"Ha Ha! Very unfunny!" Freddy comics are bad comics...yet still I buy more of them

Because you demanded it: another rollicking moment from the strange, sick world of Freddy,Charlton Comics' chilling Archie rip-off. I won't bore you by telling you what's going on here, but one thing is for sure: he's not selling copies of his own magazine. Nah, dey ban not goot!

You may recall, chums, that I mentioned the fact that I had been tempted, against my better judgement, to purchase further copies of Freddy, following my fascinating blog posts about the oily-haired twerp here and here, but had not done so owing to the fact that I refused to pay £4.00 each for copies at a comics fair. You remember, right? No? Just humour me, anyhow.

Well, it just so happened that there I was, at the same stall some months later, and the stall-holder (who used to run a comic shop, but now works in Sainsbury's, apparently) was having an "everything with a little red sticker on it is half price" sale. Unsurprisingly, his previously £4.00 copies of Freddy had still not been snapped up. Reader, I bought them. Here they are; I beg your indulgence while I interject some random observations.

Another strange cover from D'Agostino. Wearing those "trunks" it is perhaps no wonder that the sword fish is keen to give him a friendly prod up the sit-upon. And, though the comic book might perhaps be somewhat below par, you should buy it anyway because there are coupons worth $3.37 in this issue. Incidentally, in case you were wondering, I can confirm that the comic book is not all that it might be; and, unfortunately, the coupons are no longer valid. But I still bought it, however, so what does that say about me? You don't have to answer that.

Freddy's overdone the magic mushrooms in this special libido-overload issue.

Aha, no wonder he was getting hot under the collar. Though you might wonder what this statuesque dream-doll is doing hanging out with drippy Fred. Especially when he's started a fire on the ice in the middle of a frozen lake. Inside...

Hey mom, how come you're the same age as I am? Don't ask awkward questions. It is all part of D'Agostino's master-plan. Talking of which, where's our Jughead-rip-off pal, Stuff? Here he is!

I must confess to being somewhat confused by this wordplay. "Holy Cow" isn't generally spelled "wholly cow", and either way, it isn't pronounced "woolly cow". And besides, it's not a cow, it's a dog. I guess Stuff must be confused because of that ice-bag on his head. Or could this be the rottenest joke in the world?

Hey, here's an idea. Why not get another character to repeat the same rotten joke again, then get Freddy himself to remind the readers how rotten it is? Very unfunny! But somehow it makes sense in the strange world of Freddy.

Unfortunately, though, pals, overall none of these newly acquired issues of Freddy reach the dismally sublime heights of surreal ineptitude that marked the one we examined previously. But they have their moments. Like a chucklesome story about killing animals, with this pay-off panel:

Nice elk, madam. We even have "plop-cloud" end of story fainting, a venerable comic strip technique dating back as least as far as Mutt & Jeff circa 1907.

And this bargain-basement hep cat crops up all over the shop. It's Nick the Beat, here appearing in Like, Let's Dance.

Like, the story is as tired and throwaway as you'd expect of, like, any tale written in approximately thirty seconds on the back of an envelope entitled Like, Let's Dance, but, like, I must confess that I have a sneaking affection for Nick the Beat. Happiest when upsetting uptight aged schoolboys whacking his bongo with a hearty Bong! Bonga! Boom!, I wish I were he. If only he'd had his own comic.

Now, how about some hand grenades? Guaranteed to break the ice at parties.

I think I'll have the "Pineapple" as it is famous through three wars. And an "egg", while you're at it.

I didn't realise that, in his heyday, Freddy had his own letters page. Hard to believe that anybody wrote in, right? And that's what "a girl by the name of Linda Hartman" thought too...

On the contrary, I think Linda Hartman must have been an unusually astute young lady. Whereas young Marilyn (they're the very best ever. I've been buying them for a long time and will continue to buy them) may perhaps have been an unhappy child, and (all my friends and I love "Freddy" comics) a loner at school.

The Charlton office boy seems almost to be blubbing into his $3.37-worth of coupons in his drippy heartfelt response...

Though Freddy pretends not to be "mad" at Linda it nonetheless seems to me that there is the underlying implication in this tearful reply that Ms. Hartman is anti-American, a Communist, and a thoroughly bad sort, and should be pelted with stones in the street. If there were any "loyal" Freddy fans to do it, of course. Which I doubt. I think most of the letters were made up. Probably including this one.

I'm with you, cue-ball. Leave him there. That about wraps it up, don't you think?

You'll find these marked-down copies of Freddy in the HOUSE OF COBWEBS.

"It's the most worthless thing I ever saw!" Pudgy Pig and other annoying animals

And now, chums, the long-awaited second in my occasional series of posts devoted to the detailed (and entirely pointless) assessment and analysis of the dismallest, lamest, what-were-they-thinking-est, dustheap-of history-est comics of all time (which, oddly enough, are all qualities which seem to compel me to purchase them and gather them together).

I was at the London Comic Mart on Sunday, shuffling quietly amongst my seedy, aromatic, vaguely embarrassed child-man brother-collectors, when I came upon Pudgy Pig. Though the issue is numbered Number 1, Volume 1, I can't imagine that anybody genuinely believed they would ever need to put an order in for a leather binder (proudly embossed, perhaps, with Pudgy Pig Volume I in gold leaf on the spine). Even the least critical kid would surely have spurned this publication, and it would seem they did: the 'volume' ended with Number 2.

The signs couldn't have been good for any comics-savvy prospective purchaser, back in September 1958 - it's a Charlton Publication, for a start, and you know what that means - but to the purveyor of all things odd, obscure and culturally bereft, it has a certain desperate something that is hard to resist. Take a look at that splendidly idiotic cover. Did you ever see such a blank-faced and emotionlessly conceived porcine hero? Blatantly and specifically designed to rip off Dell's successful Porky Pig comic book, this was surely a magazine created for one purpose, and one purpose only: to be purchased by mistake by a parent in a hurry or a half-blind grand-mama.

They didn't even bother to be consistent. As you can see from the cover, Pudgy sports a ridiculous Donald Duck-esque sailor hat, to disguise his exceedingly Porky Pig-esque coat and bow-tie. Perhaps the headgear was an attempt by the chaps at Charlton to deter the Warner Bros. lawyers from paying a visit. Intriguingly, by page 3, Pudgy has had a complete make-over, and sports instead a distinctly unPorky-like red jersey with a 'P' on it. Perhaps WB's lawyers did see the cover and did pay a visit.

Gone is the jacket and bow-tie. But his new outfit doesn't do him any favours. In fact, he doesn't even look like the same pig. That jersey fits where it touches, and Pudgy seems to have aged somewhat and put on a considerable amount of bacon around his somehow vaguely distasteful hips. Most disconcerting. No wonder his girlfriend favours Packing-House Pig III; by comparison, the rich fop seems to have sleek, snake hips, if such a thing is possible for porkers.

The stories are bewildering; I couldn't make much sense of them. It was like they were never intended to be read. Particularly the weird highlight of the issue, It's a Trade, which seems to have been written by an out-of-work absurdist playwright.

Gee whiz, there's an old boat full of holes at the bottom! I wonder if it's any good? Hmm, that's a tricky question. It's a boat, but it is full of holes at the bottom. And stop jumping around turning your head in three directions at once (none of which would allow you to see the boat you seem to know so much about). Anyway, here's the answer:

It's horrible! Calm down, Pudgy Pig, it's only a boat with holes in the bottom! A simple "no, it's not any good" would do. But Pudgy is kinda extreme, claiming that it is the most worthless thing I ever saw. You reckon? Taken a look in the mirror lately, Pudgy?

That's enough of that. Also in this bumper fun package, Pudgy gets erstwhile support from Atomic Bunny (not at all reminiscent of Fawcett's Marvel Bunny), who features in his own story, of a similarly high standard.

Mmm, delicious irradiated vegetables. And as Atomic Bunny is such a great, original idea, why not have Atomic Mouse (not at all reminiscent of Paul Terry's Mighty Mouse), too? You can't steal too much of a good thing, eh? Flip a few pages, and you'll come across this -

Erm...daily habits, Atomic Mouse? What kind of 'Fun with Pop' daily habits? Should I call Social Services?


Oh, those kind of daily habits. You mean if I do my exercises, I'll grow up to look as good as pudgy-cueball Pop? Maybe I'll just stay in bed after all. Reading Pudgy Pig comics.

But seriously folks, Atomic Mouse even does charitable work for the community. A whole page is devoted to this important public service announcement to the nation's youth, as part of the Fun With Pop scheme. What do you mean you've never heard of the Fun With Pop scheme? You been living under a rock or something, pal?

Poor Charlton. Whereas their hi-tone competitors (DC, et al) were actually sponsored to publish genuine sanctimonious governmental advert pages to brainwash the nation's youth, it looks like our pals at Charlton had to make up a nebulous, wholesome scheme of their own to get in on the act, complete with an official-looking logo, accidentally-on-purpose printed in a smudgy, indistinct fashion, I suspect, to hide the fact that there was no official endorsement of the initiative by anybody at all other than the hacks in the Charlton editorial office.


Well, at least the Pop in the logo has some hair. And doesn't wander about in his vest all day.

All very wholesome. But supposing you're not able to go out for 'Fun with Pop'? Supposing 'Pop' is an alcoholic, or something? What then? The next page has the answer. A horrible and unusual gift in a box.

Or, in keeping with the cheery atomic theme, how about this?

Just like an A-Bomb. I'm glad to hear it. Anything less would be rather a disappointment.

And once you've stolen 20 cents from Pop's wallet to pay for your A-Bomb, flick over another page and there's a ghastly written story, Annoyed Animals, which, once I'd detected that the words 'happy zoo' were included, I certainly didn't bother to read.

But the "illustration" is in another league entirely - definitely worth a look.


A masterpiece of stylised ineptitude, you have to admire the total lack of care taken over its execution: it looks like the 'artist' had a quick go at a couple of 'annoyed animals', did them a bit wrong, then drew funny lines over his mistakes. And shoved in a tree and a moon, because they're easier to do. Except the moon went a bit funny and looks a bit like a banana. A superb piece.

All in all, another Charlton classic. And which gifted comics-auteur came up with Pudgy Pig, I hear you cry? Sadly, we'll never know for sure, but perhaps there is a clue on the cover: the proud, prominent signatures of the cover artists (and creators?) of Pudgy Pig.

Yes, dear reader, one of these names is already familiar to the ever-growing legion of discerning readers who follow this blog: D'Agostino.

Could it be Jon D'Agostino, the key figure behind Charlton Comics' Freddy? Do I detect the hand of the master?

You might find this comic in THE HOUSE OF COBWEBS. Or I might shred it. I just don't know.

Freddy comics: the excitement continues

You may recall my previous posting about the feeble - yet strange - Archie comic rip-off, Freddy.

Well, safe in the knowledge that nobody else in the big wide world has the slightest interest in this greasy-haired, one-dimensional lothario, off I went to rub shoulders with the fragrant throng at a Collectors' Marketplace (what we used to call a Comic Mart) to see if, as I suspected, all copies of Freddy had vanished into oblivion.

I was wrong. I was intrigued to find copies of Freddy at two stalls. But, knowing from the outset that Freddy is rubbish,  I couldn't bring myself to cough up the £4.00 that was required in each case to purchase said unpopular cultural artefacts. 

I couldn't believe that anybody, anybody in the universe, would pay £4.00 for a Freddy comic; and I can't believe that any comic dealer actually would expect to sell a copy for anything over about 50p. As we have already ascertained, Freddy is rubbish. I could have afforded it, yes, of course I could; but should I set a precedent that might make comic dealers think that Freddy comics really are worth a few quid after all? If I had shamefacedly snapped them up, would it have started a rumour amidst the dealer community that there is some weird bloke going around buying copies of Charlton Archie rip-offs? As they consequently restickered all the newly priced-up copies, and rubbed their hands with glee, they'd have thought Christmas had come early. 

The other possibility is that I unwittingly started a Freddy craze, pushing up the prices, with my massively-popular blog.  Are "hep" young collectors (erm, that may perhaps be an impossible concept) rushing to snap up all remaining copies of Freddy, to scatter across the stylish retro coffee tables of their trendy East London studio-flats? I think we know the answer to this one.    

Sometimes adult life throws up conundrums so complex, you cannot possibly conceive of an answer; you will appreciate the impossible dilemma I was faced with here. The end result of all my umming and erring was that I left without any additional copies of Freddy for my collection. My pal Fred K., who had accompanied me to the event, shook his head sadly, and, as usual, promised me that, as has been the case with so many things, I would regret it. 

Will I crack next time? Are there cheaper copies elsewhere? Only time will tell. The excitement mounts. I'll keep you posted. 

At the top you'll see one of the issues I could have bought for the extravagant sum of £4.00. But "We love Freddy"? I fear not. No! Not £4.00. No!  

I guess I might end up buying this eventually.

You won't find this comic in THE HOUSE OF COBWEBS (yet).

Nobody likes... Freddy

Because you didn't demand it: the first in an occasional series focussing on the worst, feeblest, most unloved, entirely critically unregarded, most mediocre and/or weird, forgottenest comics of yesteryear. We begin with Freddy issue 47, Charlton Comics, 1965. 

Yes, dear reader. There were 47 issues of Freddy. According to the indicia, it was published four times a year. Freddy was running for more than ten years. People bought this - regularly? Where are all the Freddy readers gone, long time passing? Where are all the thousands of copies of this and each of the preceding 46 issues? All destroyed?

Freddy is a lame rip off of the popular teen humour Archie comics: Freddy's hair is black, whereas Archie's is kind of red; Freddy's pal is fat, hirsute, yeucchy 'Stuff' (as seen on the delightful cover), whereas Archie's pal is Jughead. Archie has two gals on the go, virtuous Betty and sultry Veronica (the lucky stiff) whereas Freddy seems to go nuts over a wide array of interchangeable bimbo-girls. Dan De Carlo did a great job on the art for a lot of the Archie comics; Jon D'Agostino provides an inferior - though occasionally mildly deranged - carbon-copy of his style for Freddy.

 

Charlton Comics Give You More! it says at the top of every page. But you might find that you'd like less. One thing's quickly apparent: Freddy and his pal Stuff are odious creeps. Incidentally, that gal in the beret appears to have some serious upper-body issues. 

The stories revolve around the same kind of teen stuff that the Archie comics do, but they don't make much sense; and they have an added edge of charmlessness and raging libido, strangely at odds with their approval by the Comics Code Authority. I suspect that the CCA couldn't be bothered to wade through these. Or else how would a bizarre scene with a sex-crazed dress designer get through? 

And what's going on with these European stereotypes?

Did I mention that the comic also includes a story about smelly moustaches? That must have had a wide appeal.



And once you've enjoyed this charming tale, how about a pet monkey? Just flip to the advertisements...



You could even feed them on lollipops. Just imagine all the darling little confectionery-choked monkey-corpses buried in the backyards of 1960s suburban America. And if killing a monkey is too much effort, how about saving some money on hair cuts?



What a load of old rubbish Freddy was. If you know where I can obtain copies of the other 46 issues, please get in touch.

You'll find this comic - filed under "misguided comic cover images featuring obese skaters" - in the HOUSE OF COBWEBS.