So this year’s Malta Comic Con marked a pretty significant milestone for ‘School of Bitches’ members Alan Stealth and myself, as it signified the end to the first year since the story of Genesis went public in a limited edition ‘preview’ issue revealed at the Malta Comic Con 2012. This year the School of Bitches team had grown and we were accompanied by our self described ‘comic guru’, we refer to as simply ‘Judas’, as well as School of Bitches affiliate, Todd Collier of ‘Todd Collier Film’.
Thursday 28th November
I think we left Wales on the Thursday before the event itself, I may be wrong but I’m pretty sure that it was the Thursday . . . And as for the weather? I have no idea, probably cold and highly likely to have been miserable, but I can’t even remember what day it was to check so we’ll move on.
We landed in Malta a few hours after flying out of Bristol Airport with Ryanair. This, if you haven’t flown with Ryanair before, is much like getting on the Megabus that you discover can fly shortly into your trip. At which point you realise it is too late to exit and have to simply ride out the torment, whilst silently praying that this flying tube of cheap plastic and smiling depressants doesn’t decide to give up, and fall to the ground with your shallow hopes and dreams inside...luckily this didn’t happen in the real world. Upon making our way through the Maltese security checks, we were met by two of the Chris’ (@chms71) who gave us a ride across the island to our hotel in Bugibba.
Riding up front in a Land Rover that had the characteristics of a moving house, I felt as though I was a character in the TV series ‘24’. At any moment I was certain a terrorist group was going to jump out from behind one of these Mediterranean buildings and open fire, and I would once again have to save the day and get the vehicles passengers to safety. Whilst simultaneously rescuing a bus load of poor orphans from falling into the open ravine nearby. . .
We were dropped off outside our accommodations, The Santana Hotel, and were left to our own devices for the afternoon until we were meant to meet the other guests and travel to set up in Valletta. Todd, Judas and I entertained ourselves in the northern town of Bugibba’s main square, although quiet this time of year the town remained a hub of cafes and pubs that were still open despite the lack of custom. We sat on the beachside in one particular cafe that was open at the shore, all the time Alan Stealth slept undisturbed in his bed like the Brothers Grimm character he is. . .No, wait, I’m describing Friday already. This is Friday. . .
What happened to Thursday? Fuck it!
On Thursday we did nothing but arrive, get drunk, be victims of a lesbian attack in a bar called Incognito, and watch karaoke before succumbing to our vices and passing out in an undisclosed location, nothing interesting.
Back to Friday. . .
Friday 29th November
Alan Stealth hadn’t arisen and the day light was in its last hours, we decided we had better go and check that he hadn’t died at some point during the night or been kidnapped by the aforementioned lesbian. To our disappointment Stealth had just been sleeping and hadn’t ended up in some highly comical situation we could include in ours blogs to make them more interesting. We met up with the rest of this year’s guests and took a bus to St. James Cavalier in Valletta. This is the point where we first managed to catch up with old friends and people we had met at previous conventions.
After the initial welcoming from the event’s organisers, we all talked and the group began heading to ‘San Giovanni’. Stealth and I decided to remain and finish setting up our table. We had not done so during our allocated time due to being distracted by walking up and down the buildings long tunnel staircase, and pretending we were WWE wrestlers as the crowd went crazy in our heads. This staying behind somewhat backfired once we discovered we had been locked inside the now dark building. It wasn’t until a security guard found us amidst a bitter dispute about who was to be eaten first, did we manage to escape our inevitable fates and join the rest of the group after organiser Chris Le Galle had to come meet us. We had gotten lost following my false statement that I knew where I was going.
San Giovanni was set in a picturesque Mediterranean city square, and although the site must be idyllic in the summer, tonight it didn’t have much luck as the rain poured down relentlessly. Occasionally dictating the movement of tables and chairs as the umbrellas gave way randomly in certain points. It made for a very interesting and enjoyable first meal of the Malta Comic Con . . . . Just don’t feed me pizza again.
Following the meal I caught up with guest and friend from the previous Malta Comic Con, Sean Azzopardi, (@Seanazz) probably one of the funniest guys I have ever met. He can also draw really groovy trees. We got the bus back together and talked about the previous year as we nervously kept watch on the bus’ roof which was doing little to protect us from the rain falling outside. How rock and roll is that!
I love this convention, I was back at the hotel feeling as though I had already had a successful visit, and the convention itself hadn’t even begun yet. However, I slowly began to realise the longer I stood out in the rain outside the Santana hotel thinking about how kool this all was, the less attractive it all started to become. So I went to my room and watched as the news showed Riots in Kiev and Thailand, and a helicopter that had done exactly what I prayed my RyanAir flight would not do, and I fell asleep.
Saturday 30th November
Today was the first day of The Malta Comic Con, and was also the day School of Bitches was going to release issue two of Genesis to the public. We weren’t sure what to expect as it was the first convention we had attended twice, and we had received a much larger amount of publicity prior to the convention itself, thanks to the event’s organisers social networking work during the year and ‘The Malta Times’ editor Ramona Depares (@RamonaDepares) prominently displayed our work as part of her article.
We met up with friends Chris ‘SeaPuppy’ (@Seapuppy_art)and Nel ‘Widdershins’ (@Widd3rshins), probably the coolest pair of people I know. They are just so cool that it’s hard to explain, SeaPuppy has designed skateboards!! Enough said.
MariaIsabella Grech (@MariaIsabellaG) was someone i was also excited about meeting once again, as we are currently collaborating on a graphic novel ourselves which is titled 'Enigma'. Maria is a Maltese artist we met on our first trip to the Malta comic con.
Tim Perkins (@TimPWizardsKeep) is also an old friend of ours, who over the weekend became to be viewed as a guiding figure to our crew. We met up with Chris Thompson (@popculturehound) during the day also. We have begun to become rather accustomed to seeing Chris when we attend public conventions, it's even gotten to the point that you feel a little heartbroken when he's not there. He's helped us out during the year, possibly through pity? I'm not sure, but its appreciated.The convention was underway, and per usual I was sent to run some stupid errand as we had forgotten something once again. This time we had forgotten a table cover. I swear I have never attended the first hour or two of any convention we have attended throughout the year, because of stupid mistakes like this. Yet it will keep happening, I know it will.
I vacated the St. James Cavalier and found an old Maltese man who was hiding inside what appeared to be a shed. I asked him if he had something to cover the table with, and he quietly ushered me into the darker corners of the sheds tiny interior. I looked around bemused wondering what was happening as the old man talked at me in Maltese, not to me, but AT me.
He still knew what I was after and provided some black vinyl that we could use. During the transaction a number of pigeons began entering the shed and started climbing on my shoes, staring upwards into my eyes as they did so. As I pretended they weren’t there, the man stated that they were just hungry. laughing awkwardly I began thinking about how the police would tell my mother that I had been killed in a shed by pigeons, and an old man was in custody for covering me in plastic and attempting to drag my broken body into a nearby drain shaft. Luckily my daydreams didn’t progress much further as the man had finished, and told me to turn the vinyl around a giant cardboard tube. He become increasingly agitated as he discovered I was pathetic at this task, and needed to reposition. I wondered how I had ended up on my knees in an old man’s shed, when I was meant to be releasing my own graphic novel to an adoring populace. I didn’t want to think about it too much, what happens on tour stays on tour (and on all popular real time social networking sites).
The convention itself was well underway and upon returning I discovered the vinyl wasn’t needed, and Stealth had decided to use plain black wrapping paper instead. I didn’t tell him about my ordeal, it would only upset him. So I carried on silently hiding my demons. I was soon put under the greatest of tests as the prime Minister of Malta, Mr Joseph Muscat was visiting the Malta Comic Con and checked out the School of Bitches table for a couple of minutes, before leaving after saying he liked our work and that it reminded him of the old colonial images. Hear that, School of Bitches is Prime Minister approved.
I had been pretty busy early on, and after taking a minutes break, I discovered that we were doing well, really well. We had already pretty much sold more issues that any previous conventions complete sales. People were even returning from the previous year with the preview issue they had purchased, and kept to show us. This was awesome!!
We were situated in the final room in the same positions as last year, the 'School of Bitches corner'. To our right was Dave Lung, someone I had met in the middle of the night on Thursday. I had decided to walk the hotel hallways dressed in a sheet repeating ‘Red Rum’ to myself. Thankfully Dave did not repeat to anyone what he saw that night, and our dignity continues to remain haphazardly intact.
Elsewhere in the room was Sean Azzopardi, Paul Allor, A Space boy Dream, Ales Kot, Rebekah Isaacs, Sea Puppy, Widdershins, John-Paul Bove, Charlie Adlard, Sean Phillips, Michael Dialynas, Tasos Anastasiades, and Frederica Di Nardo.
Neil (@NeilJamesGibson) and Will (@arachnid_guy) from Twisted Dark (@Tpublications) also joined us this year. We had met them previously at the 2D Festival in Northern Ireland when they beat us in a pub quiz, they came first, we came third. Despite that defeat they're pretty kool guys, I recommend Tabatha for a good read!
'We are School of Bitches, We never forget, We never forgive. . .'
The convention already seemed much busier than the year previous, and we ourselves were much busier than expected, as Todd moved about the venue filming and taking pictures for his future film. Stealth and I were continuously talking to people at our table, as our postcard range and first two issues began to dwindle faster than expected. We ended up selling more than we had done at all previous conventions throughout 2013. Issue two had gotten off to a good start and was about to attract much attention throughout the night as we were soon to find out on the Sunday.
After the first day we headed back to our hotel and decided to take a break, before meeting with everyone once more in the evening. We soon decided to grab food by ourselves as we had once again managed to lose everyone, or they managed to lose us? hmm. . .
Either way we resurfaced and went to wake Stealth from his rest once again. He arose kicking and screaming as though we had disturbed the most important of slumbers, and shuffled down the street demanding we find the location of the sacred ‘Club Sandwich’, a holy relic of the Stealth clan in some parts of the world. We found just what we were looking for in an Irish bar named O’reillys.
Stealth managed to obtain his club sandwich before he exploded into a rage, and we had one of the best meals so far. A few cocktails were ordered and soon we had built up a commentators table and began to commentate on a football match on the screens, much to the amusement (or disgust, I can’t remember) of the locals who had come to watch the match with some seriousness. We decided to leave before the waitress’s boyfriend Hulk smashed the bar. Outside it continued to rain, a storm was coming.
We met the rest of the guests at a local karaoke bar, and the night became a mix of power ballads, 90’s pop, smooth reggae and anarchic punk. I became tired after a busy day and decided to walk down to the beach to watch a large lighting storm that was passing out at sea. That was awesome. The storms in Malta look nothing like the ones we get in Wales. They’re bright purple and seem bigger somehow, and watching them pass by was mesmerising. As I stood there holding a piece of iron sheeting above my head to cover from the rain, I thought ‘Aah this is pretty sweet’.
I returned to my room in the early hours of the morning after Stealth and the rest returned to the karaoke. On the news the protests continue and a crane falls on a stadium in Brazil. I fell asleep wondering why LED’s are necessary on TV sets.
Sunday 1st December
Sunday began a little later than planned, and for once it wasn’t our fault. It was charities! A president’s fun run was taking place amongst the streets of Valletta, and a number of roads around the city were closed. The driver dropped us about a 10 minute walk from the convention after arguing a number of times to local police officers who had been directing traffic. Shouting angrily and showing their disdain loudly is a favourite past time for many Maltese people.
We sat behind our table, and waited to see what the second day of the convention would bring. The first person was a grown man we had been talking to on the previous day, and to our surprise he had shown his purchased issues to his family and friends and they had given him an ‘order list’ of what items they wanted. This sort of response was unexpected, but we weren’t going to complain if people liked our work. He bought a couple of everything we had to sell. The attendees continued to fill up the convention and soon enough we were busy once more. We met a few friends we had made last year, and received reviews from people who had purchased the issues on the Saturday. It was crazy how many people returned to purchase issue two after reading the first, we quickly sold out of issue one and had to direct people to our website www.schoolofbitches.co.uk to read the digital version for free as they continued purchasing issue two. Malta Comic Con kicks ass!!
The day progressed and we met old friends Shin Obi and Jasper, people we had kept in contact with since the previous year’s event. It was interesting to witness the reaction of people during events we appear at repeatedly. To see firsthand how people had reacted to our preview issue, and also others who had seen the Times of Malta article the week prior, it was a nice feeling.
At some point around this time I discovered the art of Tasos Anastasiades. His drawings were awesome. I really liked the works he was displaying regarding his title ‘Fascista’, which deals with people's obligations to their society, especially in times of crisis, and how their choices affect the people around them. Look out for that one.
As some of you may know, we also released an original animation at this year’s event, which was a preview of the forthcoming chapter ‘Chapter XII – Tonight the city sleeps’. We had missed the showing the day before so made sure we caught it today...yeah that’s right, we missed our own animation premiere...We sat in the pitch black cinema room as a number of people patiently waited for the beginning of the next film. Then it began...
The angelic sounds of ‘Silent Night’ filled the room to the unsuspecting viewers. Images of Fairford, a quiet town in England, filled the screen as the room became illuminated by the drifting white mist. The sound was crisp, Todd Collier had done a good job with the editing, and Stealth had once more created something awesome. When the emergency broadcast announcement kicked in I felt like I had had an aneurysm. Despite knowing what was about to happen, I was still somehow unprepared for the screeching blare of the electronic interference. It got the desired reaction from the people in attendance. School of Bitches had branched to cinema, and I had lost certain notes in my hearing forever.
Someone else who was at the show I thought was kool was Maltese artist Joseph Bugeja. This guy was awesome and had a large variety of artistic skills that he was very good at. Looking through his portfolio and issue of Tsar, a comic he did the artwork on, I thought this guy is a similar thinker to us at School of Bitches.
We also met Nicholas Guirewitch for the first time properly, Nick we had first met earlier in the year at 2D Festival along with Guillermo Ortego, but in Derry we were highly intoxicated at that point and who knows what took place. They were the beard kings of the convention, men walked by scowling with jealousy, whilst their wives swooned beside them, and were reluctantly dragged past by their angered husbands wanting his copy of The Hulk signed by an un-associated artist.
As the convention began to slow to an end, I felt like something was missing. My experience hadn’t truly lived up to my expectations, and I couldn’t determine why. Then a friendly and familiar face came running into our room, bringing cheer to all those around him. Fat Spidey was here. Fat Spidey, the most handsome of super heroes, often overlooked due to his more narcissistic relative, Spider Man.
Just as I ran to embrace Fat Spidey, another familiar personality made an appearance...
... What do I call him?
... I’m going to call him ‘Sea Puppy’s homeless minion’. A homeless man that sits below Sea Puppy’s table and scowls at me from across the room. I remember angering him last year after I laughed at the fact Sea Puppy had used the homeless minion’s cardboard shelter to make his stupid business cards. Since then we never really connected.
So, as I began my walk to embrace Fat Spidey, the homeless minion made his return and dived from a nearby table to ‘spear’ me into the wall. Seeing the dangers I ducked to the ground and rolled under our convention table, avoiding the perils of being attacked by the homeless minion. Fat Spidey was saved from the trauma and seemed unaware of the catastrophe he had just averted. I didn’t tell him about the attempted attack, it would only upset him. So I carried on silently hiding my demons. I would embrace him later in my dreams...
‘I hate that homeless minion’
As I sat in the foetal position below our table, I was attracted to the display across the room from me. The table belonged to ‘A Space Boy Dream’. I stumbled across the floor to have a look at what A Space Boy Dream was about. The story follows the life of Vincent, and is the creation of Moira Zahra and Mark Scicluna, who have managed to create stories that blend between existing in reality and also within the story itself. It’s awesome work.
I began to circle the room and near the table of Sea puppy, his homeless minion began to growl, and I decided it was time to wander elsewhere. I found solace within the first room filled with smiling people. Tim Perkins, creator of worlds, was talking to his adoring fans that swarmed his table in droves, and I decided I would catch up with him later. Dave Windett, Jon Haward and Ian Churchill were all preoccupied too, so I decided to drift around the tables occasionally picking up a piece of paper and observing what it said, before ending up stood in the middle of the room pondering the question ‘If I was a minion, would I be a nice minion, or a nasty minion?’, but my answer to that obviously was just as stupid as the initial question itself.
Didn’t I say the conversation was about over like four paragraphs ago? Well I guess by now it was probably finished.
We met up with Dave Lung and Dave Windett at the bottom of the ‘WWE ramp’. The convention seemed to have been successful to those who exhibited, with many having sleepless nights ahead to complete commissions. We hopped upon the bus and left St. James Cavalier for the final time. Farewell Malta Comic Con! See you next year...
...Maybe we should have asked if they want us back before advertising the launch of Chapter XII – Tonight the city sleeps at next year’s event...
...Too late now...
We arrived back at the hotel once again...
... I imagine that’s what purgatory is like, you go to leave your ‘day job’ and as you open the doors to exit, you walk back into the doors at the beginning of your shift again! It’s like Purgatory, it just never fucking ends...I hate my day job.
I’ve gotten carried away again. We went and ate crepes and club sandwiches down the road in Bugibba. I broke my lip piercing about now, and went on a mental frenzy trying to find the closest shop that would sell the piercing loop at 10pm. I was quickly shot down by many friends, who informed me that because I’d had the piercing for 3 years or so, it will never heal, I’ll always be broken...Apparently if you stab yourself in the face, then you will never be the same person again...Words to live by there.
The utter lack of sleep that I had been having the past week or so finally hit me tonight. I decided to return to my room at a respectable hour of 1am. We had to be up and ready to meet the coach at 8am to start our guest tour. Was I fuck getting up any earlier just to have breakfast, see me crawling down into the foyer at 7.59am. Yes you will.
Well that plan didn’t work out so well, the cleaner had other ideas in mind.
Monday 2nd December
I got to get this off my chest. The cleaner of mine and Todd’s area of the hotel was a nutcase. She had an obsession with reminding us that we had to vacate the hotel at 11am, five hours in advance! We weren’t even checking out today...
I woke up to the sounds of an angry woman at my door (No matter where I go...) and decided to watch Sponge bob Square pants in German, because it made more sense to me than watching the news. It was useful for one thing, I now have a great way to break the ice at funerals and weddings.
‘Do you know what Sponge Bob Square Pants is in German?’ I ask.
‘No we do not, please tell us’ Replies the people in attendance.
‘Sponge Bob Schwammkopf’ I say in a funny, yet un-racist voice, whilst exaggerating the last inaudible word.
*Crowd erupts in applause*
It was time to go on the coach again.
I waited outside in the sunshine with the rest of the guests and introduced myself to Michael Dialynas and asked him how his weekend had gone. Usually if you haven’t met a guest by now there is no hope. If they haven’t seen you sing karaoke drunk, then just like normal people, they won’t trust you. Michael was a kool guy. The bearded Greek was soon to be flying away from Malta but joined us for the museum and dinner trips.
We visited the fine arts museum in Valletta and a number of incredible locations used in shitty zombie films like ‘World War Z’ before taking a ride to Dingli Cliffs on the ‘Awe inspiring’ (*1) Western coast of the island.
We arrived at a restaurant that looked out over the cliffs and out to sea. It was a beautiful view and had an observatory nearby that looks like an end level boss from a Sonic game. I was starving and wanted to eat, but the host had other ideas. He began to give us a presentation on the local area and the ingredients which they use to cook their food...Their food...I just wanted the food.
Giant bowls of pasta were handed around the table, which had begun to resemble ‘The last supper’ in its Mediterranean setting and layout. I was sat with Michael Dialynas, Tim Perkins and the rest of the School of Bitches crew as we ate pasta, drank wine and looked out over the cliffs towards the sea. Michael left us, like we all would also have to in the coming days. We said good bye and began walking towards the cliffs.
I joined Sean, Tim Perkins and Dave Windett to walk up the road as Todd went and took photos of the floor. When the restaurants host was doing that presentation earlier on, he mentioned that there was one goat farmer left in the area and if we saw him then that’s him...the last goat farmer in this little town. When we then went to walk, what appeared? The goats and...i don’t actually remember seeing the farmer, but goats appeared regardless. Now was that all just a ruse? A cunning attempt to trick us? Perhaps. I’m not sure, but because I don’t like it when things are happy, I’m going to say that the restaurant played a trick to make us smile! Assholes.
At the top of the hill the majority of the group were walking up, was a small church that we stood around, and watched below as a couple of men went on a shooting rampage, whilst a small dog ran around as though on crack. Fabio Agius told a number of us a story about how one of his friends was accidentally shot by a hunter whilst in a similar situation. We were shortly hoarded together in front of the small church, for a photo that was just waiting to be photo shopped by some idiots who should be working in a failing record store in Bromley.
Getting back on the coach we were on our way once more, but as we drove off, we discovered that we had left a number of guests back at the restaurant. The driver was a bore and didn’t pull any GTA moves to retrieve them, and before long we were once again being kicked out onto the streets outside the hotel, left to our own devices.
Still not having slept over the last few nights, I decided I was going to bail and return to my room for a bit before meeting everyone for the final meal. My room had its own balcony and a walk in shower I made full use of as I moved between the shower and my bedroom humming the famous words of Q Lazarus. ‘Good bye horses...’, as I danced between the many large mirrors decorating the abode.
I woke up a few hours later upon the double bed, a can of hair spray in one hand, my crotch in the other. It was time to clean myself up and rejoin the group for the evening’s meal. They were congregating within the hotels foyer as I arrived. Tonight’s meal would be eaten in ‘La Scala’ (I think?). It was the same restaurant we had gone to following the 2012 event.
The food was a win, but because I had been living off one meal a day for the previous month or so, to allow for the funding to publish issue two, the meal about killed me to eat it all. Lamb shanks and a prawn cocktail for starters! I swear I had spent more time eating food on this trip than time I had spent sleeping. Well, at least I’d be able to sleep once I left to stay with my family on the Tuesday...yeah, like fuck.
This year I was sat with MariaIsabella Grech, Luca Mule Stagno, Tim Perkins, Chris Le Galle, Fabio Agius and Alan Stealth. We dined and laughed and did all that merry stuff, before we were kicked out the building.
We managed to get a couple drinks each at the hotel bar before the barman declared that it was last orders. A very wise person in the group decided that a good idea would be to buy as many bottles of wine as we could, and take over the hotels main foyer. Much like squatters would congregate in an empty warehouse amongst an assortment of emptying cider bottles.
We drank more wine and I caught up with Chris Le Galle, Michael Quinton and Will Simpson. Chris Le Galle is the boy! I remember back in mid 2012 when I was living in Malta, and Alan Stealth was living in Cardiff. I decided I was going to take the work we had completed at that point to a meeting with Chris I had organised. It was intended to be a quick meeting, but some excessive drinking later, and with the last buses making their way out of Valletta, Chris left having been the first person to be introduced to the project, except Alan Stealth’s close friends throughout the years. We had kept in contact and School of Bitches launched at the Malta Comic Con that year.
Michael Quinton was also one of the event’s organisers we had met in 2012. It was kool catching up with organisers and guests making their second appearance. Samantha Abela was a great help to us this year as she translated our Malta landmarks back stories from English to Maltese. Chris Muscat pretty much sorted our appearance at this years event.
Fabio Agius and Anthony Pirotta. ‘Do you want to play a game...’
We knew Will Simpson from earlier in the year when we both attended the 2D Festival in Derry, Northern Ireland. The situations when I met Will and the the current Malta one were very similar, both consisting of drinking in a hotel foyer we had taken over in the early morning hours of the last day. Swap the country and hotel name and it was identical. I really like Wills art. My idea of story boarding prior to meeting him was a few scribbles on a receipt, but not anymore. Will's drawings on display at the convention were incredible.
The numbers began to dwindle down as the hours disappeared, and the sky began to turn from black to an increasingly lighter shade of blue. The final 6 remained with Sean Azzopardi, Tim Perkins, Sea Puppy, Widdershins, Alan Stealth and myself. It was time to retreat to my room once more, I only had a couple of hours until the psycho cleaner would be bashing down my door in anticipation of my departure.
Tuesday 3rd December
Yet again the cleaner woke me up and made me aware that I had to be out by 11am. Yet again I already knew that information. Yet again I was back in the hotel foyer, which now had been cleaned of the previous nights discarded bottles and glasses, and was filled with the elderly sitting in their chairs as they stared at the clock on the wall.
We spent some time besides the elderly with some of the guests leaving that day. Nicholas Gurewitch, Guillermo Ortego, Sean Azzopardi, Dave Windett, Tim Perkins and ourselves chatted until Nicholas, Guillermo and Sean left for their flight with Chris Thompson.
The School of Bitches crew of Alan Stealth, Todd Collier, Judas and myself joined Tim Perkins and Dave Windett to get lunch. Dave left us just before Chris Le Galle arrived with his girlfriend Joanna, and we ate food again. The food in Malta is so cheap. You can get a massive meal made from fresh ingredients for the same amount it costs you to buy some digestives and a Sainsbury’s sausage roll in Wales. So even though we ate loads more good food, it cost us the same as eating the filth back home.
We were all visibly tired and it was time to part ways. Tim Perkins, Alan Stealth, Todd Collier and Judas returned to the hotel. Chris and Joanna gave me a ride to Valletta, where I would catch the bus to Marsaskala, a small fishing town in the south of the island where my family currently live.
The Malta Comic Con was over for me and it was now time to enjoy seeing my family before all the work started again when I returned to Wales.
A big thanks to everyone involved from the organisers, to the guests and attendees we met along the way. Until next time, stay safe.