I missed a programme on BBC4 the other day, called Comics Britannia.
Apparently it set out to reminisce with its viewers on the subject of good old fashioned British comics. Everything from the Beano and Commando, to Roy of the Rovers and the Beezer.
In this digital age, I currently live without a digi-box, broadband or the ability to 'catch-up' with must see TV via the pathetic screen on my mobile phone.
I did, however, read an article pertaining to the prog on the BBC website. I frown on nostalgia fiends, dewey-eyed mistiness and all other forms of regression. However, my tiny heart of stone couldn't help but quicken and pump anew at the thought of times when the one thing I looked forward to most was the advent of the next edition of a simple comic.
Ah, I remember waiting for the paperboy to deliver my copy of the Dandy on a Friday night, when he came along with the Echo. Sometimes there would be a free McCowan's toffee chew bar coming with it (they must have done some sort of long term marketing deal).
I would wait patiently (while watching Fun House with Pat Sharp on CITV) for the rat-a-tat of the letterbox and then run to the hall to see my comic lying on the mat. At last it had arrived, and with a Highland Toffee Bar too - absolutely free!
I turned over the magical periodical and scrabbled for my surprise. All too often though the front cover story was torn carelessly and the prize was lost.
Peering out from the letter box I would see the cocky strut of the paper boy, walking off munching on a tasty toffee chew.
I would slink away, dejected. All I had left for the weekend was bloody Desperate Dan.
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