What happens when someone cuts your rope…

But first…
Dulltown, UK/Europe: Today’s dictionary words are: arapaima, areometer, arabin, araba, aquarelle, aptote, and zoiatria. Please have these words looked up and placed in suitable sentences ready for Professor Mouldie first thing after breakfast tomorrow morning. The professor will be wearing his cricket whites and will toss a cricket ball around the classroom and expect it to be thrown back to him instantly and without hesitation – you must not, however, allow this to distract you from your studies.

Come on, let’s dip into the past again; how about Britain in the 1950s; let’s have a thumb through that fluffy old and defaced boys’ book, Lion Annual 1956. Here’s a picture of the front and back covers showing stuff, involving spacemen and ray-guns, going on in space. Colourful, isn’t it? Oh look, there’s a 1950s version of the ISS peeping in from bottom left!

Let’s just let the book flop open and see what we… Aha! Page 28. This looks very exciting!

Well, I see that Gomez has cut the rope then, and it has caused Dick (Dick Archer, jolly good pal of Len Dalton) to utter that acceptable and safe expletive, ‘Thunder!’. I suppose if this story were updated to the present, Dick would be saying, ‘Fuck me Len! Gomez has cut the sodding rope!’ But isn’t it upsetting when your Jeep suddenly lurches forward, dear reader?

What do you think of the drawing? Me, I like it. I couldn’t do anything half as good as this – it’s packed with action and movement – it’s almost jumping out of the page at us! Look at those rocks tumble and clatter down, you can almost hear ’em!
But, if I was to be a little bit picky, I might quietly ask what’s up with Dick’s right arm – it looks like it’s stuck on him back-to-front – or maybe Dick is sitting facing the back of the Jeep and that is in fact his left arm, and he’s turning his head back to face Len?
No, I’m just being over critical here because I’m jealous of the original artist’s skill.

And what about Gomez then? Well, back in the 1950s all the good guys were nice British, posh, or lovable salt-of-the-earth common chaps, with white skin – and all the bad guys were swarthy foreigners who didn’t bother to shave in the mornings, smoked cheroots, and had thick accents filled with expletives that you could just about manage to understand. I’m afraid that’s the way it was in the Britain of the 1950s.
Of course, these days, in Hollywood thrillers, all the bad guys seem to be nicely-spoken light-skinned British chaps – that’s a bit odd, isn’t it?
Still, I do like those rocks cascading down the hill…

About Dave Whatt

Grumpy old surrealist artist, musician, postcard maker, bluesman, theatre set designer, and debonair man-about-town. My favourite tools are the plectrum and the pencil...
This entry was posted in archeology, art, books, composition, cool, creation, drama, drawing, expletives, history, humour, information, observations, serendipity, story, style, swearing, sweating, words and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to What happens when someone cuts your rope…

  1. memadtwo says:

    I hope no zoiatria is necessary!

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