First thing to say about this is, I wasn’t brought up a Christian. Most kids my age were at least
baptised, but that didn’t happen to me. My parents, who were 18 when I was born (and
possibly slightly younger when I was conceived), didn’t believe in all that, and didn’t see why
they had to Christen me just because that’s what everybody else did.
Not that I want to spend too long going on about my Mum and Dad’s religion, but it was
1971 and they were very much into the counterculture of the time - astrology and the occult,
Aleister Crowley and Egyptian Gods. There was nothing sinister about it - it was just
something they had a shared interest in, and it fed into a few of the lifestyle choices they
made. Dad was a biker, an aspiring artist and a big fan of Jimi Hendrix. He’d let the art slide
in order to provide for the family, but the other stuff persisted for much longer. Mum was
more into astrology and Tarot - one of her great aunties had been a spiritualist medium and
early experiences at seances had convinced her there were things beyond our own realm
that the prevailing mainstream culture barely understood.
By 1980, none of that really showed any more. They were just turning 27 and both had
normal lives with normal jobs, struggling to get buy on low wages with a growing kid who
demanded at least three comics a week and a trip to Blackpool every August. By then, I’d say
it was also fairly normal not to have Jesus in your life. Their parents’ generation had gone to
church every Sunday, but I didn’t really know anyone who did that. The only time I went to
church as a kid was for family weddings and the occasional school outing at Christmas. That
is, until we got to Fairburn.
Being a much smaller community than I was used to, Fairburn’s church was quite a large
part of the village, relative to its size. The local vicar - I don’t remember his name - was a tall,
middle-aged bloke with a big frame and a big, craggy, bespectacled face. Deep, resonant
voice, which made him perfect for speaking at school assemblies. I don’t remember anything
about the church itself, but the vicar ran a youth club next door to it called the 7-11 Club,
specifically for us juniors between the ages 7 and 11. Normally, my Mum and Dad would
warn me off anything overtly religious, but this wasn’t really like that. More a space to hang
out and play table tennis, drink a couple of cans of pop and finish it all off with a rousing
chorus of The Wise Man Built His House Upon The Rock.
I wouldn’t say it was a huge part of my life there, but it was more than I’d been used to. We
still didn’t go to church on Sunday, but I knew people who did, and I knew the vicar to say
hello to. We sang hymns every day at school and, every so often, we’d learn something about
some story or other from the Bible. There isn’t a great deal of evidence for this, but now and
again, something crops up to remind me that, around the time I was eight years old, I was
engaging with these ideas for the very first time.
And this is one of those occasions. I can’t tell you precisely what inspired this, but I’ve
obviously decided it would be thrilling to interpret the idea of Jesus - by which I suppose I
mean the Son of God, or the son of the creator of the universe - through the lens of
superhero comics. Presumably he would have been a saviour in the same sense as Spider-
Man, saving the citizens of Nazareth from delinquents and money-lenders (or, if I’d thought
about it harder, the Romans, but that sort of thing never occurred to me). There might have
been an element of Thor The Mighty about it, in the sense that he was forced to live as a
normal bloke in the present day as well as being a God (which would make total sense if you
think about it), or maybe even Monkey, where Buddha is portrayed as a giant woman in the
sky. I imagine Super Jesus doesn’t always see eye to eye with his father, which would be
difficult if he’s as big as the sun.
I don’t know what he’s holding in his left arm. It looks like some kind of rope, maybe so he
can swing around between the skyscrapers of Galilee. He’d better be careful though - I’m not
entirely sure his hands are on the right way round. Come to think of it, his right leg appears
to have two knee joints, but this presumably helps him kick sinners when they’re behind him
as well as in front. Or maybe it helps him double-kneel, so he can pray upside down. I know
it’s not that likely he’d kneel to pray to himself, but you’ve just got to roll with it - he moves in
mysterious ways. Probably because of the double-jointed leg.
So yeah - I can work out why he’s super - just not quite sure what makes him Jesus. Apart
from the beard. I suppose the lightning motif on his top might be styled after that well-
known story about Jesus and the Amazing Killer Super-Lightning. Unless he’s just ripped his
jumper.
I don’t know if I was talked out of it, but more likely I just couldn’t think of anything else to
say about him and quickly moved onto something else. Tantalisingly, there’s a title in one of
my future English books - Super Moses - which I crossed out and replaced with something
else. So I did intend to follow up on this idea. I just never quite got around to it. Which is a
shame, as it’s probably one of the first genuinely good ideas I ever had.
March 1980
Super Jesus
TERM 2
The birth of the 1980s -
Blake’s 7, Blondie and
battles in space
TOPIC 1
He knows the names of
all the dinosaurs
ENGLISH 1
A few tentative steps
into a world of terrible
writing
Florence Nightingale
What if Florence
Nightingale had lived in
the Year 2000?
Fiends of the Eastern
Front
Vampires, paraphrased
from 2000 AD
Captain Carnivore
Gary Shepherd is
hunted down by a
deadly flying meteor
Waen Shepherd 2
Waen’s heroic antics in
the far-flung future of
2007 AD!
Optical Illusion Time
Amazing visual tricks
that will boggle your
mind!
Puzzlemaster
Help Puzzlemaster
escape the clutches of
the Martian spacelords!
Captain Starlight
Know your Starlight
superheroes with this
amazing fact file!
The Yellyog Gang
Meet my latest hideous
bunch of nutty
nightmare fuellers
Super Jesus
March 1980
TERM 2
The birth of the 1980s -
Blake’s 7, Blondie and
battles in space
First thing to say about this is, I wasn’t brought up a
Christian. Most kids my age were at least baptised,
but that didn’t happen to me. My parents, who were
18 when I was born (and possibly slightly younger
when I was conceived), didn’t believe in all that, and
didn’t see why they had to Christen me just because
that’s what everybody else did.
Not that I want to spend too long going on about my
Mum and Dad’s religion, but it was 1971 and they
were very much into the counterculture of the time -
astrology and the occult, Aleister Crowley and
Egyptian Gods. There was nothing sinister about it -
it was just something they had a shared interest in,
and it fed into a few of the lifestyle choices they
made. Dad was a biker, an aspiring artist and a big
fan of Jimi Hendrix. He’d let the art slide in order to
provide for the family, but the other stuff persisted
for much longer. Mum was more into astrology and
Tarot - one of her great aunties had been a
spiritualist medium and early experiences at
seances had convinced her there were things
beyond our own realm that the prevailing
mainstream culture barely understood.
By 1980, none of that really showed any more. They
were just turning 27 and both had normal lives with
normal jobs, struggling to get buy on low wages with
a growing kid who demanded at least three comics a
week and a trip to Blackpool every August. By then,
I’d say it was also fairly normal not to have Jesus in
your life. Their parents’ generation had gone to
church every Sunday, but I didn’t really know anyone
who did that. The only time I went to church as a kid
was for family weddings and the occasional school
outing at Christmas. That is, until we got to Fairburn.
Being a much smaller community than I was used
to, Fairburn’s church was quite a large part of the
village, relative to its size. The local vicar - I don’t
remember his name - was a tall, middle-aged bloke
with a big frame and a big, craggy, bespectacled
face. Deep, resonant voice, which made him perfect
for speaking at school assemblies. I don’t remember
anything about the church itself, but the vicar ran a
youth club next door to it called the 7-11 Club,
specifically for us juniors between the ages 7 and 11.
Normally, my Mum and Dad would warn me off
anything overtly religious, but this wasn’t really like
that. More a space to hang out and play table tennis,
drink a couple of cans of pop and finish it all off with
a rousing chorus of The Wise Man Built His House
Upon The Rock.
I wouldn’t say it was a huge part of my life there, but
it was more than I’d been used to. We still didn’t go
to church on Sunday, but I knew people who did,
and I knew the vicar to say hello to. We sang hymns
every day at school and, every so often, we’d learn
something about some story or other from the
Bible. There isn’t a great deal of evidence for this,
but now and again, something crops up to remind
me that, around the time I was eight years old, I was
engaging with these ideas for the very first time.
And this is one of those occasions. I can’t tell you
precisely what inspired this, but I’ve obviously
decided it would be thrilling to interpret the idea of
Jesus - by which I suppose I mean the Son of God, or
the son of the creator of the universe - through the
lens of superhero comics. Presumably he would
have been a saviour in the same sense as Spider-
Man, saving the citizens of Nazareth from
delinquents and money-lenders (or, if I’d thought
about it harder, the Romans, but that sort of thing
never occurred to me). There might have been an
element of Thor The Mighty about it, in the sense
that he was forced to live as a normal bloke in the
present day as well as being a God (which would
make total sense if you think about it), or maybe
even Monkey, where Buddha is portrayed as a giant
woman in the sky. I imagine Super Jesus doesn’t
always see eye to eye with his father, which would
be difficult if he’s as big as the sun.
I don’t know what he’s holding in his left arm. It looks
like some kind of rope, maybe so he can swing
around between the skyscrapers of Galilee. He’d
better be careful though - I’m not
entirely sure his hands are on the right way round.
Come to think of it, his right leg appears to have two
knee joints, but this presumably helps him kick
sinners when they’re behind him as well as in front.
Or maybe it helps him double-kneel, so he can pray
upside down. I know it’s not that likely he’d kneel to
pray to himself, but you’ve just got to roll with it - he
moves in mysterious ways. Probably because of the
double-jointed leg.
So yeah - I can work out why he’s super - just not
quite sure what makes him Jesus. Apart from the
beard. I suppose the lightning motif on his top might
be styled after that well-known story about Jesus
and the Amazing Killer Super-Lightning. Unless he’s
just ripped his jumper.
I don’t know if I was talked out of it, but more likely I
just couldn’t think of anything else to say about him
and quickly moved onto something else.
Tantalisingly, there’s a title in one of my future
English books - Super Moses - which I crossed out
and replaced with something else. So I did intend to
follow up on this idea. I just never quite got around
to it. Which is a shame, as it’s probably one of the
first genuinely good ideas I ever had.
Florence Nightingale
What if Florence
Nightingale had lived in
the Year 2000?
Optical Illusion Time
Amazing visual tricks
that will boggle your
mind!
Puzzlemaster
Help Puzzlemaster
escape the clutches of
the Martian spacelords!
Captain Starlight
Know your Starlight
superheroes with this
amazing fact file!
The Yellyog Gang
Meet my latest hideous
bunch of nutty
nightmare fuellers