Archive for comic
For those not familiar, Space Raiders are an inexpensive corn snack with a truly violent pickled onion (or “beef”) flavour. They were a staple of the school vending machine throughout my education. The price rose from 10p to 15p during that time, reflecting really good value for money in exchange for violent temporary halitosis. They occupied the same impulse purchase zone as the Freddo Frog chocolate bar*. Though I saw a Freddo Frog for 85p in Jordan’s Mill café at the weekend, which represents a serious gouge among otherwise reasonably priced “fare”. * Freddo Frog note: if Cadbury’s (never “Cadbury”) wish to hire Desmond Fishman as the new face of the Freddo, I believe a deal can be struck though it is a deal which sees the chocolatier walk back the recent loss of the the possessive suffix from their name. [Mandela effect note, 2/8/2021: Alan’s name was amended to Les because at a future date I forgot what his name was and it was easier to go back and change this comic]
Today’s comic features recourse to the red-green gradient, the most forbidden of colour schemes. When I first started as a designer, some PC software found the notion of this gradient so abhorrent that instead of a muddy brown in the middle, it would manifest purest white. Of course, times have changed since 1998, we have quantum computing and iPhone 12, and a red-green gradient can finally be perceived by the human eye.
The subject of Mr Clovis came up in Steeple issue 5, but Billie never dug further. I feel like Mrs Clovis’ back story is something we’ll get to eventually.
Hey Sexy
All items priced £8 in tribute to Bob Mortimer. Turns out that Pixy Garage is a real gift-giving trove!
SIDE BAR! This guy really sticks like glue. He seems to be a right good laugh, though, right? Heh!
I don’t understand exactly how the head massager was discovered. Did someone modify a balloon whisk?
A lot of worrying signs in today’s comic. Air bass. Evil Amstrad boombox. Manifestation of hangover cloud. Weirdly Charles Burns-esque close up.
A classic post-dinner nap groggy coma. If this story confirms anything, it’s that Billie has a very delicate constitution. Probably too delicate for a Satanic priestess-in-training.