Loony Tunes

A sensitive colleague on the Guardian emailed last night to say, very touchingly, that she checked out this journal last night for a nice moth viewing, to sustain her in London's dreadful Tube, and was mortified to discover a dead bird. Oh dear, sorry. So here, as a cheerful recompense, is this journal's first-ever cartoon, prompted by doing a story about Wilmslow in Cheshire, the town socially divided into A-streets and B-streets (think Wisteria Lane, American friends). The Golden Y moths strike me as very much like the women of affuent Cheshire ('Orange ladies' as my boys used to call their Yorkshire equivalents, who do terrible things to their skin in tanning furnaces). All Prada stuff and Moschino, or is it Mosquito?, handbags. I'm sorry the bubbles are so amateur. Penny specially dislikes the red writing but I don't know how to change it. Today is P's birthday btw, so please fill the Comment box to overflowing with tributes...