Nincompoop #58: A Giant, Yes, But with a Relatively Small Penis

You never know what (or who) you might find, as you wander the British Isles. WRITTEN & ILLUSTRATED by PETER MOORE

When the mood strikes, I run excerpts from A PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST AS A YOUNG NINCOMPOOP, my coming-of-age-travel-memoir-with-funny-drawings. (The first entry is here. Most recent one is here. If you become a paid subscriber, you can access the complete archive here!)

My memoir details the story of my road through Paris, London, and god help me, Zagreb, in search of the ultimate destination: a life worth living. The story so far: Young Peter arrived in Paris, occupied a dorm room at the Alliance Française language school, tiptoed out onto the the Paris Metro, and roared off on the road to elsewhere. I was lost, but that’s the only way to get found, right? After Paris, I moved on to Olde England, to check out where that Shakespeare guy lived. In this excerpt, I’m tramping around in the south of England, consorting with giants.