BABE Of The DAY - DANA GILLESPIE...

"Do you want some super sex?"

trilled devastatingly dynamic DANA

GILLESPIE.  "Both - I'll have the soup

afterwards!" I said.  Hah!  I'd outfoxed

her again!  The soup?  It was tomato

 soup - and very tasty it was too.

RAMBLING REPOST: WHAT'S IN A NAME? ARE YOU KIDDING? A LIKELY STORY...

"Why are you called 'Kid'?  Is it because you act like one?"

If I had a pound for every time I've been asked that, I'd have - well, I'd have a pound actually, so I don't suppose there's really too much interest in the topic.  However, I have to fill this blog with something, so - assuming you'll all bear with me in yet another act of shameless self-indulgence - I shall address the issue in the forlorn hope that anybody even remotely cares.

There was a period during my early teenage years when I called everyone "kid".  It was short, snappy, and it meant never having to worry about remembering people's names.  One day, I ran into a pal of mine in the company of a group of his friends. Anticipating my familiar, well-worn greeting, he thought he'd get in first in a daring act of mockery at my little peccadillo.  (Feel free to supply your own amusing rejoinder to that last sentence.)  "Hi Kid!" he said with a cheeky grin upon his smug countenance, immensely satisfied with himself for - in his mind - 'beating me to the punch'.

His pals were unaware of his intended 'irony' however, and merely assumed it to be my nickname.  But ours is a drama decreed by the fates to be acted out (always loved that line by LARRY LIEBER); I subsequently became friendly with that little group, who - in their innocence - always referred to me by that appellation.  And so the name stuck and I've been known as "Kid" - to them and to others - ever since.

But whence came the habit which led to me effectively naming myself?  Why did I call people "kid" to begin with?  I'm glad I pretended you asked.  You see, back in the early 1970s, there was a brilliant comedy show called WHATEVER HAPPENED TO THE LIKELY LADS, starring JAMES BOLAM and RODNEY BEWES.  In fact, as they had alternating billing from week to week, if you re-read that last sentence, reverse the order of their names so that I don't hear from their agents or solicitors.

Although the programme was a comedy, it also had pathos, poignancy and profundity - otherwise known as the three Ps.  During the course of their frequent nostalgia-laden soliloquies, the characters often addressed each other as "kid" or "kidda".  In my devotion to the programme and my desire to emulate the two main characters, I soon adopted the practice of referring to everyone I knew (and even some I didn't) as "kidda", which resulted in some fairly puzzled looks.  That's because the words "kidda" and "kidder" sound pretty similar when pronounced with a lazy Glaswegian accent, and this made folks think I was accusing them of pulling my leg in some way.

"Kidder?" they'd say in a slightly bewildered manner (likewise mispronouncing it as "kidda") - "Kiddin' about what?"  Well, it didn't take me too long to realize that adopting the shorter option - "kid" - would avoid any unnecessary confusion amongst my sturdy band of companions and free me from having to endlessly explain myself. It could've been far worse, as I'd once been in the habit of exclaiming "Jings, man!" in response to anything of even a vaguely interesting or surprising nature.

This inevitably led to all my friends and acquaintances calling me "Jings-Man" every time I appeared on the horizon.  Fortunately, I soon dropped the use of this 'oath' (doubtless acquired from reading too many BROONS and OOR WULLIE strips in The SUNDAY POST) and thus escaped any longterm association with the name which could've resulted in lasting damage to my delicate sensibilities.  I much preferred being called "Kid" - or "Sir", even.  (In fact, now that I come to think about it, "Master" is good as well.) 

And there you have it!  The hitherto secret origin of how I gained my teenage nickname which has remained with me to this day.  And you also have an object lesson in the art of writing something about nothing - but you should only ever do so if your very life depends on it, so I have absolutely no excuse.

FABULOUS FLASHBACKS: FANTASTIC At FIFTY...

Images copyright MARVEL COMICS

Launched on Saturday, February 11th 1967, it's been 50 years since Fantastic #1 first appeared on newsagents' counters all across the country.  Published by Odhams Press, it was the next stage in the evolution of comic titles like Wham!, Smash!, and Pow!, which featured U.K. humour strips among Marvel reprints.  (Or vice versa.)  Unlike its companion papers though, the contents of Fantastic weren't resized to fit a British comic's page, instead being granted the privilege of appearing (more or less) in their original format - albeit in a slightly larger size and in black and white.

Credit boxes were omitted, and U.S. spellings, references, and speech patterns were routinely altered ("I ain't" to "I'm not" for example), but just seeing the artwork of Jack Kirby, Don Heck, and Steve Ditko in all its crisp, cataclysmic glory, was what mattered to young readers back in the day.  Not forgetting, of course, the power-packed scripting of Stan (The Man) Lee, Larry Lieber, and also Roy Thomas.

The  periodical was edited by Alfred Wallace and Robert Bartholomew, aka Alf & Bart.  Along with Albert Cosser (Cos), they oversaw the five weekly Power Comics until, like the song's ten green bottles sitting on the wall, there were none left.  Fantastic contained some home-grown produce in the form of an occasional humour page, as well as The Missing Link/Johnny Future strip that appeared for 51 issues, drawn by Spanish artist Luis Bermejo.

 

It lasted only 89 issues, a Summer Special and 3 Annuals, but Fantastic remains one of the more fondly-recalled comics of the '60s by those who were fortunate (and discerning) enough to have bought and relished it at the time.  Tell you what - let's now take a look at why it was just so... Fantastic!

******

(I obtained my first replacement of this ish towards the end of 1980, just over 13 years after it was first published.  Amazing to think that more than 36 years have passed since then.)

  

The MISSING LINK copyright relevant owners

And if you'd like to read the complete episode, click here.

The free pennant-wallet

Below, trade and newspaper ads for the comic's launch. Note that the first one says the comic comes out on Monday 13th February, whereas the second 'says' it's Saturday 11th.  No wonder kids often missed a new comic, if they were looking for it two days after it first went on sale.  The comic came out on a Saturday, not a Monday - despite what the cover said.

(This is a slightly revised post of one first published on February 1st 2011.)