Thursday, 12 August 2010

MORE Kredit Krunch for the world!

you know you want it! :)
we have also introduced Preppy man and stepford drunk on this month Who's Jack!
check it check it check yo!

read the whole thing here
page 79

Wednesday, 2 June 2010

WHOS JACK another column

here we go
we keep going!
this time is a story about a madam with a gaga dog!
the lady dog is a princess!!!
love her or hate her is up to you!
but we love her!

Wednesday, 5 May 2010

Kredit Krunch Katwalk Krew 4th Magazine Column

hey there everyone!
so i know you can wait to see more from us!
and here we go!

this time we have the Burberry Ghosts!
they are here to give you a good chill on the hot summer nights!!!!!

Thursday, 1 April 2010

Foxy Fry

Character Drawing by "GEORGIEandJAMES"

FOXYFRY wears bodysuit by Louise Goldin, bolero jacket by SteveJ & YoniP,

nude belt and heels by Vivienne Westwood, scarf by Alexander McQueen,

Frisbee hat villains own

Once upon a time there was a young girl
who was rather good at HulaHoop.
She loved Hula so much she practiced every day without fail.
She got so good kids from all over the neighbourhood
would ask her for lessons,
to which she would always decline,
as she wanted to be the best in the country, no, the world!

Time passed, and as normal girls would have grown out of their childhood obsession,
this little girl did not.
By the time she was in her early twenties she was a pro.
She could hula on every inch of her body and held the world record.

She was a proud young woman who had achieved her dreams,
and so she put her hoops aside, confident that she was indeed, unbeatable.

One day a telegram arrived... she had been beaten.
Now in her late twenties,
she no longer had the athletic wiggle required,
but her confidence made her determined
to beat the girl from Brazil, who had bested her.
The day of the challenge approached and she was nervous,
but the nervousness soon gave way to arrogance and she failed to practice,
thinking her engrained skills with the hoops would allow her to win.

Her confidence was short sighted, as she was severely beaten in the challenge.....
Depressed upon her return,
she found she was unable to get any other job
as she had spent all her time developing hula hoop skills,
rather than qualifications.
Within a couple of years she had sadly become a 'table dancer'
at a private "Gentlemen's Club"
earning a pittance but being able to wow the men with her hula / gyrating skills,
which gave her temporary gratification.

One day,
A table of large tycoons with even larger cigars
requested her presence at their plush table...
One of the tycoons, whom she understood as the host of the men
(or at least the most powerful)
was particularly misogynistic towards the other girls, slapping their asses
and throwing money at them, rather than sticking it in their thongs,
shouting "i'll give you money, man"

With some degree of nervousness, she stepped up to the game,
and began her hula routine.

The men cheered and whooped,
as she tottered around the tabletop in precariously high heels,
the multi-coloured hoops whizzing around her in a blaze of colour.

One of the men, (which one she wasn't sure due to the dizziness)
threw his drink at the table in his excitement,
causing the surface to become sticky and slippy.

The next thing she knew was waking up backstage in her manager's office.
With the muffled screams of a red faced man pounding in her head
as one of the other girls was mopping the cut on her head,
she learned that not only had the "big" clients left in disgust
and taken their money with them, but she was also facing the sack.

Another loss in her life sent her over the edge.
Whilst in a taxi home on the way back to her flat,
she pondered why fate was punishing her so much.

The female taxi driver asked her what was wrong
as the tears rolled down her face,
and all over the coloured plastic of her hula hoops.

After she had explained the story, the taxi driver stopped the cab
and said she would like to see this sad girl do her dance one last time,
and that if she did, she wouldn't have to pay the fare.

Realising that in her concussion she had been robbed
by one of the other girls in the club, she had no option,
although she thought perhaps this strange cab driver
was being a 'little bit lesbian' in her request.

The cab stopped on a deserted street
and she began the routine as the driver watched,
clapping and applauding louder and louder
as the hulas whirled around her.
Faster and faster she spun,
the colours becoming all but a blur....

In the motion induced dizziness
she thought she saw jolts of electricity crackling
from a strange black hat the cab driver was now wearing,
which she was sure she didn't have on before.

Then everything went dark...
....and all she could see in the dark was a pink circular object.

Kredit Krunch Katwalk Krew meets.....

Georgie + James were paid a visit by the wonderful MATandME recently

read all about it here

Kredit Krunch Katwalk Krew 3rd Magazine Column

Here we go again!
Our 3rd column
Check it out here

The Stepford Drunk

The Stepford Drunk wears lace and ostrich fur cardigan from Portobello Market,
dress from vintage store in NYC, purple slip made by the Drunk,
heels by Paul Smith, tights(worn as scarf) and hat by topshop

It had been a few weeks since the disappearance of the object of her affection

She'd listened in awe at his end of the world theory
during her short breaks from the library
where unruly children would tease her for her lack of social skills
as well as her 'irregular' dress sense, which told the story of her frailty.

She had begun working in the school library a while back
as an English Lit grad, she was overjoyed to be working
surrounded by the things she adored the most - books.

Not long ago she had become fearful
as computer units were installed in the area,
and she was told to begin cataloguing the archive,
as 'everything was going online'.

Not only did her heart weep when she would find torn out pages of the classics,
but now she heard that soon books would become obselete & unnecessary!

She began to become desperate at the finality of her situation.
Firstly, her love had disappeared.....without warning, without trace....
She had suspected the mean maths teacher,
she always had felt he had an uneasy rivalry with her unrequieted love,
and had even told this to the principal, must to his disbelief
but now even the "Math-meany" had disappeared.....

Now she faced a future without not only her human love,
but also without her paperbased friends.

Closing the library during lunchtime,
she wept away the tears as she went deeper into the stacks
towards the books she had grown up with, adored for ages

She pulled out a silver hipflask from her Monsoon purse
as she swigged down the liquor, thumbing through her companions,
through the cheeky passages of Chaucer to the passionate embrace of Heathcliff....
she continued to neck down the liquid as her tears waterlogged the tiny print.

Her head began to swim with thoughts of Heathcliff the science professor
grabbing her tightly on the the library floors..... they would run away together......onto the moors..
....and do sudoku on all fours......

She realised that she was too intoxicated to reopen the library....
she would lose her job and the children would laugh at her....
she had to get away!
Panicking, she needed something to calm herself down,
as the clock was ticking and soon those little bastards would file in,
to rip out pictures, from her friends the books,
and begin facebooking and looking at happy slapping virals on youtube.

Rifling through Mrs Elderberry's desk,
she found some Marlboro Reds - just the ticket!
She'd never smoked before in her life,
but in her intoxicated stupour it was just what she needed.

Upon inhaling her first drag she coughed and wheezed so much
she became completely lightheaded,
the first rush of a cigarette combined with the power of booze
sent her crashing into the periodicals stacked up nicely.
Within minutes of dropping the fag into the now spilt alcohol,
the room was beginning to become ablaze......

She had never considered dramatic action,
she was a delicate soul who loved the dashing Mr Darcy, not Mr Arson.

As the smoke filled the room, she began to panick
- she was not level headed enough to escape this dramatic action -
the most drama she'd even seen was in her head
when she'd nervously read a Mills & Boon,
and soon she was passing out
on the only well worn patch of unscorched carpet left....

Thoughts swirled in her head -
booze.....fags.....MeanyMaths.....Mr Darcy.....The Science teacher.....
the object of her love.....and how she would never see him again....
.as her vision grew darker and darker.....

The school firebell woke her with a start..... with a newfound vigour

Dusting off her delicate fibres she grabbed the hipflask
and triumphantly in one swoop inhaled all the smoke and flames,
passing them into the now-magical flask like a blowback.
Opening the rear window to the library
she hoisted herself out carefully,
so as not to catch her delicate silk lace and ostrich feather outfit on the windowframe.

She felt normal.
And in need of a drink.
The schoolbell clanging away behind her she knew what she had to do.
Running from her past, she ran towards the future.
A future with her scientific action man, whom she now knew,
for some strange reason, was alive........

look at the delicacy of her fabrics - they do not match her drunken determination!
Cheers Sweetie!

Do not let her near your carpets!
If you see her tottering around in these heels clutching a hip flask
Run! Run towards a fire hydrant!