Batman: The Dark Knight Returns...

I've been a big comics fan since the late 1970s and, while many of my comics-reading friends adored The Uncanny X-men, I was always drawn to a second-string character called Daredevil.

Fortunately in 1979 this title was taken over, first as an artist then as a writer-artist, by Frank Miller and he slowly transformed the character from a poor man's Spider-man into a part-hero and part-vigilante, who protected his patch of New York thanks to a martial arts background and a determined will to overcome anybody who threatened his Hell's Kitchen home or those he loved. 

Miller’s run on Daredevil featured assassins, crime lords, drug dealers and ancient martial arts warriors. The new characters he introduced were fascinating, such as assassin-for-hire Elektra, while his take on established characters like assassin-for-hire Bullseye and crime lord the Kingpin evolved them from slightly pantomime villains into truly frightening foes.

It was gritty noir story-telling at its best, which would later bear more fruit in one of Miller's other landmark titles, Sin City. 

But it was his run on Batman that truly established Miller as one of the premier forces in comics and his four-issue story The Dark Knight Returns, alongside Alan Moore's seminal The Watchmen, remain the two books that are always cited as changing the comics landscape for good. These were the books that helped the comics industry grow up.

So with all the excitement surrounding the concluding part of the Christopher Nolan Batman film trilogy, I decided I'd go back and reread the Miller Batman to see if it was still as exciting. And it utterly is. 

Set in a dystopian future where all superheroes have been outlawed, Bruce Wayne is introduced as a danger-seeking nutcase who longs to again don the cowl and tackle Gotham’s increasingly violent present.

And when old foes come to the fore, so does the Batman.

But times have changed and his return prompts a debate and he’s branded an outlaw, even though he’s sorting out the mess the police force can’t. And when the outlaw then becomes a political liability, he eventually faces a final battle with Superman, now a stooge employed by the government and sent on missions by an increasingly deranged Ronald Reagan.

The Dark Knight Returns is, quite simply, a superior piece of comics writing and art and no potted summary can adequately summarise the scope of its ideas on personal and public freedoms, crime and punishment, obsession, global and local politics, and justice.

It’s an utterly stunning piece of work and, alongside Love In The Time Of Cholera and 100 Years Of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez and King Lear by Shakespeare, it remains one of the few things I go back to and reread every decade or so.

And, like those literary masterpieces, it also never disappoints. 

Chambers Maid...

It is Saturday afternoon and I am in the bedroom ironing my martial arts uniform. The Missus is laid on the bed watching athletics. The sprint races are on when suddenly I hear the following.

'I'd fuck Dwayne Chambers in a heartbeat.'

There is silence until the Missus turns around to see me looking at her agog. She registers my look and ponders before realising.

'I said that out loud, didn't I?' she asks.

'Yes. You did...' I reply and carry on ironing.

We both know the truth is that she would. He is sculpted and beautiful. 

It doesn't need any more discussion.

Message For: Part I...

So the performance dates for my first play in more than a decade are set for 18-21 September 2013 at the Electric Theatre in Guildford.

The play itself is a comedy told through a series of very brief monologues that gradually build up the overall story arcs. The characters delivering the monologues through a series of mobile phone messages include a travelling salesman, his dope-smoking friend, the salesman's hippy wife, a pool league chairman, the salesman's boss and several other characters.

I have a reading of an early draft of the script in January and, before then, I have plenty of bits and bobs to do, such as finish the first draft of the script, help cast it and produce it, and hopefully have a hand in the direction, too.

One thing I am ahead of the curve on, though, is the marketing side of things. For a start, I've written the scripts for a few short films to go on Facebook and YouTube to promote the play nearer to the time and I've arranged to shoot them over Xmas. I've also created a Twitter account for the pool league chairman to try and sell the idea to more people.

I also have some pretty firm ideas on how to fund it and publicise it, too. I'm looking forward to this and already getting stupidly enthused.

If you feel like following the pool league chairman on Twitter then please sign up and follow Malcolm Drudge (twitter.com/MalcolmDrudge). It promises to be slightly depraved good times.

And if you could spread the word, reserve the date in your diary and come to the show and buy tickets that would be great, too.

Other Woman News...

The Other Woman's Dad suffers quite badly from Parkinson's disease and in his worst moments his mobility is badly affected and he has to use a wheelchair.

So when the Other Woman and the Other Woman’s Long-suffering Boyfriend got tickets to see an Olympics football match at Wembley and they decided take her dad along, the wheelchair was obviously factored into the trip.

What wasn't factored into the trip, however, was the Other Woman's Dad arriving at Wembley and being so excited at seeing the new stadium then sitting down in the wheelchair section pitch-side that he had a two-hour lucid spell and suddenly forgot he couldn't move properly.

Apparently this got particularly problematic when he wanted to join in the Mexican Wave and the Other Woman had to pretty much physically restrain him in case he did himself an injury - or got them thrown out of the wheelchair section as frauds lying to get good seats.

Apparently matters didn't improve much when the still-lucid Other Woman's Dad then insisted on wheeling his daughter out of the stadium. Once in the car, however, he dropped off and normal business was resumed.

The idea of the Other Woman trying to physically stop her dad joining in a Mexican Wave is a thing of beauty. I wish I was there...

Nice...

Me and the Missus are arguing over some minor point. I am annoyed.
'I could have married a nice one,' I cry. 'They do exist. Women that are nice... Who would have married me...'

She turns and smiles.
'And I could have not married a twat. They exist, too.'

I don't think she meant it...