BORISOPHOBIA...

Let me start this post by saying that I'm not a fan of BORIS JOHNSON (or any politician come to that).  He often comes across as a buffoon, though maybe that's a role he plays on purpose so that his political opponents will seriously underestimate him (or for some other undetermined reason).  However, I believe the manufactured stushie over his comments about burkas reveals just how sorry we've become as a nation in recent years.

We Brits have always had the ability to laugh at (and among) ourselves.  The 'Englishmen, Irishman, and Scotsman' jokes that were once so popular were testament to the fact that we didn't take ourselves too seriously.  If an Englishman referred to a kilt as a 'skirt', there were no accusations of 'Celticphobia' suddenly flying around, with calls for an investigation.

Johnson's comments about pillar boxes and bank robbers were an attempt at humour, and however misjudged some people might consider his remarks, their response should surely be "T*sser!" and then to dismiss it from their minds.  I'm bound to say though, that in the pursuit of comedic comparison, the opening in a burka surely can be said to be reminiscent of the slot in a pillar box, and people who cover their faces could humorously be said to resemble bank robbers (but that's not the same thing as saying that they are bank robbers - or pillar boxes for that matter) - in much the same way that nuns are sometimes compared to penguins.  We don't hear nuns (or penguins) making a fuss about that though, do we?

There are two agendas at play here.  The first is a political one, where those scared of Johnson's alleged eye on the top job are exploiting the situation to try and kick the legs out from under him and scupper his chances, and the other is a cultural/religious one, where certain people within a minority section of our society, who are determined to take offense at everything, claim that they're the victims of Islamophobia - or any other ethnic/social/religious-phobia you care to mention.

It's a way to force us to bow the knee to them and elevate their 'sensitivities' (and demands) above everyone else's.  Ordinary, everyday British people are on the defensive, afraid to question, criticise, or even comment on any aspect of immigrant or ethnic cultures that isn't in accord with what have long been regarded as 'traditional British values'.  (And there's a phrase I never thought I'd type.)  We've now been manipulated into being so scared to cause offense to certain groups (and the current 'Gingerbread Man' controversy is a prime example) - even when none is intended or anticipated - that strange customs and practices, at one time foreign to our shores, are allowed to take root and grow unchallenged.

So some people claim to be offended by Boris's remarks and, sensing blood, they now circle like vultures - not just waiting for the victim's expiration, but pecking at its flesh in an attempt to hasten its demise.  It's time this nonsense stopped!  There's one right that no one has - or should have - in this world, and that's the right to be not offended.  (Yes, I typed that right - read it again.)

Do the English really think kilts look like skirts?  Then let them say so and we'll all have a laugh about it.  Do Scots think that the English are snooty snobs?  Then let them proclaim it and we'll all chuckle over it.  If immigrant or ethnic communities want to feel integrated (and perhaps many don't), then the chief British characteristic they should adopt is a sense of humour and the ability to laugh at themselves - and to allow others to laugh at (and with) them.

Remember the movie LIFE Of BRIAN?  Some Christians took offense, but it sparked an interesting and (mainly) civilised discussion.  You'll never see an Islamic equivalent of 'Brian' in today's Britain (for fear of giving 'offense' obviously, and the stushie that would ensue), and surely that should be regarded as a step backward.  No minority within our society should be allowed to exercise that type of control (through fear of how they might 'kick off' as a result of any perceived insult) over the majority, but our so-called 'leaders' are too scared to say so, never mind do anything about it. 

The agenda is control, readers.  Certain people in pursuit of that agenda are trying to exert influence over what we're allowed to think and say, and the method they're using is the claim of being offended whenever they hear something they don't like, or don't want others being able to say.  We shouldn't let this current situation with Boris become a weapon for those who wish to impose their ideas of how society should be on the rest of us.

Any thoughts on the matter?  I now declare the comments section open.  Who's going to be the first person brave enough to raise their head above the parapet?

REMINISCING REPOST: WHEN TITANS CLASH, ETERNITY BECKONS...

Images copyright MARVEL COMICS

Picture the scene: The living-room is lit by a standard lamp in the far corner, which casts its soft, warm glow over the fixtures, fittings and furniture - as well as the inhabitants, of which I am one.  Adding to the gentle light are the diffused rays from the coal-effect fire and the flickering images from the TV screen.  Father sits reading his paper, whilst mother stands behind him, ironing, and glancing occasionally at whatever's on 'the box'.  Sibling is out somewhere, either visiting friends or perhaps even working on his car in his lockup across the road.

As for myself, I'm sat beside a large brass 'log-box' in which was once stored coal for a 'real' fire, both in our present house and in the previous one.  On the floor, at my feet, sits a collection of comics, some of which were purchased, mail-order, from DAVE HERN of Bournemouth's WONDERWORLD COMICS, which, as far as I know, is still going strong (hopefully).

It's around 7 or 8 o'clock on a dusky Autumn evening and, outside, the 'tang' of the season permeates the air with its distinctive aroma peculiar to the time of year.  Inside, peace and tranquillity reign supreme, and all seems right with the world.  It's the year 1981 - or perhaps even '82 - and in my blissful state of ignorance, I'm unaware that, in a year and a half or so, my family will once again be moving to yet another house in another neighbourhood, with all the inconvenience, turmoil and trauma that such events always bring.  (Regular readers will know that we returned to our previous abode four years later.)

But for the moment, all is as it should be.  Contentment and harmony are the order of the day as I leisurely peruse some of my recent four-colour acquisitions.  It's entirely possible that I may be compressing separate-but-similar evenings into one, but it seems to me, looking back from this distance in time, that amongst my comics stash that night were the very ones whose images adorn this hopefully poignant post.

Sometimes, nowadays, I'll try and re-create and recapture a hint of that narcotic night so many years ago - and, occasionally, I even succeed.  However, it's only ever a brief taste, self-consciously indulged in (like a guilty pleasure) before the moment fades like a phantom's fleeting passing in the mist.  I still have the comics, but not all of the other participants of that long-ago picturesque presentation have survived to reprise their previous roles in the play.  One by one they fell by the wayside, victims of Time.  (As we all must do one day, difficult as the idea is to accept.)

And so I take my leave of you for now, in the hope that my reminiscence, accompanied by such valiant visual images, has helped to summon some memorable memories from your own dim and distant days of yesteryear.  The ghosts of the past are always present - but sometimes we must strain to see them, or hear their siren call.

BABE Of The DAY - LYNDA CARTER...

LYNDA CARTER as the wondrous

WONDER WOMAN often has days when it

feels like the walls are closing in on her.  But

luckily, she can do something about it!

'BEAM' ME UP, SCOTTY...

Image copyright MARVEL COMICS

One thing that's always niggled me about the X-MEN's CYCLOPS is that his supposedly uncontrollable power beam, which can slice its way through walls (and presumably humans) could be held in check by a pair of sunglasses - or in the case of his costume, his visor.  The visor I can just about accept, but surely the sunglasses would simply be propelled from his face by the force of the beam?  And that mask would need to be reinforced to prevent it eventually splitting from the power of the beam behind it.

Both visor and sunglasses are, I believe, made from 'ruby quartz', which would have to be able to absorb the beam rather than just hold it in check, but I don't know if this has ever been fully explained in the comics.  The impression given is that Cyclops' beam cannot penetrate ruby quartz, in a similar sort of way to SUPERMAN's X-ray vision not being able to penetrate lead (not an exact comparison I know), but as every action has an equal and opposite reaction, surely the sheer power of the beam would propel his sunglasses away from him?  Two thin semi-curved bits of plastic or metal (or whatever they are) looped over his ears are not going to be enough to secure his glasses in place.

(Another thought that occurs to me is that villains would surely be more than a tad curious as to what that visor was made of, as the knowledge would then enable them to come up with some way of negating SCOTT SUMMER's power.  "Here's your ruby quartz-laced uniforms and shields, men - now go get the buggah!")

So tell me, captivated Criv-ites, has it ever been specifically explained in the comics that ruby quartz absorbs the power beam as opposed to simply stopping it, or are we merely meant to assume that such is the case?  If the former, and you can remember what issue of The X-Men's comic in which it was explained, share that info here - and save me the bother of having to trawl through my collection of mutant tales.  Or is it just another Mighty MARVEL boo-boo?  

TOYBOX TREASURES Of The PAST: CORGI TOYS CONCORDE...

It was December 1970, and I have a feeling it may have been Boxing Day when I bought my original CORGI TOYS CONCORDE.  A few shops were sometimes open on Boxing Day depending, perhaps, on what day of the week it fell.  If it wasn't Boxing day then it was the day after Boxing Day, and having now said Boxing Day five times, I'll do my best to avoid saying it again.  However, I definitely do remember that I got it from R.S. McCOLL's in the main shopping centre of my town.  (I also seem to recall watching The 7th VOYAGE Of SINBAD [I think] on TV while handling the model, but that may have been on a later day.)

Corgi still manufacture this model today, though it no longer says 'Corgi Toys' or 'Made In Great Britain' on the underside, sporting instead the Corgi dog symbol and the single word 'Corgi'.  I bought another Corgi Concorde in the late '80s or early '90s while it yet sported the original unamended underside and the livery and windows were still adhesive stickers, but another one I purchased a few short years ago has these visual 'features' printed on the actual model itself, and the underside is the amended version.  Both have British Airways livery and white nosecones.

However, there's something about the original BOAC livery with the dark nosecone that is extremely attractive, so I managed to track one down on eBay a year or so back and added it to my collection.  It's good to have replaced yet another item that conjures up memories of my childhood and makes it seem less far away than the aeons it so often feels it was.  If you had this item as a kid, then I'm sure you'll appreciate seeing it again too.  (Whenever I find where I've stashed them, I'll add pics of the other two mentioned in the previous paragraph.)

******

Incidentally, the rear wheels tended to come off rather easily and this has led to some ignorant or dishonest dealers who sell wheel-less Concordes claiming that the early versions of this model were produced without rear wheels.  You can reliably take it from me that this claim is without foundation and, in fact, complete b*ll*cks - they always had rear wheels from day one!  In photos I've seen of early models, the front wheels look as if they actually turn (or at least look as though they're separate pieces to the plastic 'undercarriage' they fit onto), but if so, they were soon amended to a one-piece non-turning part, which is the model most people likely remember.  

RAMPAGING REPOST: LITTLE-KNOWN "THIRD" FANTASTIC FOUR #1 COVER...

Published cover.  Images copyright MARVEL COMICS

 

As most readers will know, there are two FF #1 covers;  the cover that was published in 1961 (above) and the cover as it was originally drawn (below - known as the "missing man" cover - though that should really be in the plural), which was the version most often utilized in MARVEL reprints up until the recent MASTERWORKS, OMNIBUS and Trade Paperback editions.

The published version featured the addition of a policeman at the end of the street - and some alterations and additions to the passers-by on the right-hand side of the cover.  Exactly who was responsible for the amendments is, at present,  unknown.

Stat of original art by JACK KIRBY & GEORGE KLEIN

Was it JACK KIRBY or DICK AYERS who drew them?  Perhaps Ayers inked over Kirby pencils, which would explain why he was credited as inker of the complete cover for many years, until GEORGE KLEIN came to be regarded as the man behind the embellishment duties. Perhaps one day we'll find out for certain.

 

What most fans don't realize however, is that there is also a third, hybrid, version (below).  This was the reprint of FF #1 used for the GOLDEN BOOK & RECORD Set in the mid or late '60s. This cover had the original, unaltered passers-by as originally drawn by Kirby, but the policeman (a redrawn version) had been added to make it look like the original printed version from 1961. (The price, number and date had been removed though.)  Interestingly, considering the debate about who inked the first issue, Dick Ayers is credited as inker on the back of the record sleeve - although his surname is misspelled as "Ayres".)

GOLDEN BOOK & RECORD FF #1 Reprint

Side-by-side comparison

YOGI BEAR - HE'S ALL SHOOK UP...

Here's a pair of items I acquired a short while ago that will be of interest to YOGI BEAR fans - a salt and pepper shaker set in the image of the HANNA-BARBERA bruin.  I don't know anything about their history, but I'd guess they're early items of merchandise going by the colour.  Some Yogi merchandise from the early 1960s was often of a darker brown than its cartoon counterpart, and sometimes even had a 'shirt-front' under the tie.  It took a while before any kind of consistency was introduced to the various Yogi items available to '60s shoppers.

As you can see, Yogi's nose hasn't been painted on the shakers, leaving me with a dilemma - to paint or not to paint?  I've decided to leave off for the moment, but I may yet succumb to the temptation.  (You might have to strain your eyesight to see his tie due to the camera flash, but it's there sure enough.) 

Know anything about their history, like year of production, manufacturer, or country of origin?  If so, feel free to enlighten me in the comments section.

BABE Of The DAY - LYNDA CARTER...

Probably the most stunning

woman of the 1970s is LYNDA

CARTER.  She truly is a wonder!

(I wonder when she's gonna call

 and ask me out on a hot date.)

REFLECTIVE REPOST: "WITHOUT TIME AND WITHOUT END..."

I was gently brushing the dust from one of my classic collectables earlier today, when something occurred to me.  I had originally owned this particular item back in 1967 or '68, but the one I currently have is a replacement I obtained in the mid-'80s.  I probably owned the original for no more than two or three years at the most, while its present-day stand-in I've now had for around 33 years.  Strange, because it still feels like a fairly recent acquisition, while the one I had as a kid seems to have been part of my childhood for far longer than it actually was.

It's the same with comics.  I remember buying the first issue of the 'new' SMASH! in March of 1969, but before the week was out I'd sold it (along with the free gift) at cover price to one of my classmates, BILLY MONTGOMERY, who'd missed out on buying his own copy earlier.  I sold it to him mid-week, intending to buy a replacement before issue #2 came out on the coming Saturday.  As it happens, I didn't manage to obtain one 'til over 15 and a half years later (October 13th, 1984, from an Edinburgh comics shop, to be exact), but I remembered practically every page as if I'd seen it only the day before.

Amazing, isn't it?  I'd only owned the original comic for three or four days at the very most, yet it had made such an enormous impression on me that when I think back, it seems that I had it for far longer.  And, just like the previous item to which I referred, those few days don't seem any less than the nearly 34 years I've owned its successor.

Which brings me closer to the point.  "Hurrah!", cry countless thousands of rabid readers.  (If only.)  I was listening to a radio play a number of years back, in which someone quoted a line very close to the following one: "The memories of childhood are without time and without end."  Or it may've been "...without end and without time."  (I've tried to trace its source, but to no avail so if anybody knows its origin, feel free to let me know.)

Regardless of the exact wording, I know exactly what it means.  When I recall my childhood, it's often difficult to remember events in their proper sequence, or the exact duration of certain periods of time.  Whether I had a comic or toy for six days or six months, it all seems the same to me in retrospect.  Same goes for houses.  As a child, I once lived in a house for just over a year, but when I think back on it, my time there doesn't seem any less than the four years I spent in the house before, or the nearly seven years in the one after.  Don't get me wrong - I know there's a difference - I just don't feel there's a difference.

According to the Good Book, "One day is as a thousand years to the Lord, and a thousand years as one day."  When I think back to the days of my youth, I kind of know what that must feel like - although obviously on a much smaller scale.

"Without time and without end" - if only life  itself were like that.  Wouldn't it be great?

RUMINATING REPOST: ONE FOR THE 'LOG' BOOK, PERHAPS...?

Looking back and trying to place events in their proper time frame years after the fact can sometimes be a difficult task.  When we're able to associate a particular incident with a specific, cover-dated periodical (for example), the job becomes a lot easier; however, without such an aid, accurate attribution of when things occurred can seldom be an exact science.  Unless one has a meticulously recorded diary, that is - and all too few of us do.

The event I am about to share is insignificant in the great scheme of things; as is so much of what we regard as important to ourselves, and which we often imagine, in our vanity, to have far-reaching implications of immense profundity beyond our own finite sphere of influence and existence.  Don't we all consider ourselves, sub-consciously (or unconsciously even), to be the centre around which the entire universe revolves?  Of course we do.  And it's the occasions when we're reminded that such is not the case which often cause the biggest frustrations in life.

The following recollection is one of immense triviality.  (If such a stark contra-diction in terms can be permitted.)  It is a tale of no consequence, banal, mundane, uninteresting - to anyone but myself, that is.  I offer it in the hope that you may be able to relate to it, inasmuch as it may remind you of a similar circumstance in your own life, and that you may take comfort from the fact that you are not so removed from the common condition of humankind as you may sometimes think (or fear).

******

When I was a boy, my parents had a porcelain ornament which I took note of almost as soon as the power of sequential thought and memory first dawned within me.  It was a little log, on which pink and yellow petals, underscored with green leaves, were arranged in a splendored-display along the glazed brown bark which gave home to them.  I was probably only about 3 years old when it first introduced itself into my consciousness.

The seasons passed with regular inevitability, so let's now jump to either 1970 or '71, when I was in my first year at secondary school and aged about 11 or 12.  I was also two houses removed from the one in which this particular ornament had first come to my attention.  Even at that young age, it represented a link to my cherished past which I was reluctant - nay, unable to relinquish.  I lived in and for the past; I 'looked back' to such an extent that I should have turned into a pillar of salt long before reaching the age I then was. 

One night, by prior arrangement, two classmates (who'd invited me to a youth club in the school across the road from the one we attended) called in for me.  I'd previously been a member of the Boys' Brigade in this school some years before, and was looking forward to reacquainting myself with its interiors.  The two lads were STUART MacDONALD and AIDEN DICK (wonder if he had a brother called 'Tiny'), and when they rang the front doorbell, in my haste to put on my jacket, a flapping sleeve knocked the small ornament from its place atop the wooden fire surround, whereupon it smashed to pieces on the tiled surface below.

I was dismayed and my parents were understandably annoyed, but with the callousness of youth, I suppressed my guilt (a temporary condition) and made my way with my two companions to our destination.  As it turned out, I didn't stay long at the club; a combination of melancholy at unwittingly destroying the glazed log, dissatisfaction with the club itself, and anger at finding that the dastardly-duo had only invited me along in order to try and swindle me out of my entrance fee.  (An attempt that was doomed to failure.  They would have needed the A-TEAM to accomplish that - and they weren't around back then.)

I never forgot that ornament.  The years passed and I grew to adulthood, but, periodically, I would recall that night and cringe with shame at my part in the little log's destruction.  If ever I was at a Jumble Sale or Christmas Fayre, I would keep an eye out for one to replace it - but I was never successful in my aspiration.  It must have been about 32 or 33 years later that I saw its double in a charity shop, and - despite the unrealistic price that such establishments seem to place on much of their stock these days - I readily handed over my cash.

Well, I've had that replacement for around 15 years now.  I look at it every so often and my guilt at the murder of its twin is assuaged somewhat - though never completely.  It's strange to think that most of my life has been lived in its absence, because now that its doppelganger graces the same shelf-space the original would have occupied had it survived, it's almost as if history has been magically rewritten to include it in my memories of the time when it wasn't around. 

Needless to say (but I'll say it anyway), it's a good feeling to be reunited with a familiar object from childhood and I derive a mixture of comfort, pleasure, and satisfaction from its presence.  It's as if I've redeemed myself (however slightly) for some heinous sin, the shame of which has haunted me for most of my life and from which I thought I'd never be free.

Is there a moral to this story?  Or even a point to it, as some of the more critical amongst you may be wondering.  I'm sure there is, even if it's as difficult to articulate as providing precise dates for the foregoing events is elusive.  However, my work is done.  I've given you the clay; 'tis now your task to reflect, to ponder - then fashion it into whichever shape you think may serve you best.

NOT The GENUINE ARTICLE... (Updated)

Facsimile of 1939/'40 edition

I'm a sucker for facsimile editions of classic annuals, comics and books, the originals of which would doubtless be far beyond my meagre financial resources to afford.  My latest acquisition is a facsimile of the very first BEANO book for 1940, which now joins the ranks of my replica editions of the first DANDY, BROONS and Oor WULLIE books.

However, the word 'facsimile' is often misapplied, because unless the item looks more or less exactly like the original (with a discreet distinguishing note it isn't), it's arguable as to whether the description is an apt one.  Take the recent 'replica' of the first issue of the Beano: it's four pages short, PEANUT the mascot has been removed, and it's held together by staples instead of glue.

The RUPERT BEAR facsimiles are probably the best examples of a true replica.  Every effort was made to reproduce not only the appearance, but also the very feel of the originals, and they really are top class.  In the case of the Beano and Dandy books, D.C. THOMSON produced them in collaboration with different publishers two years apart, and they're different sizes.  The Beano is an inch or so shorter than The Dandy tome, though the image-size on the pages is exactly the same, with only the margin around the image being larger in The Dandy's case.

So which, if any, is the closest in size to its original incarnation?  I'm looking into the matter and will let you know when (or if) I find out.  Of course, if you've never seen or owned the original book, it's probably more the content you're interested in than the presentation, so the fact a facsimile doesn't capture the exact appearance or dimensions of the original won't much matter to you.  However, in the case of the Rupert books in particular, certain aspects are extremely important in conjuring up childhood memories to those who read them when young.  The paper, the feel, the smell, the size, the look, etc., are essential ingredients in re-creating accurate impressions of the past.

Personally, the only difference I don't mind is when an old book had shoddy binding and was prone to fall apart - if publishers want to improve that particular aspect in a replica edition then I won't object at all.

Anyway, what follows is a variety (from my own collection) of authorised, official facsimiles, replicas and reissues which were intended to capture the spirit of their originals to some degree or other.  Hope you enjoy them.  (I'll add any I've forgotten or temporarily mislaid at a later date.)

Oh, and here's a question for you.  Would you be happy with a facsimile of a book or annual you wanted, or would you prefer to do without if you couldn't have the original?

(All images copyright their respective owners.)

Facsimile of 1938/'39 edition

Facsimile of 1938/'39 edition

Facsimile of 1939/'40 edition

Facsimile of 1936 edition

Facsimile of 1937 edition

Facsimile of 1938 edition

Facsimile of 1939 edition

Facsimile of 1949 edition

Facsimile of 1922 edition

Facsimile of 1923 edition

Facsimile of 1964 edition

Facsimile of 1965 edition

Facsimile of 1965 edition

Alice's Adventures In Wonderland
Facsimile of 1866 edition

Alice Through The Looking-Glass
Facsimile of 1872 edition

Facsimile of 1896 edition

Facsimile of 1921 edition

Facsimile of 1921 edition

Facsimile of 1921 edition

Facsimile of 1921 edition

Facsimile of 1942 edition

BEANO'S 80th BIRTHDAY BASH...

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

Got back from the shops a little while ago with the 44 page Birthday Special of The BEANO (though we're not supposed to use the definite article nowadays), and my first thought upon browsing through it was "Just what the heck were they thinking?"  I haven't read it yet, but I don't feel inclined to because of the super-oily, smug countenance of so-called comedian DAVID WALLIAMS grinning inanely from far too many pages.  I'd thought (and hoped) that DCT had abandoned the use of second-rate celebrities from their comics after the debacle that was The DANDY, but no - they're still at it, trying to bathe in the reflected 'glory' of just about anybody who's ever been on the telly.  Hasn't it ever occurred to them that 'celebrities' probably scare off as many readers as they might attract?  Which makes it all a bit pointless really.

NIGEL PARKINSON, whose art I generally like, has far too many pages in the comic even for my tastes, giving the entire issue a 'samey' feel to it, though presumably that's because he's seemingly the only cartoonist capable of catching a consistently recognisable likeness of Walliams.  However, I'd have liked to see a bit more variety of art-styles in the comic.  At least we're spared the usual collection of cheap tat that comes with 'special' issues, but only because they went down that route the week before.  Apart from the good news that the DENNIS The MENACE Fan Club (now the Dennis and GNASHER Fan Club) is back, there's really nothing about this issue - apart from the date - that suggests anything special about it.  And the shame of it - Dennis and Minnie relegated to 'support acts' to Walliams on the cover of their own comic

One other thing: I thought that the relentless use of full colour on every page was quite overwhelming (the only thing that was), and found myself wishing that it had a few black and white pages with a bit of spot colour interspersed throughout, just for a bit of eye-relief.  (Variety is the spice of life they say.)  All in all, an unimpressive and underwhelming 'special' issue that really had nothing special about it.  I recently acquired a 1966 Dandy Annual and a 1967 Beano Annual, which were vastly more diverse and entertaining.  The Dandy Annual in particular had a good selection of artists whose styles were different, but mostly of the same professionally high standard.  Perhaps the publishers should give me a go at being the guest editor next time - I'm sure I could improve on whoever oversaw this unremarkable effort.

However, regular readers will probably enjoy the issue, but it wouldn't surprise me if many of them were left wondering whether it really needed 44 pages to mark the comic's 80th Anniversary.  Got to squeeze those extra pennies out of them somehow though, eh, DCT?

Anyway, for all that, Happy Birthday Beano - nice to see that you're still around.

FANCY A TRIP BACK TO 1972? THEN JUMP ABOARD THE TIME TRAVEL EXPRESS...

Images copyright relevant owner

I stepped back into the '70s today, when I received the above issue of BUSTER & JET, cover-dated 1st January 1972.  Nowadays, comics usually go on sale at least a week before the date on the cover, but back in the '60s & '70s, it was sometimes just a few days (depending on the publisher), as must've been the case here.  Otherwise it would've been on newsagents' counters on the 25th December and that's just not likely considering the day.  There was still a week between issues though, it's just that the cover date didn't always correspond with reality, which has created all sorts of problems for comics historians later trying to establish exactly when a periodical went on sale.  The cover says 'Every Monday', but it may well have been in the shops on the Saturday, so it can be really confusing at times.

But I got sidetracked, as that's not what I intended to talk about.  I bought this comic for a mere 99p (wotta bargain) and what a little gem it is.  Art by ANGEL NADAL, KEN REID, LEO BAXENDALE, REG PARLETT, TERRY BAVE, JOHN STOKES, DOUG MAXTED, SOLANO LOPEZ, and others, make this a delight for the eyes and a joy to read.  I no longer recall if I was still buying the merged comic at this stage in '72, but if I wasn't, I surely should've been!  With this issue, Ken Reid's QUEEN Of The SEAS from SMASH! was reprinted, and PEST Of The WEST from WHAM! appears to be a regular feature as well.  I really struck it lucky with this comic, which I only bid on in a PHIL'S COMICS auction on a whim!

This 36 page comic was real value for money back in the day.  Costing a mere 3 new pence, it was absolutely chock-full of fun and adventure.  VON HOFFMAN'S INVASION, FISHBOY DENIZEN Of The DEEP, SAM'S CITY JUNGLE, GALAXUS The THING From OUTER SPACE, and The WIZARD Of FOOTBALL supplied the action, while The SLUDGEMOUTH SLOGGERS and The ASTOUNDING ADVENTURES Of CHARLIE PEACE both provided fun and adventure in equal measure.  For outright humour, BUSTER'S DREAM WORLD, RENT-A-GHOST Ltd., The HAPPY FAMILY, BUSTER GIGGLES, CLEVER DICK, SMILER And DIMPS, BONEHEAD, MASTER-MIND, The KIDS Of STALAG 41, BOB-A-JOB, Queen Of The Seas, BERTIE BUMPKIN, TATTY MANE KING Of The JUNGLE, CONVICT 4321 OUTT, Pest Of The West, and FACEACHE fulfilled that function admirably.  

I've decided to show a few choice pages to give you a taste of the issue, but I'd like you to take a good look at the Rent-A-Ghost Ltd. page in particular.  In my previous post I mentioned the visual shorthand employed in comics in order to convey character information at a glance, and the Scotsman is a fine example of this.  Could he be described as a 'racial' (but not racist) or ethnic stereotype?  Well, that's one way of putting it I suppose, but I just regard him as a convenient comical caricature, designed to cut to the chase in telling the reader who and what he is; there's no malicious or demeaning intent.  True, some Scots may take exception to this cliched depiction, but most of us can laugh at ourselves, as well as other nations' perception of us.  Just thought I'd throw that out there for your consideration - and it's a complete coincidence that the strip ties in to my previous post, as I had no idea what the storylines were when I purchased the comic.

Anyway, I'm off back to the '70s - why not come along for the ride?!

   

I now own all three Annuals pictured, but in '72, all I had was the THUNDER book.  Can't
recall if I saw the other two, but the titles seemed like ancient history by then, their weekly
comics having expired two or three years earlier - which seems far longer when yet a youth