(Comics fans will know there've been rumours about this for a while. Following the death of original creator Reg Smythe, 'Watchmen' and 'From Hell' genius Alan Moore lobbied to be given the job of continuing the Andy Capp newspaper strip. It's been variously said that Mirror Group Newspapers turned him down because his plans included a cross-over strip in which Flo would have an affair with Garth, or that United Comics Syndicate objected to a proposed plotline about Percy the Rent Man ritually murdering a barmaid. Below is one of his few surviving scripts. Moore is currently working on a novel of which he has said the aim is that anyone who reads it will no longer fear death, apparently unaware that Jeffrey Archer has already achieved this several times over.)
Panel 1.
WE ARE IN THE FRONT HALL OF 37 DURHAM STREET, A WORKING-CLASS TERRACE IN HARTLEPOOL. THE HOUSE REEKS OF BOILED CABBAGE AND FEAR OF THE RENT MAN, OF DREAMS DEFERRED AND DESIRES DECAYED, THE TRIUMPH OF EXPERIENCE OVER HOPE, YET ALSO A DESPERATE STRIVING FOR RESPECTABILITY, EVEN ASPIRATION, THE KITCHEN TIDY, THE DOORSTEP SWEPT, AN ASPIDISTRA FLYING IN THE WINDOW OF THE FRONT ROOM, OVER THE MANTELPIECE THREE CHINA DUCKS THAT WILL NEVER MAKE IT TO MOSCOW. BUT WE ARE IN THE HALL AND CAN SEE NONE OF THIS ALTHOUGH WE CERTAINLY SENSE IT. THE FRONT DOOR IS AJAR AND OUTSIDE WE GLIMPSE THE INFINITE DARK AND THE COLD INDIFFERENT STARS. BEFORE IT, SOMEWHAT UNSTEADILY, STANDS ANDY CAPP.
THERE'S A TENDENCY TO THINK OF ANDY AS A SLOB BUT REMEMBER THAT AN ESSENTIAL PART OF THE MYTHOS IS HIS ATHLETIC PROWESS - HE'S A FORMIDABLE RUGBY PLAYER FOR EXAMPLE. THE GRAVID HALF-MOONS OF INCIPIENT PAUNCH AND FALLEN HAUNCH ARE DECEPTIVE: HE'S OTHERWISE WIRY LIKE A GREYHOUND, NIPPY, I WANT TO SEE SINEWS. ELUDING A SCRUM HALF OR THE RENT MAN, GETTING TO THE BAR FOR LAST ORDERS, AVOIDING WORK, HE CAN MOVE WITH A SPEED AKIN TO TELEPORTATION LEAVING ONLY A PUFF OF DUST IN HIS WAKE. AND AS WITH MERCURY-HERMES VERBAL QUICKNESS IS ASSOCIATED WITH THIS FLEETNESS OF FOOT. LIKE A MODERN-DAY PUCK HE MIGHT BOAST OF PUTTING A GIRDLE ABOUT THE EARTH IN FORTY MINUTES OR CHARMING ONE OFF A BARMAID IN LESS THAN THAT. HOWEVER THERE'S SOMETHING SLIGHTLY WRONG WITH HIS SPEEDY FEET: THEY EXTEND BACK FROM THE ANKLE ALMOST AS FAR AS THEY DO FORWARD. IT IS AS IF DEEP DOWN HE YEARNS TO GO IN REVERSE, RUN BACKWARDS, EVER BACKWARDS, BACKWARDS THROUGH TIME ITSELF PERHAPS, BACK BEFORE THE DEATH OF HOPE, BACK BEFORE THE DECLINE OF THE DOCKYARDS, BACK BEFORE THE BLITZ, (A THOUSAND METAL WASPS BUZZING OVERHEAD LAYING MONSTROUS EGGS AND DOWN BELOW ANDY PUSHED SQUALLING AND PROTESTING OUT OF HIS MOTHER, A FANFARE OF SIRENS AND KLIEG LIGHTS SWEEPING THE SKY AT HIS PREMIERE, A BLOODY TOWEL HIS RED CARPET), BACK BEFORE THAT EVEN, BACK BEFORE THE DEPRESSION, BACK TO WHEN HARTLEPOOL WAS A HAPPENING PLACE, ALTHOUGH NOT AS MUCH EVER HAPPENED THERE AS IN NORTHAMPTON, FRANKLY EVEN I COULDNT WRITE A PSYCHOGEOGRAPHICAL PAEAN TO HARTLEPOOL, THEY HANGED A MONKEY AS A FRENCH SPY ONCE BUT THAT'S ABOUT IT. WHICH LEADS US NEATLY ON TO ANDY'S SCARF: IT IS LIKE A NOOSE ALMOST PERPETUALLY ABOUT HIS NECK AS THOUGH HE HAD JUST BEEN CUT DOWN FROM THE GALLOWS OR WERE WAITING TO BE STRUNG UP, AND I THINK A SARDONIC AWARENESS OF DEATH IS A KEYNOTE OF HIS CHARACTER. BEAR IN MIND THOUGH THAT IN A TAROT DECK THE HANGED MAN STANDS FOR CONTEMPLATION, A MIND SUSPENDED OUTSIDE TIME UTTERLY REMOVED FROM THE CARES OF THE WORLD, AND INDEED THERE CAN BE A CHARMING DETACHMENT ABOUT ANDY, SOMETHING SERENE AND BUDDHA-LIKE IN HIS REPOSE ON THE COUCH. THE ROSE-BLOOM OF CAPILLARIES IN HIS BULBOUS NOSE, BLOOD FLOODED LIKE MERCURY INTO THE BULB OF A THERMOMETER, INFORMS US THAT HE HAS REACHED JUST SUCH A STATE OF ENLIGHTENED DETACHMENT NOW. THE FAG IN HIS MOUTH IS DROOPING LIKE A LIMP PENIS. ANDY'S SMOKING IS CONSTANT. IT IS AS IF SHIFTLESS AND WORKSHY HE IS AT LEAST DETERMINED TO FULFILL MAN'S ANCIENT ROLE OF FIREBEARER. LIKE THE OLYMPIC TORCH ONE CIGARETTE IS LIGHTED FROM THE LAST IN AN ENDLESS RELAY - IT IS AN ETERNAL FAG. A PROMETHEAN FLAME REMINDING HIM THAT HE TOO HOLDS WITHIN HIM A SPARK OF THE DIVINE. HE WOULD PROBABLY SMOKE WOODBINES OR CAPSTAN FULL-STRENGTH, SOMETIMES EKED OUT WITH ROLL-UPS MADE FROM DRUM TOBACCO (WHICH I THINK IS THE SAME BRAND AS THE TOBACCO POUCH WATERGATE CONSPIRATOR HOWARD HUNT USED TO CONCEAL A MINIATURE CIA CAMERA DURING HIS SHENANIGANS, THIS MAY OR MAY NOT BE RELEVANT HERE BUT MIGHT ADD TO THE GENERAL ATMOSPHERE OF SHODDINESS AND DISILLUSION, I JUST THOUGHT I'D MENTION IT ANYWAY.) BUT NOW WE REACH ANDY'S MOST PROMINENT FEATURE, HIS CHECKED CLOTH CAP. IT SQUATS ON HIS HEAD LIKE A CROSSHATCHED JELLYFISH OR SOME DISEASED LIVER BETOKENING A BAD AUGURY. IF I CAME ACROSS A LIVER LIKE THAT WHILE I WAS DIVINING FROM ENTRAILS IT WOULD MEAN NORTHAMPTON WAS DOOMED AND I MIGHT EVEN FLEE THE HOUSE. MOST OF ALL IT IS LIKE A TORTOISE'S CARAPACE PROTECTING HIM FROM THE WORLD. IT IS AS IF OUT OF SELF-DEFENCE HE HAS CHOSEN NOT TO HAVE EYES. WE CAN ONLY SPECULATE AS TO THE TAUNTS ANDY ENJOYED AT SCHOOL OVER HIS SURNAME AND THE MOMENT WHEN HE FIRST DEFIANTLY EMBRACED IT AND MADE IT APTRONYMIC: STANDING BEFORE THE MIRROR, LOWERING HIS CROWN ONTO HIS OWN HEAD LIKE NAPOLEON, NOW HE FEELS COMPLETE. LIKE SIEGFRIED'S TARNHELM IT WILL MAKE HIM INVISIBLE. NOW HE HAS WORN THE HEADGEAR SO LONG IT HAS BECOME A PART OF HIM. A SYMBIOSIS HAS BEEN ACHIEVED, THE CAP IS THE MAN AND THE MAN IS THE CAP. HE HAS BECOME HIS MASK, IF THE CAP WAS REMOVED FROM HIM HE WOULD DOUBTLESS SHRIEK 'GIVE ME BACK MY HEAD, GIVE ME BACK MY HEAD'. IN FACT IF THEY LET ME I MIGHT REINVENT THE CHARACTER SO HE TURNS OUT TO BE A MUTATED CAP WHO THINKS HE'S A MAN. BUT LET'S LEAVE THAT FOR NOW.
CONFRONTING ANDY ACCUSINGLY AND BARRING HIS FURTHER INGRESS, IN DRESSING GOWN AND CURLERS, ROLLING PIN IN HAND, IS HIS WIFE FLO. HAUNCHES EXTENDING ALMOST AS FAR BEHIND HER AS THAT OF A MEDIEVAL MAYDAY HOBBY-HORSE, BOSOM STARTING AT HER WAIST, FLO IS THE MATRIARCHAL PRINCIPLE EMBODIED: HER VERY NOSE IS ROUND LIKE A BREAST. SHE HAS SEEN BETTER DAYS, MOST OF THEM BEFORE SHE MET HER HUSBAND. I THINK FLO WAS SLIGHTLY HIGHER UP THE SOCIAL SCALE THAN ANDY AT THE TIME OF THEIR COURTSHIP, MAYBE HER DAD OWNED A SWEETSHOP, PERHAPS A TOBACCONIST, I LEAVE THAT TO YOUR DISCRETION. HE CARRIED HER OFF FROM HER KEEP LIKE SOME ANCIENT GREEK OR CALEDONIAN ROWDY MAKING A RAID ON A RIVAL TRIBE AND NOW THERE IS BETWEEN THEM WHAT DH LAWRENCE CALLED 'A DUMB, DARK, DULL, BITTER BELLY-TENSION'; THEIR MARRIAGE IS STRINDBERG REWRITTEN BY CLEMENT AND LE FRENAIS OR 'LOOK BACK IN ANGER' TOLD BY A PUNCH AND JUDY MAN. DEEP DOWN THEIR HEARTS YEARN TOWARDS EACH OTHER BUT WILL NEVER MEET AS THOUGH CUPID HAD FIRED ZENO'S ARROW. HER UTERUS WAS REMOVED IN 1973, MEDICAL NECESSITY RATHER THAN MASONIC RITUAL, ALTHOUGH SYNCHRONOUSLY ENOUGH ON THE SAME DAY 75 YEARS EARLIER THE YOUNG ADOLF HITLER FIRST RODE A BIKE WITHOUT STABILIZERS. HER ROLLING PIN IS LIGHTLY DUSTED WITH 'HOME PRIDE' SELF-RAISING FLOUR. IT'D BE GREAT IF YOU COULD MAKE THE BRAND APPARENT FOR THE RESONANCE OF THE NAME BUT IF NOT NEVER MIND. PLEASE FEEL FREE OF COURSE TO USE AS MUCH OR AS LITTLE OF THIS AS YOU LIKE, I TRUST YOU COMPLETELY. PS IN CASE I DIDN'T MENTION IT REMEMBER ANDY IS WEARING TROUSERS.
FLO: What time do you call this?
2.
THE SAME, AND YET TERRIBLY DIFFERENT. THE AIR SEEMS TO THICKEN WITH MENACE. ANDY IS OUTWARDLY UNCHANGED BUT DESOLATE ON THE INSIDE. HE DESPAIRS OF MAKING HER PITIFUL FOUR-DIMENSIONAL MIND UNDERSTAND HIM.
ANDY: Time is simultaneous, Pet. Everything happens all at once.
3.
FLO TWATS HIM ON THE HEAD WITH THE ROLLING PIN. THIS SHOULD BE AN ABSOLUTELY ICONIC TWAT LIKE
SHARON STONE'S IN BASIC INSTINCT OR THE ONE IN COURBET'S 'ORIGIN OF THE WORLD'. ANDY'S FAG GOES FLYING OUT OF HIS MOUTH, ARCING THROUGH THE AIR LIKE THE BURNING WRECKAGE OF THE R101 AIRSHIP DISASTER (NOT THE HINDENBURG FOR REASONS I HOPE TO MAKE CLEAR LATER). STARS ORBIT AROUND HIS HEAD: SIRIUS, ALTAIR, ORION, ZETA ANDROMEDAE (AN ECLIPSING SPECTROSCOPIC BINARY STAR REMEMBER), BETELGEUSE, PROXIMA CENTAURI, > transfer interrupted!
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22nd October 09