages, mostly thinking, about what the identity of this comic is. It is entrenched in a lot of British things, but I wouldn't say it is uniquely British, even with the slang and such,
it's more like a British swing on an American thing, given the cross-pollination of comics and furries and all-sorts of stuff that has sort of congealed together across the trans-Atlantic.
It's kind of difficult in this globalised, Internet saturated era to properly delineate what our cultural outputs are, beyond what makes money for who. What we actually produce, instead of what we simply steer in an interesting direction as it passes through.
After some thought, it's probably just 2000AD and Wallace and Gromit.

Part of that lost feeling is encapsulated in this comic in a joking way, as we see what Ireland has become, hints of which are seen behind the car in the second to last panel, if I can get it right that is.