3.
7.
Like J-Lo we have a troop of minions on standby to redecorate the shelter whenever they are informed Caroline is coming. 
(l-r: Martha, Sandy, Sandy, Elaine.)
What be this sorcery?
Astérix and the Multi-National Publishing Company.
By Sandy Nelson
While 2009 sees literary heavy weights celebrate their anniversaries- Burns, Darwin, Douglas Adams (Hitch-hikers Guide To the Galaxy is 30 years old) - a little Gaulish village celebrates an anniversary of its own.
Armorica, the fictional setting of the Astérix series of comic books by writer Rene Goscinny and illustrator Albert Uderzo, has been holding out against the Romans for 50 years this year.
Since Astérix The Gaul was first published in 1959 our indominatable little villager and his invincible friend Obelix have kicked, punched and plotted their way through 33 books and numerous films defending their village from invasion and exploitation by Caesars huge Roman Empire in the spirit of liberté, egalité & fraternité
So, is there any hypocrisy in that Uderzo, 81, sole writer and illustrator of the series since his partners death in 1977, last month sold controlling interest of Les Editions Albert Rene, the family publishing firm ( including the right to produce new Astérix adventures after his death) to Hachette Livre, Frances largest publishing company? Yes, according to Uderzo’s daughter Sylvie Uderzo.
“Astérix is my paper brother” She told Le Monde on January 15th, “It is as if the gates of the Gaulish village had been thrown open to the Roman Empire. I am entering resistance against perhaps the worst enemies of Astérix, the men of finance and industry.” She added “[The deal] denies the values with which my father brought me up: independence, brotherhood, friendship and resistance.”
While they may be some sour grapes involved here, (Uderzo Jr. was fired from her position as managing director by Uderzo Snr. two tears ago,) she’s does have an exceptionally valid point.
In the book The Mansions of The Gods, for instance, Astérix and his cohorts formulate and carry out plans to prevent Roman property developers from tearing down the bountiful forest to build overpriced luxury flats using the kind of direct action that would make any Terminal 5 protester blush. In Astérix The Gladiator our hero goes positively mental when the Romans kidnap the village bard Cacophonix to be used to entertain the elite in Rome. The strength of Astérix’s loyalty to his friend pushes him to do things he has never done before, like a pre-Christian Jack Bauer. And Obelix and Co is a blatant attack on consumerism with Astérix hurt and angry when his best friend is cursed by greed. That doesn’t sound like the kind of character who would appreciate being sold off, franchised and potentially remodelled and overly merchandised.
The Astérix books began being printed in English in 1970. I have been reading them since 1975 when I learned to read. No matter how old you are you can open one up and find great pleasures. For the child there is the colour and action of the punch-ups and feasts. For the teenager there is clever wordplay, exotic locations and rich history to inspire your “doing Europe” dreams. For the adult there is the satire and social commentary. And all the way through there is a very obvious and very French sense of justice, resistance, and social responsibility. Some talk of the series being an allegory for French resistance against the Nazi’s during the Second World War. Others have theorised about its statements on the dangers of American economic imperialism, even up to the most recent book, 2005’s Astérix & the Falling Sky. Would the new authors, under the thumb of a multi-national, be allowed the freedom to make such overtly political statements in their stories?
Rene Uderzo said that he had placed Astérix in safe hands so that he could concentrate on writing and illustrating new adventures. His daughter, who still owns 40% of the company, however, claims her father has been influenced by “a handful of shadowy advisers.”
Last weekend he hit back saying , "To be accused by my own daughter, is already quite undignified," continuing, "The accusation made against me is not only inspired by the appetite for power, it also aims to insult Astérix readers by confusing my abilities as an author with that of a publishing house shareholder.”
I can’t help thinking of Astérix & the Roman Agent or Astérix & the Soothsayer where the villagers are manipulated by gossip and superstition into almost destroying themselves from within. Ironic? Appropriate?
So where does this leave us? The fans. The people who have read and re-read the books, who have bought the games and visited the theme park. They ones who will buy the 50th anniversary book when it is published in October. Should we worry? It was difficult enough to accept the post Goscinny books in the first place. As Peter Kessler, the author of The Complete Guide to Astérix, told The Guardian: “The problem is that Uderzo never really understood what had been created in Astérix. He hasn’t been able to cope with the endless reinvention that a series needs to remain great. And so he has fallen back on repetition and silliness.” Ouch!
In Uderzo’s defence though, he was the artist not the writer. But what an artist! How can we, the loyal fans, trust that these new artists will be able to keep the flare and subtleties of his iconic drawings? Are we now looking forward to substandard, standardised lowest common denominator stories drawn by numbers? Or will it be like Russell T Davies’s Doctor Who, all fanboys at the helm resorting former glories? Anne Goscinny, daughter of Albert, is not worried.
“Astérix is a very strong character.” She said “Astérix will guide those who take him in hand and not the other way around. I am very confident and I do not worry at all that he will be watered down.”
Let us hope so. And let us hope too that the Uderzo’s work it out in the spirit of the classic stories. As Astérix himself says to Getafix the Druid in The Mansions of the Gods as their village is becoming gentrified though outside influence, “Look how our village has changed, Getafix, the wonderful spirit of co-operation we used to have has disappeared...but I have a plan.”
As evening descends the street lamps are flipped off and the town is plunged into darkness . 
Then at 7.30pm -Whoosh! The Light Up! Up go the torches.
To reveal...
The Guizer Squads lined up and ready to go. They stand to attention waiting to follow the Guizer Jarl and his Jarl Squad, resplendent in Viking attire.
And here come the girls...
Hundreds of hairy arsed Shetlanders dressed up a women, giving the night the subtitle, Transvestite Tuesday. (It's a male only thing. That's the only pish thing about it.)
The Galley Boys drag the galley...
Then they set fire to it!
The Western Isles are 200 miles that way, mate. (points south west.) Don't get us mixed up.
It's all back to work this week, so while you're looking at this on your way back from the office:
I'll be looking at this on the way back from mine:
Enjoy your cappuccino at 3 in the morning, darlings. And your heroin.
Love,
Wee Scandi.x.
Well, of course, I had to go back and wash my hands. This week I’ve left the fun, wind and drink of The Auld Rock and come down to visit our celtic brothers in Cardiff.
I am wandering through Cardiff Bay with top bog-trotting comic and Doctor Who Fan extraordinaire Johnny Candon, spouting crap about Torchwood as if I know what I’m talking about when Johnny goes “Oh. Look.”
-And who is sitting there at a wee cafe reading his paper and smoking a fag?-
-None other than the great man himself Russell T Davis! Recent Úberlord of all things Whovian!
And of course, Queer As Folk- the programme that made it ok for straight blokes to have gay mates. Not the intention of the show, but a nice by-product (or bi-curios-product, if you will)
Well, it takes us five minutes of saying things like “What if he tells us to fuck off? I couldn’t recover,” and so on to each other but we finally go and do the shakey hand thing.
Loveliest bloke in the world! No kidding. A pleasure. AND it's my birthday. What a gift? I thanked him for inspiring and entertaining me with his book The Writers Tale, a pressie from my wife which I’m reading just now, and told him in a voice like a teenager in the midst of dropping his balls “I’m a writer too!” Yeah, I know. A bit pathetic. But his book says you have to be bold and just go for it! Put yerself about a bit. So it’s his own fault.
Honestly, though. Nicest guy you could meet.
And of course we get the photo. Check out below this fabulous image of tri-celtic, sci-fi homo-erotica (or two sadcase, fanboys pushing 40, pestering a hard working man who is just trying to have a fucking coffee break.)
(see map A=Sumburgh Airport, B= My House .) If I'd waited for the next bus, 3 hours later, I would have missed ALL my connections home. Had to get a cab to Lerwick where the bus to Toft left 5 minutes early "as it normally does" I was informed by a helpful memeber of station staff. I hitched a lift from a council electrician. I told him I was off to the ferry to meet my wife who was at a workshop in the Bonhoga Gallery- so he took me there!
So that's me got myself an article printed in Shetlands monthly lifestyle magazine "Shetland Life."
It was printed alongside another article with a different viewpoint making me look like a right moany killjoy mofo.
But it has established me well in with the Shetland 'clit'eratti (ie: i'm a wee bit of a fanny. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!)
Anyway, here's the article.
As an actor, writer and comedian from Glasgow I am all too aware of the biggest marketplace for creative and artistic talent in the world.
While hundreds and I mean hundreds, of my colleagues, contemporaries and competitors are displaying their wares at this bizarre eastern bazaar I will be…moving to Shetland! I am now nearer Bergen than Edinburgh. No, I’m haven’t moved to the furthest Scottish postcode from Edinburgh as I can at this particular time of the year deliberately-it’s just a happy coincidence. With a change of career for both my wife and I (her, silversmith to art teacher; me, stand-up comic to writer) our move to Unst -the island above all others (a good gag in itself) could not have come at a better time for me.
Hate is a word I do not use lightly. I’ve often very snootily and pedantically chastised people for its inappropriate use, “What, you HATE carrots?” I will sneer, “I mean you actually hate them? Like you hate racism and cruelty and injustice? I mean actual hate?” So let me make it clear that when I say I hate the Edinburgh fringe festival, I actually HATE the Edinburgh Fringe Festival.
What was once and excellent breeding ground and melting pot for artists and entertainers- visual artists hooking up with bands, comedians acting in plays, politicians and novelists doing comedy shows- has become a cattle call for every opportunistic business minded wannabe to “play the system” and get their slot on whatever game show panel is being recruited for that week- self-censoring, dumbing down down, fawning over these designer clothed Londoners with the £200 haircut, fitting into their limited focus group focus
It’s all gotten a little too bloated and unattractive. You are not just an artist or entertainer anymore. You must also be a businessman, a producer, an advertising exec, a sportsman, an accountant AND a pretty face.
So I’m out. If that is what is required then I shall sit in my wee hut on my wee island with my laptop, satellite dish and fiber optic, creating my genius and flaunting my talents on the web. The internet may seem more competitive due to the sheer number of artists and entertainers using it to get their stuff out there, but everyone is equal. More money doesn’t get you more exposure. Having a ruthless big corporate agency doesn’t get you bigger promotion. Everyone has their five minute open spot; their bite at the cherry and, in this accidental meritocracy, talent will out.
And you spend less money on drink.
