I did this rather exciting poster for the Spring Clothes Swap at the Orange Street Music Club in Canterbury on March 31st. I will be swapping my floral shirts for dog suits, please.

I used to love Optimus Prime when I was about the size of Gary Coleman. Not only was he a massive transforming truck in lovely primary colours with a big gun but he espoused a kind of simple black-and-white moral code that was massively appealing to my developing boy-brain. Obviously things are a little more complicated than smacking up Megatron and finding Energon but at least his heart was in the right place (even if it was actually the Matrix, a strange glowing orb of matter that eventually gave us Rodimus Prime, the most ridiculously named successor in the history of everything.)

So I drew a picture for kicks. I think he looks quite kingly.

Look at the leg! In the corner! Just one leg! Where’s the other one?

I’m not bloody telling you.

He may be on his own but you can tell that this particular Putti absolutely, undeniably owns the entire club, dancefloor and surrounding locations. In fact, he owns it so hard people are scared to go near the place for a few days after for a simple fear of being horribly burned by the residual radiation.

It’s like Studio 54 for the Chiaroscuro Ravers.

Can you tell what it is yet? Answers on a postcard please, or at least a lovingly bodged .jpeg.