PART TWO Of MIKE NOBLE'S FIRST FIREBALL XL5 STRIP...

Images copyright relevant owner

So Crivvies, where were we?  Ah, yes - we were looking at MIKE NOBLE's rapturously-rendered FIREBALL XL5 strip from the pulsating pages of the titanically terrific TV CENTURY 21.  You should all know the background by now, but if not, you can browse back through the blog and acquaint yourselves with the previous posts pertaining to the topic.

So, let's go.  Last one back to Fireball Junior is a Tootie! 

METHINKS THE 'TROLLS' DO PROTEST TOO MUCH...

I'm not a fan of the word 'Troll', but I use it in the title in an ironic way, seeing as that's the word used by a certain person to describe me.  Anyway, my last post, published in response to his devious distortion of events on another forum, seems to have brought the worms out of the woodwork.

Here's a sample of their well-reasoned and thoughtfully-considered comments (along with my answers) which they seemingly couldn't live without sharing with me.

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"Wow you look a lot like a peado Kid." - Anon.

(Should stop hanging around with paedos then, seeing as how you claim to know what one looks like.  I see that you can't spell the word correctly 'though.  Finding remedial class difficult?)

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"Complete horseshit." - Anon.

(Yes, that's what I thought after reading your comment.)

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"How sad is your life??"  - Anon.

(At a guess, I'd say probably about ten times less sad than yours.)

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"Do you masturbate whilst you write these things?" - Alistair Robb.

(Did it give you a thrill to type the word 'masturbate'?)

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Ah, the joys of being a blogger, eh?

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Here's the latest from Beanodobber.  Nice of him to prove he can't draw.  As for success, working on a comic with less than 40,000 issues sold per week, at the lowest wages possible - that's success?  I made far more dosh doing lettering in a week than his pal ever made - even when he freelanced for IPC.

And again.

And just for comparison, here's one of mine.

Beanodobber when he had hair.  Drawn in 1998

And another.

Uninked caricature.  Drawn in 2005

Well, I certainly know which person  I'd prefer to have working for me if I were a publisher.

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And here's another of Beanodobber's scribbles.

And below is a photocopy of a pencil drawing I did 33 years ago.  Not bad for a 'third-rate doodler', eh?  Hopefully it'll scare the schecht out of Beanodobber - or at least make him realise that he's out of his depth in every way.

LEW'S - Er - WHO'S A LIAR NOW?

He picked the wrong target though

Take a look at this piece of nonsense, just added to the post discussed a short time ago.  Ready for this?

"His technique is simple: he accuses his perceived enemies of being guilty of his own character flaws. And he does it very articulately and very convincingly.  Unfortunately some casual observers (who may not know the whole story) fall for it.  Yesterday on a forum he tried to discredit me by quoting a Twitter conversation out of context.  I showed that the true context didn't damn me in any way at all.  Today on his blog he's claiming that he exposed my lies, not vice versa.  All part of his m.o.  Perhaps he believes it himself?  Who knows?  It's all very petty and childish, but annoying for the people he plays these mind games with."

Let's take that bit by bit, shall we, and in so doing expose the true extent of his nefarious nature.

1) "Yesterday on a forum he tried to discredit me by quoting a Twitter conversation out of context."

Actually, it wasn't out of context, it was slightly out of sequence as a result of him challenging me to provide the proof for my assertions, knowing that the source of that proof had been 'locked' to deny me access.  Obliged to rely on memory, I got the sequence of two comments in the reverse order to which they'd appeared.

However, here's the important bit - the truth of my claim - that he'd criticised the forum (by describing it as a 'Bizzarro [sic] World', and saying that he 'was done with it') was in no way affected by this.  Although it may not have been in response to the specific remark I was thinking of, it was in response to one of his cohort's comments.

2) "I showed that the true context didn't damn me in any way at all."

Really?  I say again - really?  The point I was making was that he'd criticised the forum.  (Calling it a Bizarro World can hardly be construed as a compliment.)  The obvious truth of this was in no way affected by me thinking that it'd been in response to one comment rather than another.  Someone please explain in what way the accuracy of my remark - that he'd criticised the forum - was even remotely compromised by being, as he likes to put it - 'quoted out of context'.

As he wants context, let's give him context.  The fact is, dear reader, that the entire context of the conversation by both parties was one of criticism of a site of which they're both members, so my inadvertent oversight in the sequence of a couple of comments in no way diluted the truth of my assertion one whit.  To suggest otherwise is ridiculous.

3) "Today on his blog he's claiming that he exposed my lies, not vice-versa."

And I did!  Let me now demonstrate exactly how he lied.  I'd also mentioned that his cohort had 'dissed' the entire forum.  In what way would you interpret the following remarks?  "They can all go f*ck themselves" and "They're welcome to each other.  F*ds".  My remarks were clear that, in that specific instance, it was the 'other member' I was referring to (I said as much in the sentence), yet this didn't prevent him from, more than once, saying that I'd been referring to him rather than his pal.

However, at no time did he disagree with the sentiments his pal expressed - and as he'd already criticised the forum anyway - in a very real sense he did actually 'diss' the entire forum.  Let me remind you - calling it a Bizarro World and saying he was done with it.  That's not criticism?  The order of the comments merely reveals that he criticised the forum first rather than second, which makes no actual difference to the content of his remarks, only the sequence.  Just like him to misdirect attention to a tiny spot on the wallpaper while ignoring a great big hole in the wall.  (In this case, his entire argument.) 

So, let's recap, shall we?  He claims he didn't criticise the forum.  He did - as I have just conclusively demonstrated.  So he clearly and inarguably lied.

He claims one of my comments was directed at him when it was, in fact, directed at the 'other member'.  As he usually always quotes the actual comment he's referring to, I fail to see how it could possibly be an honest mistake on his part.  Having already demonstrated his propensity for malicious misrepresentation, I've no option but to conclude he was deliberately lying in claiming himself as the object of that specific remark.  So, another lie.

Hell's teeth!  How much proof does anyone need that the man's not only a fantasist (witness his ascribing an 'm.o.' to me as if I'm a master criminal - must watch too much CSI), not only a distorter of truth - but also an outright liar, plain and simple?!

4) "It's all very petty and childish."

Well maybe he should just stop doing it then.

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And now he's only gone and pulled his post.  Forget the transparent and self-righteous rationalisations he spouts over on his blog.  The fact is, he knew his false accusations wouldn't withstand the spotlight of truth once it was shone in their direction.  He's also running true to form - making wild and inaccurate statements, pressing people's buttons, causing mischief and mayhem, provoking people to respond and then deleting his inflammatory comments so he can claim moral superiority.  (And slyly sidestep having to refute the proof of his misdemeanours because he knows he can't.)  And he has the cheek to accuse me of 'mind games'.  Unbelievable!

Case proved.  Case closed.

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Incidentally, contrary to some other dobber's* assertion over on the above individual's blog that I'm 'picking on' or 'targeting' him - complete b*ll*cks!  I'm merely responding to untruths and misrepresentations that he's persistently and publicly perpetuated about me.

(*Leach by name, leech by nature, it would seem.  Why else clamp on to a subject without knowing the full facts?)

The MARK Of The BEANO...

Dobber.  See bottom of post for his sibling

I should emphasise, in light of some ridiculous remarks that I'm 'targeting' the two individuals concerned, that this post is merely a response to fallacious remarks made about me on their Twitter sites.  As they initiated the situation, I can hardly be accused of 'picking on' them, now can I?

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Y'know, I reckon I'm a pretty decent guy.  I feed the poor, help the needy, and heal the sick.  True, that last one means only that I take an aspirin when I've got a headache, and, come to think of it, I'm referring to my own situation in the first two examples as well.  But, what the hell - charity begins at home they say.

Recently, someone has been having a go at me on another forum.  This person has been publicly insulting about me and has spread lies and distortions, and published a link to a photo of me on his Twitter site.  "Why?" you may ask.  Simple.  He's a dobber.  A fat, bald, dobber.  On his site, he uses intemperate language and indulges in pretty pointless tweets about nothing much at all. Except in my case, of course, as I'm extremely important.  (At least, I think that's the word the doctor used.)

The worrying thing about this is that, as he's keen to announce on his site, he works for The Beano.  Now, while it's nice to know that the role of the teaboy is not dead, given his public pronouncements, I'm surprised that the aforesaid weekly allows him to publicly advertise his association to one of Britain's once-finest institutions.  A publication primarily aimed at kids, 'tis said, by one of its other contributors, who bears an uncanny resemblance to the shifty-eyed individual in the above photo.

So what's his beef with me?  As I'm feeling in a particularly conspiratorial mood, permit me to share the facts with you.  On this other forum, a member mentioned that, after a period of Roger The Dodger's dad being rejuvenated into a younger man, his original, older appearance had now been 'restored'.  That was the good news.  The bad news was the strip was now being drawn by someone who can't actually draw very well.

To me, that's a similar scenario to being told that your terminal illness is in remission and then being run over and killed by a bus after leaving the doctor's.  So I said so - in what I considered to be an innocuous, humorous and obviously hyperbolic remark.  Note that no specific illness was mentioned.  The purpose (as the intelligent amongst you will immediately recognize) was not to mock illness or death, but simply to point out that good news can often be accompanied or followed by a less than happy result.  A comparison of ironies, in other words.

Now, it's obvious that my occasional criticisms of certain aspects of the very periodical 'Tubs' works for is the real source of his irritation with me, but he used my ironic analogy as an excuse to throw a hissy fit, call me an "idiot who spouts urine", and then indulge in a dialogue with his 'clone' in which they made some disparaging remarks about me on their Twitter accounts.

As I said, I consider myself a nice guy, but one thing which I won't tolerate is stand-ins for Tweedledum and Tweedledee attempting to stir up animosity against me by lies and distortions on their Twitter sites - or anywhere else for that matter.  If they're going to have a public go at me, then I feel not only entitled, but perfectly justified in doing likewise at them.

So, bearing in mind that they started it, I'm sure you'll understand me using my organ (behave, I'm talking about my blog) to slap down the guilty parties.  Sometimes a man's just gotta do what a man's gotta do.

So consider it done.

Separated  at birth?  I give you - 'The Dobber Twins'

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I see that the 'twin' has posted a misleading reference to events on his own blog, and, as usual, resorts to tedious attempts at suggesting I'm an 'aggressive' troublemaker.  That's the problem with those who have an inflated sense of themselves - anyone who disagrees with them is described as being aggressive.  What he fails to mention is that on the forum in question, he has in the past been accused by others of a bullying and highhanded attitude, so I'm not the only one who has a problem with him.

He seems to think that if he says something often enough, he can thereby plant the suggestion in folk's minds that it must be the truth, but the fact is that he's the one who distorts, misrepresents - and as I irrefutably demonstrated yesterday on that other forum - just outright lies about things in his attempts to manipulate the facts to suit his purpose.  Which once again seems to be that anyone who has the 'temerity' to disagree with him is bitter, twisted and disturbed.

And marvel at his hypocrisy!  He describes my joke as 'sick', while seeing no irony in the fact that he's responsible for a so-called humour strip about a guy who continually tries to commit suicide.  You couldn't make it up!  

The TOAD CAME HOME...

A 1967 edition of the acclaimed classic

Are you all sitting comfortably?  Good, then I'll begin.  My first exposure (ooer, missus) to Kenneth Grahame's 'The Wind In The Willows' was the Disney cartoon 'short' of the same name.  That wasn't the film's original title, which was 'The Adventures Of Ichabod And Mr. Toad', two animated tales combined in a single cinematic presentation.  Singer Bing Crosby narrated the Ichabod portion and actor Basil Rathbone performed the vocal honours on the Mr. Toad one.

Later, they were re-released separately, and renamed after the books on which they were based.  I saw TWITW at an inter-schools art competition prize-presentation (of which I was an entrant) in my local cinema on the afternoon of my very last day at primary school before the school holidays began.  The movie was screened, the prizes awarded, and we were then returned to our schools at the end of the afternoon to collect our schoolbags and jackets, and thereafter revel in eight whole weeks of summer fun before some of us started secondary school at the start of the new term.

It was on a lazy afternoon sometime in first year that I chanced upon the novel in the school library, as chalk dust floated languidly in the white glare of the sunlight which pierced the large curtained windows at the side of the room.  I had enjoyed the cartoon (and recognized snippets of it from screenings of 'Disney Time' on TV one Christmas or other) so decided to read the book and promptly got it stamped out.  It was certainly a good read, but it didn't make an overwhelming impression on me of the kind that one might expect from an acclaimed classic of literature.  No, that would come later - and here's how it did.

I was in my local newsagent's one day in 1972 or mid- '73, and, on their paperback spinner-rack, was the book whose cover you see at the top of this post.  There were two copies, one of which I bought solely because the cover illustration and the pristine, sharply-defined newness of the tome fascinated and appealed to me in some indefinable way.  I had no intention of actually re-reading it - I merely wanted to gaze upon it, handle it, and luxuriate in its presence and the sheer joy of owning an item of such aesthetic perfection.

But then disaster struck!  The next day I inadvertently dropped the book over the side of the settee and dunted a corner.  The putrid portrait in Dorian Gray's attic could not have presented a more terrible vision of ugliness and imperfection as that one crushed corner which so transfixed my horrified attention.  There was only one thing for it - to buy its twin with which it had recently shared a space in the spinner-rack of the shop from where I had purchased it.  I had acquired the first copy on a Friday afternoon after school, so, at the first available opportunity - which was Sunday morning - I rushed to the newsagent's and took possession of the doppelganger destined to assume the place of its maimed and mutilated companion.

Now I had two copies - one at which to gaze longingly in rapt admiration and appreciation of its awesome appearance, and one to - what, exactly?  Read?  Well, why not?  So that's precisely what I did!  It was on that second reading that the scales fell from my eyes and the wonder and mysteries and sheer beauty of Mr. Kenneth Grahame's (and Ernest H. Shepard's) captivating classic captured my heart and soul forever.  The River Bank, the Wild Wood, Toad, Ratty, Mole and Mr. Badger - and not forgetting the washerwoman, the pipes of Pan and the Stoats and the Weasels.

If you've never read The Wind In The Willows, do yourself a favour and do so before you die.  As A. A. Milne (the author of Winnie The Pooh and Toad Of Toad Hall) once wrote: "When you sit down to it, don't be so ridiculous as to suppose that you are sitting in judgement on my taste, or on the art of Kenneth Grahame.  You are merely sitting in judgement on yourself.  You may be worthy: I don't know.  But it is you who are on trial."

Truer words were never spoken.

    

REMEMBER, REMEMBER...

Presented in order of publication.  I actually first read them the other way around

As I've said before, I now say again - memory is a funny thing.  In a couple of recent posts, I told the story behind my first experience of the above two books, which I've now re-read for the first time since reading them back in 1973 and '75.  I was surprised by how much of Rog's book I remembered, not only before I started my second journey through its pages, but as I was actually reading it.  In quite a few instances, I would begin a paragraph and know how it concluded before I got to the end of it.  I certainly enjoyed the book, but it held no real surprises for me, serving merely to refresh my memory.

Colonel Sun, however, was an entirely different affair - I could recall hardly anything about it.  Apart from some details surrounding the torture scene (but not so much the torture itself) near the end of the story, it was as if I was reading it for the very first time in my life.  When I'd first read it, back around 1975, I found it pretty underwhelming, and perhaps that's why I never gave it a second thought and consigned it to the far recesses of my mind.  I suppose if one never exercises a memory from time to time, it atrophies and dies.  That's not to say that, given the right conditions, the memory cannot be resuscitated at a later date, but sometimes the 'right conditions' may never present themselves.

Strange thing is, I actually enjoyed the book this time around, and found it fairly engrossing.  I'd certainly recommend it as a worthy addition to the literary collection of any James Bond fan.  However, I'm amazed at just how selective memory can sometimes be - even for someone like me who prides themselves on their powers of recollection.  The fact that I could remember the act of reading the book, but not much about the book itself (apart from the cover) makes me wonder just how much else I may have forgotten down through the years - and how much of what I do recall is reliable.

Anyone had any similar 'memorable' experiences?    

BLIMEY! MIKE NOBLE'S FIRST FIREBALL XL5 STRIP...

Images copyright relevant owner

Time for another MIKE NOBLE illustrated FIREBALL XL5 adventure from the pages of TV CENTURY 21.  This, in fact, is Mike's very first Fireball strip after GRAHAM COTON had drawn the initial episodes in the first five issues of the comic.  However, not wanting to do things by halves, I've thrown in two parts for the price of one. No, don't thank me - generosity is my middle name.

Part Two (with episodes three and four) coming soon!

  

LEGENDARY LOGOS - NOT MANY ARE A 'PATCH' ON THIS ONE...

Look at the above little beauty - wotta ripper!  Dunno who made it (FANDERSON perhaps?), but I picked it up on eBay a couple or so months back for a paltry few quid.  I feel like I should buy a blazer and sew it onto the breast pocket, but no doubt I'd get a few strange looks in the East End of Glasgow when I'm buying my fish suppers if I did.

So I'll just have to content myself with stealing admiring glances as it nestles in the appendages of one of my remote-control DALEKS on a shelf on the wall.  Just looking at it takes me back to 1966 faster than I can blink.  If only everyone could gain so much pleasure from such simple things the world would be a much happier place, don't you think? 

CADET DALEKS SWEET CIGARETTE CARDS From The '60s - PART FIVE...

Copyright BBC TV and the Estate of TERRY NATION

I'd imagine there must be quite a number of cavortin' Crivvies out there who are patiently waiting for the next instalment of The DALEKS sweet cigarette cards by confectionery company CADET.  Therefore, anxious not to disappoint their eager expectations, here are the next five cards in the series.  We're now at the halfway mark with only 25 cards to go to complete the set, so don't forget to keep your eyes peeled for them in future posts, on this, the best blog in the world.  (As voted by myself, of course.  Who else could be so deluded?)  

PART SIXTEEN Of FAVOURITE COMICS Of The PAST - FRIENDS, ROMANS, SUPERHEROES...

Images copyright MARVEL COMICS

IPC's new EAGLE comic came out on March 20th, 1982 (cover-dated 27th), but that's not the comic I want to reminisce about this time 'round, o cultured Crivvie comicbook collectors.  So why mention it, the more astute among you may be wondering.  That seems an entirely reasonable question, so I'll tell you.

I'd bought a copy of the revived title on the day, which was a Saturday, but I wanted another one because I'd damaged the cover while removing the free space spinner gift.  Consequently, the very next morning (Sunday), I took a stroll along to my old neighbourhood, where lay situated the very newsagent's from which I'd bought some of my very favourite comics back in the '60s and '70s.

I picked up a couple of copies of the new comic from the counter and then took a glance at a magazine shelf behind me.  What's this?  FANTASTIC FOUR #241 stared up at me in almost pristine newness, begging for me to buy it and take it home with me.  So I did!  The legendary JOHN BYRNE was the writer and artist on the mag at the time, and his run ranks right up there with STAN LEE's and JACK KIRBY's celebrated 102 issues over a ground-breaking nine year span.

On my way home, I dropped in on someone I knew, who gifted me with his SMASH! Annual for 1974, which he'd got as a Christmas present way back in 1973.  The reason for this act of seeming generosity sprang from his desire to induce me to paint a HULK picture on his wall at a later date.  If I remember correctly, I drew the outline that very day, and returned on a couple of subsequent occasions to paint it in.

To digress for but a mere moment, a few years before, I'd painted a life-size Hulk on another friend's ground-floor bedroom wall at the front of his house, and it soon became the talk of the steamie.  People couldn't walk past his house without standing and staring in through his window in admiration at my awesome artistic achievement (he said, modestly).

Anyway, on that particular Sunday of March 21st, I returned home with a couple of Eagle comics, a Fantastic Four mag and a Smash Annual - all of which I've still got.  I may show you pages from the other two publications in the future, but for the moment, let's savour a few images from the fabulous foursome's 241st issue of 'The World's Greatest Comic Magazine!'

And you know what?  Back then, it was!

 

THE SIMPLY STUNNING SALMA...

I confess!  I think SALMA HAYEK is

absolutely beautiful, and not being selfish, I'm

prepared to share a trio of photos of the gorgeous

goddess with the rest of you.  But don't let the wife

catch you drooling over these pulsating piccies or

your life will surely be hell.  You know just how

insanely jealous most women can be.

 

KID BATS A THOUSAND - And YOGI COMES ALONG For The RIDE...

1,000th POST! * 1,000th POST! * 1,000th POST!

One of my very favourite toys when I was a kid was a MARX YOGI BEAR on a yellow friction-drive scooter.  I got my very first one in 1963 and another one the week before my birthday in '64 or '65.  (I had the first in houses 1-3, and the second in houses 2 & 3.)  I'm not quite sure what fate eventually befell them, but the last time I can recall seeing either of them was around '67 or '68.  I could've still had them beyond that date of course, but I just can't remember with absolute certainty.  (Is there any other kind?)

Over the course of the last 30 years or so, since I started re-acquiring items I associate with my childhood, I've kept an eager eye out for Yogi and his scooter.  No joy - though I did see a photo of the box in a HANNA-BARBERA book I bought a few years back, but not the toy itself.  I published a picture of the box in a blog post back in April, asking anyone who had the toy - or knew where to get one - to get in touch, but no leads were forthcoming.

However, all things come to he who waits, and a couple or so weeks ago, I got an email from someone in Australia who had the very toy (and box) itself.  He sent me some photos, a deal was struck, and it won't be long before Yogi and his scooter arrive direct from Down Under, hopefully none the worse for wear after their long journey.  So, that's one more childhood toy dropping in to keep me company before I fall off the twig - only a few more still to acquire.

So chuffed am I at the prospect of soon being reunited with my boyhood pal that I thought I'd share some of the photos of Yogi sent to me by the seller.  In a short while I'll be able to claim that I've had the 'same' Yogi scooter toy in four straight houses in a row since the early '60s - which may be of no particular significance to anyone else, but connects me to a comforting continuity with the past from which I derive a great and palpable pleasure.

And thanks to Jerome for being able to 'bear' parting with him.  (Ouch!  Even I winced at that one.)

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And, lest you happen to think that the idea of Yogi Bear riding a scooter is an unlikely one, here's a photo which proves otherwise.  Apologies to whichever site the photo came from - I can't remember and didn't take a note.

LIVE & LET PLAY - OVER HERE, ELSIE...

Copyright relevant owner

Blackpool, 1973.  I'm sat on a deckchair next to my parents in the Sun Lounge of the famous North Pier, half-listening to the organist, RAYMOND WALLBANK, and reading the above paperback, when all of a sudden a high-pitched screech pierces the air: "Elsie... ELSIE! Over here... OVER HERE!  Cooooo-eeeee... ELSIE!"  The voice belonged to an elderly lady sat next to a companion, who was frantically flapping her handkerchief in an attempt to attract the attention of the afore-mentioned Elsie who'd just arrived.  Thankfully, Elsie heard her friend (as did residents on the far side of Blackpool, I would imagine) and soon took up the designated place beside her.

"I'm so glad you found Elsie!", quipped Raymond, good-naturedly, at the end of his tune.  Even I, as an uncouth 14 year-old, recognized the woman's bad manners in interrupting the performance to hail her pal, but I soon re-immersed myself in my book.  True, technically, I was perhaps likewise disrespectful in not paying full attention to Raymond, but at least I was unlikely to disturb anyone else's enjoyment while indulging in the object of my literary preoccupation.

Anyway, today I took possession of a replacement of the very book I read 40 years ago, as a 14 year old youth on Blackpool Pier.  I obtained it from AMAZON for a mere penny - 39 pence short of what the book cost brand-new four decades back.  Okay, I paid £2.80 for post and packing, but I'd probably still have had to pay that if the book had cost me a tenner, so let's not get bogged down in mere details.  (Even if I started it.)

If I recall rightly, I'd been to see LIVE & LET DIE not too long before our visit to the famous seaside resort, so the film was still fresh in my mind.  Also, the day before our departure, I'd acquired the 2nd edition CORGI TOYS ASTON MARTIN DB5 diecast spy-car, which I took with me on holiday.  I'd purchased it in one of my local R.S. McCOLL's, and although it was 1973, it was the original, '68 model in the blister pack instead of a box.  (Must've been old stock, I guess.  And yes - I managed to replace it some time back.)

The difference between the newer version of the car and the original 1965 gold-coloured model was that, unlike its predecessor, it was an actual DB5.  The previous incarnation had been rushed into production at the last minute, so existing moulds of a DB4 were swiftly modified and pressed into production.  In 1967/'68, Corgi Toys created completely new tooling, and, as well as being a slightly larger scale, the new car was the correct silver birch colour and sported revolving number-plates and rear tyre-slashers, as well as all three of the original features on the earlier release.

But I digress.  Returning to the book, there are still parts I recall even after all these years: Roger chipping a tooth and requiring root-canal work; having to shoot the wedding/motorboat scene again due to a steering mishap; the sign 'TRESPASSERS WILL BE EATEN' being the actual sign of the crocodile farm and not an invention of the filmmakers.  I'm not sure whether the book was ever republished, but the copy I received today is a first-printing and in extremely good condition.  Not bad for one 'new' penny, eh?

So, here's to that long-ago holiday in Blackpool, and all the comicbooks purchased back then; the Aston Martin, Roger's book, Elsie and her pals - and last but not least - the cool-as-a-cucumber Mr. Raymond Wallbank, who sadly died in 2010.  He played on the North Pier from 1965 to 1995, a period of 30 years in all.  When I eventually get around to re-reading the book, you can bet your boots I'll have another hearty chuckle at the memory of Raymond's humorous and gentle 'remonstrance' on that sunny July afternoon back in 1973.

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Incidentally, prior to that day on the North Pier, I'd thought that the cry of "Cooooo-eeeee!" was a word only ever used in films or comics, not in real life. After all, it wasn't actually a 'real' word used by 'real' people, was it?  Or so I'd thought until that June or July day in Blackpool back in 1973.  As far as I can recall, that was the first, last and only time I've ever heard it being used  - outside, that is, of someone perhaps using it in an affected manner for humorous effect.

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We returned to Blackpool on holiday the next year, 1974, and that was the last holiday I ever had - never been away since.  My parents returned several times over the decades, and may well have sat on the North Pier listening to Raymond again on quite a few occasions, but I did so only once.  Odd to think that the initial shared family experience was likely repeated, but without my presence.  Strange what passes through one's mind while reminiscing, eh?

    

In memory of Raymond Wallbank - born August 8th, 1932,

  died February 16th, 2010.

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Above, is a replacement for my silver birch Aston Martin, which I acquired sometime in the '90s.