BABE Of The DAY - IMOGEN HASSALL...

IMOGEN HASSALL presents a

pretty impressive picture as she poses

her perfectly-proportioned person for

 our palpitating pleasure.  (Poetry.)

COMMANDO #5000...

Images copyright D.C. THOMSON & Co., Ltd

This one's old news by now, but I bought COMMANDO #5000 from WHS just a few days ago.  It was on the top shelf, and four different issues occupied the same space (one in front of the other), as opposed to being on display side-by-side so that customers could see there was more than one single issue on offer.  Just as well I decided to take a closer look and check through them.  Commando came out in 1961 and is still going strong, so if you'd like a nice little collectors' item, check out your local WHS or corner newsagent's and see if they've got any left.

FLEETWAY used to do their own version of Commando (can't recall what title it went under), as well as westerns, spy stories and humour strips in the same format (as did DCT).  I remember the sad day when the editor of IPC's pocket libraries was told they were being discontinued and that he was being made redundant.  I think his name may have been either ALAN or BRIAN SMITH, but I'm not certain.  If anyone out there knows, can you enlighten me please, so that I can give credit where it's due.

Anyway, just think - Commando has been published continuously since 1961, and that's a milestone surely worth celebrating.

I'M DESPERATE TO 'STRIP' - FOUR TIMES OVER...

DESPERATE DAN copyright D.C. THOMSON & Co., Ltd

Ach, I'm bored and can't think what to post.  How about a few of my comic strips drawn over the years, ranging from my teenage years up to the present day?  So, presented in sequential order (apart from the above one), here're the only colour ones I've got handy.  Feel free to slag 'em off - hey, I can take it.

(Yup, you've seen 'em all before, but they're not so bad they can't stand another viewing.)

******

I notice that few, if any, regulars ever comment when I post any of my art.  I can only assume it's because they don't want to hurt my feelings by telling me it's sh*te.  Ah, well.  (Sob!)

Drawn when I was a mere 17 years old

Published in The ILLUSTRATED COMIC JOURNAL

Drawn for my own amusement a year or two back

BABE Of The DAY - ABI TITMUSS...

I told awesome ABI TITMUSS

to give me a call, so she did.  And she

used Skype so I'd see her in the flesh

 (literally) as we spoke.  Wotta gal!

BERNIE WRIGHTSON PASSES AWAY...

Copyright DC COMICS

Legendary SWAMP THING artist BERNIE WRIGHTSON has passed away after battling brain cancer for many years.  Condolences to all his family, many friends, and legions of fans. We shall remember him.

BABE Of The DAY - JOLENE BLALOCK...

Right, JOLENE, get straight on

down to the hairdressers for a haircut.

Wait!  On second thoughts, no need to be

so drastic!  You'd look much nicer with

 your hair in a fetching ponytail.

DARKER THAN THE AVERAGE BEAR...

When I was around 5 or 6, my mother one day bought me a YOGI & HUCK ramp walker (made by MARX TOYS) from WOOLWORTH's.  If you placed it at the top of an incline, it would toddle down to the bottom in a hypnotically comical way.  It had a loop on the front through which a weighted cord could be tied, allowing the toy to walk on flat surfaces too.  If you hung the weight over the edge of a table or ledge, it gently pulled the toy along as the cord descended to the floor.  (Later versions were released without the loop at the front.)

The toy you see in the above photo is a replacement I acquired over 20 years ago.  I stripped off what remained of the original paint and completely repainted it - to a higher standard than when it left its Hong Kong factory in the '60s.  I used medium brown for Yogi, who has worn many shades of the colour in various incarnations over the years, but my original toy had such a dark shade of brown that I often used to wonder as a lad if it was black.

Over the years I sometimes wondered if my memory was accurate about the colour, but recently I saw one for sale on eBay which was of the exact same colour as the one I had as a boy.  I trust the seller won't mind me using two of his pics to show you what my original looked like, in comparison to its replacement acquired back in the '90s.  Most other versions of the toy I've seen (and I now have 5 6 of them) have been of the medium brown variety, but Marx toys always had variations in the colour schemes.  Maybe one day I'll buy a darker one to complete the set.

(Or repaint one of the toys I already have.)

BABE Of The DAY - RHIAN SUGDEN...

Bikini'd beauty RHIAN

SUGDEN sure is a hottie, from

whichever angle you look at her.

She can turn her back on me any

 time.  (I am not worthy.)

WORKPLACE WOES: NO 'TIME' TO 'WATCH' THE 'CLOCK'...

Nearly 10 years ago, I worked in a watch repair shop.  Someone I thought was a friend ran the place, and because she had no option but to employ an idiot when I declined her offer of a job, I felt a little guilty and subsequently agreed to take the position when she eventually decided to dispense with his utterly superfluous 'services'.

The girl I worked with was lazy and uncommitted to the business, but as it was the sort of commercial enterprise that almost ran itself, it still managed to turn a profit, though obviously not as good a one had she deigned to apply herself in the way she ought to have.  She'd arrive late, then take time to apply lipstick and make-up and have her brekkie, things she should've done before coming into work.  There were even times when she turned up reeking of booze.

She'd close the place to go and do shopping, or buy clothes for her idiot boyfriend, while potential customers, finding the shutter down, would simply go along to her rivals a couple of units away. She ran the place for her own convenience rather than her employers, and whenever I made any suggestions about attracting more business, her reply was always "If they don't bother, why should I?", in reference to the two blokes who paid her.  Even her mutant boyfriend called her "a lazy cow" - and I can't say he was wrong.

She often took advantage of my good nature by going out for a drink with one or two of her motley assortment of 'pals' (on unscheduled breaks), leaving me to cope with long queues by myself - even on a Saturday, the busiest day of the week.  That said, I never enjoyed myself more than when she dropped a sprog and took 6 months maternity leave, and I worked alone for the entire duration she was off.

Being conscientious, I ran the business as if it were my own, occasionally working past closing time to make sure any small repairs not handled by the workshop in Newcastle were completed in a timely (pun intended) fashion.  And guess what?  In the six months she was away, I increased the takings over the previous year for the same period by a whopping 10 grand.  Not a myth, not a hoax, not an imaginary story - a full 10 thousand quid!  That's a lotta dosh!

When I left, after handing in a week's notice because the bosses wouldn't confront the shopping centre owners over the issue of 'hawkers' outside the shop doorway scaring away casual browsers and distracting me from intricate procedures, the shop's takings immediately plummeted.  (Even with the complement of staff now being back to two - herself and my replacement.)  How do I know?

Because I was in secret negotiations with the shop owners about buying the business, along with a friend who saw the potential of the place when he learned of how much I'd increased takings during my former colleague's absence.  We'd therefore been supplied with figures of the business's performance from the last year up to the present one.  The facts (and figures) spoke for themselves.

It seems unlikely that one person could increase takings by such a huge sum, so obviously there must've been other factors at work which accounted for at least part of it.  Sometimes, before her absence, she'd 'phone on her days off to say not to bother doing the 'banking' at closing time, as she'd do it when she came in the next day.  Occasionally I'd do it though, and there were instances when the cash in the safe didn't correspond to what should've been there. "Don't worry about it," she'd say when I mentioned it, "it always balances up in the end."  (I'm merely relating factual events - any conclusions you draw are your own.)

The shopping centre owners were in some kind of difficulty and weren't renewing leases on premises, so we were told that we'd have to wait until this was sorted before ownership of the lease could be transferred to us.  The sellers advised us to get a solicitor, which we did, though when he contacted their solicitor, his 'counterpart' told him that he hadn't been informed of the intended sale, nor yet received any instructions to proceed on the matter.  The money was all ready and waiting, but nothing was happening.

'Negotiations' wore on for a year and a half, during which time I lost interest and realised that the prospect of working again with my former colleague didn't at all appeal to me.  I'd let myself be influenced by my friend and would-be co-investor, who secured my participation with visions of immense riches and becoming 'captain of my fate'.  I 'phoned the Newcastle boys and told them that, as far as I was concerned, the deal was off, and followed that up with a letter telling them in no uncertain terms what I thought of them for complacently dragging their heels for 18 months.

Anyway, her bosses eventually sold the business to her (at a much higher price), which is probably a good thing, because doubtless I'd have ended up sacking her.  I couldn't say whether it's doing well or not, but as it makes no difference to my life either way, it hasn't really occurred to me to wonder about it.  Obviously, it won't ever do as well as it would under my stewardship, but money couldn't buy the sense of relief (and release) I felt the moment I made up my mind to simply walk away from it all.

Sometimes, "Never go back" can be a very smart decision - even though it's not one you'll often hear nostalgists such as myself admit to.

REMINISCING REPOST: AMAZING TALES Of CREEPY WORLDS Of SUSPENSE (Or SOMETHING LIKE THAT)...

Copyright MARVEL COMICS 

I remember my dad giving me a notebook one day, and when I took it into school with me a short time later, a girl in my class called LYNNE SPEED (or Lynn, perhaps) took a fancy to it for some reason and offered to swap me an issue of CREEPY WORLDS #68 for it.  I agreed, but a few days afterwards, I felt bad about having parted with the notebook and asked Lynne if she'd swap back.

She was agreeable to the proposition, but it took her several more days to bring the notebook into school with her.  And that's all there is to that little story.  Apart from to say that the IRON MAN strip in this ALAN CLASS reprint title always reminds me of the annexe huts (in front of which the deal was struck) in my school playground and Lynne herself.  The cover of the comic is from an unretouched stat of the original art, as a few changes were made before it was first published in the pages of TALES Of SUSPENSE #44 (below).

As you'll have noticed, 'pharaoh' on both covers is misspelt, something that I still see in many newspapers today.  When the story was again reprinted in recent MASTERWORKS and OMNIBUS editions, the mistake was restored (it had been corrected for previous reprints), but in the absence of uncorrected proofs, it had to be re-lettered the wrong way.  They missed one on the splash page though, and the alterations back to the uncorrected text were less skilfully executed than the original amendments.

Lynne Speed in 1967

Not much of a point to this post, admittedly, but I just wanted to see that KIRBY cover again and remember things as they used to be when the world seemed a much brighter and better place.  If you've any memories of your own connected to this Iron Man tale, then feel free to share. 

NOW THIS IS WHAT I CALL DANCING...

Wish I was this fit - how about the rest of you?

KLASSIC KIRBY KOMIC KOVERS: FANTASTIC #7 (& TALES Of SUSPENSE #43)...

Images copyright MARVEL COMICS

I've shown it before and I'll show it again, because it was the first issue of FANTASTIC I ever bought - even though I'd seen previous issues, but never succumbed to their lure.  If you compare the above cover to the original, below, you'll notice that it's been re-lettered, and that there're slight differences to the art - leading me to think that the Fantastic version may be from a very poor stat which has been heavily retouched - or perhaps even completely traced from an inferior source.  Think I'm havering?  Then compare the two covers for yourselves and make up your own minds.

BABE Of The DAY - JERI RYAN...

"Just how do you get into that outfit?"

I asked the stunning JERI RYAN.  "Well,

buying me a drink would be a good start,"

she trilled.  "Barman - a double gin and

tonic for my friend here - pronto!"

TEENAGE TALES: HARK, WHOSE VOICE IS THAT I HEAR?

His first name is Saul, his surname is unimportant.  When he came up from England to work in my home town back in the early 1970s (I think, could've been earlier), his wife didn't quite fancy 'upping sticks' and therefore didn't accompany him.  Saul is what is known as a 'charismatic', born-again Christian (trust me, he hasn't an ounce of charisma) and believes that God talks to him.  He also 'speaks in tongues' and believes in modern-day miracles, like raising people from the dead - though the last time he tried that in the company of the group you read about in a previous Teenage Tales episode, him and his merry band met with a singular lack of success.

Saul is basically a good person, given to acts of charity and kindness, but, in my opinion, is seriously deluded, even mentally ill.  He fits the pattern of many religious fanatics of a Christian persuasion, being sensitive, highly strung, emotional, and 'socially awkward' outside of his own group of like-minded friends.  He once told me that God had informed him that he and his wife would one day be reunited, believing the situation to be a test of his faith of some kind.  After many years (around 12, I think), his wife decided to join him in Scotland and he was convinced this was the fulfilment of God's promise to him.  Alas, the reconciliation was short-lived.

After more-or-less leading separate lives for all those years, his wife now expected him to put her first in everything.  However, Saul had a routine, established over several years; he had prayer meetings to attend, church business to see to, work commitments to deal with, etc.  His spouse decided that he wasn't making her his priority (not that she'd ever accorded him the same courtesy) and pretty soon pissed off back down to England.  Eventually, they divorced and Saul married a younger woman in his church, got a dog, had some kids, and is presumably extremely happy with his life.

I say 'presumably' because I jettisoned him as a friend over 30 years ago and haven't spoken to him since.  Nor do I want to, but I can't help but wonder how he explains (away) his former conviction that God intended him and his first wife to be reunited and then live happily ever after.  Obviously, he was mistaken about that (in exactly the same way he was 'mistaken' about God raising Mrs. Cowie from her deathbed), so how does he now account for his years of waiting for God's 'promise' to be fulfilled, only to find that it was based on nothing more than his own wishful thinking?  Any normal person would put up their hands and admit they'd been a bit of a pillock, surely?

Here's an interesting insight into his type of mentality though.  Sometime in the late '70s, Saul told me that God spoke to him one night and commanded him to fill up his bathtub (Saul's, not God's, as the Almighty obviously has no need of such earthly amenities) with water from the hot tap, untempered by cold water, and climb into the bath.  Saul dutifully did as he was ordered, nearly scalding himself in the process, then, having satisfied God with his humble act of subservience, climbed out.  Next, the Lord told him to fill the bath with cold water (after the hot water had been emptied of course) and climb back into the tub.  Saul obediently did so, almost giving himself a heart attack in the process from the shock.

I gazed at him in stunned disbelief.  "Do you seriously suppose that God, in the unlikely event He'd ever actually speak to you, would instruct you to do something which had such potentially harmful consequences to your well-being, if not your life?" I asked him, incredulous at the man's stupidity.  "Oh, I no longer believe it was God speaking to me" he replied.  My relief was short-lived.  " I think it was Satan!" he said, with no sense of the absurdity of his statement.

I'll let you draw your own conclusions about that true tale from my teenage years, but it's a shocker, isn't it?  Just imagine, someone like Saul could be living next door to you.  You'll just have to hope that 'the voice of the Lord' he hears in his head is a benevolent one.  However, whatever you do, if he (or she) ever tries to give you marriage guidance - or, worse - offers to run a bath for you, make your polite excuses and remove yourself from their presence right away. Those types of people often run hot or cold (little joke there) in the mental stability stakes, I've found.

Well, gotta go - the small voice in my head is calling, so it's time for me to take one of my little red 'Smarties'.  If you know someone like Saul, feel free to record your experience of them in the comments section.

******

And make of the following verse what you will:

"The Devil exists, of that there's no doubt - but
    is he trying to get in us, or trying to get out?"   

BABE Of The DAY - ABI TITMUSS...

ABI TITMUSS sits by the window waiting

to catch a glimpse of me, but I surprised her by

coming in through the patio door.  She looks happy

to see me, and why wouldn't she be?  Big handsome

hunks like me are every gal's dream.  (And I have

 a large box of MILK TRAY under my arm.)

RIVETING REPOST: TALES Of ASGARD - And YESTERYEAR...

Images copyright MARVEL COMICS.  Art by Walter Simonson

Back at the end of 1983 or beginning of '84, I purchased TALES Of ASGARD Volume 2, Number 1, with its beautifully rendered WALT SIMONSON cover, and determined one day to acquire Volume 1, Number 1 of the same title.  That issue had been published in 1968, and it's possible I'd seen it in some back issue comics shop in the intervening 15 or 16 years between both volumes, but, if so, I'd never felt the need to own it at that time.  Now, of course, I couldn't have the second one without also having the first.

The years came and went without me ever obtaining the aforementioned classic, but a year or so back, MARVEL published a 6-issue series of all the Tales of Asgard stories - and then released them in a hard-cover Omnibus-sized book.  (It's just been released in a standard-sized softcover edition also.)  I now had all the stories in their restored and re-coloured glory, not to mention a few of the original THOR comics in which some of them first appeared.  What need now had I of the original 68 page 1968 comic?  If it was anything like the 1983/'84 Special, the artwork suffered from line drop-out on VINCE COLLETTA's fine inking, rendering the printed pages far less detailed than their original back-up appearances in Thor's own monthly magazine.

Art by Jack Kirby & Frank Giacoia

Well, the answer is obvious - none, really.  So when I spied the coveted issue on sale on eBay recently, I must've hesitated for all of two seconds before snapping it up it to add to my already vast collection.  What can I say?  Only other rabid collectors will fully understand the need to fill that missing gap in a run - even if you already have other presentations of the contents.

I now have the MASTERWORKS editions, as well as the AVENGERS UNITED printings (a U.K. publication, the recent re-coloured 6-issue series, the THOR OMNIBUS, the MARVEL SPECIAL EDITION issues, the hardback book, the 1984 Walt Simonson covered comic - and now I have the '68 Special as well.  (Only 27 or 28 years after I first decided to one day make it my own.)  I have every Tales of Asgard story ever printed, in either partial or complete presentations of these mini-classics.  Surely now I can draw the curtains on that particular compulsion to have a complete set of these stories?

You'd think so, wouldn't you?  But I'm finding that recent release of the softcover edition mighty tempting.  Will someone please save me from myself?

TEENAGE TALES: A DEATH In The FAMILY...

Just because I'm starting on a new Teenage Tales, it doesn't mean I've totally finished with the last one.  As you'll recall, I was telling you about a guy called Adam Cowie, who was a sad fantasist totally disconnected from reality.  In the previous instalment, I recounted the story of the night his mother died, but there's a bizarre incident concerning her death that demands to be told.

Adam's blind parents attended a local Baptist Church, which, among its members, was a contingent of - well, let's be honest - nut-jobs, who were into things like speaking in tongues and modern-day miracles.  Some folks - usually highly-strung, socially inadequate oddballs - need to feel closer to God than 'ordinary' churchgoers, and you'll find them in most places of worship, always smiling and praying and hugging and frightening normal people away from attending.

Anyway, one of this group was convinced that God had revealed to him that, though ill, Mrs. Cowie would make a full recovery.  He must have misheard, as Mrs. Cowie died and exposed him as the deluded diddy he was, but he wasn't easily deterred.  This was clearly a test of faith designed to reveal the 'handiwork of the Lord', so this small group of 'neo-pentecostalists' gathered around the bed of the dead woman, held hands, and prayed to the Almighty for the miracle He'd clearly intended to follow Mrs. Cowie's 'temporary' expiration.

Mr. Cowie wasn't really into all this sort of stuff, but, from what I heard afterwards, he found himself unable to quell the group's determination and enthusiasm to 'glorify God' by restoring life to the inert body of his deceased wife.  Also, there was probably a small part of him that hoped against hope that this band of zealots might accomplish what they were all convinced they could do.  Sadly, it was not to be, and Mrs. Cowie remained lifeless in her bed.

Quite a horror story, eh?  Don't get me wrong, it's really not my intention to mock religious people, but when a group's so-called beliefs inflict such a level of pain on someone at the point of bereavement, then I'd suggest it's well-past time for them to stand back and take a long hard look at themselves.  However, that's not the main story I intended to tell, so permit me to get back on track before you all decide to bail out over to 'Steve Does Comics'.  (Hey, whaddya mean, too late!?)

Around two years or so later, having moved into a small flat, old Mr. Cowie went to be with his departed wife.  I didn't live too far from what was now Adam's flat, and sometimes I'd stay overnight and we'd watch films on TV, read comics, and talk the usual nonsense that all teenagers do.  Anyway, one morning, in the small hours, as I dozed in one chair and Adam dozed in another, he suddenly (and loudly) blurted out "Right, dad, I'll make you a cup of tea in a minute."

Neither of us were actually asleep, just dozing, and I could tell that Adam was indulging in a bit of theatre for my benefit, intended to 'set the stage' for some coming denouement.  I was correct, as a few hours afterwards when we were both up and about, he enquired (trying far too hard to sound casual), "Gordon, do I talk in my sleep?"  "Dunno," I replied, unwilling to be a straight-man to his performance of the grief-stricken son, so devoted to his father that he spoke to him in his sleep.  And performance it was, to be sure.

This was confirmed a day or two later, when we were in a pub (I was on Cokes), and he was telling an acquaintance that his father had not long passed away.  "Me and my dad were really, really close - isn't that so, Gordon?" he asked, looking for my support in his role as the devastated mourner.  Now, truth be told, I didn't have a clue if they were or not, but he obviously believed that the closer his stated relationship between himself and his father, the greater his grief would be assumed to be by people because of it.  "Yeah," I said, resignedly and with no great conviction.

Who knows, maybe we all fall into playing the roles that fate seems to expect from us in any given situation, but you'd think we'd be able to put it on hold in the face of bereavement.  It seemed to me that Adam was mostly going through the motions of being a bereft son, and that his folks' deaths had provided him with an opportunity to stand centre-stage for a while and bask in a captive audience's attention.

Well, I suppose I'd better call it quits now before you accuse me of being far too cynical.  Another Teenage Tales episode coming soon, about a man I knew who claimed that God told him to take a bath.  Intrigued?  Then don't forget to remember to drop in again. 

TEENAGE TALES: The WORLD'S A STAGE, And EACH MUST PLAY HIS PART...

I've written before about Adam Cowie, also known as 'Billy Liar', so time once again for yet another chapter in the seemingly unending saga of the life of a fantasist.  Adam Cowie isn't his real name, but it's close enough for those who knew him to know who I'm referring to should they ever read this.

I'd not long turned 16 when the tale I'm about to relate occurred.  Adam, being around 3 and a half months younger than me, was about due to turn 16, or had maybe just celebrated his 16th birthday relatively recently.  Anyway, I chapped his door one evening to be met by a woman by the name of Mrs. Pert, who announced that Mrs. Cowie had just died.

Adam appeared behind her at the door and I expressed my condolences.  I decided to return home and leave him to his grief, but he said he'd accompany me part of the way as he wanted to call in on another of his pals to see him about something.  As we walked, he asked me not to tell my parents that his mother had died as he "didn't want anyone to know", which puzzled me, but I agreed to his odd request.

(Turns out, as I later learned, that he'd only visited his pal to inform him of Mrs. Cowie's death and soak up some sympathy.  So much for not wanting anyone to know.  His lie made sense to me later though.)

At least a week had passed, maybe a fortnight, when a mutual friend asked me if I'd heard that Mrs. Cowie had recently passed away.  I was surprised, and said "But how did you know?  Adam said he wanted to keep it quiet."  "Everybody knows" he replied.  Well, if everybody knew, I saw no reason not to tell my parents and duly did so that very same evening.

In the fullness of time, Adam visited my house one day and was made a fuss of by my mother in the way that only women can.  (I'd told him that my folks knew as there had seemed no point in keeping them in the dark, seeing as how it was common knowledge.)  As I studied Adam, it seemed to me that he was enjoying being the centre of attention and lapping it up, like an actor relishing playing a starring role.

It was only then I realised why he'd asked me not to tell my parents of his mother's death - he'd wanted to retain the 'element of surprise' and thereby increase the drama of the situation.  It has far more of an effect on those offering condolences if they haven't been forewarned of your bereavement.  You may think that fanciful, but he admitted to it when I broached the subject a couple or so years later.  I'm not sure how I feel about that - is it a natural reaction of a teenager to exploit such a sad occasion in order to revel in the attention and sympathy it brings?

(Not much of a story there, admittedly, but I find such examples of human nature fascinating, and thought that the rest of you might too.)

His father outlived his mother by only around two years, but a similar thing happened then, also, which  I'll tell you all about it in the very next instalment of Teenage Tales - right here on Crivens!

BABE Of The DAY - EMILY PROCTER...

The stunning EMILY PROCTER gazes lovingly

and longingly at me as I prepare a little snack for her.

Unfortunately, Emily's idea of a 'little snack' requires the

entire contents of my fridge.  I feel another trip to the super-

market coming up pretty darn soon if I want to eat over the

next couple of days.  It's just as well she has an exciting

'exercise' routine for keeping her fabulous figure.  "Your

 seven king-size burgers are nearly ready, dear."

REMINISCING REPOST: SMASH, BANG, WALLOP, WHAT A COMIC MAG...

The 1st issue of Smash! (February 1966)

It lasted a total of 257 issues - and there would've been more if not for a printing strike lasting several weeks in 1970.  It outlived companion titles WHAM! (187 issues), POW! (86), FANTASTIC (89), and TERRIFIC (43), essentially becoming a "best of" repository for all of them - but only for around 6 months or thereabouts.  Then it was out with the old and in with the new, and what would've been #163 became the first issue of the 'NEW' SMASH!, devoid of MARVEL reprints and more like traditional British boys comics like VALIANT and LION.  (It was the 48th anniversary of that relaunch on the 8th of this month, unless I'm very much mistaken.)

  

SMASH! was a superb comic, and the one in which I was first introduced to the FANTASTIC FOUR.  When ODHAMS PRESS initially presented the awesome origin of the FF, they did so in WHAM! and SMASH! simultaneously - curiously (and erroneously) claiming exclusivity for each title at the conclusion of the first episode of the four-part tale.  Would you like to read the next instalment of the quartet's dynamic debut adventure?  You could only do so in the next issue of WHAM! - according to WHAM!, that is.  If, however, you were reading SMASH!, it was claiming sole publishing rights for the next part of the story.  Was this an intentional two-pronged promotion of the FF to double their readership potential, or a sudden emergency measure necessitated by the non-arrival of a regular strip for SMASH!?  I guess only ALF, BART and COS know for certain - I sure don't.



Art by Jack Kirby & Vince Colletta

When I later discovered that REED, BEN, SUSAN and JOHNNY were regularly appearing in WHAM! ("The COMIC With The FANTASTIC FOUR!"), I started buying that title too in order to feed my romantic infatuation with The INVISIBLE GIRL, though I still continued to purchase SMASH! as well.  Then POW! (after WHAM! was merged with it) and also FANTASTIC and TERRIFIC.  It's somewhat ironic that SMASH!, having been the very first 'POWER' periodical I read - and the one in which I first discovered Marvel's most famous family - was also the last title standing, as well as the comic in which the FF made their home for the last few months of their Odhams Press existence.

   

The 1st revamped issue (March 1969)

As mentioned, the title was relaunched - in March 1969 - in a completely different format, featuring some stories originally intended for a comic called BLACKJACK, which, for reasons unknown (to me anyway), was sadly never published. (CURSITOR DOOM, and - eventually - The PILLATER PERIL being but a couple of examples.)  It lasted for 95 issues before being merged with VALIANT on 27th March, 1971 (issue dated 3rd April).

 

The Codemaster cards & envelope

All things come to an end, alas - but SMASH! didn't quite die with the last issue of its regular weekly comic.  Click here for the rest of the story.

BABE Of The DAY - ABIGAIL RATCHFORD...

Here's one lady who doesn't need

water-wings to stay afloat - she has her

own!  ABIGAIL RATCHFORD makes

me feel like getting wet.  So where's my

swimming trunks, for goodness' sake?

 Quick - before she quits the pool.

THE BOY COMMANDOS - VOLUME ONE...

Images copyright DC COMICS

Picked up this great book a few days ago - SIMON & KIRBY's The BOY COMMANDOS Volume One.  It's an entertaining read, though I'm not sure why DC decided to use cleaned up scans from actual '40s issues rather than new proofs coloured after the originals.  Although the scans look okay for the most part, some colours are so dark that they obscure the linework, and some pages look like they're under a tanned sheet of acetate film.

It didn't have to be this way, as, with a little tweaking, the pages could have been reproduced a little brighter, making them look not quite so 'faded'.  The page above is how it appeared in the book, the one below is the same page after I've done a bit of work on it.  I think it looks a lot better, but I'm perhaps a little biased.

And below, is the page (recoloured) from MISTER MIRACLE #6, from 1971/'72.  Which one do you think looks better, Criv-ites?  Anyway, you can doubtless buy this valiant volume at all good comicbook shops.

And here's the back cover to give you the official spiel.

The DAILY MIRROR BOOK Of GARTH 1975...

Image copyright relevant owner

Despite the date, the above book went on sale towards the end of 1974, and I remember looking through it in W. & R. HOLMES back then, but not buying it.  I wasn't familiar with GARTH, and had, I think, first learned of him in The PENGUIN BOOK Of COMICS (the 1st edition), borrowed from my local library in 1972 or '73.  Holmes was one of the best shops in my town, and I still miss it today, nearly 40 years after it closed.

Anyway, many years later (and many years ago), the Garth book came my way again and I snapped it up, as it was a happy reminder of my young teenage years, even though I'd never actually owned the volume.  Unfortunately, I can't open it wide enough to scan any of the strips without risking damage to the spine, so you'll just have to content yourselves with a look at the cover.  FRANK BELLAMY did the honours, and what a good job he did, eh?

BABE Of The DAY - RHIAN SUGDEN...

Ravishing RHIAN SUGDEN

strolls along the beach, looking for

a hunk of man like me to throw herself

at.  Unfortunately, I'm not on the beach,

I'm in my room at home typing this text,

so she's out of luck.  (As am I, now

 that I come to think about it.)

HEY, IT'S YOGI BEAR IN DIET (AND SCRIPT) DISASTER...

Characters copyright HANNA-BARBERA

25 years ago, a MARVEL U.K. editor asked me to letter a Holiday Special at short notice.  I agreed, but when I received the script and art, the script was awful.  It had been translated from a foreign edition (which was a translation from a U.S. edition) and the script was so immensely bad as to be insulting.

It was a HANNA-BARBERA-based cartoon comic, and almost nothing about the scripts was right.  RANGER SMITH was named WARDEN SMITH, PICNIC BASKETS were called LUNCHEON HAMPERS, and the characters spoke in a stilted fashion, merely repeating, in the main, what was obvious in the pictures.  What's more, little care had been taken to ensure the dialogue and captions fitted the allocated space.  It was a dog's dinner.

I 'phoned the editor and related my concerns, and enquired if I might be allowed to 'punch' things up a bit.  She reluctantly assented, seeing the wisdom in my words, but she wasn't overly happy that I'd spotted oversights she had missed.  However, the deadline was looming and there wasn't time to return the strips to the office to be lettered by anyone else.

You'll have to trust me on this, I suppose, but the finished result was far better than the original version.  I tailored all the dialogue to fit the balloons, I supplied the characters' logos for the splash pages (taken from a Hanna-Barbera book I had), and actually added some much-needed humour to the script.

The tale you see is one of the results.  If you get at least one chuckle out of it, that's one more than was in it before I got to work.  Did I get any more dosh for all the extra time and effort I put into it?  Hey, don't ask silly questions.

******

(Incidentally, I suspect that 'parsley' should have been rendered as 'celery', but that didn't occur to me until after I'd turned the job in.  It's just that I know people munch on celery to curb their appetite and lose weight, but I've never heard of anyone advised to eat parsley to do so.  It would probably work, but celery is the usual recommendation.)

It seems the original notion was to have Yogi borrow a dress from within the tent, but as I received
b&w stats to letter, I assumed it was the tent he was wearing and lettered it accordingly.  However,
the strip was coloured after I'd lettered it (as the open case ltg on page 1 being coloured shows), so
Yogi's wraparound should have been coloured to match the dialogue.  As it is, my idea of 'a bear in
a tent' has been compromised

Note that Yogi's borrowed tunic disappears in panel 2

Incidentally, all the balloon and caption shapes were already on
the art, so I had to fit my lettering within pre-existing outlines

And below is the cover which contained the above tale.