No, satire isn't destroying politics

Don't blame Ian Hislop for the lack of respect we show politicians.

Martin Kettle has an interesting piece on Comment Is Free today, arguing that "the current satirical onslaught against politics as a whole . . . amounts sometimes to monomania and increasingly to cliche". He argues that the relentless mockery of shows such as Have I Got News For You conditions the public to view all politicians as greedy, venal liars:

There is never any sign that [Ian] Hislop allows of exceptions; or that he has a political hero; or even, with the occasional honourable mention for Vince Cable, that there are politicians whom he respects. The impression he always gives is that today's politicians are uniformly unworthy of their inheritance, not to be compared with some previous golden age of statesmanlike effectiveness.

Kettle makes the valid point that one effect of this remorseless sledging is that the public drastically overestimate the number of MPs engaged in active skulduggery. And that's fair enough -- who doesn't feel a twinge of remorse when an audience member on Question Time berates some perfectly blameless backbencher about how "you're all at it" instead of letting them talk?

But I can't help feeling that it's not the tone of satire which has changed but its reach and frequency. There's a tempting idea that we live in the coarsest age ever, where people swear all the time, make rude jokes, show no respect and generally won't get off my lawn. But it's historically inaccurate, as a quick skim of Catullus or Juvenal (look up the translation of the phrase at the heart of this news story, if you dare) or Pope and Shelley will tell you.

Here's Alexander Pope on the death of Queen Caroline from an intestinal ulcer in 1737:

Here lies, wrapt up in forty thousand towels,
The only proof that c*** had bowels.

Try to imagine Carol Ann Duffy writing the same on the death of a member of our beloved monarchy and then argue that this is the "age of disrespect".

If anything has killed off the idea of "political heroes", it's surely the intrusiveness of our round-the-clock, ever-watching, public-interest-is-what-interests-the-public style of media. To appear heroic, you need to be distant, otherworldly, remote -- something that is very hard to achieve when the modern politician's every move is photographed, even while they're in chinos-and-cappucino holiday mode or picking their nose in the House of Commons.

Instead of a "straight" media providing material for satirists, low-level satire -- not very funny, not very pointed -- abounds. Martin Kettle comes close to acknowledging this when he says it "suits many in the media very well indeed to depict politicians as objects of contempt", but then seems to argue that satire is therefore the problem: "Plato wanted no place in his republic for artists -- and that probably included satirists, too."

But that's not quite right, is it? The problem isn't satire, with comedians putting a twist on the news; the problem is with the news itself. If journalists can't take politicians seriously, why should the public?

The final word goes to Rory Bremner, who was part of a fascinating FT roundtable on the subject last year:

One problem is that everyone is a satirist these days: a kind of weary, "come-off-it" cynicism pervades most news media, constantly blurring the line between news reporting and matey, "aren't-they-all-silly" editorialising, with the BBC's Nick Robinson one of the chief culprits. This, and politicians' behaviour, leaves satire (of our MPs, at least) almost redundant. Certainly if there is no respect, no deference, any more, much of the tension, the element of shock or outrage is dissipated. "You've got so much material these days!" people constantly say to me. Which may be true but also means that the reality is now beyond parody and, of itself, ridiculous.

Helen Lewis is deputy editor of the New Statesman. She has presented BBC Radio 4’s Week in Westminster and is a regular panellist on BBC1’s Sunday Politics.

Via David Moloney of the Great News For All Readers blog
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The dark, forgotten world of British girls’ comics is about to be resurrected

The UK’s most surreal and innovative comic strips have long been gathering dust. As a publisher acquires the archives, they could be heading for a renaissance.

Comics now exert a massive influence on popular culture, yet those that do are almost exclusively drawn from two American publishers, and mostly exist within one genre: Superheroics.

Comics, though, are a medium, not a genre, and, in acquiring this prominence, American superhero comics have obscured almost everything else done in the medium both in the US and elsewhere.

British comics, from publishers like DC Thomson, IPC and Fleetway, rarely involved superheroes, and were traditionally anthologies, with multiple episodic serials running at all times. They were divided by their publishers into three categories, humour comics aimed at younger children (The Beano and The Dandy remain well-known, although only the former still exists), comics aimed at boys (largely war comics, such as Battle, which also incorporated sports stories and science fiction), and titles specifically targeted at older girls.


All scans courtesy of David Moloney of the Great News For All Readers blog​.

The girls’ titles, particularly, have largely disappeared from common memory, acknowledged only by a handful of enthusiasts. This is odd, as at their peak, they routinely massively outsold the boys’ titles they shared shelf space with.

Bunty (1958-2001) is one of the few girls’ titles to retain any cache, but it had many stablemates and competitors. Some were devoted to straightforward romantic series, and strips with “improving moral messages” (eg. the girl who gets her dream job after helping a blind man out rather than be on time to her interview; it turns out to have been a test).

They also ran features that reflected then contemporary assumptions as to what all girls would/must like (Bunty often had a “cut-out wardrobe” clothes section as its back page), but there was also more variety in tone and content than you might expect.

The Seventies saw the creation of Tammy (1971-84), Jinty (1974-81) and Misty (1978-80). Tammy’s stories were often bleak, and many were variations on the darkest aspects of Cinderella (“Alison All Alone” saw a contemporary girl locked up by step-parents for reasons that are never really articulated).

Jinty ran some relatively normal contemporary school stories, eschewing a jolly hockey sticks angle and pushing something closer to kitchen sink drama (eg. “Pam of Pond Hill”, a Grange Hill-like series set in a comprehensive). But, as time went on, it became darker and odder, running series like John Wagner’s “The Blind Ballerina” (which has been described by acclaimed comic book writer Alan Moore as “cynical and possibly actually evil”).

The lack of credits in most comics in this era meant the audience would’ve been largely unaware that their favourite stories, with their almost exclusively female casts were, like “The Blind Ballerina”, largely written and drawn by men.

Misty creator Pat Mills’ recollection is that while the publishers of the time had many women on staff, most of them saw magazines for older girls and women as the more worthwhile publications than comics.


Women who left a significant mark on these male-dominated titles include Jinty editor Mavis Miller, writer Benita Brown (later an author of historical family sagas set in the northeast which could rival Catherine Cookson when it came to being borrowed from public libraries), and Shirley Bellwood whose consistently magnificent covers for Misty – reputedly largely portraits of her own younger self – were responsible for establishing its aesthetic.

Pat Mills intended that Misty would do to, and for, girls’ comics what his own 2000AD had done with boys’ comics. Whereas 2000AD was, and indeed is, the ultimate science fiction anthology book, Misty would be – as its logo of a bat silhouetted against the moon suggested – unapologetically a horror comic.

Typical Misty serials include “The Loving Cup” (a cursed goblet vessel causes women who drink from it to be possessed by Lucrezia Borgia), and “Winner Loses All” (in which a girl sells her soul to Satan to both save her alcoholic father and become a champion showjumper – the horse is cursed, of course).

Then there’s “Screaming Point”, about a hangman who dabbles in diabolic resurrection of his own clients, or Misty’s longest running single story, “Paint it Black”, in which cursed paints cause a girl quite a lot of trouble. More sci-fi than supernatural – but still within the horror remit – was “The Sentinels”, a serial about two tower blocks in contemporary Britain, which simultaneously exist in the real 1970s and in an alternative timeline where the country has been occupied by the Nazis since the 1940s.

If you’re now wondering why these amazing-sounding stories are no longer available to read, here’s the good news: you may very soon be able to. In August, Rebellion, the owners of 2000AD, bought a vast archive of old classic British comics from Egmont UK (the Fleetway and IPC Youth Group archives), which includes all the above material and more.

Rebellion, initially a computer games company known for the Sniper Elite series, bought 2000AD from Fleetway in, well, 2000AD. Fleetway was also the original publisher of Misty, and so on, although they’ve passed through other hands since.

This is oddly reminiscent of the “hatch, match and despatch” process, where a publisher would “merge” a cancelled comic into another they owned, incorporating the most popular characters and strips into the new composite title. This was the process whereby Tammy absorbed both Misty and Jinty as their sales declined. Mills has suggested that, had he had more direct control, Misty would, like 2000AD, still be running today.

Rebellion has already published a single slim volume of two Misty serials (containing the very odd, and very Seventies, reincarnation drama “Moonchild”, and the genuinely horrifying “The Four Faces of Eve”) and more are planned, but may depend on sales of this volume. If I could take this opportunity to call for a public vote in favour of reprinting Tammy’s startling “Karen, the Loneliest Girl in the World” here, I’d be grateful.


Reprints though, should really only be the beginning. With Rebellion having access to the Egmont archive and its intellectual property, could we see films or television series of some of Misty or Jinty’s best series?

With their female leads, strong emotional content, science fiction and horror aspects and political and social angles, it’s hard to deny that much of the content of Misty or a Jinty has a similar appeal to the kind YA books that become billion-dollar film franchises these days, in the exact same way American boys’ comics do.

It is startlingly easy to imagine opening an issue of Misty and finding a forgotten 1970s strip version of Twilight, or seeing The Hunger Games on the centre pages of Jinty. The main difference would be that they’d both be set in Slough.

With a bit of luck, some of the most peculiar, imaginative and challenging work in British comics could soon be raised from the dead in a new century and in a different form entirely, and then go on to dominate the world. Which, rather appropriately, sounds like something out of Misty.