Category archives: Comics

Doomlord: Master of Life, Bringer of Death, Lover of Coronation St…

[Hey ho. Apropos of nothing much, just thought I'd reprint the Doomlord piece I wrote for SFX #200. Enjoy, earthling scum.] March 27th, 1982. Midnight. A fireball flashes across the skies over “the sleeping town of Cranbridge”. In nearby “Gallows… continue reading »

Why should I get my head kicked in for you?: A 2000 AD Birthday Post

Borag Thungg. In honour of 2000 AD’s 35th anniversary, I’m hereby reprinting a piece I wrote for SFX a while back about my own favourite series: Zenith.1 Here it be… May 13, 1989. A beach, on Alternative Earth 666. Lying… continue reading »

Woah! Woah! Woah!

o there I was, on Saturday afternoon, chatting with Dave Fanning about Hergé, his (great) works, and the (not-so-great) Spielberg/Jackson adaptation of said works, when we got to the sticky issue of “faithfulness”. I may have (accidentally) ended up sounding… continue reading »

Become an Ace with Hohner…

In terms of desperate, ham-fisted attempts to ollie aboard the trend-wagon of the zeitgeist and incongruously link one’s product (in the sceptical public imagination) with a fad du jour, this advertisement, from a 1978 Whizzer and Chips, takes the piss-biscuit.… continue reading »

The Image at the End of the Multiverse

A few years ago – back when I was notionally engaged in the non-writing of a doctoral thesis – I would pass the below painting several times a day (as I journeyed back and forth from the office). Part of… continue reading »

I Must Obey You, Girl in the Mirror…

Back when I was a wee lad, I never lost my temper. I never accidentally stabbed my sister with a metal badge in the shape of a thumb.1 I never did anything wrong. Ever. There was, however, a small boy… continue reading »

Night of the Big Heads

The below image – a framed print of which sits atop the loo in our poky downstairs bathroom – is problematic for at least 4 reasons. 1) It conflates big heads (i.e. big brains) with cruelty and mercilessness. 2) It… continue reading »

The Electrickest of Picknicks

So there I was, on Saturday night, sitting ‘neath a tree amid the detritus of a Mad Hatter’s tea party when John Waters storms past – scanning the ground and glaring. “Who’s yer man?”, asks the English brother-in-law. I explain…as… continue reading »

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