by Laurence Worms - Ash Rare Books
Comics to me have always been associated solely with childhood and early attempts at pictorially assisted reading. Moving on from Desperate Dan and Dennis the Menace (never really understood that whole Beano/Dandy rivalry), carefully skirting round the significantly more menacing Beryl the Peril, at all costs trying to avoid the more improving varieties of comic well-meaning parents and sometimes aunts would try to foist on us – the Eagle was founded by a vicar, for heaven’s sake – we arrived at those happy and wholesome days of Roy of the Rovers in the Tiger and the amazing Wilson the Wonder Athlete in (I think) the Wizard. Then, our core values for better or for worse now firmly set, our intuitive understanding of the British class system polished and perfected by Lord Snooty and his pals, we discovered books. And moved on.
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