KLASSIC KOMIC KOVERS: SPIDER-MAN COMICS WEEKLY #50...

Image copyright MARVEL COMICS

It was around six years since The INVINCIBLE IRON MAN had last appeared in his own strip in a British weekly (FANTASTIC), but in 1974 the wait was finally over and ol' Shell-Head was back.  I think I'd already bought this ish, but if memory serves, it had some slight flaw that made me seek out another copy.  I do remember making my way down to the Old Village quarter of my town as it was starting to get dark, with the glow of the street lights reflected in the fine film of rain on the glistening pavement, and buying my second copy from a now long-gone newsagent's.  I acquired the above copy some years back, and the newsagent remains open in memory.  One glance at the cover and I'm back there faster than a fart from The Flash, buying this comic on a wet January evening in the long ago-days of 1974.

"LOOK AT THAT FOUNTAIN. EE, IT'S CHAMPION..."

In a totally self-indulgent exercise in rampant nostalgia, here's a photo of the fountain that used to lie at one end of my local town centre.  It was turned into a 'rockery' in the late '70s or early '80s, before being demolished when the shopping centre was enclosed under a roof not too long after.  I still prefer it as it was in this photo though.  Although on a much smaller scale, it always reminded me of the fountain in the opening credits of '60s TV show The CHAMPIONS.  Still does in fact.  (You wouldn't recognise this area today.)

BABE Of The DAY - JOLENE BLALOCH...

JOLENE BLALOCH has the best-looking

lips for sucking porridge through a straw that

I've ever seen.  Surely there's a way to put such a

unique talent to use?!  Let me think about it for a

second, I'll come up with something.  (Nah, I

 was wrong - can't think of a thing.)

PART FOURTEEN Of SCHOOLTIME SCANDALS: OVER The HILL, BUT NOT QUITE OVER 'The DALE'...

Nah, she wasn't this hot - almost

Her name was Miss Dale, and she was seriously sexy.  Small, blonde (update: nope - redhead actually, the ol' memory was playing tricks), early 20s, she usually wore a blue denim mini-skirt and also indulged in some serious sadism that too many teachers of the period were prone to.  She had a nasty habit of punching your arm several times to emphasise whatever point she was making, and I certainly wasn't the only kid who suffered from a bruised upper limb in her class. Where did such rage come from?

One day, she decided to test our spelling by reading out words to the class, so that we could then write them in our jotters to be marked by her diminutive, angry self.  One of the words she uttered was 'yawn', which, due to my familiarity with the Shakespearean-style of speech in MARVEL's THOR, I took to be 'yon' and thus wrote it in my jotter accordingly.  She then collected our efforts and sat at her desk to evaluate them, while we busied ourselves with something else.

After a while, she called me out to her desk and berated me for seemingly misspelling the word, then belted me with the tawse - solely for what she considered my lack of spelling ability, not because I was cheeky or anything.  50-odd years later, I now know just what an utterly inept teacher she was not to have considered the possibility that I'd been thinking of another, perfectly legitimate, phonetically similar word to the one she'd had in mind.

Her response should surely have been: "There are two words pronounced that way, define the one you mean."  Then it would've been a simple case of me explaining exactly what word I'd had in mind, and her then asking me to spell the other, the one she was looking for.  The fact was, I'd spelt the word properly, it was just a different word to the one she'd been thinking of.  And yet that glaringly obvious possibility never occurred to her.  What a thicko.

I did learn a few valuable lessons that day though.  Firstly, that teachers weren't always right; secondly, that Miss Dale, though sexy, was a bitch - and thirdly, there's no way clearly hormonal people should ever be tasked with imparting knowledge to any group of children, when their main method of teaching seems to consist of punching and belting them until they 'learn' things.

This was primary school, mind, so we're not talking about teachers having to deal with surly and unruly teenagers - we're talking children of only 8 or 9 years old. What the hell were educationalists thinking of back then?  As I've said before, kids today don't have a clue about just how lucky they are compared to ourselves.

As for Miss Dale?  I have absolutely no recollection of ever seeing her again after I left primary. Maybe she left before I did.  However, it would be nice if she learned how to manage her anger issues and went on to become, at the very least, a competent (and kinder) teacher.  The alternative simply doesn't bear thinking about.

MARVEL TALES COVER GALLERY...

Images copyright MARVEL COMICS

MARVEL TALES lasted an astounding 30 years, from issue #1 in 1964, right up to #291 in 1994.  Like MARVEL COLLECTORS' ITEM CLASSICS, it reprinted some of the earliest tales of the most popular heroes from 'The House Of Ideas'.

But, hey - you're not here to read me wittering on in my typically boring, long-winded fashion.  So why don't I just cut to the chase and show you the covers of the first dozen issues?  You'd like that?  Well, I have to confess I'm a tad disappointed you never took any time to think over that proposition, but who am I to argue with all you crazy cavortin' Crivvies?

So here they are!  Any happy memories of any of them?  Then feel free to share them in the comments section.

I obtained my original copy of this issue in Blackpool in 1973 or '74