Brian Bolland is probably best known to readers of this site for his work on Judge Dredd or Batman: The Killing Joke. There are far worse properties a creator could be associated with, certainly, but Bolland himself has always been a remarkably versatile artist, capable of effortlessly carrying virtually any genre, given the chance to illustrate it. Which is good, because the stories in this comic – a collection of strips written and drawn by Bolland in the mid-80s – are in a genre all their own.

Captioned throughout in rhyming couplets, the Actress and the Bishop tells the stories of two unlikely cohabitees (note that “actress” is a more polite way of saying “prostitute”) and covers, through a whimsical filter, both character’s unconventional relationships with both their professions and one another. The stories straddle genres, part comedy-of-manners, part horror, part existentialist pornography, part spiritualist soap opera. It’s light and dark at the same time. At a glance it can seems impossibly superficial, yet a well-place turn of phrase or slip of the pencil turns it deeply introspective.

There’s a remarkably restrained Englishness to the stories – the contrast between the restrained facade and the raging emotions beneath epitomises a certain stereotype of Englishness, and takes on a gentle, nostalgic quality. The portrayal of the two characters carries a coy, sexually-charged air, and the stories dive deep into both of their motivations and attitudes without ever getting seedy or judgemental about their behaviour. Although the character designs could have seemed flamboyant or misplaced in the hands of another artist, Bolland’s precise linework anchors them perfectly within in the world shown in the strip.

For $3.99, you get all the published appearances to date of the characters, which comprise 2 3-page strips from the A1 anthology, together with a 17-page story previously only seen in the artwork collection “Bolland Strips!” a few years ago. Desperado have done comicdom a fantastic service by putting these stories into print as a traditional pamphlet, and having read it several times already, I know it’s one of those comics I”ll return to again and again. It’s rare you get to feel like you’ve “discovered” an artist you’re already so familiar with, but it’s making me see Bolland in an entirely new light – and if nothing else, that feeling is worth the cover price alone.

A new League book is always cause for celebration, as Moore’s sole ongoing piece of comics work, but it’s fair to say that this one – the first story from the third volume, “Century”,  hasn’t quite had us breaking out the fireworks. So why is that?

Part of the problem is the format – although the book is loosely structured around the story of Nemo’s daughter making the transition from carefree princess to becoming the new pirate captain of the Nautilus, that story does disappear for vast swathes of the pagetime. The decision to release Century in thirds, something more than issues but less than graphic novels, plays with reader expectations slightly too much – this might be big enough to contain a full narrative, but it is, instead, unquestionably the opening act of a wider story. As such, the pace is slow, the structure is weak and the plotting mostly consists of things that one imagines will be paid off in future volumes.

That’s not to say it’s not entertaining – the returning Mina and Quatermain are joined by Orlando, also seen in the Black Dossier, and various other miscreants and outcasts from fiction throughout history. The closest thing we see to an antagonist is Haddo, the League’s Alistair Crowley analogue, and it’s his potential threat, along with Carmacki’s prophetic visions, that drive the action forward as the League, such as it currently is, attempts to unravel what’s going on – which, as it turns out, isn’t actually very much.

Moore’s Victorian wit utterly shines through in the dialogue, and O’Neill’s artwork in particular is as brilliant as it’s ever been, and there’s a particularly brilliant moment with Norton, Prisoner of London, as he snaps back to the “present” – after so long regarding O’Neill’s artwork as shorthand for “the past” it’s appropriately jarring to see him now rendering present-day King’s Cross in all its glory. For a change, the frequently prose section at the end of this volume is almost as enjoyable as the preceeding comic, and vastly outclasses the previous attempts. As a collection of very short vignettes, it offers some welcome references to other League stories and some all-new material as well, all of which have their own strengths – it’s a far more preferable supplement than Volume 2’s utterly impenetrable almanac was.

Although written by one of the most technically proficient writers ever seen in comics, there are some moments where the book falters a little, as it tries to move beyond the usual boundaries of a comic. Moore has made frequent attempts at inserting musical elements into comics for decades now, and always with mixed success. While it’s completely like him to try and take the medium to new places, there’s a sense that after yet another lukewarm attempts, it might be time to admit that a comicbook musical might simply be beyond the capabilities of the form. Certainly, the songs – or rather, lyrics – in this story don’t really work on their own terms.

Since the last instalment of League, The Black Dossier, was Moore at his experimental best, it’s hard not to feel a little underwhelmed by – songs aside – this volume’s return to more traditional comics. For the first time, we get an instalment of the League that doesn’t definitively better its predecessor. The best excuse for that, of course, is that we’re not supposed to be evaluating it as a complete work – but when it’s presented as such, it’s a little hard to get out of that mindset. It delivers all the elements one could expect from the League – obscure references, in-jokes, a peculiarly English mix of polite reservedness and dark, unforgiving cynicism – but when it comes down to it, it’s just not a satisfying narrative – in a couple of years, when the series is complete, one suspects these complaints will be entirely moot. Unfortunately, that point is still some time away.

To my eternal discredit, I’ve never been very good at showing up to small press events and supporting up-and-coming indie creators – but when one takes place a short bus ride away from my flat, and I’ve been paid the preceding week, I really have no excuse whatsoever. And so it was that I found myself on a D6 to Mile End on Saturday for the 2009 UK Web & Mini Comix Thing, hoping to pick up a few exciting odds and ends and discover some new writers and artists to enjoy.

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Of course, the first thing I did upon arriving was to head over immediately to the table of a writer/artist that I already knew rather well – certified Friend Of Comics Daily Marc Ellerby was there, launching – excitedly – not one, but two brand new books exclusively at the event before their general release online. Volume three of Ellerbisms was of course an exciting prospect – having already followed the strips online, it was clear that this would be the best volume yet (complete with cameo appearance from Superstardom’s Jamie McKelvie), with the increased prominence given to the life of Marc’s girlfriend Anna (to the extent that the cover blurb describes the book as being about both their lives rather than just his) adding a new dimension to the series, and the “bonus material” of the pull-out hourly mini comic a neat touch – but the real Ellerby news was the launch of his new mini, Chloe Noonan : Monster Hunter. A short story designed to help push the planned graphic novel to potential publishers, it’s an absolute joy that sees Ellerby moving out of his comfort zone somewhat. There’s action – although not quite as much as the title would suggest, as both Ellerby and his characters are keen to push that this isn’t just a Buffy knockoff, and is as much about going to fight monsters as actually fighting them – and a somewhat different art style to go with it, with a lot more use of heavy lines and black than in the likes of Love the Way You Love. And in getting to string something he’s written out over more than a couple of pages for once, we see that Ellerby is actually a pretty damned good storyteller, with some lovely stylistic tricks. Complete with some genuinely laugh-worthy moments and an awe-inspiring moment of music referencing, Chloe Noonan is a terrific introduction to the character and concept, and a full series can’t come soon enough.

My next couple of purchases were both bought on recommendation, but were both worthwhile ones. Adam Cadwell’s The Everyday is a diary comic along similar lines to Ellerbisms (the two have even engaged in crossover), and I was faced with a choice of three volumes to try out – I went for volume three because of its utterly lovely cover, and was glad I did, as it not only featured a strip set in Crosby Village (my hometown, fact fans), but also one where Cadwell can’t stop himself from nitpicking at a lovely text message from a girl that doesn’t hyphenate “Spider-Man”. Cadwell’s strips might not be as frequently laugh-out-loud funny as Ellerby’s (although they have their moments), but his art is nothing short of fantastic, and already he’s someone I’d really like to see get a lot more exposure (he’s already done a pin-up for Phonogram and worked with Ellerby on Love the Way You Love – but further recognition must surely be forthcoming). It’s an impressively up-to-date collection, too – the final strip is actually the most recent one featured on Adam’s website, and is dated 18th March.

Chris Doherty’s Video Nasties was another “I’ll give one issue a try and see what I think” job, but I came away from it wishing I’d gone for at least the second as well – it’s an ongoing narrative rather than a series of strips, and it’s an intriguing little story about high school kids making a documentary about former students that once went missing. The first issue is fairly straight down-the-line, but I’ve seen enough in the way of pages/panels from later in the series to suggest that it all gets rather more sinister. It’s generally a good-looking comic, but what really struck me about it was the quality of the dialogue, in the way that it pretty accurately captures the vocal mannerisms of British teenagers without it seeming forced. It’s effective in setting up the book’s “world”, and helps you buy into it. Although not a huge amount happens in the first issue, enough about it hooked me in that I’m eager to carry on with it.

man on fire dvdrip download Unfortunately, I have to admit that just about everything I bought at the event was overshadowed by my final purchase, thanks to the fact that Roger Langridge had a table there. Langridge is, of course, already known to me – fellow CDer Julian is a huge fan, and while I’ve not read as much of his work as I’d like, I’ve seen enough (including an absolutely wonderful Doctor Who strip) to suggest that he’s a particularly rare talent. I picked up issue one of volume two of his Eisner-nominated Fred the Clown, and it’s truly magnificent. It’s some of the finest tragicomedy I’ve read in a long time, and his meticulous artwork is often laugh-out-loud funny simply in and of itself. He also very kindly let me have two of his uber-mini productions – Henry Plib’s Got Two and Frankenstein Meets Shirly Temple – for the price of one, and both are fairly entertaining in their own way, but Fred the Clown is nothing short of a masterpiece.

I’d also been hoping to pick up the Jump Leads anthology (written by Red Dwarf fandom compatriot Ben Paddon), but a shipping crisis had put paid to their actually having anything to sell (although interest in the book from punters was pleasingly still healthy) – we’ll have a review of it on here at some point, though, when I get hold of one. I did, though, take the opportunity to pick up the show’s anthology, themed around “Mars”, although it’s a shame both that none of the people I bought stuff by made an appearance in it, and that I didn’t have a chance to read it before stalking the tables, as I might have got more hints on books worth checking out. As you’d expect, it’s a mixed bag, but strips by Reckless Youth, Andrew Livesy and Arthur Goodman all made me chuckle and marked out their creators as worth checking out in future.

All in all, while not a massive haul (hey, these things ain’t free, y’know), I was particularly pleased with my selection, with not a dud among them. All the works mentioned are very worthy of your time, and as a demonstration of the fact that I should really be heading along to more of these things and spending more money at them, it was spot on. Marvellous!

Every Wednesday we take turns to delve into our trusty longboxes, pluck out a dusty back issue, and give you our thoughts. We’ll also try and place it in the context of the time it was originally published.

Released in 2006, this volume collects the bulk of the Landridge brothers’ work staring the occasionally psychotic tuxedo wearer. Although Roger Landridge is better know these days for his award-winning Fred the Clown cartoons, there’s a real feeling of freshness to these strips, with Andrew’s razor sharp dialogue perfectly complementing his brother’s pencilling.

The long suffering D’Ecco and his Baldrick-like companion, Gump, are certainly versatile. There’s a considerable number of tales here, from one-page shorts that invariably conclude with violence towards Gump to sixty page epics, despite the fact that the series is only intermittedly able to retain a plot from panel to panel. Although the subject matter is pretty much what would be expected from the book’s title, with its antihero becoming embroiled with issues of art censorship, religious cults and the very origins of civilisation, the course of each story is never obvious. Art’s clash with a Mary Whitehouse figure is disrupted by the revelation that they previously starred together in piece of dentistry-themed softcore pornography. Intermittent appearances from the eccentric Art Nouveau occasionally enliven proceedings, and a wide array of supporting characters is slowly built up across the course of the trade. A particular highlight is a story original to this collection, in which Art attempts to track down the original issues to sell on Ebay. On one occasion he visits the widow of an incidental character, briefing expressing regret for his off-panel execution of her husband…

The main selling point of the series is the constant stream of pitch-perfect sight gags and visual put downs, which never dip in quality. The caption “A picture of Siobhan on her motorcycle” is accompanied by the image of that vehicle with a small framed photo atop it. A particular highlight is the final strip, “Quizmaster Gump”, in which Art hones his constant put-downs of his companion into an unstoppable verbal onslaught. There’s little subtext here, and despite the psuedo-pretentious one, this is a book that’s very comfortable with being laugh-a-minute dumb fun. The lack of topical elements has certainly aided the series, the earliest instalments of which date from the early eighties, with D’Ecco’s ire being solely aimed at his insufferable companions rather than the world in general.

Roger Landridge’s conceptually-similar Doctor Sputnik adventures are available for free on the creator’s website, but there’s little reason not to pick up this collection as well, which offers near-unbeatable value for money.

Title: Nemi Volume 2 Hardcover
Author/Illustrator: Lise Myhre
Pages: 144
ISBN-13: 978-1845766146
Publisher: Titan Books
Release date: 24 Oct 2008
RRP: £9.99
Buy from Amazon UK

Released just in time for Halloween, Volume 2 of the Nemi collection from Titan Books contains a wide variety of strips featuring Lise Myhre’s schizophrenic goth icon who can usually be found adorning the pages of free newspaper the Metro, all across the UK.

The collection is beautifully produced, with a brilliant cover image and glossy, richly-coloured pages. It’s almost impossible to fault any element of the book’s composition or production, and a lot of care has clearly been taken over the presentation of the strips. The selection of the strips is slightly less polished, as a couple of the strips appear twice, and it would be nice to know a little more about the origins of the comics we’re reading, however – it’s unclear from this volume whether we’re seeing the “second year” of a chronological Nemi series, or even if it’s just a random selection of strips from across the lifespan of the character.

The book isn’t short on extras, with an introduction by none other than alt-goddess Tori Amos and countless full-page illustrations scattered throughout the collection, as well as a few notes from Myhre herself at the end. Of particular interest to fans will be the longer Nemi strips, previously unavailable in the UK. Whether it’s the multi-page epics or the larger-than-usual “Sunday” strips, they present a far better-rounded look at Nemi’s world, proving that the character could easily support a full-length outing.

Those who aren’t already fans of Nemi will find little here that might win them over, but anyone who enjoyed the first collection will be just as pleased by this one. At £9.99, the RRP is perhaps a tiny bit steeper than you’d want to pay for a collection of gag strips, even one as well-produced as this, but even a cursory glance online will reveal that Amazon are selling it at close to half-price. It’s a must-buy for Nemi fans, and will hopefully be part of an ever-growing library. It’s rare to see comic strips given this kind of respect when they’re collected, and Titan can only be applauded for releasing it.

Every Wednesday we take turns to delve into our trusty longboxes, pluck out a dusty back issue, and give you our thoughts. We’ll also try and place it in the context of the time it was originally published.

As you may have gathered, James, Seb and I share fond memories of “the UK’s official Sega comic“. Not to be confused with the US series published by Archie, STC was a fortnightly anthology book, published from 1993 to 2002. The title was closely modelled on 2000A.D., with which it shared an editor. Each issue was built around a seven-page Sonic strip, supported by three or so other stories based on Sonic’s supporting cast or other Sega franchises. But what made the title so endearing?

With global franchises so tightly controlled by their owners, it comes as something of a shock to reflect on the situation a mere fifteen years ago. Sega Enterprises were caught on the hop by the success of Yuji Naka’s creation, allowing their global subsidiaries to handle the character as they saw fit. This divergence, with the company’s three main territories each devising their own conceptualisation and tone for the franchise, resulted in some surprisingly different interpretations. Although striving to be consistent with the other UK holders of the Sonic licence, Fleetway had authority to portray the character as they saw fit, giving their creatives a surprisingly large amount of freedom. Although a number of writers contributed to the title, Nigel Kitching and Lew Stringer were the book’s mainstays. Their differing approaches complimented each other well, with Stringer’s self-contained episodic tales punctuating Kitching’s more in-depth epics. The artistic side was more varied, but Richard Elson’s clean and energetic style deservedly secured him priority for the lead strip, which he drew for most of the book’s life.

For a title with a bi-monthly publishing schedule, reaching the fiftieth issue mark is less of an achievement than might be initially supposed. Regardless, some sort of celebration was in order, and Nigel Kitching structured his ongoing “Day of the Death Egg” main-strip saga accordingly. He and Elson here serve up a showdown between Sonic, Knuckles and fan-favourite enemy Metallix. Although the writer has expressed pride at the emotional content he was sometimes able to introduce into the series, with one character experiencing a remarkably convincing nervous breakdown, the focus here is very much on action, with most of the instalment a straight fight sequence between Super Sonic and his robotic counterpart. In an example of the surprisingly loose control which Sega displayed over the property, the book portrayed the hedgehog’s alter ego as a bloodthirsty psychopath, who here decapitates his opponent before attacking Knuckles. Kitching first played this bold stroke in the early in the book’s life, and retained the concept’s power by carefully rationing Super Sonic’s appearances. The other strips in this issue are something of a mixed bag. While the short-lived Shinobi series adds some unexpected variety to the book, the team was never really able to find a way to make Tails an interesting character in his own right, and the fox’s strip here is distinctly weak. The high point of the trio of back-up strips is the Captain Plunder series, rounding out a comedy character first introduced in the main Sonic story several issues before. The writer’s affection for his own creations is obvious, and Plunder and his crew made several appearances throughout the book’s life.

After the book had reached the five-year lifespan which Fleetway’s management had always envisaged for it, they began winding the title down, replacing back-up strips with reprints and eventually axing new content altogether. For dead licensed comic, however, it’s enjoyed a surprisingly active afterlife, and most of its creators still work in the industry today. The one exception to this, however, is Kitching. The book’s lead writer sadly never found another home for his scripting talents, and these days works mainly as an illustrator in the children’s book market.

With hindsight, the key to the book’s success lies in its ability to treat the characters as its own. Normally only licensed comics with direct input from the franchises’ original creators have the confidence to up-end concepts without descending into fan-fiction. However, Kitching and Stinger’s effective ownership of the European iteration of Mobius, together with a near-instinctive feel for the tone of the series, still leaves a warm glow in many of their readers’ minds.