Golden Sunsets Redux - 60 Years of Memories - Part 21 - 1987

By my early twenties I was fully immersed in the comics industry - both as a reader and as a retailer. But an encounter with one of my customers lead to the discovery of a different kind of super-heroics...

1987:

The trivia:

• By 1987, the California Condor - one of the largest birds in North America - had been pushed to the very edge of extinction. Poaching, habitat destruction, and decades of lead poisoning from spent ammunition had whittled their numbers down to a mere 27 on the entire planet. Conservationists made a bold decision to help save the species - all of the huge birds were captured and placed into human care, split between the San Diego Wild Animal Park and the Los Angeles Zoo.  Thanks to an extraordinary breeding program, the population slowly began to climb, until today, there are over four hundred California Condors, many living wild.

• American Airlines came up with a bold idea - sell a tiny handful of ultra-expensive unlimited first‑class tickets. No restrictions - just show up and fly anywhere in the world, anytime. It sounded like a dream - and for Chicago businessman, Steve Rothstein, it absolutely was. He bought his pass for a then staggering US$ 233,509, and over the next decade, flew more than 10 million miles, made over 500 trips to England, and took spontaneous flights just because he felt like it. Sometimes he’d book flights for strangers he met in the airport. Sometimes he’d fly somewhere simply to have lunch. Rothstein wasn’t breaking any rules. He was simply using the pass exactly as advertised, but the airline estimated his travels cost them around 21 million dollars in lost revenue. So by the mid‑2000s, they began scrutinising the few remaining unlimited ticket holders, looking for any reason to shut the program down. In 2008, they claimed they found one. Rothstein’s pass was terminated for what the airline called “fraudulent behaviour.” - his habit of booking companion tickets for people he barely knew. Whether it was truly fraud or not remains a matter of debate, but the result was the same - Rothstein's golden ticket was gone.

• 19-year old German amateur aviator Matthias Rust managed to fly his small Cessna aircraft all the way from Helsinki to Moscow and land illegally near Red Square. Despite being tracked several times by Soviet air defence, he was never shot down. Although originally sentenced to four years in prison he only served a few months and the incident allowed progressive Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev to dismiss many of his harshest military opponents.

Okay so I guess before I start with the memory proper, I should provide a bit more context to that comment at the top of the page about being a comics "retailer". This might take a while...

By the mid-1980s I was getting my regular comics from specialist shops rather than newsagents. It started with all those trips to "Forbidden Planet" in London, but as I left school and (after a brief period in market research) started working in Southend-on-Sea, I switched to getting my weekly fix from the local independent book shop in the historically windy Victoria Circus Shopping Centre - known rather generically as "The New Bookshop" (I never did discover where the "Old" one was).

                                        

The two rather mature gentlemen who ran the shop were always friendly and I became a regular customer. Their shelves were crammed full of all the latest Marvel, DC and independent titles. Each week I would pick up the current releases (almost everything to be honest) which they had put by in a hi-tech filing system of brown paper bags with your name written in marker pen. Thanks to these lovely fellows I discovered comics from First, Comico, Capital, Eclipse and a vast range of other titles. More and more of my meagre wages was being spent on four-colour adventures (well I was still living at home and couldn't drive, so had very little outgoings). I reunited with some old friends in the shop as we all started to hang out there, and met some new ones along the way - including a very young Warren Ellis.

Then to my delight, in 1985 a proper specialist comic book store opened on the bottom floor of the shopping centre. "Collectors' Dream" was run by local writer, artist, musician (and sometime shoe salesman) Gary Spencer Millidge. Gary would become well known in comic circles in later years for his seminal series "Strangehaven", but when I first got to know him, he was focused on the new shop and associated mail order subscription service - along with near-forgotten news zine "Comic News Monthly". The "Collectors' Dream" shop became the new place for us comics fans to hang out.

It was a seminal period for my favourite medium. Many of the industry's most famous and well respected titles were published then. I was there when Gary unboxed the first issues of "Watchmen" and "The Dark Knight Returns", marveling at the innovation on display. Titles such as the Giffen / DeMatteis "Justice League International", Kyle Bakers "The Shadow", the first ongoing series for Paul Chadwick's "Concrete", and so many more.

It was also in Gary's shop that we watched him work on the famine relief title that became "Food For Thought" - a charity comic that predated Marvel and DC's equivalent titles by a long way. Containing illustrations and strips by a wealth of creators old and new, it's become something of a rare item now. Luckily I still have my copy. As you can tell, we spent a *lot* of time in that basement level store - my younger brother even worked there for a while when he first left school.  Those were great times. Maybe I'll write about them in more detail one day.

But at some point not long after (and here my memory gets slightly hazy), Gary decided that he needed to down-size and move the shop to smaller premises. I really wanted to get into the industry in some way and convinced my brother and a friend that we should buy the "Collectors' Dream" mail order service and run it ourselves. With a cash loan from my father, we did just that  - and from my bedroom we somehow managed to run a small business on a complete shoestring.

We started with the customer list we had purchased from Gary and then expanded it by handing out flyers at the Westminster Comic Mart's. The ads looked great thanks to a custom piece of Alan Davis artwork we received with the business purchase (amazingly I still have it). Typing up the monthly order catalogues on a Commodore 64 computer, printing them out and pasting them together to then be photocopied - it would all seem incredibly primitive to modern eyes. We wrote humourous editorials to accompany the listings. Deliveries from Titan Distributors became a weekly occurrence, along with regular trips to the warehouse itself in Mile End for single issues (the minimum pre-order was two copies). All of our spare time was spent wrapping parcels, collating orders, banking cheques and keeping things afloat - all this while holding down regular jobs. It was hard work but hugely exciting. We made lot's of contacts, learnt a huge deal and of course bought a *lot* of comics for ourselves at trade prices!

One of our regular overseas customers was a young guy called Philip Chee who lived in Hong Kong, and he often sent us long letters with his large order, chatting about his love of science fiction and fantasy and comics. Over time we corresponded back and forth and developed a good relationship with this fellow fan who was half a world away. Then one month, Philip mentioned that he was going to be in London visiting family - and did we want to meet up with him for lunch or something?

Arranging to meet outside Tottenham Court Road tube station in the West End, the three of us waited somewhat nervously, until approached by a young dark haired gentleman in glasses. Yes, this was Philip -  and after a few minutes we found ourselves getting on really well, even if he did come across as very excitable and a definite comic book expert. We made a tour of all the London comic shops within walking distance (Philip wanted to stock up on back issues) and ended up at the famous Denmark Street "Forbidden Planet" store, which as well as comics had the best selection of SF and fantasy novels in the area.

Perusing the lengthy shelves for anything new, Philip picked up a US import book with a lurid purple-ish cover and a shining logo.. "The secret history of our times revealed" it claimed. "Had I heard of "Wild Cards" before?" Philip asked. I shook my head and he thrust the book into my hands. "You should try this series, it's really good". Not wanting to appear rude - and to be honest open for something new to read - I took a look at the blurb on the back. What I saw was enough for me to plonk down my cash - and a decades long love affair was about to begin...

The memory:

Wild Cards

It is a world parallel to our own - an Earth where an alien virus bomb strikes the Earth in the aftermath of World War II. Millions are killed, but a handful of those that survive are endowed with strange superhuman powers. Some are called 'Aces', gifted with extraordinary mental and physical abilities. Others are 'Jokers', cursed with grotesque mutations or unpredictable quirks. Some turn their talents toward helping humanity, others toward harming it. And from that simple premise the Wild Cards 'shared universe' was born.

On the surface, it might sound like a prose version of the Marvel or DC universe. But the difference was the “mosaic novel” format. Each character was created and written by a different science fiction author, but all their stories interlocked into a single, coherent narrative. The whole thing was shepherded by some guy I’d never heard of called George R. R. Martin (wonder what happened to him ?). These weren't your traditional throwaway stories either. Following the 80s trend towards more realistic portrayals of super-heroes, these characters were fully three dimensional - they changed and adapted and faded in out out of the narrative like real people and even died, sometimes in sudden, violent ways.  

The roster of 80s writers was astonishing - Walter Jon Williams, Roger Zelazny, Melinda M. Snodgrass, Stephen Leigh, Daniel Abraham, and many more. Even legendary X‑Men writer Chris Claremont contributed. It felt like a clubhouse of genre heavyweights all playing in the same sandbox. The first volume chronicled the events from World War II to the (then) present day showing the emergence of the Aces and Jokers and the impact they had on world history. It also sprinkled in delightful alternate‑history cameos - Mick Jagger as a werewolf, Jim Morrison as the literal Lizard King, and so on. More importantly, it introduced the characters who would become the backbone of the series:

• Doctor Tachyon -  a flamboyant Takesian who tried to prevent the detonation of his races virus bomb and now attempts to atone for their mistake.

• Croyd Crenson "The Sleeper" - cursed to fall into a coma and wake up in a new body every few months. Sometimes an Ace and sometimes a Joker, he never knows what will happen when he falls asleep.

• The Great and Powerful Turtle - possessed of the world most powerful mental abilities, he hides inside a metal shell constructed from an old VW Beetle

• Fortunato - the supreme sorcerer on the planet who recharges his powers via tantric sex.

• Captain Trips - a burned out hippy biochemist who can call forth five different super-powered persona through the use of designer drugs.

• Puppetman - a politician able to control the minds of anyone he touches and feed off their negative emotions? What could possibly go wrong?

I devoured the first book and immediately went back and brought the following two. Set in the late 80s, each one dealt with a particular threat, but sub-plots and continuing threads were interwoven and carried between all three. It got better - between 1987 and 1993, twelve books were published, spanning political thrillers, detective mysteries, space opera, and everything in between. A whole world of different heroes and villains were introduced and like the best comics multi-part stories, it took several volumes for all the events to unfold. Sometimes the heroes won. Sometimes they lost and people died. It was my comics world seen through an adult lens - violent, sexy, horrific, thoughtful, and utterly addictive. 

Around book six, a UK publisher (I’m fairly sure it was Titan) caught onto the "Wild Cards" phenomenon and reissued the series with new Brian Bolland covers. US publisher Bantam Spectra responded with their own new covers by "Grimjack" artist Timothy Truman and it's those that adorn my copies of books seven to twelve.

Then came a shift. With volume 13, "Card Sharks", a new trilogy began  - and a new publisher, Baen, took over. Barclay Shaw replaced Truman as cover artist. Released just a month after book 12, the book kicked off a conspiracy arc involving a deadly “antidote” to the Wild Card virus known as the Black Trump. The trilogy also wrapped up several long‑running character arcs and felt like a natural endpoint. For a while, it seemed like the series might be finished.

Seven years passed.

Then, in 2002, came "Deuces Down", published by iBooks -  the long‑awaited sixteenth volume. It echoed the structure of the first book, offering standalone stories across four decades. But this time it focussed on those less well known members of the Wild Card saga  - the “Deuces”, people with minor, often inconvenient powers. It was fun, but I was hungry for the main timeline again.

Four years later, I got my wish with Death Draws Five, a solo novel by John J. Miller. An apocalyptic thriller with religious overtones, it brought back favourites like Carnifex, Mr. Nobody, and Fortunato, and introduced the formidable Midnight Angel. But iBooks collapsed into bankruptcy, and once again the series needed a new home.

Enter Tor Books, who didn’t just rescue Wild Cards -  they revitalised it. Beginning in 2008 with "Inside Straight", Tor introduced a new generation of Aces and Jokers, a new global scope, and a new wave of writers joining the "Wild Cards Trust". It wasn’t a reboot (the series has never had one), but a widening of the lens. The old guard still appeared, but now they shared the stage with younger, stranger, more diverse characters shaped by the 21st century.

Tor’s run quickly grew into its own era. "Busted Flush" and "Suicide Kings" completed the “Committee Trilogy,” a storyline that pushed the universe into geopolitics, humanitarian crises, and the messy reality of superpowered interventionism. After that came a steady stream of new volumes - each one expanding the mythology, exploring new corners of the world, or revisiting long‑running characters in surprising ways. The tone ranged from noir to horror to political thriller to cosmic weirdness, to reality TV - but it's always felt unmistakably "Wild Cards".

The publisher also embraced the digital age. A whole run of standalone short stories and novellas appeared on Tor.com. Self‑contained, often free to read, they sometimes tied into or foreshadowed events in the main novels, but also worked as little snapshots of life in the Wild Cards universe. For long‑time readers, they feel like bonus tracks - for newcomers, they were an easy way to dip a toe into the world without committing to a full novel.

Meanwhile, Tor began reissuing the original Bantam books - some with new introductions, some with additional stories, and all with a consistent design that finally made the sprawling series feel unified on the shelf. For new readers, it was the perfect jumping‑in point. For old readers like me, it was a chance to revisit the classics with a fresh coat of paint.

Then, in 2023, the series did something unexpected - it returned to its original publisher, Bantam Books. For the first time since the early 90s, new Wild Cards novels were once again appearing with the Bantam logo on the spine. Tor’s final major contribution came two years later with "Aces Full", a second volume of its previously online‑only stories.

The Wild Cards universe has become something rare in genre fiction - a shared world with nearly four decades of continuous, unbroken history, spanning more than thirty books and multiple publishers. No reboots. No continuity wipes. No “multiverse resets". Just a living, evolving timeline shaped by dozens of writers and hundreds of characters. Sure regular superhero comics have caught up with some of the storytelling techniques used ("Astro City" springs to mind), but there is still something unique about the novels and the world.

Turning things almost full circle, there have actually been several comic mini-series telling original stories. Recently Bantam even branched out in graphic novels (although I have to say the new US cover designs are bloody awful). Plus there have been role playing games, audio books and translations into different languages. There (predictably) was even a live action TV show in development at one point.

I've bought all the books avidly since that original chance recommendation from young Philip Chee - and perhaps that's really why I love them. Because they’ve grown up alongside me. They’ve changed, taken risks, reinvented themselves, and refused to stand still - just like the best long‑running stories do. Every new volume feels like catching up with old friends, but in a world that’s still full of surprises. After nearly forty years, "Wild Cards" remains unpredictable, ambitious and utterly alive - and I can’t think of another shared universe that’s earned my loyalty the way this one has. 

And the remarkable thing is - it’s still going. New books, new characters, new directions. The "Wild Cards" universe looks certain to continue for many years to come - and I can't wait to find out what happens next.

Honourable mentions:

• Filthy, Rich and Catflap - a comedy series that's only six episodes long, is barely remembered by the mainstream - yet is absolutely essential if you want to understand the evolutionary chain that runs from the anarchic brilliance of "The "Young Ones" to the full‑tilt slapstick carnage of "Bottom". Rik Mayall plays Richie Rich, a talentless, delusional, permanently unemployed actor whose ego is so inflated it might as well have its own postcode. Nigel Planer is Ralph Filthy, the sponging, sleazy, morally flexible agent who’d sell his own mother for a 10% cut. And Adrian Edmonson is Edward Didgeridoo Catflap, Richie’s violent, drunken minder - a man who treats the world like a pub brawl waiting to happen. So far, so familiar. But the twist is that the show treats the' Fourth Wall' like a suggestion. Characters wander in and out of the studio audience, mock the production, and generally behave as if reality is something that happens to other people. It’s meta before that was a buzzword, and is gleefully rude about the Z‑list celebrity culture of the time. And yet, for all its energy, it never quite hits the same delirious heights as "The Young Ones". Maybe it’s the showbiz satire, maybe it’s just that the characters are totally unsympathetic. Despite that it’s still absolutely worth watching for the sheer manic commitment of the performances. It’s messy, loud, self‑aware, and gloriously unhinged.

• Green Arrow The Longbow Hunters - After the shockwave of "The Dark Knight Returns", this was DC’s second big “prestige format” gamble - a mandate to take a second tier character somewhere deeper, darker, and more human. I already knew Mike Grell from "Jon Sable, Freelance", where he’d honed that grounded, muscular, street‑level style. But what he did here was on another level. It wasn’t just a new coat of paint on Oliver Queen - it was a complete reimagining of who the character could be. Grell stripped away the trick arrows and the cartoonish villains. He acknowledged Oliver’s age and his scars. He dropped him into a world of serial killers, organised crime, and moral ambiguity. Suddenly Green Arrow wasn’t a superhero - he was an urban hunter. And that shift worked. It made me care about a character I’d never been particularly invested in before. Grell’s Seattle was moody, rain‑soaked, and lived‑in. His action scenes had weight. His violence had consequences. Even the relationship between Oliver and Dinah Lance felt more adult - messy, complicated and believable. The three issues were a mission statement which paved the way for Grell’s seven‑year run as writer (and occasional artist), a stretch that remains one of the most consistent and character‑defining eras any DC hero has ever had. For my money, "Longbow Hunters" is still one of the finest Green Arrow stories ever told.

• Weaveworld by Clive Barker - I never got into the"Books of Blood" or the "Hellraiser" movies. Horror stories are not really my thing and certainly in 1987 I had read only a mere handful of that type of novel. However I picked up "Weaveworld" because of the more fantasy-orientated premise - and boy was I glad I did. The book revolves around the secret existence of a race of magical beings known as the "Seerkind" and their struggles to remain hidden from the non-magical world inside "The Fugue" - a separate dimension woven into the strands of a carpet. The Seerkind have to face multiple dangers from human and non-human antagonists, plus the mysterious "Scourge" which seeks to destroy all magic. Full of religious allusions and themes, a multi-facted plot and truly evil and horrific threats, the novel was several worlds away from the more traditional fantasies I had consumed up to that point. I quickly became a Barker devotee as he published one excellent novel after another over the next ten years. Any attempt to turn "Weaveworld" into a film or TV series can only be doomed to fail in my eyes, as it would be practically impossible to match the imagination and power of Barker's prose.

• The New Statesman - It's Rik Mayall again in a razor sharp political comedy. What's not to love? As Tory M.P. Alan B'Stard he was selfish, devious, lecherous and utterly without shame - a man who treated service to the British public like an inconvenience. Heaven help anyone who got in his way, and whatever schemes, crises or scandals surrounded him, B'Stard always came up as top dog, usually with a smirk and a cheque in his pocket. It was a role tailor‑made for Mayall - all swagger, venom, and sarcastic brilliance - and it proved what some of us already suspected: that he wasn’t just a great comedian, he was a genuinely tremendous actor (I'm biased - I already considered Rik to be my comedy god). The show was savagely funny. Cruel, irreverent, and gleefully disrespectful to anyone in power. No party was safe. If you were a politician, B’Stard was coming for you - and any resemblance to real figures, living or dead, was absolutely deliberate. His toxic charm ran across four series, two specials, stage shows, and even newspaper columns and looking back, it’s astonishing how much of the show still feels relevant. Maybe that’s because politics hasn’t changed as much as we’d like to think. Or maybe it’s because Rik Mayall, in full B’Stard mode, tapped into something timeless - the idea that power attracts the worst people, and the only sane response is to laugh at them as loudly as possible.

• The Question - Another reimagining of a lesser DC character -  but this time it's the faceless vigilante from Steve Ditko, a hero originally steeped in it's creators objectivist absolutism. But Denny O’Neil and Denys Cowan didn’t just update The Question - they rebuilt him. Vic Sage became a flawed, curious, introspective figure, wrestling with morality, identity, and the limits of black‑and‑white thinking. O’Neil infused the series with Eastern philosophy, Zen teachings, and a deep sense of moral ambiguity. The series wasn’t afraid to just let Vic meditate, question his own motives, or simply observe the world around him. It was a superhero comic that felt more like an philosophical detective novel that just happened to involve masks. These weren't distinct adventures - it was an ongoing saga, with the final issue referencing points made all the way back in the first. Sure there were mysteries, fights, conspiracies, and some genuinely great supporting characters - but the heart of it was always Vic Sage’s internal journey - the idea that the real battle was against your own self. Denys Cowan’s art was a perfect match for the book’s tone. His version of Hub City felt like a feverish, corrupt, rain‑soaked nightmare, a place where justice was always out of reach and the shadows had shadows of their own. For me it remains one of the most thoughtful, mature, and quietly daring superhero books DC has ever published. A quiet masterpiece.

• Star Trek Next Generation - We actually didn't get to see this show in the UK until September 1990, when it started airing in that cosy early evening slot on BBC2, but I've included it here as it was first broadcast in the USA in 1987. It came at exactly the right time for me. "Doctor Who" had finished the previous December and into that gap sailed the Enterprise‑D, all gleaming curves, diplomatic missions, and Jean‑Luc Picard’s magnificent bald head. I latched onto it instantly and it became my new favourite genre show. Thanks to some 4 hour VHS tapes and my trusty 'long play' Panasonic video recorder, I managed to cram up to eight episodes on one cassette. In later years this meant that my first wife and I (also a fan) would occasionally start watching an episode in bed, fall asleep and wake up the next morning to find that Captain Picard was still boldly going, having spent the night exploring strange new worlds while we snored! For a while I was obsessed with all things "Trek" and amassed a large collection of books, comics, fact files and assorted ephemera. Even if that obsession has faded and even if it doesn't quite reach the heights of "Deep Space Nine" in terms of dramatic arcs and long-form storytelling, "TNG" still has a cast of characters that I love to spend time with. It's one of those rare shows where despite having seen each episode so many times that I probably know the plots off by heart, when one comes on the TV I still stop changing channels and start watching. Engage!

• Marshal Law - First published by Epic Comics as a six-issue mini, before sporadically hopping around a number of different publishers and formats in the subsequent years, Pat Mills and Kevin O'Neill's savage satire of the superhero genre is a classic that deserved a much wider audience. Set in the future sprawl of San Futuro, the titular character is a government‑sanctioned hero‑hunter, whose job is to take down rogue superhumans with maximum force and minimum sympathy. He hates superheroes. He hates himself for being one - and Mills uses that as a scalpel, slicing into every major comic‑book archetype with savage glee. Over the course of the various storylines, no icon is safe. If you’ve ever worn a cape, Mills probably eviscerated you. It's a flamethrower aimed at the idea that superheroes are noble, pure, or even remotely sane. Match that with Kevin O'Neill's unique, grotesque spiky artwork and you have something really rather special. Later crossovers - with The Mask and even with Pinhead from Hellraiser - are odd little curiosities. Less acerbic, but still fascinating in that “I can’t believe they actually published this” way. They’re proof of how elastic the character was, how easily he could be dropped into other universes and still feel like the most dangerous thing in the room. If you’ve never read it, there’s a big deluxe collection out there, and it absolutely deserves a place on your Christmas list. "Marshal Law" is one of those cult classics that should have been huge - a blistering satire, a visual feast, and a reminder that sometimes the best way to work in a genre is to set fire to it.

• Max Headroom - Trying to explain Max Headroom to anyone who didn’t live through the mid‑80s is a bit like trying to describe a fever dream. “He was the world’s first computer‑generated TV star… sort of.” “He hosted a music‑video chat show.” “He advertised New Coke.” “He was in a pop single with Art of Noise.” “He had his own cyberpunk drama series.” All of these things are true, and yet none of them quite capture how omnipresent he was. For a few years, Max wasn’t just a character - he was a cultural phenomenon. Born from a one‑off British TV drama, Max Headroom was played by Matt Frewer under layers of prosthetics and video trickery, delivering lines in a stuttering, glitchy voice that became instantly iconic. He looked like a computer simulation, sounded like a malfunctioning AI, and behaved like a caffeinated talk‑show host who’d been left alone with too much electricity. And somehow, it worked. The drama was great, but my favourite incarnation was the US TV series. Set in a dystopian near future (aren't they all?), it imagined a world where television networks ruled everything - politics, culture, information, even law enforcement. It was stylish, inventive, and surprisingly sharp for its time, tackling media exploitation, corporate power, surveillance, and the manipulation of truth. Watching it now is a strange experience since so many of the things it predicted have sort of come true. What once felt like satire now feels uncomfortably close to the evening headlines. The show was weird, clever, anarchic, and utterly of its moment -  and yet somehow still relevant. "Twenty minutes into the future" never felt so close...

Star Cops - This little SF show arrived with ambition, intelligence, and a grounded approach to space drama decades ahead of its time - and then promptly vanished under the wheels of scheduling chaos and BBC indifference. The premise was simple - in the near future, humanity has begun to spread into orbit and onto the Moon, and with that expansion comes crime. Smuggling, sabotage, espionage, even murder. Enter the International Space Police Force - the “Star Cops” - a small, underfunded, politically beleaguered team trying to keep order in an environment where one mistake can kill you. What made it special to those of us who loved it was the tone. This wasn’t glossy space opera. It was procedural science fiction, grounded in physics, bureaucracy, and the messy reality of human behaviour. The tech felt plausible. The politics felt depressingly familiar. And the characters - especially David Calder’s wonderfully grumpy Nathan Spring - felt like actual people doing an impossible job. Sure the effects and the weightless scenes are bit shonky, and the theme tune by Justin Hayward widely derided (except by me), but the whole show has a real intelligent charm. It treats its audience with respect. The tragedy is that "Star Cops" never got the chance it deserved and it struggled to find an audience. Only nine episodes were ever made - and yet it left a mark. It's a clever, thoughtful gem that pointed the way toward the kind of grounded sci‑fi storytelling we’d later see in things like "The Expanse", and it remains a show that is really special to me. Thankfully in more recent years Big Finish have picked up the baton, and continue to produce audio stories with many of the original cast members. Amazingly they genuinely feel like the TV episodes we never got to see. If we ever do get a base on the Moon, we have to remember that "it won't be easy"...

Golden Sunsets Redux - 60 Years of Memories - Part 20 - 1986

  We love you. That's why we're here...

1986:

The trivia:

• As a fundraising publicity stunt for the "United Way" charity, organisers released one and a half million balloons into the skies above Cleveland, Ohio. It was intended to be a harmless spectacle, but unfortunately it all went disastrously wrong very quickly. The balloons were released early due to an approaching storm and drifted back over the city and Lake Erie, clogging roads and waterways, causing traffic collisions, and even shutting down a runway at the nearby airport. Worst of all, the Coast Guard were forced to suspend the search for two missing fishermen because the lake’s surface became covered in thousands of bobbing balloons, making it impossible to spot bodies or boats. The men were later found, but had sadly drowned. Multiple lawsuits followed, with damage claims running into the millions of dollars.

• The dark comedy fantasy "Troll" stars Noah Hathaway (more famous as Atreyu in "The NeverEnding Story") as a character named… Harry Potter Jnr. He is introduced to a hidden world of magic by a mysterious old woman who lives in the apartment upstairs. Why follow is a battle against dark forces that spills into the everyday world. Just coincidental similarities to the J.K. Rowling publishing phenomenon? Who knows, but the film has become a magnet for conspiracy theories and tongue‑in‑cheek comparisons. The “Troll” producers have leaned into it over the years, insisting that Rowling must have been influenced by their film, while Rowling has repeatedly said she’d never even heard of it. Whether it’s coincidence, cosmic synchronicity, or just one of those delightful jokes of pop culture, it has given “Troll” an extra layer of fascination it never could have predicted.

• An estimated 30 million people tuned into a two-hour television special to watch star Geraldo Rivera open a secret vault beneath Chicago’s Lexington Hotel.  The hidden room had long been rumoured to belong to legendary crime lord Al Capone. The hype was extraordinary - teasing the possibility of hidden bodies, piles of cash, weapons, or long‑buried evidence of Capone’s criminal empire. It became the highest‑rated syndicated TV special in history. After hours of drilling, dynamite, commentary, and breathless anticipation, the vault was revealed to be completely empty - except for a few dusty bottles, some rubble, and a very awkward Geraldo Rivera standing in front of live cameras, trying to salvage the moment.
  

The memory:

A Very Peculiar Practice

Famously only written by Andrew Davies because he discovered he owed the BBC £17,000, this darkly comic satire is probably the finest thing actor Peter Davison has ever been part of (and that includes Doctor Who). Set in the fictional Lowlands University, "A Very Peculiar Practice" sees Davison play the painfully shy, mild mannered and idealistic Stephen Daker, who joins the campus medical centre. All he wants is to make people better and get through the day. But instead of a set of highly professional colleagues, Daker discovers he has walked into a practice on the verge of collapse. 

At it's head is the booze-soaked Jock McCannon, played with feverish relish by the incredible Graham Crowden. Jock used to be a good doctor, but now is disillusioned and apoplectic about the changes planned by the university Vice Chancellor, Ernest Hemingway (no, not that one), who Jock is convinced has it in for him.  Dictating his mythological treatise on the ills of modern life - "The Sick University" - into a tape recorder, Jock also bemoans his loss of virility, purpose, ability to cure and the crushing inevitability of his own demise.

Alongside this old retainer is the arrogant, constantly underachieving Alan Sugar wanabe Bob Buzzard - always one step away from a hyper active nervous breakdown. It's a role that was made for David Troughton. Bob has no interest in his patients, seeing them as an unpleasant distraction from his goals of climbing the corporate ladder. His scheming and sycophantic attempts to better his lot in life provide many of the best elements of humour.

The final piece in the Lowlands medical jigsaw is the white-coated Nurse Rose Marie played by Barbara Flynn. A radical ultra-feminist bisexual who believes that men are the root of all that is wrong with the world, she also oozes a powerful sexuality and manages to tie poor Doctor Daker (and any watching red-blooded males) in confused knots.

In between coping with the oddball behaviour of his fellow doctor's, Daker tries to support the student's emotional well-being, cure the faculty of their various malady's, handle the outbreak of an STD *and* deal with the machinations of the amoral Hemingway - who just wants to cut funding and earn tons of cash from foreign students. He also begins a tentative relationship with research student (and police woman) Lyn Turtle, who helps him overcome his touch phobias.

Series two sees the university purchased by smooth American Jack Daniels and his defence-contract buddies, who have an eye on stopping all that annoying ‘learning’ nonsense and turning the site into a pure research facility. Lyn has left to go back to the police force and Daker instead gets involved with feisty Polish art student Grete Grotowska.

The series is a biting satire on the state of British society as much as a character piece and is full of wonderful guest appearances from a bevy of British actors - including a very young Hugh Grant. There is a surrealist element to proceedings too - most prominently with the ever more bizarre antics of two unnamed and silent nuns, who are always digging through the rubbish bins, speeding round the campus in a Mini and getting drunk. The nuns seem to be like the ravens at the Tower of London - if they leave, the university dies. Andrew Davies even writes himself into the narrative, in the form of Ron Rust, a creative writing tutor who owes a large sum of money so tries to pen a television series based on Lowlands, The problem is, every outlandish idea he comes up with keeps coming true! 

The final moments are terribly bleak, yet oddly fitting with what has come before, and testament to the over-riding vision of the series sole writer. Davies wrote over the top characters and some of the situations could even be deemed as farcical, but every single episode was wonderfully enjoyable. Again this was one of those shows which I recorded off the TV onto video tape and watched repeatedly - in fact I don't think I found anything else quite as special outside of the SF and Fantasy genres until Alan Bleasdale's "G.B.H" in 1991.

1992 brought a sequel TV movie "A Very Polish Practice". While it was nice to see Stephen and Greta and mad Bob Buzzard once more, outside of the university setting something was missing, and to be honest, I've no real desire to watch it again, even with a supporting actor of the calibre of Alfred Molina. I'll stick with the twelve episodes of mad brilliance thanks. 

Honourable mentions:

• Comic Relief Utterly Utterly Live - The first (and some would still argue the best) "Comic Relief" event wasn’t an all-evening-telethon, but a gloriously chaotic stage show in the tradition of Amnesty International’s "Secret Policeman's Ball". Performed at the Shaftsbury Theatre over three consecutive nights in early April 1986, it pulled together a who’s-who of alternative comedians, celebrities and musical guests to raise money for good causes, including famine relief in Africa. All three nights were recorded, as for each show the line up (and some of the routines) were slightly different. It was hugely popular, especially as the four stars of the BBC's "The Young Ones" performed their chart-topping single "Living Doll" alongside the one and only Cliff Richard. Other highlights were just as memorable - Lenny Henry in full ‘Theophilus P. Wildebeest’ mode, grinding against a mortified audience member; Ben Elton manically delivering his infamous "double seat" routine; two Frank Bruno’s quoting the Bard’s immortal lines from ‘Romeo and Juliet’ - and a parade of sketches, songs, and oddities that captured the spirit of the era. But for me, the highlight was the wonderful Kate Bush, singing romantic duet "Do Bears Sha La La... In The Woods" with Rowan Atkinson. It shouldn’t work. But it does, and it’s hilarious because both play it absolutely straight.

Batman: The Dark Knight Returns - Frank Miller's alternate-world take on an older, embittered Bruce Wayne remains one of the most influential comics ever published. Set in a future where Batman has hung up his cape after the death of Robin, the world is a more violent, chaotic and frightening place. Mutant gangs terrorise the streets, the media is unreliable and Superman has become a compliant tool  of the government. It’s a grim, politically-charged vision - and one that still feels scarily sharp all these decades later. Miller is one of those credited for ushering in the "dark age” of comic books  - and influencing a generation of new writers and artists… for better or worse. My clearest personal memory from that period is being in my local comic shop as that week's new releases were unboxed. We all gathered round staring at this strange new "prestige " format with its square binding and glossy pages. It certainly made a statement - this was the start of a new age of graphic storytelling. And I was lucky enough to be there at the beginning.

• Crossroads - Not the terrible ITV soap opera, but the musical drama starring former "Karate Kid" Ralph Macchio. The film was inspired by blues pioneer Robert Johnson, specifically the legend that he sold his soul to the devil at a crossroads in order to play better than anyone else. That’s twined with the idea of a "missing” song by the guitar maestro that no-one had ever discovered. While it may not be the world's most original story - at it’s core it's still the tale of a young man's relationship with an older mentor (much like Macchio's previous successes) - it’s the performances and the "supernatural" elements that help keep it fresh and watchable. Though what has mainly kept it alive in my memory is the music. I've always been a fan of the blues, and talented artists such as Johnson, John Lee Hooker, Howlin' Wolf and Muddy Waters - right up to more modern day players such as Eric Clapton or Chris Rea. In "Crossroads" the score comes from accomplished guitarist Ry Cooder and it's just wonderful. The final duelling guitars scene with a performance from Steve Vai is also worthy of particular praise. It’s the kind of soundtrack that seeps under your skin and gives the whole film a texture that feels lived‑in and authentic. It might not be a film I return to for the performances or the folklore, but for the feeling it does capture so well: the sense that music can be a kind of magic. As an aside, I seem to have a liking for musical takes on the "battle with the devil" theme. Two other guilty pleasures are 1979's "The Devil Went Down To Georgia" by the Charles Daniels Band and 1975's "Spanish Train" by Chris de Burgh (hey - don't judge til you've heard it...)

• Dice Man - A short-lived spin-off from 2000 AD that aped the "Fighting Fantasy" choose-your-own-adventure stories but in comic strip form. Readers had to jump between pages and panels dependant on decisions they made from the multiple choice options - either progressing through the adventure or dying a horrible death. The stories featured 2000 AD stalwarts such as Judge Dredd, Nemesis and Slaine plus original characters created specifically for the magazine. As good as the format was, when really hooked you was the simply stunning artwork. It’s a showcase for some of the best illustrators of the era such as Bryan Talbot, Kevin O' Neill, Steve Dillon and David Lloyd. Every page packed with detail, energy and that unmistakeable 2000 AD attitude. It only lasted a mere five issues, but during that time it dared to be different.

• Biggles : Adventures In Time - Take a World War I flying ace who started in nearly 100 novels and stories. Mix in a dash of "Raiders of the Lost Ark". Add a large pinch of "Back to the Future" or even 1979s "Time After Time". What you get is this hodge-podge of a movie, which if I'm honest is not the greatest thing in the world but still has a place in my affections. Salesman Jim Ferguson (Alex Hyde-White) falls through time to 1917 and inadvertently saves the life of pilot James Bigglesworth (Neil Dickinson). The pair then find themselves flung backwards and forwards in time whenever the other is in danger - all the while trying to stop the Germans changing the course of history. Chiefly remembered now as being the last ever screen appearance by the legendary Peter Cushing, it's a great little action movie. Just overlook the plot holes and go with the flow. There’s a very 80s theme song and OTT soundtrack from "Yes" frontman Jon Anderson too. Dickinson even ended up reprising his performance as Biggles (sort of) in the Pet Shop Boys 1987 musical "It Couldn't Happen Here" - while amongst many other things, Hyde-White went on to play Mr. Fantastic in Roger Corman's infamous unreleased version of "The Fantastic Four".

• Watchmen - It's undeniably Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons' masterpiece and the comic book that changed the face of the industry forever (some would say not entirely for the better). But if you want to show non-comics readers that the medium can be so much more than superhero slug-fests, don't show them this. There are a hundred and one other excellent titles out there to do that. To fully appreciate "Watchmen" I think you need to have at least some understanding of the comics form, because as well as a significant piece of literature and a logical extension of the "what if superheroes were real" concept, it's also a love letter to the way comics work  The structure, the symmetry, the visual motifs, the pacing… it’s a book that rewards readers who already know the language. At the time of its original publication, it was an absolute event and I freely admit I was addicted. I bought every version and every piece of merchandise going (yes even the smiley face watch). All these years later, it’s still a great comic. The "squid" ending though?  That hasn’t got better with age…

We're All Stories In The End 19 - Death and Diplomacy

A case of nice idea, shame about the....

Death and Diplomacy by Dave Stone

Seventh Doctor Adventures number: 49

Originally published: April 1996

Companions: Benny, Roz & Chris

Three mighty empires poised for war!

In the far-off Magellan Cluster, the savage Dakhaari, the militaristic Czhans and the evil backstabbing Saloi are at each other's respective throats over the tiny, peaceful planet of Moriel. The Hollow Gods have decreed that a satellite be built in which they must settle their differences or else. But just who has the tact and diplomacy to arbitrate these talks?

Meanwhile, Roz and Chris are on Moriel with the Czhanist army, knocking seven bells out of the native populace. Why have they launched this sneak attack? Will it wreck the talks completely? Are they participating in the Hollow Gods' hidden agenda — a plan that will result in the death of billions?

And while the others are otherwise occupied, Benny is stranded, lost and alone, facing the most terrifying challenge of her life — someone who will haunt her for the rest of her days. He's called Jason.   

So Dave Stone is a name I remember from the 1990s and early 2000s on various comic strips set in the Judge Dredd universe - most notably the pretty good Inspector Morse inspired "Armitage". Unfortunately he also wrote the woeful "Soul Sisters", which deserves to be forgotten. Finally he did a quartet of novels about Dredd himself. I vaguely recall them being of variable quality -  but to be honest I've not read them since they came out nearly 30 years ago.

So will this be good Dave Stone or bad Dave Stone ? Let's find out….

Well this book is a comedy. We know this because the author felt the need to explain it via a note at the start - always a worrying sign. He says that comedy's don’t always have to be stuffed full of gags - but here's the thing, they do still have to be good.

Plus Mr Stone moans that readers have been *wilfully* failing to pick up all the allusions and references in his prior novels. Maybe that’s meant to be a joke too, but all of it certainly didn’t enamour me to the author when I'm about to read his new novel…

But moving past that odd little intro, the core idea of the book is a reasonably good one - what if not only are the gods you worship not real, but your entire history has been subverted and changed by an outside force. You see, each of the three alien races in this story has been conditioned to hate their neighbours, even though they have more in common than they think.

It just needs the Doctor to solve the mystery of the "Hollow Gods", broker a peace between the races, and everyone can go home happy. Great, huh ?

Well it depends on your tolerance for smug banter and shaggy plotting - because this is less cosmic horror or political intrigue, more sitcom-in-space, with a Doctor that doesn't really *do* anything - just reveals stuff at the most opportune moment. 

Yes, he does subtly manipulate the alien delegates into realising that some of their most closely held beliefs about their enemies are just the result of errors in translation, but that's about it. I get that this incarnation is secretive and enigmatic, but for goodness sake, have him be more proactive !

Otherwise every time we cut back from whatever is going on with the companions, it's just more wandering around in endless conference suites. Hardly a riveting read.

As for the "surprise reveal" that Shug - the small furry creature ignored by everyone -  is really the bad guy - hey hello!  - anyone remember "The Star Beast" ? Mills and Wagner did it first *and* better in Doctor Who Weekly a decade and a half earlier.

Sigh. Anyway, lets talk about those companions.

The whole Chriz and Roz section where they go off and play dress up as soldiers? You could cut that out and…. nothing will have changed! They are utterly superfluous to anything meaningful in the story. Mere distraction to get the page count up.

I like that Benny and Jason are in this book. I like them in the Big Finish audios. I was interested in reading about how they first met. Clearly this is where Stone's heart lies in terms of this novel. But oh dear. Not only do they sound like such annoying idiots  - their "romance" is utterly unconvincing.

I get that Stone was maybe going for a "they don't like each other but fall in love in spite of themselves" angle, but they spend so little time together *on the page* and when they do, it's just endless bickering. There is no time to feel that connection forming. At one point little furry Shug spits out that he's fed up with their "sexual-chemistry-charged and mutually misunderstood" arguments. Yeah me too.

Plus I just found Jason to be a bit of a twat. Maybe that's meant to be his charm - the lovable idiot - but to be honest, the couples conversations felt about as sexually charged as a wet lettuce !

So, is this book in any way funny ? Well... vaguely I guess. There are some slightly humourous situations. But generally, it's all trying a bit too hard. Stone seems to be constantly trying to tell us how clever he is (remember the authors note from earlier ? ) and honestly, some of the language and phrasing used just sounds as if they come from a teenager sniggering away in the corner. The result is a tone that’s neither sharp satire nor warm character comedy, but something awkwardly in between.

Oh and judging by certain elements he also clearly wants to be Douglas Adams. Newsflash kids - he's not. Not by a long, long way.

A good book. No not really. Enjoyable ? Sadly not. A comedy ? Probably only a comedy of errors.

And that’s a shame.                           

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.