Golden Sunsets Redux - 60 Years of Memories - Part 19 - 1985

An absolute cornucopia of different things captured my interest in this year. It was always going to be a comic in the top spot, but with so many excellent and innovative titles published, which one to choose?...

1985:

The trivia:

• The Third Punic War had ended rather decisively. Rome besieged Carthage, burned it to the ground, enslaved the survivors, and - if later writers are to be believed - sowed the fields with salt for good measure. But in the chaos of destroying an entire civilisation, the Romans apparently forgot one small administrative detail - they never signed the paperwork. And so, on a technicality, the war just… continued. For over 2,000 years. While a historian in the 1960s noticed the omission, the war wasn’t formerly concluded until 5th February 1985, when the Mayor of Rome, Ugo Vetere, travelled to Tunisia to meet Chedli Klibi, the Mayor of Carthage, and the two signed a treaty of peace and friendship.

• Toy manufacturer Matell introduced a new character to the “Masters of the Universe” line with an unusual power. “Stinkor” was essentially a humanoid skunk with the ability to release a toxic odour from his body that immobilised his foes. What makes the toy legendary, though, isn’t the concept - it’s the execution. Mattel didn’t just *say* he smelled bad. They made sure he actually did. They mixed patchouli oil directly into the plastic mould, so the figure would have a permanent, unmistakable aroma. And it worked. Once smelt, it was never forgotten - the kind of smell that lingered in a toy box for years, long after the figure itself had been lost behind the sofa. 

• Deep in a mine near Pretoria, South Africa, miners unearthed something extraordinary - a rough brown diamond weighing 755.5 carats. Even in a mine famous for producing giants - including the original ‘Cullinan’ diamond - this one stood out. It was massive, misshapen, and, according to early reports, not especially beautiful. But in the hands of master cutter Gabriel Tolkowsky, it became something remarkable. After more than two years of painstaking work in Antwerp, the stone emerged as the ‘Golden Jubilee Diamond’, a 545.67‑carat fancy yellow‑brown cushion‑cut gem. Today it belongs to the King of Thailand, where it was presented as a symbol of national celebration. Despite its size and history, its estimated value is only around US$12 million - a reminder that in the world of diamonds, rarity, colour, and cultural significance often matter more than sheer weight. 

The memory:

Moonshadow

Marvel's 'Epic' line had already produced some excellent creator-owned titles, particularly things like "Coyote", “Alien Legion”, “Timespirits” and “Six From Sirius” - books that were testing the boundaries of what could come from a mainstream publisher. I bought them all and, in the main, enjoyed them immensely. But nothing had prepared me for “Moonshadow”. Heck, nothing had prepared *anyone* for this very special comic.

Hippie Sheila Greenbaum, known as “Sunflower”, is kidnapped by a bunch of grinning omnipotent balls of light - the G’L Doses. One of these aliens manages to impregnate her, and Sunflower gives birth to a son, who she names Moonshadow. Growing up in the alien’s menagerie, at age 15 he finds himself unceremoniously thrust out into the big bad universe with only his mother, his cat, and a faceless, hairy, sex-obsessed creature called Ira for company. Moonshadow wanders through the cosmos, encountering love, death, lust, horror and adventure, all while trying to figure out who he is, where he belongs, and, basically, what any of this means. 

For writer  J.M. DeMatteis, the main idea was something he’d been carrying around for years. He wanted to write a story that would explore all the big questions - identity, purpose, love, death, the search for meaning - but outside the constraints of a superhero universe. A personal story, written  almost like an illustrated novel, where satire, mysticism, humour, and emotional vulnerability could all sit side by side.

But when I opened the first issue, what struck me most - even before I understood any of the themes -  was how gorgeous the book looked. Jon J. Muth’s paintings were a revelation. I genuinely didn’t know what I was looking at. As far as I was aware, comics weren’t supposed to be like this - they were meant to have crisp lines, bright colours - not soft, drifting watercolours that looked like they’d been painted on the inside of a dream. Half the time I felt like the pictures might smudge if I breathed on them.

There were pages where nothing “big” happened, but it was still mesmerising. A look on someone’s face. A bit of light falling across a room. Moonshadow just standing there, thinking. And then I’d turn the page and suddenly be in some bizarre alien world that felt both ridiculous and beautiful at the same time. Even Ira - who should have been a complete grotesque - came across as weirdly endearing because of the way Muth painted him.

Sure, the book was termed “a fairy tale for adults”  - and it’s certainly true there were elements of that. But what really got me was how emotional the art felt. When Moonshadow was scared, the whole page seemed to darken. When he was overwhelmed, things blurred. When he was amazed, the colours opened up like someone had cracked a window in space. I didn’t have the language for any of that at the time. I just knew the book made me feel things I didn’t expect. It was the first time I realised comics could be quiet and strange and sad and funny and beautiful all at once. And that blew my mind.

And I’ll be honest, I didn’t understand it all on first read. Some of the literary allusions passed me by. But what did hit me hard at eighteen was that it felt like someone had taken all the big, embarrassing, impossible questions I was carrying around - Who am I? What am I supposed to be? Why is everything so strange and unfair ? - and turned them into a story about a kid drifting through the cosmos with a cat and a hairy lunatic for company. Is “Moonshadow” a coming‑of‑age story disguised as a space opera, or the other way round? Does it really matter? What did matter was that this strange little series was speaking directly to the part of me that was still trying to figure out how to be a person.

The last few issues of the 12 part series took forever to come out, and Muth worked alongside Kent Williams and George Pratt to complete the story. Neither were poor artists, but they didn’t have quite the same ethereal brushstrokes. There were also some obvious use of photo references, particularly of the singer David Sylvian - which had to be changed in later editions. 

The ending was somewhat confusing (at the time anyway), but I loved every minute of the journey and it made me into a life-long fan of both men's work. It was also the first comic where I bought the individual issues *and* the collected edition, just so I could have three new pages to enjoy. 

DC Vertigo reprinted the series in 1995, followed by a one-off epilogue "Farewell, Moonshadow" with the same team. It was structured with typewritten prose on the left pages and painted splash pages on the right. Again it’s older Moonshadow looking back on his life, but it leans heavily into the idea that he may have invented or embellished parts of the original tale, reframing it as a story shaped by memory, emotion, and nostalgia. I bought it of course, but it didn’t have the same effect on me - maybe because I was that much older myself. 

After “Moonshadow”, DeMatteis produced some of the biggest and most beloved superhero comics of the late ’80s and ’90s - things like “Justice League International” and “Doctor Fate” - while also still ploughing his spiritual/philosophical furrow. He continues to write quality, heartfelt comics even to this day. Meanwhile, Muth did a handful of excellent graphic novels (“Dracula: A Symphony in Moonlight and Nightmares” stands out), but he then shifted into children’s books, where he became hugely successful, winning a number of major awards.

In the end, this fairy tale about a boy’s search for meaning has stayed with me, and I’ve read it many times. It's been reprinted several times, most recently in a "Definitive" edition by Dark Horse. Some stories entertain you. Some stories shape you. “Moonshadow” did both.

Honourable mentions:

• No Surrender - a comedy drama by "Boys From The Blackstuff" author Alan Bleasdale, starring Michael Angelis as the weary manager of a run-down social club in Liverpool. He realises, far too late, that the previous owner has booked the worst New Year’s Eve lineup ever. Not only two opposing groups of Irish Catholic and Protestant pensioners, but also a gay comedian, a hopeless punk rock band, and a magician with stage fright on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Oh, and a fancy dress competition with no prize. Naturally. It’s classic Bleasdale - darkly comic and politically sharp, but with a heart of gold and a twist of surreal anarchy. The whole thing teeters on the edge of farce, but never loses sight of the people at the centre of it. I had it recorded on VHS tape from the TV, and kept it for years, since it was never repeated - until eventually I found the DVD release in 2011. It may be a one-off,  but it deserves to sit up there alongside Bleasdale’s other celebrated works.

• Real Genius - One of a wave of teen science fiction comedies in the mid-80s, "Real Genius" never quite lodged itself in the cultural memory in the way "Weird Science" did - but honestly, I’ve always thought it was the funnier of the two. It helps to have a barnstorming performance from a young Val Kilmer as Chris Knight, the genius-level university slacker tasked with creating the power source for a CIA laser super-weapon. Not that he knows that of course - his professor is quite happy to let the kids do the work while he pockets the funding to renovate his house. The supporting cast is the familiar group of oddballs - the 15-year-old prodigy, the kooky but sweet girl, the bullying arse-licking toady, and so on. But what sets the film apart from the usual college comedies that followed in the wake of "Animal House" is that these "nerds" are not defined by their opposition to the "jocks". They’re not social outcasts yearning for acceptance. They’re just… themselves. Comfortable, chaotic, occasionally unlucky in love, but fundamentally enjoying life. Whether that is turning the dorm corridors into an ice rink or holding "mutant" hamster races or running a Madame Curie lookalike contest. And then there’s the dialogue. This might be one of the most quotable films ever made, with about 90% of the best lines coming straight from Kilmer. Even now, decades later, I still catch myself referring to something as a “moral imperative” in exactly his cadence. It’s that kind of film - sharp, silly, endlessly rewatchable, and far cleverer than its genre label suggests. 

• Scout - I was already a fan of Tim Truman's art on First Comics "Grimjack" and his separate graphic novel "Time Beavers", but this Eclipse series allowed him to write an ongoing comic for the first time. Set in a dystopian 1999 where the United States has collapsed both economically (crippled by international embargoes) and ecologically (most of the country is a barren wasteland) it’s a world that feels both exaggerated and uncomfortably plausible. Enter Apache Army Ranger Emmanuel Santana (codename “Scout”). He’s driven, haunted, and absolutely convinced that no one else will acknowledge the truth - that the President of the United States is an evil presence aided by four monsters straight from Apache legend. Scout’s spirit guide tasks him with killing them all. But are they real, or is he just a traumatised terrorist hallucinating his way across a broken America ? "Scout" draws on Truman's love for Native American culture and the western genre, and is full of gritty action, mysticism and subtle commentary on the geopolitical fears of the day. It also featured a lot of blues music, so much so that issue nineteen came with a free flexi-disc (remember those?) with a two song "soundtrack". Truman even produced a full LP alongside his band "The Dixie Pistols" which contained a "Scout" mini-comic detailing some of the events after the end of the first 24-issue series. I still have both. Over time the storyline continued through two bridging mini-series and a second volume, "Scout:War Shaman", which pushed the mythology and the character even further. Truman had plans for further stories titled “Marauder” and “Blue Leader” but the collapse of Eclipse Comics put paid to that for many, many years. A 2019 Kickstarter campaign raised funds for “Marauder” and some pages were released, but as of right now, nothing has been released, possibly due to Truman’s health issues.  Even if it never continues, there has still been nothing quite like “Scout”. I really must get the issues out of storage and re-read them sometime soon…

• Crisis On Infinite Earths - Every character in the DC pantheon in one multiverse-shattering epic! What's not to love? This was personally the culmination of the first phase of my love for DC Comics and their characters, which I had been exposed to gradually over the previous few years, and succeeded in getting me to pick even more titles than before. It's career-defining work from Marv Wolfman and George Perez and  the impact it has had down the decades is incredible. I loved it at the time, even though I never had a problem with the multiple Earth's idea anyway. Looking back now I have a slightly different opinion. Whatever DC may have gained from "Crisis" and despite their multiple revisionist attempts over subsequent decades, I think they lost more than they gained, particularly in terms of the great legacy of the DC Universe. I am of the opinion that having a proper “Earth-2” line with an older Superman, a dead Batman, the All-Star Squadron fighting in WWII and the JSA growing old and giving way to Infinity Inc would still work. To be honest I wish they would stop trying to "fix" things - they have just made their long history even more complicated than the perceived problem that created the need for a "crisis" in the first place. Still a great comic book event though, that set the template for others to come. 

• Back To The Future - Just perfect in almost every conceivable way. There are films I admire, films I revisit, films I quote… and then there’s “Back to the Future”, which sits in that tiny category of movies that is all of the above. Every scene, every gag, evey time travel twist, every setup and payoff lands with such effortless precision that you almost forget how hard it is to make something this clever, and this joyful. It’s easily one of my favourite films of all time, and the sequels are just as good (yes the second one is far better than it ever gets credit for). A huge part of that is the stewardship of Bob Gale and Robert Zemeckis. In an era where every beloved property is dragged out for a reboot, reimagining, “legacy sequel,” or whatever the current euphemism is, “Back to the Future” remains untouched. Gale and Zemeckis have been very clear - not on their watch (okay there’s the musical, but that’s a different medium and they had their hands all over it). It’s rare to see a franchise allowed to remain whole, unspoiled, and exactly as it was intended - lightning in a bottle, preserved by the very people who created it.

• Longshot - These days he’s mostly remembered as one of the many, many mutants who’ve passed through the revolving doors of the X‑Men, but Longshot actually began life in his own six‑issue mini‑series - and what a debut it was. Writer Ann Nocenti wasn’t interested in doing a standard superhero. She wanted to explore ideas about free will, exploitation, media manipulation, and rebellion - all wrapped in the story of an artificially created humanoid who can alter probability, but has no memory, no past, and no sense of who he’s supposed to be. The series was far stranger and more philosophical than anything else mainstream Marvel was publishing at the time. But the real revelation was the artist. This was the world’s introduction to Arthur Adams, and it hit like a thunderclap. I’d never seen anything like his work at the time. The detail was astonishing - every panel packed with texture, expression, and life. His women were gorgeous, his aliens genuinely alien, and his linework practically glowed. It’s one of those rare cases where an artist arrives fully formed. Instantly recognisable. From that moment on, Adams’ name on a project became an automatic must‑buy for me. Even now, decades later, I can flip through those original “Longshot” issues and feel that same jolt of excitement. A brilliant mini‑series with a wonderfully odd character - and just maybe it should have stayed that way, outside of continuity, as I don’t think Marvel has ever recaptured that original magic. 

• Starquake / Nodes of Yesod - Two ZX Spectrum games with a similar feel, but both so compulsively playable that I lost entire afternoons to them without noticing. Each features a protagonist dropped into a sprawling network of caves and tunnels - hundreds of screens stitched together into a single labyrinth. Your  task is to search for various objects to either combine together, or complete a quest. Certain items (access cards or a rock-chewing mole) unlock other parts of the map. Meanwhile, a vast array of alien lifeforms drift, hop or slither across the screen, all of them determined to drain your health or bounce you around like a pinball. It’s chaotic, frustrating, and utterly addictive. In concept, both games owe a debt to “Underwurlde” from the legendary Ultimate Play The Game. But “Starquake” leans into colourful sci‑fi weirdness and hover platforms, while “Nodes” has moody lunar‑caverns and a protagonist in a spacesuit. And like so many Spectrum classics, they have that magical quality: once you started playing, you look up and realise an hour had vanished. Or two. Or three.

Starquake

Nodes of Yesod

• Tales of the Beanworld - Billed, quite accurately, as “a most peculiar comic book experience,” there is truly nothing else like Larry Marder’s mythological, ecological fantasy adventure. It’s one of those rare works - a singular vision that obeys its own internal logic, its own rhythms, its own cosmology. I can’t pretend I fully understood it when I first encountered the issues from Eclipse Comics back in the 80s, but that was part of the magic. Reading “Beanworld” felt like stumbling onto something utterly unique - and because of that, it’s lingered in my memory far longer than many of the more conventional titles of the period. After Eclipse went bankrupt, there were no new Tales for many years and Marder moved onto executive roles for Image Comics and Mcfarlane Toys. Thankfully, Dark Horse eventually stepped in to give the series the treatment it deserved, collecting the original material in beautiful hardcover editions. Even better, they went on to publish new “Beanworld” stories in 2009 and again in 2017, proving that Marder was not done with his creation. A peculiar comic book experience? Yes. But also absolutely unforgettable.

• Brazil – Terry Gilliam’s masterpiece, and a film that somehow feels more relevant with every passing year. Back in 1985 it played like a fever‑dream satire of bureaucracy and authoritarianism - now it feels uncomfortably close to a documentary. Long before “steampunk” became a thing, Gilliam was already there - building a world of sputtering ducts, clattering typewriters, pneumatic tubes, and retro‑futurist machinery. But what makes "Brazil" endure is the pitch‑black tone Gilliam wields like a scalpel. The film is hilarious in the way nightmares sometimes are - absurd, grotesque, and just plausible enough to unsettle you. And then there’s the ending - one of the bleakest, boldest conclusions any studio film has ever dared to deliver. A final, devastating punchline, where the satire collapses into tragedy. Yet for all its darkness, "Brazil" is a film I return to again and again. There’s something hypnotic about its contradictions. About how it seems to say that life is awful and we all need escapism - but sometimes that can be worse. I don't pretend to understand it all. It’s a film that shouldn’t work - and yet... it’s perfect. A brilliant singular vision.

• Miracleman - First things first - I'm not going to explain the history of this now infamous character. It's far too convoluted and has you need a PHD in comics history.  Also I'm not going to cover the original comeback in "Warrior" magazine. It was amazing and ground-breaking and yadda, yadda, yadda... But after the demise of "Warrior", Eclipse Comics picked up the rights to publish "Marvelman", now renamed to avoid any lawsuits from that... other publisher. For a while, the big thrill was simply the promise that the story would continue past the reprints - that we’d finally see where Alan Moore was taking this unusual superhero resurrection. But I’ll be honest -  the moment Alan Davis finished his run and Chuck Beckum stepped in, the magic wobbled. Davis had given the book a clean, precision, and Beckum… didn’t. It was frankly amateurish and to my mind hurt the story considerably Thankfully, his tenure was brief and the book snapped back into visual coherence almost immediately. Rick Veitch and especially John Totleben weren’t just “better artists” - they were more aligned with what Moore was trying to do. The book became an opera - full of horrific battles and the consequences of a world dealing with real-life gods. As good as those issues were - and trust me they are *very* good (despite the sometimes purple prose), I kind of wish that the series had ended at issue 16, and been just another excellent entry in Moore's body of work. It's not that the Neil Gaiman follow up was bad - it was thoughtful, ambitious, and full of interesting ideas - but Moore’s ending is so final, so terminal, that anything after it feels like an appendix. The decades long wait for a conclusion also just lent the whole thing a historical weight that it could never live up to. It became its own myth. I'm really not that bothered if we never see the planned ending. Heretical I know.

Golden Sunsets Redux - 60 Years of Memories - Part 18 - 1984

"Tuesday evening, after tea and compulsory prayers, the last mouse on Earth tried to hide from mankind inside the machine"...

1984:

The trivia:

• Walt Disney's Donald Duck became part of the U.S. army war effort back in 1942, in the cartoon "Donald Gets Drafted". He then appeared in a number of short features during World War II, including "Commando Duck" where he was parachuted in to the Pacific Theatre to fight against the Japanese. However he never officially left the army, so by his fiftieth birthday in 1984 - when he had been serving for over forty years - the military arranged a full parade and sent a four star general to simultaneously promote Donald to "Buck Sergeant" and grant him official retirement.

• In the 1980s, the Nevada Test Site became a focal point for organised vigils, marches and protests, due to growing concerns about the dangers of nuclear war. Among those joining the demonstrations were two unlikely compatriots - scientist and astronomer (and personal hero) Carl Sagan, and actor Martin Sheen. Sagan had long warned of the catastrophic consequences of nuclear conflict. Sheen, meanwhile, was already known for his activism and willingness to risk imprisonment for causes he believed in. Together, they (and others) climbed a chain‑link fence at the site, an act that led to their arrest and shared time in jail.

• By the mid‑1980s, ice cream was already a staple of American life, with consumption among the highest in the world. In July of 1984 President Ronald Reagan delighted sweet-toothed Americans everywhere when he called ice cream "a nutritious and wholesome food" and established National Ice Cream Month.  It has been celebrated ever since, with multiple events taking place across the country. 

The memory:

Deus Ex Machina

By 1984, the Sinclair ZX Spectrum was *the* home computer of choice (at least in the UK). Yes it only had 48K memory and could only display 256 colours, but as I have mentioned previously, those limitations helped produce some of the most innovative and ground breaking games ever made. Anyone and everyone could become a programmer, create a software company and enter the big time with a release that took the enthusiastic community by storm. Games could be (and frequently were) about anything.

At the forefront of this innovation was "Automata UK". Established in 1977 as one of, if not the first ever British video games company, It was run by the guru's guru Mel Croucher (Robert Rankin's Hugo Rune has nothing on this guy), aided by his long time collaborator and programmer Christian Penfold. Automata were pioneers in self-distributed, resolutely non-violent games on the black and white ZX-81. However it was with the release of "PiMania" in 1982 that they really took off.

An electronic take on the famous "Masquerade" book from the late 70s by Kit Williams, "PiMania" was billed as the first ever real life treasure hunt computer game. Hidden somewhere in the UK was a golden sundial worth £6,000 - yours if you could figure out the incredibly cryptic clues hidden within the game. A surreal text and graphics adventure full of lateral thinking puzzles and starring Piman, the company's pink, huge-nosed  mascot , it was launched in a flurry of publicity on several different platforms but it's fair to say that the ZX Spectrum version was the most popular. 

Making the most of the fact that the "PiMania"was loaded from a cassette tape, Automata UK bundled it with a B-side - a bizarre yet hilarious song of the same name with music and lyrics by Croucher which sounded like it was composed with a Bon Tempi organ and a kazoo. He was like an 8-bit Frank Zappa or Neil Innes. I loved it.

A second prize game followed in 1983 - "My Name Is Uncle Groucho, You Win A Fat Cigar" - along with another song. By now Automata UK had taking over the back page of "Popular Computing Weekly" (PCW). Starting off as standard if anarchic adverts, the page then began to feature the comic strip adventures of Piman and his cast of supporting characters drawn by the brilliant Robin Evans. Gradually over the months the strip took over and for many (like me) it was the main reason we brought the mostly text based magazine. The team also became regular fixtures at the Alexandra Palace computer fairs, holding court from a large stand with Croucher as Uncle Groucho and Penfold cavorting round in his frankly creepy looking pink Piman costume. It was part sales pitch, part entertainment show and the crowds lapped it up.

I guess that if Croucher was a visionary leader and innovator, you could say that my brother, friends and I were his"acolytes". We had become quite friendly with him and were warmly welcomed when we turned up at the 'Ally Pally' Microfairs. At one point my brother created a stuffed soft toy version of Piman, and for several years it sat in the front window of the Automata UK shop in Portsmouth like some deformed hairless Bagpuss. There's a picture of it somewhere on the internet.

Branching out using other external programmers, Automata UK released a whole series of "Pi" themed games, each with their own musical b-sides. A full album compilation of the expanding catalogue were produced on cassette, and I still have it (and the sequel) to this day. Songs such as "Donkey Hotay","Leader of the Pac" and "Piballed Blues"  became our soundtrack as we indulged in long hours of gameplay.

Then in 1984 via the PCW back page, the company announced that they would be producing a game unlike any other - their magnum opus - "Deus Ex Machina". It was Crouchers' personal project in conjunction with wunderkind programmer Andrew Stagg  - the culmination of his journey to produce a unique integrated multimedia blend of music, graphics and gaming, pushing the boundaries of the humble ZX Spectrum to their limit. Along with the game cassette would come a complete synchronised musical sound-track featuring voice-overs and singing from Croucher, along with Donna Bailey, Ian "Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick" Dury, comedian Frankie Howerd, and most excitingly, former "Doctor Who" Jon Pertwee. 

Sold for the price of £15 (high for the time, when most games were between £5 and £10), this was not so much a game as an event, and was trumpeted as being the next big thing - as important as the first graphical adventure game of "The Hobbit" that had defined the ZX Spectrum's early years. Naturally when it was launched we all went along to the next Microfair and shook Mel by the hand, and parted with our cash, taking home the huge plastic case with it's double cassettes, poster and complete set of lyrics. We couldn't wait to get home and start the adventure.

Inserting the first side of the game into our trusty tape players (with the volume set *just right* so that we would not get the dreaded "Tape Loading Error") we watched as the introductory graphics appeared complete with 8-bit representations of the key performers (unfortunately Mr. Pertwee's name was spelt wrong as "John", which was slightly amusing. (it was correct in the end credits). Then having begun to listen to side one of the music tape, we were kindly told by the Third Doctor "I want you to pause after I count you down and recommence playing at the screens request...". A similar countdown was initiated on screen. This insured that the soundtrack was (mostly) in sync with the graphics on screen. Thus the story begun...

In a Big Brother-esque 1994, players had to take part in the epic life story of an accidentally created artificial life form and guide it from birth to death via a series of connected mini-games, loosely based on Shakespeare's 'Seven Ages Of Man'. Pertwee was the narrator and guide, Howerd played the part of the authoritarian Defect Police - out to stop the creature -  and Dury the initial sperm that becomes the lifeform.(there's nothing quite like hearing Ian Dury uttering the immortal line "Wotcha cock! I'm a fertilising agent...my brothers are all wriggly.") Each of the stages required you to perform some kind of action to move yourself (the 'accident') through your life cycle and to keep your percentage score (the "degree of ideal entity") as high as possible. Success raised the score but mistakes cost you percentage points.Lets take a detailed look at the main sequences...

You begin by helping the machine create a baby through a series of repeated cursor touches - manipulating DNA helix's and keeping them spinning in the void, nurturing the early cells and allowing the machine to steal an egg before bringing it together with a spermatozoa  All the while the Defect Police are out to get you and stop the aberration before it can be born.

"At first the infant, mewling in the test tube's neck..."

The embryo lives. You protect it by keeping the outer cocoon intact before the baby is released spinning from the Incubator.The eyes of the Defect Police are watching and capture is unavoidable, but as it has been born with powers of telepathy and telekinesis, you can help this new life deflect the physic probes.

"Then the whining school child, with cassette and shining morning face. Creeping like a snail unwittingly to databank..."

This imprisoned spinning form grows from child into man as the voice of Donna Bailey sings. Using it's mental powers the defect absorbs information and learns. To start with it is innocent and loving but as time goes on it is corrupted and becomes cruel and hurtful. Part one end as an electronic eye sheds a single tear.

"And then the lover, sighing like a furnace, with a woeful video made to their lover's hologram"

As part two begins, the voice of Jon Pertwee has changed. Now it is authoritative and commanding. The noise of battle echoes in the background of the Overlevels. It's time for war. The fully grown lifeform follows the orders of the Defect Police and runs across a desolate landscape. Players have to take control by jumping over chasms and deflecting weapons and walls of fire. The soundtrack to this element brings to the fore Croucher's strong personal views about the evil of violent computer games. Ian Dury and Frankie Howerd verbally spar in rhyme as another battle ensues for the conscience of the soldier. Does you blindly follow orders or resist and rise up against your oppressors?

"Then a soldier, full of strange oaths. Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, seeking hi-score, even in the laser's mouth"

Ultimately the Defect Police are defeated and you now rules the Overlevels. But life goes on and as you becomes older and more corpulent, you must make the right decisions by jumping over the good things and stamping evil out underfoot. Every false move means a part of the empire collapses in the distance and the Machine begins to regret ever having made you.

"And then the Justice, in fair round belly and eyes severe and clothes of format cut, full of wise words and machine code..."

As old age approaches and life reaches it's sunset, all the player can do is trace the line of the heartbeat and try and disperse the clots that float through your bloodstream...

"The Sixth Age shifts into the lean and skippered pantaloon..."

Life ends and the Machine takes you home. But the end is the beginning . Your life is expressed as a percentage score. Imagine if this was nothing but an electronic game, and you could begin your little life all over again...

"Last scene of all, the ends this strange eventful history is Second Childishness and mere oblivion. Without keyboard, without monitor, without power supply"

All told, its close to an hour of gameplay and soundtrack. If you want to see the full effect of the audio and visuals, there is a complete playthrough on You Tube:

Okay, so clearly looking back now from our modern shiny CGI, 4K, photo realistic graphics world, that all looks incredibly primitive and probably quite dull - and yes, I'll admit that it's not the most rewarding game to play. But the point is that the player interaction wasn't the thing  - it was the truly original combination of electronic music, poetry, dystopian lyrics and unusual visuals. "Deus Ex Machina" was as much avant garde  / prog rock concept album /  art installation as game - something you experienced as well as participated in. The soundtrack could be listened to in it's own right - in fact it was never off my Walkman - and was full of great performances, humour and subtle digs at the establishment.

Donna Bailey is a revelation and both Dury and Howerd perform their parts well. But as the Storyteller, Pertwee really seems to get into the spirit of things and enjoy himself (this is even after he had apparently fallen off his motorcycle on the way to the recording studio!). He and Croucher became good friends from this project and later released a comedy quiz book together.

I make no secret of the fact that I am very biased in favour of Mel Croucher's output and his extraordinary vision. The title of this very blog is named in honour of some of his magazine columns. However as much as I loved "Deus Ex Machina", it failed terribly. It gathered good reviews and won an industry award as program of the year, but sales were beyond awful. Part of this is due to the fact that many casual gamers just didn't "get" it, having been conditioned on a diet of "Jet Set Willy" and "Knightlore" which were technically more polished and more playable - and they were being asked to pay £15 for an hour or so's "experience" - far higher than they could buy games for from WH Smith.

But more importantly Automata UK were sadly a victim of the success of the UK gaming industry. With titles being more and more sold in high street stores as retailers wanted a piece of the mail-order / Microfair turnover, large distribution companies got in on the act and *they* got to set the price points and choose which titles were allowed onto shelves. As a little company trying to take their puck rock attitude and buck the trend, Mel and Co were doomed to fail.

Automata UK never really recovered from the losses of "Deus Ex Machina" and Croucher walked away in 1985. The UK computer industry had probably disillusioned him, but it was a sad loss. It would be years before he stepped back into the arena in any major way - although he did write dozens of columns for industry magazines. He also managed a number of media companies with both corporate and celebrity clients. But in 2012, he launched a new version of the company "Automata Source Ltd" and successfully crowd-funded "Deus Ex Machina 2" featuring the voice of the legendary Christopher Lee. Even decades years later Mel is still innovating, still creating and still producing great music. This post is dedicated to him, with huge thanks for the years of fun and laughter.

Honourable mentions:

• CRASH - no post relating to the ZX Spectrum can pass without mentioning the most popular computing magazine of the day - at one point selling over 100,000 copies a month. CRASH was known for the distinctive cover art by Oliver Frey, who also contributed to the "Terminal Man " comic strip inside. Full of irrereverant news, reviews, playing tips and cheats, it developed a unique style and became the go-to source if you wanted to know anything about Spectrum games. I had almost every issue. The physical copies are all long gone of course, but thankfully much of the contents is now available online. In more recent years, Fusion Retro Books have become the custodians of Oliver Frey's artwork, and  have been publishing new editions of CRASH.

• Sherlock Holmes - The definitive period version of the world-famous detective. Benedict Cumberbatch may have won tons of awards but for many Jeremy Brett *is* Holmes in a way that has not been bettered before or since. Across 36 episodes and 5 feature length specials, Brett and his two Watson's (David Burke for series 1 and Edward Hardwicke thereafter) starred in the most faithful adaptations of Arthur Conan Doyle's stories - praised for their high production values and attention to detail. I had become a fan of the original adventures when I read the complete works a few years earlier and my whole family never missed an episode. It still stands up today as a high watermark in television drama.

• The Saga of the Swamp Thing - Okay, so this title had been running since 1982 and featured some sterling work from writer Martin Pasko and various artists, but we all know that it was when Alan Moore took over from issue 20 (and particularly #21's "The Anatomy Lesson") that everything moved onto a whole new level. Moore was relatively unknown in the U.S. and was given free rein to revamp the title to save it from cancellation. The rest is comic book history. There have been millions of words written about the importance of Moore's stint on the title so I don't intend to repeat them here, but it did usher in a new maturity for mainstream comics and paved the way for the "Vertigo" imprint. I'm slightly ashamed to say that I didn't start picking up the comic until issue 28 on the strong recommendation from my local comic shop owner and had to scrabble around for many months finding the back issues as prices started to soar.

• Robin of Sherwood - Written by Richard "Kip" Carpenter, whose work I had previously enjoyed on "Catweazle" and "Dick Turpin", this is another example of a TV interpretation  which has yet to be bettered. Combing authentic production design and real locations (so you felt that the outlaws really did live in a forest) with genuine history and elements of pagan myths, I lapped up this series, as it appealed to my love of both classical heroes and fantasy. Michael Praed was a perfect Robin of Loxley and his not so merry men were also well cast. The addition of Nasir the Saracen has had such an influence that it now seems to have always been part of the legend. However let's not talk about season three. As far as I am concerned Robin dies at the end of "The Greatest Enemy"...

• Mage: The Hero Discovered - The first part of writer / artist Matt Wagner's epic trilogy of the life of Kevin Matchstick, wielder of an enchanted baseball bat that turns out to be Excalibur. Part examination of the power of myth, part autobiographical allegory and a whole lot of fun, I loved the lush artwork and somewhat humorous take on the Arthurian legend (not to mention the triple gatefold panorama in the final issue). It took until 1997 for the second chapter "The Hero Defined" to appear and the final part, "The Hero Denied" finally arrived in 2017. Oh and that black T-shirt with the white lightning bolt that Kevin Matchstick wears? I had one of those and wore it proudly for years.

Frankie Goes To Hollywood - If one band came to define the mid-80s for me it was "Frankie". Hugely successful  - especially after lead single "Relax" was banned by the BBC leading to it hitting the number one spot for five weeks - hugely influential, and more than a little racy, the provocative nature of their singles and first album meant that the country (and I) became obsessed with everything they released. "Frankie Says..." T-shirts were everywhere. They became only the second act in the history of the UK charts to reach number one with their first three singles. Even now I still think that "Two Tribes" (and it's multiple remixes) is one of the best records ever made. It became a ritual to go to my local "Golden Disc" record shop every Thursday lunchtime to pick up the latest 12", and when the double album "Welcome To The Pleasuredome" (with a cover you  really couldn't show your mother) was first on sale, the queue was out the door. I bought everything, in every format - including the rare picture discs and trust me, those are one of the few pieces of vinyl I'll never throw out. Alas, the follow up album "Liverpool" was a disappointment (I personally liked "Rage Hard" bit not much else) and by 1987 after internal disputes the band was no more. A real shame.

We're All Stories In The End 18 - Damaged Goods

A very famous name gets his first shot at a Doctor Who story....

Damaged Goods by Russell T Davies

Seventh Doctor Adventures number: 55

Originally published: October 1996

Companions: Roz & Chris

"Wherever this cocaine has travelled, it hasn't gone alone. Death has been its attendant. Death in a remarkably violent and inelegant form."

The Seventh Doctor, Chris and Roz, arrive at the Quadrant, a troubled council block in Thatcher's Britain. There's a new drug on the streets, a drug that's killing to a plan. Somehow, the very ordinary people of the Quadrant are involved. And so, amidst the growing chaos, a bizarre trio moves into number 43.

The year is 1987: a dead drug dealer has risen from the grave, and an ancient weapon is concealed beneath human tragedy. But the Doctor soon discovers that the things people do for their children can be every bit as deadly as any alien menace - as he uncovers the link between a special child, an obsessive woman, and a desperate bargain made one dark Christmas Eve.    

                                         

So this is one of the important ones. The only 'New Adventure' by Russell The Davies - the big man himself.

This is a Russell who is post 'Dark Seasons' but before 'The Grand' - and crucially before he became a household name for edgy, provocative, and astonishing drama with 'Queer as Folk'. This is a man who has *loved* Doctor Who since forever - and probably, for 1996, this may have been his dream gig. So what does the future showrunner have to say ? And are the seeds of his vision for the TV show planted here ?

Well, yes,… and no.

So we get a family of Tylers. An inner city housing estate. A loud mother. Broken relationships. A huge set piece finale with an alien creature stomping through the city. There is kitchen sink drama, a large cast of well rounded down-to-earth characters, and the Doctor being in as alien an environment as any exotic planet.

So far, so New Series then.

I've talked a lot before in these reviews about supporting characters - and how a good author can make you care and a…"less good" one makes them utterly forgettable. And as you would expect from Russell's other works, he's one of the former.

Every person lives and breathes on the page. The man can write *great* characters. There simply isn't a single badly written one in the whole book. Ordinary people can be just as desperate and flawed and unpleasant and monstrous as any alien menace - and Russell knows this. He also knows the love a mother has for her children. And the power of friendship. How we hide things, even from ourselves. And how the best of intentions can have unforeseen consequences.

It's wonderful storytelling.

But, beneath the humour and the bickering and the struggles of everyday life in 'The Quadrant', there is an all pervasive sense of dread. Of things waiting. Or terror and violence just around the corner. It oozes from the page. Every character is subliminally aware of it. 

And you'd better not get too attached to any of those characters - because the body count in this book is off the charts.

Boy this a bleak and grim and bloody story. We get prostitution. And drugs. And violence. And self harm. And not buckets but frankly *swimming pools* of gore. And sadly, death.

This is Doctor Who with the gloves well and truly off. An 18 rated version, where a man sets fire to himself, someone is cut in half diagonally and anothers head falls off. Where a commuter train crashes and thousands die - with more ripped apart by the "monster".

All that, and the suggestion that  the Doctor's male companions gets (at the very least) a blowjob in the back of a car. 

Oh and lest I forget - the Doctor shoots someone point blank in the face.

Frankly, I didn’t need all of that stuff. The human story was compelling enough without the blood-soaked shocks. 

I'm not sure we even needed the super-weapon from Gallifrey's past war against the vampires in the mix either - I'd have just been happy if it had been a story about telepathic separated twins and the anguish that caused.

Eva Jericho was enough of a villain. Driven to buy things to fill the void in her life, including someone else's child -  and driven mad by the reanimated calcified corpse of her own lost baby. It was both terrifying and heart-breaking. Especially when you realised that her delusions all stemmed from something so small in her childhood.

Certainly the speedy finale, with it's Quadrant smashing and the bait-and switch of who was in control of the N-Form, felt a bit like there had to be spectacle just for the sake of it.

Amongst the carnage it was the little things I enjoyed most:

• The difficult relationship between Harry and David.

• RTD's seeming obsession with cramming in as many 80s references as possible, from Neil Tennant to Wogan, Why Don’t You' , Mortan Harket and 2000 AD.

• The mention of Marie's Crisis Café in New York with it's musical singalongs. Check out Overtures in Soho for the UK equivalent.

• Roz's realisation that you never really leave the Doctor.

• Chris thinking that a "friend of Dorothy" meant that Ace might be appearing!

• Lines like "the voice of a man standing at the heart of an empty cathedral".

Don’t get me wrong - it's a great book. It's a superbly written tragedy wrapped up in a science fiction overcoat. Just like RTD's later works, it's full of heart and passion  - and maybe a bit of an overblown ending.

You wanted stories' too broad and deep for the small screen' ?

You can't deny this is certainly a prime example, even if personally I wish it had been toned down just a bit.

Let's not mention those epilogues though, eh ?

Golden Sunsets Redux - 60 Years of Memories - Part 17 - 1983

Something more unusual this time round, as a single album track mixing progressive electronica with a world famous poem is my pick of the year....

1983:

The trivia:

• Commercial peat-cutters were working in the Lindow Moss bog in Cheshire, England when they discovered a partial skull fragment with remnants of hair, soft tissue, brain matter and an eye attached.When the police launched a murder investigation, one man came forward. Long suspected of the death of his wife in 1960, Peter Reyn-Bardt thought it was her body that had been found, so confessed to the crime. When later carbon-dating testing revealed that it was actually from a body over a thousand years old, he tried to revoke his confession, but ultimately was still convicted and imprisoned.

• In the early 1980s, iconoclastic musician Frank Zappa sketched out a business plan for the storage and distribution of music via computer networks. His idea was simple but radical - fans could subscribe to a central catalogue service that allowed them to download high-quality digital albums directly - bypassing traditional record stores and physical media, and ensuring monies would go straight to the artists. Even though it foreshadowed the models later perfected by iTunes, Spotify, and countless other platforms, his vision was dismissed as ‘eccentric’.

• Sixty volumes of journals supposedly written by Nazi leader Adolf Hitler were purchased by Germany's "Stern" magazine for a huge sum, plus the rights were sold to many other publications including the UK's then prestigious "Sunday Times". The hype was enormous. Headlines promised unprecedented insight into Hitler’s private thoughts, and the story was treated as a historic scoop. But almost immediately after the first extracts appeared, experts raised doubts. Handwriting analysis and forensic testing revealed the diaries were crude forgeries, produced by a German conman named Konrad Kujau. It was one of the most embarrassing climbdowns in publishing history. 

The memory:

Rick Wakeman - Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard

Occasionally you just hear a piece of music and something just "clicks" in your brain. After just one listen, that song or instrumental gets stuck there. It's more than an "earworm" - immediately it's lodged deep and you know that you will never ever forget it. Such was the case with the final track on Rick Wakeman's 1983 album "Cost of Living".

Wakeman had been a mainstay of legendary progressive rock band "Yes" during the 1970s and is still widely recognised as one of the best keyboard players in the world. He had branched out into his own highly successful solo projects as well, including a number of concept albums - the most well known being "Journey to the Centre of the Earth", which featured his trademark synth wizardry together with a full orchestra, choir and voiced narration. This style of combing modern electronic keyboards with the spoken word continued throughout his career, but to my mind it's never more perfectly encapsulated than when Wakeman decided to record his version of the poem "Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard" by Thomas Gray.

Published in 1751, the poem is a meditation on mortality, death and remembrance, evoking the spirit of the countryside as the narrator finds comfort in thinking about the lives of the locals buried in the village churchyard. It's considered one of the greatest English poems of the period because of simultaneously being accessible and memorable and yet open to different interpretations. It's also incredibly alliterative and lyrical. No wonder Wakeman chose it.

To be honest I'd never heard of it back in 1983, despite studying poetry at school (blame the Comprehensive system. I do) - so my exposure to this wonderful work and it's musical accompaniment was purely because by chance I happened to be sat watching television one Saturday evening with my parents. Genial Irish broadcaster and TV icon Terry Wogan was hosting his very popular chat show and after Tezza finished gently grilling his latest guest he turned to the camera and announced that it was time for some music. "Here's Rick Wakeman and Robert Powell". My ears immediately pricked up - not because of the bearded maestro's name, but because of his fellow performer...

I'd been a fan of Powell's ever since the landmark TV series "Jesus of Nazareth" back in 1977 where he played the title role with a startling quiet intensity. I then enjoyed his performances in "The Four Feathers" and most importantly in the starring role as Richard Hannay in the 1978 remake of the classic John Buchan adventure "The Thirty-Nine Steps" - a film I have seen many, many times. I loved Powell's distinctive voice, so here was a chance to see him perform something "live".

As Powell began speaking with the first stanza of the poem, Wakeman's music also softly followed:

"The curfew tolls the knell of parting day
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lee
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way
And leaves the world to darkness and to me"

Just from those four lines I felt there was already a visual sense of twilight falling and the field workers returning home after a long days toil. As the performance continued I was mesmerised - transported to another time and place and totally absorbed in the combination of words and music. But don't take my word for it - listen for yourself:

By the way - the shaky camera footage taken by YouTuber 'Markus Emsermann' is of the churchyard in the village of Stoke Poges, Buckinghamshire where Thomas Gray is meant to have composed his famous poem.

Sure the 80s synth twiddling is a bit overblown at times and perhaps verges on drowning out the words in a couple of places - but you can't deny the power of the verse and the stirring emotions the melding of two different arts invokes. It's a brilliant piece and each performer enhances the other. It took me quite a few years to track down a copy of the album (it's one of Wakeman's least popular solo releases), but since then it's safe to say that I've listened to "Elegy" a hundred times or more and it never dulls.

What strikes me now, looking back, is how unusual the recording was in the broader landscape of 1980s music. Here was a solemn 18th‑century poem given a new life through synthesisers and narration. It’s a reminder that art can cross centuries. I guess it also speaks to Wakeman’s restless creativity - always experimenting with blending classical literature and modern soundscapes.

Both Wakeman and Powell went on to further successes in their respective careers, and actually came together again in 1987 for the double album  "The Gospels". I accept that the keyboard wizard's particular brand of music is not to everyone's taste and that some may find his messing with a classic piece of poetry tantamount to sacrilege. That's fine - each to their own. But although I have heard other versions of Gray's most famous work, both with and without music, this is the one I keep coming back to, and I don't think it will ever lose its influence over me.

Honourable mentions:

• American Flagg! - Often regarded as writer / artist Howard Chaykin's most important and famous work, this was one of the first titles from new independent publisher "First Comics". When  the US government relocates to Mars after a series of worldwide crises, the United States is left at the mercy of mega-corporation "The Plex". Enter former TV star Reuben Flagg, who is drafted into the Chicago branch of the Plexus Rangers militia. Discovering a web of political corruption, subliminal TV messages and plans to sterlise the population, Flagg embarks on a crusade to clean things up aided by a cast of untrustworthy characters and his best friend Raul, a talking orange tabby cat.

• For it's first twelve issues at least, this was my absolute favourite title, way above anything else. The combination of incredible Duotone textured art, adult themes (including my first experience of sex shown in a comic), science fictional setting - and loads of political satire meant that it was unlike anything I had ever read before. After Chaykin dropped off art duties it was never quite the same, but it's rightly hailed as a highpoint of 80s comics and I own multiple versions in various formats.

• Howard Jones - I've previously mentioned that I'd begun to be interested in synthesiser based artists such as "Yazoo", but around this time I got my own keyboard. The was mainly prompted by the appearance of Howard Zones and his particular brand of upbeat electronic pop with the debut of the aptly titled "New Song" in September 1983 followed by the album "Human's Lib". Songs such as "Pearl in the Shell", "What Is Love" and especially the slow ballad "Hide and Seek" were a constant feature of my musical life. I followed Howard's career and bought all the 12" singles and subsequent LPs for the next five years or so. Many are still sitting in a box somewhere and the covers bring back lots of happy memories. The keyboard playing never came to anything though.

• Philip Marlowe, Private Eye - There have been countless version of Raymond Chandler's hard-boiled detective and this TV series from the, then fledging, HBO is not the most famous, but I'd argue that it's up there as one of the absolute best. I came to the show free from any preconceptions as I'd never read the stories or seen any of the film versions - I was just intrigued by the 1930s setting (I guess this was feeding from my growing interest in 'pulp' fiction). Powers Boothe perfectly portrays the moral, laid back sleuth who only uses violence when he absolutely has to. The pace is slow and thoughtful and although it was shown quite late at night, it became appointment viewing for me. The lack of a high quality home media box set is frankly…criminal. 

• Fraggle Rock - Fun, silly and full of memorable songs, this is one of those shows that my whole family sat down to watch. It's my second favourite Henson series after "The Storyteller" and for me at the time combined the best bits from "Sesame Street" (the relatable characters and giant creatures) with those from "The Muppet Show" (the songs and humour). However it did confuse the hell out of me when I saw an American version years later. Where was the Lighthouse Captain? Who was this guy called Doc? The difference was down to Jim Henson’s clever production model - the show was filmed with interchangeable “wraparound” segments so it could feel local to each country. I figured it out eventually, but I still prefer the Fulton Mackay version.

• Was (Not Was) - Born To Laugh At Tornadoes - Although I didn't discover the Was brothers and their various collaborators until the release of "Walk The Dinosaur" in 1987, this second album has ended up being my favourite. Part of the fun is its unpredictability. The Was brothers pulled in an eclectic mix of guest performers - from Ozzy Osbourne to Mitch Ryder -  and the result is a kaleidoscope of styles that somehow still hangs together. It’s one of those albums where you never quite know what’s coming next, but that’s exactly the appeal. Whether it's the pop of "Betrayal", the funk of "Professor Night" or the sheer bizarre jazz sound of veteran Mel Tormé crooning when "Zaz Turned Blue", the whole album is a delight. My friend Neil became obsessed with collecting every version of  "Out Come The Freaks" - of which there are a *lot*.

• White Gold Wielder - by Stephen Donaldson - Not the first book in a fantasy series, but the last, and one of the most anticipated - at least by this reader. It's the finale of the "Second Chronicles of Thomas Covenant" - the exceptional story of the bitter, cynical leper who is transported to the fantasy setting of "The Land" and finds himself cast into the unwanted role of a major combatant in the ongoing battle against "Lord Foul the Despiser" through the use of the wild magic of his white gold wedding ring. Although it has some conceptual similarities to Tolkien's masterwork, Donaldson's character is far more of an anti-hero, often committing terrible acts as he rails against what he believes to be nothing more than a lucid dream. Over the course of the two trilogies Covenant experiences catastrophic, life changing events and battles with internal and external struggles. Ultimately he is redeemed and wins an unexpected victory, but the sacrifices both personally and to those he has come to care for are earth shattering.

• Donaldson's love of language and esoteric description sometimes mean his prose verges on the purple - and his protagonists are often unlikeable. However the power of the story, the imagination on show and the deep themes being explored win through, and the final novel is a wonderful drawing together of the various threads and a fitting conclusion to this most unusual of heroes. I have read and re-read all the books many times and ultimately it influenced me enough that when the time came, I got my own white gold wedding ring. Donaldson penned a four volume "Last Chronicles" between 2004 and 2013, but although I was initially excited (so much so that I went and met the author and got the first book signed), I found that as time went on the series turned out to be a journey too far, contained the worst excesses of his authorial "tics" and sadly delivered a conclusion that I was far from happy with. I prefer to think that the series ended properly with "White Gold Wielder".

• Blackadder -  Rowan Atkinson's best character (even if Mr. Bean has been more successful worldwide). In defiance of popular opinion, I consider "Blackadder II" to be the greatest and the funniest. It’s where the show truly found its rhythm - moving away from the medieval setting of the first series and embracing a sharper, more cynical lead. With its mix of outrageous guest stars, quotable dialogue, and a central character dripping with sarcasm, Blackadder II remains the jewel of the franchise. After all, how can you go wrong with a woman in disguise called "Bob", Rik Mayall as Lord Flashheart (Woof!) and the incomparable Tom Baker as Captain Redbeard Rum ("You have a woman's legs, my lord! I'll wager that those are legs that have never been...",etc, etc"). I love it.

• Jon Sable, Freelance - Another First Comics title (I bought everything they published at one point). This time it's the ripped-from-the-headlines adventures of a bounty hunter and mercenary for hire, who makes money on the side as a children's author. Creator Mike Grell was familiar to me from a few issues of "Warlord" and "Legion of Superheroes" that I caught glimpses of, but here his work reached a new level of sophistication, mixing realistic characters with engaging action - split between the streets of New York and the plains of Africa. I adored his artwork and writing equally, and Grell gave his hero a complex backstory rooted in tragedy and survival. It felt more adult than many mainstream titles of the era, with dialogue and characterisation that carried weight. Nowadays Grell is probably more famous for his lengthy run on "Green Arrow", but it was here that his gritty style developed. The series deserves to be in everyone's collection.

The Colour of Magic - What superlatives can I write about the genius of Sir Terence of Pratchett that haven't been said before? (beyond the brief post here that I wrote when he died in 2015) The Discworld begins here, and although it's by no means his best book (being more of a parody of SF and fantasy tropes), the building blocks of the publishing phenomenon to come are all here. I clearly remember picking up this book from my local WH Smith and marvelling at the cover by the great Josh Kirby, who became synonymous with comic fantasy novels for many years. Sam Vimes is my favourite Discworld lead (harking back to Philip Marlowe perhaps?) but I have always had a soft spot for Rincewind. Without him we would not have had the Luggage, or the Librarian or a host of other memorable characters. My shelves are full of Terry's books and they have brought me over thirty years of pleasure. I wish he was still here able to share his outlook on life with the world.