WHAT...AGAIN? PLAY A NEW TUNE FOR FECK'S SAKE...

When I received an anonymous comment submission
saying that an obsessed blogger appeared to be up to his old
tricks again, I was faced with a dilemma.  Should I, or should
I not, respond to his apparent 'insinuations' on one of his blogs
about an unnamed 'someone' allegedly 'trolling' him, or just ig-
nore it.  I know from past experience who his usual nominee
is, and I'll likely be damned either way whether I address
the matter or not, so I decided to meet it head on.

However, I find it hard to garner the necessary energy
or enthusiasm, so I'll content myself with a few brief obser-
vations.  Portraying himself as some kind of persecuted mar-
tyr in the 'cause of comics' is perhaps this individual's way of
feeling validated, but I wish he'd get some help with that as it's
now become really quite tiresome.  Maybe he thinks that if he
suggests it loud enough and long enough, eventually every-
one will believe it, and no doubt some will - and do.

I see on Twitter that he's already trying (clumsily) to
preempt any possible suggestion he might be manufactur-
ing this latest controversy himself, a notion which I suspect
is unlikely to have occurred to him unless it were true.  Or am
I being too harsh and perhaps it's someone else who's stirring
the pot?  Maybe he's only trying to increase blog visits or punt
something, but you'd think there's surely an easier way to do
it?  Now, if only I could rid myself of a nagging suspicion
as to who submitted that anonymous comment.

Anyway, I'm off to turn my attention to more worthy
 and rewarding matters.  If only he'd do the same. 

THE BOND THAT NEVER WAS...

Cover art by PAUL MANN

Two decades ago, the producers of the James Bond movies
hired legendary crime novelist Donald E. Westlake to come up
with a story for the next Bond film.  The plot Westlake dreamed up -
about a Western businessman seeking revenge after being kicked out
of Hong Kong when the island was returned to Chinese rule - had
all the elements of a classic Bond adventure, but political concerns
kept it from being made.  Never one to let a good story go to waste,
Westlake wrote an original novel based on the premise instead -
a novel he never published while he was alive.

Now, nearly a decade after Westlake's death, Hard Case
Crime is proud to give that novel its first publication ever, to-
gether with a brand new afterword by one of the movie produc-
ers describing the project's genesis, and to give fans their first
taste of the Westlake-scripted Bond that might have been.

(From the dustjacket.  Emphasis mine.)

Available now from FORBIDDEN PLANET
& all good bookstores.  This one you gotta read.

******

How's this for a spooky coincidence?  When I scanned
 the cover, it came up as img007.  Apropriate or what?

RECOMMENDED READING: THE WAY TO DUSTY DEATH...

Images copyright MARVEL COMICS

"The WONDROUS WORLD(S) Of DR. STRANGE!" first

appeared in The AMAZING SPIDER-MAN Annual #2 in

1964.  The villain, XANDU, showed up again in the '70s, '80s and

'90s, and was put out to pasture once his tale was finally told.  So

it took 28 years (from '64-'92) until the saga of Xandu reached

its end and was all nicely tied up in a bow (so to speak).

However, I didn't read that first tale until 1968, in the pages

of FANTASTIC Summer Special, and I didn't read the last

one until yesterday, so for me, it took around 49 years to discov-

er the final fate of Xandu.  True, I'd read one of the intermediate

stories in a U.K. reprint comic in the early or mid-'80s, but out

of context to the surrounding stories, it never made much of

an impression on me past the SANDY PLUNKETT art.

Now I feel I've completed a voyage, begun as a child and

finished as I totter on the threshold of old age, and there's a

certain satisfaction derived from finally reaching the last stop in

the journey.  You can all take that same trip (and in far less time

too) in the pages of this great new book - SPIDER-MAN and

DOCTOR STRANGE:  "The WAY To DUSTY DEATH".

Available from your local FORBIDDEN PLANET store

and other good comics shops.  Hitch that lift today!

RIP-OFF CITY STARTS HERE...

Images copyright MARVEL COMICS

Take a look at this copy of The TITANS #39, on sale via

eBay from DTA COLLECTIBLES (as the Americans spell

it).  Here's the description:  Titans #179.  Condition: VG.  Small

piece out of back cover.  Price:  $54 (£42.64).  Postage:  $67.50

(£53.30).  How can anyone justify putting such a high price on a

British b&w reprint comic, which often had dismal reproduction

and is not even that collectable in its country of publication?

(And in such a battered condition?)  They even got the

number wrong in the description.  Words fail me. 

THE LONE STAR SPUDMATIC...

Above is my unopened LONE STAR SPUDMATIC

from several years back.  I think I've also got a red one,

but, if so, I've forgotten where it is.  The blue one below is

the one that most people of my age will recall from the '60s

& '70s, and is (or was) on sale on eBay (not my own).  I

do have a blue one by another manufacturer though,

which I got in the late '90s or early '00s.

Did you have a Spudmatic, readers?  And if so, what

escapades did you get up to with yours?  Do tell!

BRIAN CANT PASSES AWAY...

BRIAN CANT, the voice of TRUMPTON,

CHIGLEY, and CAMBERWICK GREEN, plus

one of the hosts of PLAY SCHOOL and PLAY

AWAY has died, aged 83.  Another childhood

legend gone, alas.  We shall remember him.

RUMINATING REPOST: EVOLUTION IN ACTION...

The above pic is a B&W copy of a colour cartoon for a proposed

ad for a local restaurant, which I did some years ago.  (It's a shame I no

longer have a colour copy 'cos it was quite nice.)  However, rarely does

a cartoon (or any illustration for that matter) spring full-blown from the

hand of its creator;  it usually undergoes a process of development 'til

the finished result is reached.  Let me show you what I mean.

The following picture is the original 'rough' suggesting the idea.

This is to show the prospective client what one has in mind.  (I say

'prospective client', but in actual fact I was doing a 'favour' for the

owner.  You know the old saying "There's no such thing as a
free lunch" ?  Well, this is the proof of that saying.)

Below is another rough of the proposed final
drawing - this is essentially what I'm aiming for.

And now the finished line artwork.  I added the restaurant's logo to
the tablecloth and then coloured it with acrylic inks.  The finished pic
was very effective, but unfortunately I gave it to someone, so only the
B&W and grey copy at the top of the page remains in my possession.
You'll just have to imagine it in colour - the guy has a blue suit and
the girl has a red dress, if that's any help.  Trust me - it was nice.

And guess what?  After all that work, the idea for the ad was

abandoned.  Just another day in the life of a cartoonist, eh?

CRIVENS! GUEST POST: WINDOWS TO ANOTHER WORLD...

Okay, peeps, here's yet another guest post, this time from the

commenter formerly known as Dunsade Dave (now Dave S).

******

American comics meant a lot to me as a kid in the mid '80s.  Not
only because of the mind-boggling stories and dynamic art, but also

because they were a window into another world.  I read literally every

word of the US comics I fell in love with – and I mean every word;

adverts, letters pages, indicias, statements of ownership, the lot.

To me, they were like travel agents' brochures advertising a trip

to the limits of imagination and the outer edges of sanity – the heroes

swung, soared and scrapped their way through vast cities full of towering

skyscrapers and sinister alleys;  villains struck poses, grimaced and ranted

even when they were on their own in their secret labs and hideouts.  It was

a far cry from the British comics I'd previously experienced – as much as
I loved The Leopard from Lime Street or The Visible Man, the

stories always looked static to me - they never had the vibrancy and
energy of The Fantastic Four or The Mighty Thor.

But that was only one of the worlds that comics let me peek

into.  They showed me another, almost as intriguing world too.  One

that flaunted itself through attention-grabbing adverts for sweets called

Snickers and StarBurst, which sounded so much more alluring that dull

British confectionery like Marathon or Opal Fruits.  They showed me a

world where you could claim prizes for selling copies of a paper called Grit

– I would peer for ages at pages festooned with minute drawings of micro-

scopes, disguise kits, baseball hats and digital watches.  Single-page comic

strips promoting Twinkies & Hostess Fruit Pies puzzled and beguiled

me – foods so tasty that even the vilest baddie would change their ways

for a nibble.  (I can't tell you how disappointed I was when I finally

tasted a Twinkie a few years ago - it was nice, but not quite so

nice as to drive every evil impulse from my mind.)

Everything in those comics amazed me – adverts for comics

shops with lists of what surely must be every comic ever printed, cut-

out-and-mail forms where the reader could send for sea monkeys, false

beards and unnecessarily large numbers of plastic soldiers.  Even the let-

ters page was a source of fascination - addresses had house numbers in the

3000s.  My brain boggled at how long the streets must be;  I imagined long

rows of houses stretching toward a far-distant vanishing point that not even

The Flash could reach in a hurry.  Names were no less fascinating.  Grow-

ing up in Glasgow, the most exotic name I'd known was someone called

Lloyd;  now I was seeing names like Buscema, Giordano, Ditko,

Salicrup, and they seemed like some kind of poetic secret words

that opened the door to the magical realms they created.

The world seems a little smaller these days, and less able to

surprise and enchant me as often as it once did.  Although I can still

sometimes look back at those comic mags and feel exactly the way I did

back then – excited, intrigued, bewitched – it usually only lasts for a mere

second or two, before I'm flicked back into the present day.  In that brief

time though, I feel elated - as if I'm at the beginning of a whole new ex-

istence, with new possibilities and an infinity of days ahead, and it

always seems like I can hold on to that feeling forever.

Thanks DS.  Anyone else like to write a guest post?  Then

let me know in the communicative comments section.

MIGHTY MARVEL MASTERWORKS FOR SALE ON EBAY...

In case anyone's interested, I've got a few 'doublers'

of MARVEL MASTERWORKS that I've put up for sale

on eBay in order to clear space for new books as I get them.

I don't need the money, so they're priced at a very reasonable

sum, and just so long as they go to good and loving homes, I'll

be happy.  The first three valiant volumes are up now, so if

you're looking to plug any gaps in your Masterworks

hardcover collection, jump over to eBay now.

Further spare copies of books may pop up for sale as

I find them.  Meantime, here are pics of the current three.

They're all first printings and in excellent condition.

RECOMMENDED READING: THE DEFENDERS #1...

Image copyright MARVEL COMICS

The cover is misleading because none of these characters

actually appear inside (that I can see), but it's nice to see yet

another JACK KIRBY image on a contemporary comic.  I've

read it and enjoyed it, and I'm betting you'll enjoy it too.  So

get yourself around to your local FORBIDDEN PLANET

store and pick up a copy for yourself today.

CRIVENS! GUEST POST: CHILDHOOD CAPERS - DOWN IN THE PITTS! FATHER FACILITATES SKYLIGHT VANDALISM...

Regular reader, the bold JP, has decided to respond to my

invitation to write a post, so without further ado, here it is.

******

As a small boy, one day my Dad said to me "Son, I'm giving

you this - it's all that remains of my childhood catapult.  It was

a beltin' catapult, but it's all I've got left of me toys, an' I'm now

givin' it to you, so look after it!"  He handed me a bare, gnarled,

age-darkened Y-shaped piece of a tree branch, with a bit

of grubby string bound around the handle.

Now jump forward a few years and the latest craze in our

village was for metal (Milbro) catapults you could get from the
ironmonger's, and which could fire marbles for miles because of its
really strong rubber.  But they were just too pricey for me to buy, so
I thought "Ah, I know!  I'll mek one me sen out a that 'un me faether

gimme!"  (I don't know why I was talking like Kes, as I lived in the

Midlands!)  So I took some strong rubber off an aeroplane-launch-

ing toy, made a slingshot and threaded the rubber through it and

bound it tightly to the cut-out tips with strong thin string

and it was made.  But would it be any good?

There was only one way to find out, so, armed with a bag of

marbles, I climbed up on the bedroom windowsill, opened the

window wide and let one fly!  Wow!  It went for miles!   It was

just like a bullet!  But what should I aim at?  In the field behind

our garden was a telegraph pole, but in the next field to the

right, there was a pumping station with a glass skylight.

No contest.

And so I began showering the building with marbles!  As it was

so far away I couldn't actually see or hear if I was hitting it or not,

but it didn't matter, because in my head I was - The Smasher!

After a while, I was rudely interrupted by a very angry man in a

boilersuit, standing below me in the back garden.  He was shaking

both fists in the air and saying "Grrr!"  Red fumes were rising from

his even redder face and steam was billowing out of his ears!  He had

a huge lump on top of his head and his face was covered in scratches

and crossed plasters.  "What do you think you're doing?!" he

yelled up at me and began pounding on the back door.

"Get down here now!" he bellowed, so I went down to the back

kitchen to face the music.  "He's been smashing my windows with
his catapult!" Mr. Angry was yelling at my parents.  "What were
you doing that for?" he demanded of me, whilst little birds and
stars circled the purple lump on his head.

"I didn't know I was," I lied, "I was aiming at the telegraph pole."

"Well, you're not a very good shot then!" he retorted.  "You're

not even supposed to have a catapult, anyway!  Where did you

get it?" he interrogated, with a stern look in his eye.

"Me Dad gimme it." I answered.

Then silence.

My Dad had turned bright red and wore a sickly grin.  Sweat
was pouring down his forehead.  "Go and fetch it - I'm going to
confiscate it!" Mr. Angry ordered, so I did as I was told.  Then I
was sent to my room, so I climbed the stairs, saying "Bah!"

As I closed my bedroom window, I could see Mr. Angry down

below, surrounded by these strange symbols - @#*%∆$#@!!

I never knew exactly what went on downstairs after that, but
for the rest of that week my Dad had strangely taken to walking
around the house with his trouser pockets turned inside-out!  Any-
way, I stayed in my room for the remainder of that evening, and
the next day, I thought it best not to mention the matter.  And
guess what?  Nobody spoke about it again - ever!

Which was probably for the best I suppose.

BABE OF THE DAY - RAQUEL WELCH...

So there was RAQUEL WELCH doing

some sunbathing out by the pool.  Feeling

bold, I asked her to take something off, and

she obliged by removing her sunglasses.

She's a smart cookie, is Raquel.

LOOK WELL AT LOOKWELL...

Saw this on ATOMIC KOMMIE COMICS blog

and just had to share it with you.  It's a 1991 pilot for a

TV series that never happened.  I think it's very funny

and I'm sure you will too.  And ADAM WEST is in top

form.  This is one that should have been made into a

series, and why it wasn't is a mystery.  See what

you think and leave a comment afterwards.

HE'S A BIT OF A COUNT...

He never drinks...'vine'.  (Bet you knew that.)

ANOTHER BABE OF THE DAY - MICHELLE KEEGAN...

It's at times like this that any writer worth

their salt would rise to the occasion and do full

justice to the beauty of MICHELLE KEEGAN.

A good writer would wax lyrical and eloquent over

her stunning good looks, her enchanting style, her

sartorial elegance, her womanly essence.  Yeah,

that's certainly what a good writer would do.

Me?  I'll just settle for Phwoooaaaar!!

PSSST! WANNA WRITE A GUEST POST?

Nope, I dunno why he's wearing a deckchair either

For those of you who don't have a blog of your own,

but would sometimes like to, here's an invitation for you.

Write a guest post for Crivens! and savour the sensation of

seeing your words in print.  It'll bring you such fame that you

won't be able to walk down the road without being besieged by

hordes of screaming, admiring females trying to touch you

and slipping you their 'phone numbers.  (That reminds

me, I really must give some of them a call one day.)

Let me know if you're interested.

BEAR OF THE DAY - YOGI BEAR...

YOGI BEAR is one cool dude.  In

fact, he's cooler than the average bear.

I wanna be just like him when I grow up.

Well, who wouldn't?  (Oops, gotta go -

here comes the nurse!)

BABE OF THE DAY - ABI TITMUS...

"Lets play leapfrog" said ABI TITMUS -

"you go first!"  As she assumed the position, I

saw a hotdog stand over the road and nipped

over for a bite to eat, leaving her standing like

that in the middle of the path.  She didn't half

get some funny looks, let me tell you.

ADAM WEST PASSES AWAY...

Alas, ADAM WEST, TV's BATMAN has passed
away from leukaemia.  It's been a bad month for child-
hood heroes dying, but they'll live on in our hearts and
memories.  Our condolences go to Mr. West's family,
friends and fans - and, of course, to ROBIN.

BABE OF THE DAY - ELKE SOMMER...

That's the trouble with having women around

the house - a guy just can't get the bathroom to

himself.  However, when that woman is ELKE

SOMMER, then I guess I can get used to it.

BOXING CLEVER - NEW FRANKENSTEIN MODEL KIT BASED ON 1960S PAINTING BY JAMES BAMA...

Here's the original box for AURORA's 1960s

FRANKENSTEIN kit.  The art was later amended

for a square box release, with the arms slightly raised

and the elbows jutting out a bit more.  Artist JAMES

BAMA referred to a photo of GLENN STRANGE as

the monster for his painting, but, curiously, he added

two big forehead clamps that were only ever seen in

test makeup for BORIS KARLOFF, but not

used in the 1931 UNIVERSAL movie.

Now some very clever fella (or company) has

created a model kit of the box art, and as you can

see below, it's very nice indeed.  I'd guess it'll cost a

bit more than the price of a standard model kit these

days, but it's a quality item that any collector will be

proud to own.  I don't have a link, but if you check

eBay, or do an internet search, you should be

able to track one down before too long.

  

Below is a built and painted kit, which I

believe is going to be used on the box lid.

Test makeup - without hooded eyelids

Square box reissue

Photo used by JAMES BAMA for reference

My own AURORA model.  Face based on BORIS
KARLOFF in The BRIDE Of FRANKENSTEIN

THE WAY THINGS USED TO BE...

Back around 1978, I bought a twirly straw in SAFEWAY.

I've had it ever since, and whenever I look at it, I can't help but

think of how my home town used to be in the '70s.  It also brings

to mind the contingent of pals I used to have, the comics I used to

buy, the TV shows I used to watch, the books I used to read, and

the music I used to listen to.  Not forgetting the movies I used to

go and see.  It also reminds me of how young I used to be.  (I'd

like to be able to say how handsome I used to be, but that'd

be stretching the truth.)  Hey, that's a lot of 'used tos'.

All that from the above twirly straw.  That's pretty amazing,

don't you think?  Have you got one single item that prompts

so many memories?  Please share in the comments section.

BABE OF THE DAY - ELKE SOMMER...

Here's ELKE SOMMER sweeping BOB

HOPE off his feet.  And here I thought she

only had eyes for me.  (The fickle bint!)

WHEN YOU GET TO A BIT THAT MAKES ANY SENSE, GIVE ME A SHOUT...

Why this illustration?  See footnote

Having lived in 7 houses in my life by the time I was 24,

and 5 of them while I was still a kid, I've often felt that I've

had more than one childhood.  (Due to the fact I associate a

separate section of my childhood to each domicile.)  This has

prompted me to occasionally wonder if my childhood perhaps
feels more varied and eventful than it otherwise would have
had I lived in the same abode for all my early years.  I also
wonder whether those who only ever lived in one house
as a kid had a different perception of time to mine.

However, with the death of ROGER MOORE, I'm now

starting to get a sense of what it must be like to have stayed
in the same place for any significant period.  That's because I
was in my current house when Big Rog was a mere 45 years

young and had just taken over the role of JAMES BOND -
and now he's departed this mortal vale while I yet inhabit
the same domicile I did as a callow 13 year old youth.

Hell's bells, it's gone by in a flash!  Next Wednesday will

be 45 years to the very day since my family first moved to

this address, but it doesn't seem possible to have been quite
that long.  And yet, when I think back to the comics and toys
I had as a child, it feels as if I had them for lengthy periods of
years and years - and all at the same time.  (Regular readers

will be used to my meandering streams of thought by now,
but if you're a 'newbie', bear with me as I ramble.)

As you'll know from your own experience though, many

of the goodies we had as kids weren't concurrent with each

other and never saw the interior of the same toybox or cup-

board.  Some we may only have owned for weeks or months,

others for a few years at most, but in memory, it seems as if

they all cohabited for equal duration.  Our TEDDY BEARS

may never have made the acquaintance of our ACTION

MEN, yet we recall them as being contemporaries.

Many of the replacements I've acquired over the last 35

years or so of toys, comics, or books of my youth, I've now
had for many more years than I ever possessed the originals.

One example is the first ish of the revamped SMASH! from

1969.  I had it for 4 days at the most before selling it to class-

mate BILLY MONTGOMERY.  I'd intended to buy another

copy before #2 hit the shops, but it was sold out, and over 15

and a half years elapsed before I managed to replace it.  That

was 33 years ago, but, incredibly, it doesn't feel like I've had

the replacement copy any longer than I had the original.

Which brings me on to this.  When I was a kid and got

a new toy, there seemed no reason why I wouldn't have it

forever.  Children sort of have the impression that they're

immortal and that nothing is ever going to change.  Not that

they believe so on a conscious level, but the opposite scenario

is an absent concept that never really occurs to them.  Or, if it
does, it seems like such a far-distant prospect that it's not one
to be concerned with until many years in the future - a future
that seems centuries away.  That disappears as we age, and

there comes a time when we become only all too painfully

aware of our limited time on this spinning sphere.

I'm now at the stage where if I buy something today that
I'll have for 20 or 30 years, my enjoyment is palled by the
knowledge that, even though that span dwarfs any length of
time I owned many of my childhood items, it'll still seem like
only a mere fraction compared to the illusory lengthy periods
of yesteryear.  The fact that I'm now aware (unlike my teen-
age self) that the clock is counting down, casts a shadow over
my pleasure in acquiring a new (or replacement) object, be-
cause the illusion of 'forever' is no longer part and parcel
of the package.  (Reality can be difficult to deal with.)

Anyway, once more I've indulged in off-the-wall streams
of thought which may seem only tenuously connected, but
hopefully you can get something worth contemplating out of
it all.  Let me know if you do, eh?  It might help me to  better
convey what I'm trying to say.  I often feel like I start out on a
definite path, but then wander off into the woods on the way
and never quite get back on track and complete the journey.
Still, better to travel hopefully than to arrive, as some wise
wag once said.  (Robert Louis Stevenson I think.)

******

Footnote:  The DALEK record is an example of what
I'm talking about.  I derive such enormous pleasure from
simply owning this magnificent item, but it's a bitter-sweet
experience because I'm all too aware that, even if I have it
for the rest of my (hopefully long) life, it's still going to be
all too-brief a time.  Do any of you relate to that at all?

A POWER HOUSE PIN-UP - THE MIGHTY THOR...

Images copyright MARVEL COMICS

From the back cover of TERRIFIC #6 comes this JACK KIRBY

pin-up of The MIGHTY THOR.  And that's all I really need to say,

isn't it?  Unless, of course, you want me to witter on a bit more and -

what's that?  You don't?  Oh, okay then.  (Mumble, mumble, sulk!)

  

I threw in the cover too.  (Not that you deserve it, you ungrateful lot!)