The TRUE-LIFE TALE Of NICKY HUNT...

Me in Saint Andrew's Road in Southsea, Portsmouth, 1978

Reading about 'underground' cartoonist LEE JAMES TURNOCK's comic strip character, NICKY HUNT, reminded me of a real-life inveterate 'fantasist' (by which I mean liar) who used to pal about with me from 1965 until he joined the Navy shortly after his dad died in 1977.  We remained friends until 1981, when I concluded he obviously had mental health issues and finally severed all ties with him.

I last saw him in Gosport near the end of April '81 when I was living nearby, and it was then I realized he was no longer the person I thought he was - if indeed he ever had been.  This man simply couldn't open his gob without a monumental, unbelievable 'porky-pie' popping out.  For example, even before he joined the Navy he used to wear an over-sized diver's watch, and when a friend (RONNIE ROSS, now sadly deceased) asked him what it was, he replied it was an atomic power-pack for his bionic arm.  (This was around '76/'77, when the SIX MILLION DOLLAR MAN was still on TV.)

Had it been an 'off-the-cuff' remark intended as a joke, that would've been fine.  However, in between starting and finishing the sentence, he'd somehow managed to convince himself it was true and fully expected to be believed.  Another example (on a flying visit to our house in December of 1980) came when my father asked him if he had any kids yet.  (He'd got wed in Portsmouth Register Office two years before, and I'd been best man.)  "No," he said, "I caught an infection from a toilet seat and they had to cut my tubes.  They operated through my back passage so as not to leave a scar."

To the best of my knowledge, medical experts say catching an infection (at least, of the kind which affects internal organs) from a toilet seat is so unlikely as to be practically impossible.  However, why the bit about back-door surgery then?  It's doubtful anyone would ask to see his scar so why say that if it wasn't true?  Then I realized - as a Navy man, he shared showers and quarters with others, so he'd need a 'cover-story' to explain his obvious scar-free condition when he first told his bizarre tale.  A normal person would simply have said he didn't want kids until he left the Navy, not produced a fantastic fable defying accepted medical facts.  Not so 'BILLY LIAR'.

His lying was no recent development, but stretched all the way back to childhood, as this 1966/'67 account illustrates.  One morning in the school playground, myself, 'Billy Liar' and a fellow called ROBIN GOLDIE were standing in line, waiting for the bell to ring to gain access to the building.  Robin was holding an ACTION MAN and opened the jacket to show us AM's dog-tag.  Action Man (or GI JOE to U.S. readers) had a rather 'stylised' musculature with a bit of a gap between his pecs.  My brother owned a TOMMY GUNN action-figure with a more realistic physique, so I remarked on how odd Action Man's torso was by comparison.  "That was his sister who did that - she's got really sharp nails!" volunteered 'Billy', ignoring the fact Robin's sister would've had to be SUPERGIRL to make a dent in such hard plastic.

Regular readers may recall a previous post in which I mentioned a pupil who came into school one morning with a tracing of RUMPELSTILTSKIN (from a class reading book) on a piece of IZAL toilet paper, claiming he'd drawn it the night before.  (Though when the sheet was placed over the book illustration and the fraud exposed, he then said it was the work of his sister.)  Yes, you've guessed it - it was the very same guy.

For almost as long as I'd known him he'd been plagued by cartilage problems in one of his knees.  This meant that not long after joining the Navy it was discovered he wasn't fit for active duty.  So he was given a choice - either leave the Navy or take up a 'landlubber' position at Haslar Hospital in Gosport.  (He invented a tale which attributed his long-term problem to getting his knee caught between two practice mines while on a training exercise.)  According to him his new job was a 'medical assistant' (or 'nurse' as he also put it), but - sceptic that I am - it wouldn't surprise me if he was a hospital porter.  Not for long though, as two or three years later he was back in civvy-street.

In 1981 I'd returned to Portsmouth - at his invitation - only to find he steered clear of me and never came to visit - apart from one time when I saw him on his moped coming from the direction of my bed-sit while I was returning from the shops.  I hailed him, but he stopped for only just long enough to tell me he'd no time to talk - then he was off again.  He was only about two minutes away from my place and two minutes away from his base (by bike), so I wondered why he'd gone out of his way if he'd no intention of stopping.  When I got back, my landlady revealed to me he'd only been checking-up to see whether I'd returned to Scotland yet.

Me in my room in Boulton Road, Southsea in 1981.
Yes, I know - it looks like a Crimewatch photo

Obviously he was worried the longer I was around, the greater the chance I'd eventually meet some of his newer friends and perhaps inadvertently blow the gaff about some of the 'tall tales' he'd spun.  After all, this was a guy who, with crash helmet tucked under his arm, used to visit bars bikers hung out in - even before he had a motorbike.  (No joking.)  

Months later, when I finally returned home, my father told me while I was in Portsmouth, 'Billy' had 'phoned one night with a curious request.  "Mr. Robson, I was in a bar the other night having a drink, and I told a guy I was talking to I'm a Lieutenant Colonel in the Royal Navy."  (This was when he was working in Gosport's Haslar Hospital.)  "He didn't believe me, so I gave him your number and told him to 'phone you and you'd confirm it.  If he does call, could you back me up?"  Naturally, my father told him not to be so daft.  "Go on - a favour for a favour" pleaded the deluded 'Billy'.  My father enquired what he meant.  "I visited Gordon the other day and it cost me money for petrol for my bike," quoth Mr. Mental, referring to his lightning-quick dash to check if I was still around.  When I heard this, I gave my parents strict instructions that, should 'Billy' ever 'phone, I was out - even if I was in.

About six or seven years later, the 'phone (then in the hallway) rang and the answer-machine clicked on.  As I stood at the top of the stairs to hear who it was, an unfamiliar voice emanated from the speaker - a Detective Inspector someone (couldn't make out the name) wanting to talk to me.  I went downstairs and picked up the 'phone - "Hello, who's this?" I said.  "What's the matter, don't you recognize an old friend?"  The voice had changed, being that strange hybrid accent many 'Jocks' acquire from spending years down south, so at first I couldn't identify it.  Then the penny dropped and I hung up without replying.  The 'phone rang again and his voice from the speaker said "I'll use my warrant card if that's what it takes to talk to you!"  Poor deluded fool.  He was never in the police - I checked, even though it was a racing cert he wasn't.

It seems that Leopards can't change their spots.  Egged on by a pal who'd also known 'Billy' we both looked at his Facebook page about a year ago.  According to him he's a Falklands war veteran who was fast-tracked through the ranks of the Royal Navy, is thinking of taking a course in astro-physics (or something equally far-fetched), was taught to cook by both GORDON RAMSAY and JAMIE OLIVER (or two other equally famous TV chefs), has hacked into NASA satellites to take photographs of outer space (with a clearly-nicked pic from the Internet), had a successful career as a world-class photographer (though his webpage is conspicuously absent of any evidence which would indicate it), and is a personal buddy of BILLY CONNOLLY and folk-singer RALPH McTELL, who he claims to have known since the age of twelve.  Oh, and he learned to scuba-dive at the age of nine.  (Which was all news to me - and I'd known him from when he was six.)

Right, altogether now - "JACKANORY, JACKANORY, JACKANORY".  Needless to say, we both fell about laughing at this catalogue of absurdity.  Unfortunately though, there was a sad side to his inability to grasp reality, and let me wind up this overlong reminiscence by revealing what that was.

As I previously said, I was best man at this fantasy merchant's wedding in 1978, but I'd gone down to Portsmouth a few days in advance of the 'big day'.  The morning before the ceremony, while he was out somewhere, his fiancee broke down in tears and confessed to me she was now having severe doubts about going through with it.  Her brother and her friends considered him a complete weirdo and had expressed concern over his alarming propensity to tell the most outrageous lies at the drop of a hat.  What was I to do?  What I should've done was tell her I didn't think he was mature enough to get married and had been telling porkies for as long as I'd known him so was therefore unlikely to change.

However, I was faced with a dilemma.  If she called off the wedding as a result of anything I said, I'd then be the bad guy.  I knew he'd continue to pursue her and woo her after I'd gone home, and probably persuade her (against her better judgement) into marrying him, and I'd then be excluded from the celebrations and most likely be a pal short as a result.  So I chickened out, telling her I'd have a very serious talk with him and explain all his lies had to stop; that he was about to embark on a wonderful new chapter in his life which he should take extremely seriously and stop embarrassing both himself and his beloved with his absurd fabrications and fantasies.  So I did - at great length and in excruciating detail (as is my wont).  At the conclusion of my sonorous oration he soberly assured me he was 'indeed an altered Toad'.

He was lying of course.

On the day of the wedding, when the registrar asked her if she took this man as her lawful wedded husband, there was a long, long pause.  Then, with tears streaming down her face, she hesitantly said "I do" and thereby made one of the worst decisions of her life.  A decision I could probably have prevented - and to this day am filled with regret I didn't at least try to.  The marriage lasted a couple of years or so and the poor woman went through hell.  I hope she's happy now and, should she ever get to read this, can forgive me for my inaction.  I last saw her around August or September 1980 when they were both up on a brief visit.

So there you have it.  Trust me, Nicky Hunt's nowhere near as bad as the guy I've just been telling you about.  He's certainly a lot funnier though.

******

Update: Although I didn't know it when I first published this post, around 10 years and 8 months later, I learned he'd died a mere four days before it appeared.  It was reading about a comic strip liar (as mentioned in the opening) that prompted my reminiscence, otherwise it would seem a remarkable coincidence for him to be in my thoughts at the time.  Had I known he'd died, however, who knows - maybe I wouldn't have written it at all, or told a slightly different, softer, version somewhere along the line.  Funny how fate works, eh?  

HOW TO LIE WITH STATISTICS - OR... "IS THERE A DOCTOR IN THE HOUSE?"

Ever tried to get a doctor's appointment these days?  It's almost impossible unless you're hunched by the 'phone at 8:30 in the morning, frantically punching in the numbers of your local surgery.  If you 'phone after a certain time, you're told that nothing is available and to ring back at 8:30 the next day.  If you enquire why you can't make an appointment for the next day, inevitably you'll be informed that none are available.  This, you may not be surprised to learn, is a lie.  If there are no available appointments for tomorrow, then what's the point of 'phoning back tomorrow?  The only reason for this dogmatic insistence that you ring the next morning is so that the NHS can claim that most of their patients are given an appointment well within 24 hours of asking for one.

Never mind the fact that you may have spent a week trying to get through to your surgery every morning only to find the line constantly engaged until you give up in despair.  Never mind the fact that, after hours of constant redialling, if you do get through, you're advised to call back tomorrow - only to go through a repeat of the exact same scenario you've just endured.  If you 'phone on a Monday to try and arrange an appointment for your day off on a Thursday, you're instructed to ring back on the day - at 8:30 a.m., with every chance of the line being engaged and you being unable to get through.  Just so long as they can claim that they're meeting their quotas of providing an appointment within 24 hours, then all your inconvenience and frustrations and several days of early morning calls to an engaged line count for nothing.

If that isn't fiddling with the figures then I don't know what is.

Bear that in mind the next time some governmental pillock says that the waiting times for doctors' appointments have decreased under their tenure.  They're talking b*ll*cks.  Trust me - I'm a Doctor (Who viewer - or used to be).

******

Update: I've since been told by the receptionists at my local surgery that there is no official NHS policy regarding targets of dispensing appointments within 24 hours, but I recall it being in the news at the time.  If they want you to 'phone back the next day for an appointment instead of giving you one when you 'phone the day before, then that's surely for the purpose of manipulating the figures in some way.  Obvious, innit?   

A CHARITABLE QUESTION...

 

 

Okay, here's a simple question for you all. Comics, annuals, or toy-wise, what's the absolute best item/bargain you've ever discovered in a charity shop or jumble sale?  And did you keep it or sell it on eBay for a vast profit?

Go on, spill the details and make the rest of us jealous.  You know you want to boast about it.

PART TWO Of The DENIS GIFFORD LETTERS...

  

The above note is from famed comics collector and historian, the late DENIS GIFFORD, to BRYON WHITWORTH, publisher and editor of The ILLUSTRATED COMIC JOURNAL way back in 1995.  It concerns the cover to issue #29, which I'd cobbled together utilising a TERRY WAKEFIELD illustration (and some colour pencils), along with a new logo which I had designed, lettered and drawn.

Denis was the world's worst typist (as you can see from the examples displayed on this page), so it was a bit rich of him to upbraid Bryon for the typos in the ICJ.  However, he was totally correct about them being Bryon's weakest point.  It didn't seem to matter how many corrections I made when proofreading the articles, as Bryon always managed to restore most of the mistakes - and add a few more - when I sent everything back to him.

(In fact, that's why I eventually ceased my involvement with the title - I just couldn't justify all the hours of work I put in when the results weren't making it into print.  Being a perfectionist, I found it far too frustrating.)

Denis was much taken with the logo, especially as it featured his STEADFAST McSTAUNCH character from WHIZZER & CHIPS, and in due course I received the following letter from him.

Steadfast McStaunch (along with GINGER'S TUM and HARRY'S HAUNTED HOUSE) had been my favourite strip in Whizzer & Chips, so it's extremely satisfying to know that my humble handiwork met with his approval.  Unfortunately, I never got to meet up with Dennis down in London, but just to know that such an esteemed comics stalwart thought so highly of my logo is immensely rewarding and is a recognition I'll always treasure.

Here, for your perusal, are the other four ICJ covers which I lettered, retouched, enhanced and sweated over when putting them together.  Also included is the back cover of issue #29, which featured the first published appearance of my KEVIN And His TALKING SOCKS strip.  It was drawn close to 30 years ago (1985/'86), so please be kind.

I should perhaps also point out that the variable quality of reproduction is unconnected to how the images were scanned, but instead reflects how they were originally printed.  Bryon ran each copy off on his own colour photocopier, hence some colour inconsistencies from time to time.

For another Denis Gifford letter, click here.

 

DEFINITION OF A CARTOONIST - TERRY BAVE...

 

Original cover to ICJ #32, 1996

Sometimes you just don't realize how lucky you are.  At least not at the time - but, many years later, the truth finally dawns on you that you were in an extremely privileged position to be doing just what you were doing so very long ago, and that you should be more thankful for it.

Case in point: When I was a full-time professional comics calligrapher, my work graced (I hope) the art of many of the finest cartoonists of the day.  Famous names such as TERRY BAVE and - well, loads of others too numerous to mention.  Just think - the actual, legendary Terry Bave, who had taken over drawing SAMMY SHRINK in WHAM! back in the '60s from the strip's original artist DAVE JENNER.

  

I remember sitting in the WHIZZER & CHIPS offices in KING'S REACH TOWER one fine day, lettering an actual Sammy Shrink page, and the enormity (for me, that is) of the occasion was not lost on me.  There I was, around twenty years later, lettering a character I'd read as a seven or eight year-old kid and reconnecting with a childhood moment in a way that's difficult to fully convey in mere words.  (Again - for me, that is.)

The original art to Terry & Shiela's 1996 Christmas card

Then there's the time I lettered a TOY BOY strip in my little bedsit room in Fratton in Portsmouth, amazed at Terry's deceptively simple but effective storytelling mastery that many a modern cartoonist working in comics today would do well to try and emulate.  I also lettered his DOUBLE TROUBLE strip a good few times, and probably many other pages besides.

Actually, my opening paragraph is slightly misleading.  I did actually realize how lucky I was at the time, but the passing of the years has dimmed and diminished the memory of many past glories of which I was once so proud.  (And still am - it's just that the business of living sometimes gets in the way of basking in past accomplishments.)

I got to chat to Terry quite a few times when I was the assistant editor on The ILLUSTRATED COMIC JOURNAL back in the mid-'90s.  As I was then still involved in the day-to-day world of comics, the task fell to me to enquire if he would very kindly write something for BRYON WHITWORTH's little fanzine.  (Which had been started by a fellow by the name of ALAN CADWALLANDER back in the early '80s.)  Terry was always more than generous with his time and attention, supplying not only an article, but also a cover.

The cover to Terry's new book

He even sent me a Christmas card or two 'til I fell off his radar, and I still have the original art for the first one, which he presented to me as he knew I was a genuine fan of his work.  (Don't even ask - not for sale.)  I was fortunate enough to be able to supply him with the issue of Wham! that featured his very first Sammy Shrink strip, and he sent me a bunch of autographed comics he had contributed to over the years in return.  He didn't have to - his thanks were more than enough for me, but that's just the kind of bloke he is - all 'round good egg.

And now, as reported on several sites, Terry has his own blog - and a book currently on sale which is sure to delight the many admirers of this exceptionally decent man and his unique body of work.  (Assisted, of course, by his lovely wife Shiela.  Or Sheila, if you prefer.  Terry could never seem to make up his mind how to spell her name.)  You can access his site here - and can purchase his book here.

What are you waiting for?  Give yourself a treat today!

******

To read more about - and from - Terry, click here - and here.   

The BRIGHT SIDE Of LIFE?

There's a time in every young person's life when they assume, without ever really thinking about it, that they're not only invincible but also immortal.  Usually it's around the teenage years and early 20s when we labour under this delusion, and I have to confess that I was no exception. When we're young, we think we're going to be young forever, and old age and death seem so distant as to be unimaginable.  Then one day we wake up and realise that, not only are we 'over the hill', we're also actually halfway down the other side and somebody has cut the brakes.  What's more, we don't even recall getting to the top of that hill to begin with.  Shouldn't we at least remember the view?

When we're young the world is ours for the taking, and everything seems geared towards us and runs in perfect synchronicity with the pace of our lives.  Then, one day, it dawns on us that we're no longer participants in life's race, but merely observers, sitting on the sidelines, watching younger people revelling in a world that appears to have been created exclusively for them.  How one can be relegated to the benches without being aware of when it happened is a bit of a mystery, but trust me, that's the way things go.

Now, believe me when I say that I'm not the kind of person who revels in anyone's death, but I sometimes wonder if younger people's untimely expiration is Nature's way of reassuring us 'oldies' that being young isn't necessarily an indication of being accorded favoured status, and that, young or old, we're all equally subject to termination at short (or even no) notice.  If being 20 is no guarantee we'll reach 50, then perhaps 50-year-olds shouldn't feel so threatened by the passage of time as they do.  Life's a lottery and our numbers can come up at any moment.  Not quite a 'lucky dip' - but you get the point, I'm sure.

I feel that I should somehow find the above notion reassuring, but for some reason I remain unconvinced.  How about you?

******

Harvest Gate

                                            I lingered by a gate a little while

                                            and watched some children play in fields of green.

                                            Their joyous voices gave me cause to smile

                                            and filled my troubled soul with thoughts serene.

                                            If only I could once again be young

                                            and join them in their happy escapades,

                                            then all my years would be a song well-sung

                                            and I could claim I've lived my life in spades.

                                            But as I leave the gate, my mood turns low,

                                            the chills of age envelop my frail frame.

                                            I know I haven't very long to go

                                            'til he who wields the sickle calls my name.

                                            But I have lived and loved, both lost and won

                                            and now the course of my life's race is run.

(Iain Osborne.)   

THE BATMAN 'FORGERIES'...

Images copyright DC COMICS

In the May 1969 issue of DETECTIVE COMICS #387, the first BATMAN adventure was re-presented to readers of the time.  Note that I said 're-presented' and not 'reprinted', because the story featured was a re-creation, a 'tracing', effectively, of enlarged copies (in all likelihood) of the printed pages from issue #27 in 1939, and not from surviving period-proof copies from the editorial files.

At the time, this was common practice whenever NATIONAL/DC didn't have proofs or original artwork from which they could reprint a particular tale. This tracing was reused in Batman FROM The '30s To The '70s, Detective Comics #627, and Batman ARCHIVES Vol. 1.  I don't recall whether it was used in the FAMOUS 1st EDITION, so perhaps someone out there can let me know.

Out of all the 'reprints' of this tale, the only one I've got which seems to come from more accurate proofs is the MILLENNIUM edition published in 2000.  Strange that it took 31 years for DC to republish the original story (in standard comic-sized editions at least), instead of what was essentially a forgery.

Anyway, just for you, here's the original (left) and re-created pages (right) side-by-side, so you can play 'spot the difference'.  Also included is a photo of a page from an actual, original 1939 issue (as printed in Batman THE GOLDEN AGE), so that you can compare it to the other two examples on view.

Go on, play 'Dark Knight Detective', and see if you can spot all the subtle (and not-so-subtle) distinguishing points between both versions of the pages.  Unfortunately, the fact that a tracing of the premiere story was used in the Archive Editions volume makes a mockery of its claim to be the "definitive collection".

If you happen to own the aforementioned Famous 1st Edition issue of this tale, take a look at the story's second page.  If the middle of the top two tiers are out of alignment then the tracing was used as the source, not proofs of the original printing.  Unfortunately, I can't remember if I've got it or not, otherwise I'd check for myself.

As promised, below is a slightly angled photo of page 3 from an original 1939 issue, as reproduced in the excellent book on Batman by writer and comics historian, the late LES DANIELS.

So there you have it.  Unless you're lucky enough to own an original issue of Detective Comics #27 or the Millennium Edition reprint (the jury's still out on the Famous 1st Edition), then the chances are that you've never actually seen the first Batman tale - only a mere paltry imitation.  Just think - "You wuz robbed!"  Better call Batman.  Oh, and just for completists, here's the cover to ol' Bats' debut appearance.

******

Click on images to enlarge.  In the case of Detective Comics #387, click then click again for optimum size.

MUM, WHY IS SUPERMAN BORING?

Copyright DC COMICS

Before CURT SWAN came to be regarded as the 'definitive' SUPERMAN artist for a generation or two, he had competition - in the form of WAYNE BORING.  The main MAN Of STEEL figure on the above cover is probably one of the most iconic images of the LAST SON Of KRYPTON known to comics fandom, and is probably as famous as anything Curt Swan (or any other artist) ever drew of KAL-EL, being used on a million items of merchandise since it was first drawn to the present day.

 

The figure first appeared on the 10th Anniversary issue of Superman #53, but was clearly inspired by JOE SHUSTER's drawing on #6, nearly a decade before.  There had probably been other variants of the heroic stance in between, but these two versions represent the first and the best of them, respectively.  Boring's is clearly the latter example - with Superman striking a confident pose (cape billowing out behind him), as opposed to the somewhat cocky one that Shuster portrays.

Finally, facing the other way perhaps, but undoubtedly the finest personification of any superhero on the silver screen - the late CHRISTOPHER REEVE as the magnificent MAN Of TOMORROW.  Talking of whom, did you know that writer JERRY SIEGEL's original concept for the character, prior to the 'finished' version, involved Superman being sent back in time from a far-flung future Earth on the point of destruction, rather than the doomed planet KRYPTON?  Personally, I think I'd have preferred it that way.  What do the rest of you think?

      

And below is a cold-cast porcelain statue of this iconic image, produced in 2006.  Rather nifty, eh?  Wish I had one.

The 'FIRST' LAST DANDY...

Copyright D.C. THOMSON & Co., Ltd

Looking through some old files recently, I discovered an article that I'd written for The ILLUSTRATED COMIC JOURNAL back in 2004/'05, when editor DAVID MIRFIN was intending to restore the fanzine to some kind of regular publishing schedule.  For reasons unknown, it never happened, but I'd already written two or three articles, one being about the then-recent relaunch of The DANDY as a 'yoof-style' magazine, as opposed to a purely comic strip-focussed periodical.

I sent the article to CRIKEY!, who published it as a letter, in the process making changes which robbed certain paragraphs of any sense.  Crikey! was a an enjoyable magazine, which unfortunately suffered from 'spellchecker syndrome', often resulting in names and titles being 'corrected' to close approximations of how they were actually spelt.  E.g. 'GEOFF CAMPION' to 'Geoff Champion' and 'JUDGE DREDD MEGAZINE' to 'Judge Dredd Magazine'.  I found such carelessness extremely annoying.  The mag would have been vastly improved by the services of a competent proofreader.  SPACESHIP AWAY suffered from the same complaint, though I've no idea if it still does, not having purchased an issue since #22.)

I digress, however.  I thought that regular visitors to this blog might enjoy reading my thoughts on The Dandy's first mistaken new direction, which ultimately led to its sad demise in December last year.  So, without any further ado ('cos I'm fresh out), here's my observations from several years ago.  We pick up just after I had listed the companies I'd freelanced for, pointing out that "the only main British company I haven't been involved with is D.C. THOMSON."

******

I won't bore you with a list of all the individual strips I've worked on over the years, but my full-time career came to an end about four or five years ago, due mainly to the fact that there is no longer a thriving comics industry to speak of in this country which is capable of supporting the ever-growing legions of would-be comics freelancers chasing an ever-decreasing amount of available work.

When I freelanced for IPC/FLEETWAY, they had titles like 2000 A.D., The MEGAZINE, DICE MAN, CRISIS, EAGLE, LAWMAN Of The FUTURE, WILDCAT, REVOLVER, BATTLE ACTION-FORCE, TIGER, ROY Of The ROVERS, WHIZZER & CHIPS, BUSTER, WOW, OINK, NIPPER, etc., not to mention various comics libraries, specials and annuals.  Of course, not all these titles were published simultaneously - some overlapped and some came in between - but the point is that there was always something on the go.

So what's left of that lot today?  2000 A.D. is the only weekly comic of its kind left on the shelves (now owned by a games company called REBELLION - the comic, that is - not the shelves) and the Megazine is a half-reprint publication.

As far as comic companies go, there's no longer a 'Big Two' - in fact, there's not even a 'Big One' - as even the once-mighty D.C. THOMSON comics empire is in decline.  (Actually, that's a gross understatement - it's very nearly dead.)  The BEANO and DANDY are the only two surviving weeklies from their once vast stable of titles which at one time included TOPPER, BEEZER, SPARKY, BUZZ, WARLORD, HOTSPUR, HORNET, WIZARD, VICTOR, CRUNCH, SPIKE, HOOT, BUDDY, NUTTY, PLUG, MANDY, JUDY, BUNTY, etc., etc. 

The Dandy's circulation has declined so alarmingly in recent years that it's been relaunched as a 21st century 'yoof-style' magazine, bearing little resemblance to the traditional 'comic-paper' that you and I read as children.  (And, in my case, I blush to admit, as an adult also.)

Which brings me to the main point of this review.

In relaunching The Dandy, DCT has, I believe, overlooked an important factor in the longevity of their two top titles - they've lasted as long as they have because, essentially, they haven't changed too much.  (Or any changes have been so gradual as to be imperceptible.)

They remained immediately recognizable as the comics which parents read as kids, and, out of a sense of nostalgia, would then purchase for their children until said offspring acquired the habit of buying them for themselves.  Then, in the fullness of time, the cycle would begin anew.

It will be interesting to see if this still happens to the same degree now that the comic has been forcibly mutated into a radically different product that future mums and dads will barely recognize.  It now has to stand on its own merits, without the safety net of nostalgic parents 'passing the baton' to their kids.  This act of 'generational perpetuation' (or 'regeneration', if you can stand the pun) can no longer be taken for granted.  Dan must really feel desperate as he looks out from behind his new face and sees what's happening around him.

Another factor in the success of DCT publications was that they were relatively inexpensive.  You could, for example, once upon a time (back in the '60s) buy a Beano and a Milky Way for what it would cost you for a TV CENTURY 21.  The choice of a comic and a bar of chocolate was sometimes a major factor in determining a purchase as far as quantity was concerned, certainly in a parent's mind, if not a child's.

Value for money?  Let's make a little comparison here, just for fun.

The last issue of the old-style Dandy comic cost 70p and had 32 pages. Of those, 25 had comic strips, but five of them did not fill the full page, so it works out at 23 and one third pages of strips, one puzzle page and seven pages of adverts, two of which are 'in-house'.  (The two thirds page is a "Huge News Inside!" ad on the cover, along with the logo.)  Older readers of comics will perhaps remember that this usually heralded the 'trump of doom' for their favourite title.

So, does it in this instance?

The new Dandy magazine costs £1.20 (99p introductory price) and has 44 pages.  This consists of 26 pages of strips, nine and a half pages of ads (five in-house), a two-page poster, a joke page, one and a half pages of letters, etc., two pages of introductions to the (fictitious) Dandy Staff (OFFICE HOURS), and the cover.

A contents page?  In a comic?  (A comic posing as a magazine, I grant you.)  The term 'space-filler' springs to mind, as it does in response to the Office Hours and poster pages.  Give the readers more strips to read, for goodness' sake, and get rid of the unnecessary stuff by cutting down to 40 pages and lowering the price.

Don't know about you, but I buy comics to read comic strips, not contents pages and 'filler' material.  Do you realize, Dandy reader, that you're now paying 50p more per week (almost double) for only two and two-thirds more pages of actual comic strip content?  C'mon, DCT, get rid of the padding and give us some substance for our shekels.

"Is it the end for The Dandy?" reads a blurb on the cover of the final old-style issue.  Only time will tell, but it sure looks like the beginning of the end.

******

And sure enough, the writing was on the wall - on the very cover of what was, in actuality, the real 'last' Dandy, which, over the course of the next six years, then had to suffer the humiliation of undergoing three desperate, drastic changes which destroyed the identity that had stood it in good stead for most of its published life.

CARTOON NETWORK DUMMY...

Copyright relevant owner

Back around 1996, EGMONT/FLEETWAY editor PETE KEMPSHALL 'phoned me to see if I was up for lettering a four-page strip for a try-out magazine for the foreign market.  "Sure!" I said, and he promptly sent me a FLINTSTONES strip, along with a script in Danish, I think - can't quite remember.  (Or maybe it was Swedish, Finnish, or even Norwegian - best to cover all the options.)  I had lettered comics translated from Spanish or Italian into English before, so this was just the same thing in reverse.

Above is the cover of the 'finished' product.  As it isn't priced I assume it's a dummy, and I received it as a folded sheet which I then trimmed and stapled into comic form.  I don't think it ever progressed to a regular weekly or monthly periodical which was on sale anywhere, so this is quite a rare item.  So, here it is, you lucky peeps, just for your perusal.

(Incidentally, I wasn't responsible for the rather lacklustre and badly-positioned 'GAME TIME' logo, so don't blame me.)

BOB'S LARKIN ABOUT...

Copyright MARVEL COMICS

   

Here's the cover of a book I bought from GRANT'S bookshop just outside Glasgow's Central Station back in 1980.  You'll have to forgive the quality of this scan - there's quite a bit of dust under the clear plastic cover which protects the book from wear and tear and I ain't taking it off to wipe it.  (Just in case I inadvertently damage it.)  Painted by BOB LARKIN, it's reminiscent of JACK KIRBY's illustration to The INCREDIBLE HULK #1.  I thought I'd share it with you here for no other reason than that it's PDB (Pretty Darn Brilliant).  I'm sure you agree.  Enjoy.

A MONSTER COMEDY HIT...

It was back in 1973 and I had a Saturday job working in a CO-OP store in a far away neighbour-hood.  From about 8 a.m. 'til 12.30 p.m. I'd toil away for either £1 or £1.50 (I can no longer recall the precise amount), which went towards feeding my comics dependency of the time.  Trouble was, before I had taken this job, I had gotten into the habit of watching old black and white movies on Saturday morning TV, like OLD MOTHER RILEY Meets The VAMPIRE and various other comedies of that ilk. 

One Friday evening, I was torn over whether I should take a sickie as ABBOTT & COSTELLO Meet FRANKENSTEIN was the movie being shown the next morning, and it was one I'd wanted to see for quite some while, having previously caught a clip of it at some stage.  In the end, my conscience won out (to say nothing of my need for money) and off I dutifully trotted to work, though not without deep reservations.

Cut to around 12 or 13 years later (and another house away), and I eventually got to see the movie on TV one evening, finally fulfilling the ambition of almost half my life before at that point.  It's a great little movie (despite BELA LUGOSI's undead Count casting a reflection in a mirror), and it gave actor GLENN STRANGE more screen time as the monster than in any of his two previous appearances in HOUSE Of FRANKENSTEIN and HOUSE Of DRACULA from a few years before.

(Incidentally, LON CHANEY Jr. filled in for Strange in one scene when he injured his foot, meaning that Chaney plays two monsters in the movie, the other of course being the WOLFMAN.)

I've watched it quite a few times since then, having bought it when it was released on video and then on DVD.  If you haven't seen it before, it really is well worth checking out.  Each time I view it, I can't help but be reminded of my Saturday morning job in the Co-op and the smell of cold ham from the meat counter.  Glenn Strange was still alive in 1973 (he died in September that year), so I always regret not seeing the movie when I first had the chance, nearly 40 years ago.

START THE YEAR WITH YOUR VERY OWN BATMOBILE...

  

 

A great new fortnightly series from EAGLEMOSS COLLECTIONS has just hit the shops - BATMAN AUTOMOBILIA - devoted to BAT- VEHICLES, no less. The first issue is a paltry £2.99 and features the 1989 movie Batmobile (middle picture, above), but it's issue two I can hardly wait for - the 1966 TV Batmobile - at only £5.99, although the regular price for each new release will be £9.99.

 

Each vehicle comes in its very own display case with detailed base, featuring a '3D LENTICULAR'  background scene. I won't be buying every single one, but I'll no doubt pick up whichever little beauties grab my fancy from time to time. Maybe you'll want to do likewise.  Be sure to look for ISSUE #1 in the shops - NOW!

 

A DANDY TREAT AT HOGMANAY...

Copyright D.C. THOMSON & Co., Ltd

As a special HOGMANAY treat, here's the DESPERATE DAN story from the NEW YEAR edition of The DANDY, cover-dated January 8th, 2000.  This story, illustrated by the mighty KEN H. HARRISON, comes from a time when the strip was being drawn to a far higher standard than in the last few years.  That's probably why the digital edition of the comic has returned Dan to his classic look (so I'm told).  Long may it be so.

Happy New Year, everybody.