Up Pompeii!

'A sort of Carry On Up The Forum' (Radio Times Magazine)

Up Pompeii combined saucy Carry On style comedy with elements of farce to produce a well-loved vehicle for Frankie Howerd, in the role of Lurcio, to 'tickle the fancy' of the entire British public.

Beginning with a 1969 pilot episode, running through 1970 and culminating in the 1971 film version, Up Pompeii was a runaway success. Fourteen BBC episodes were made, featuring a regular cast and guest stars such as Barbara Windsor, Pat Coombs, Geoffrey Hughes and Mollie Sugden. It is for Frankie Howerd's impeccably smutty delivery that the show is truly remembered, however, proving once again that there's always room on British television for plenty of sexual innuendo and camp capers.

The format of the show was simple but effective. Lurcio was the slave of government senator Ludicrus and his buxom wife, Ammonia. Every episode, despite its innocent beginnings, would expand into a complex, usually life (or at the very least job) threatening mess, from which Lurcio would escape only through the most ingenious wriggling. Howerd toyed with the role mercilessly, dropping in an out of character as he pleased, making mocking asides to the camera, playing along with the audience in his own distinctive way. Even the plot was subject to Howerd's good-natured mockery, as he'd call the viewer's attention to the implausibility of what was going on, questioning the standard of his fellow actors and the ability of the script-writers. Far from detracting from the comedy value, Howerd's presence made the show what it was, and was, in all probability, essential to the BBC being allowed to get away with the cheap polystyrene sets and dodgy-looking costumes. When they're pointed out to you by the star of the show and you're invited to laugh along, it's difficult to find anything to complain about.

The writers of the show, Talbot Rothwell and Sid Colin, were both writers for the Carry On series of films, which explains the smut and innuendo that found its way into Up Pompeii  Furthermore, the series itself owes much to the Sondheim musical A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To the Forum, in which Frankie Howerd had already taken two roles - that of Prologus and Pseudolus. Radio Times, in fact, accurately described Up Pompeii as 'a sort of Carry On Up The Forum'.

Following the success of Up Pompeii  the writers, along with Howerd, retained the format of the show but, in a move similar to that of the later Blackadder series, shifted to a different historical period. The film Up The Chastity Belt, 1971, featured the writing skills of comedy veterans Alan Simpson and Ray Galton in collaboration with Sid Colin, and repositioned Lurcio as Lurkalot, hapless serf in the Crusades. Up The Front, from 1972, pushed Howerd forwards as the under-footman Lurk. Back on the BBC, Whoops Baghdad attempted to set Up Pompeii in an Arabian Nights scenario, whilst a 1975 Up Pompeii special really signified the end of the franchise's success, though not the end of further cashing-in attempts.

There is no doubt, however, that Up Pompeii was, and indeed still is, a classic British comedy. With Howerd's larger than life stage presence, limitless supply of saucy catchphrases and an entire legion of risqué and witty names (Ambi Dextrus, Pussus Galoria, Scrophulus, Scrubba and Tittia are but five which spring to mind...), the show was pretty much bound for success, and well worth half an hour's hilarity out of anyone's busy schedule...

' As Cleopatra said to Marc Antony: if you liked it, tell your friends!' (Lurch)

Sources: BBC Website, IMDb, Beebfun

Jeff Wayne's Musical Version of the War of the Worlds

The chances of anything coming from Mars

Are a million to one, he said.

Are a million to one, but still - they come...

A Brief History

On the 9th of June, 1978, accompanied by a glittering multimedia launch at the London Planetarium, Jeff Wayne's musical version of The War Of The Worlds was unleashed. Taken from a slightly modified version of H.G. Wells' 1898 science fiction book, the album could in no way hope to equal the success of Wells' seminal novel, considered by many to have begun the modern sci-fi genre. Nevertheless, the musical version immediately entered the UK Album Charts and stayed there for over six years, going multi-platinum in the process.

Its success is not limited merely to the UK, either. The standard release was available around the world, and in Australia it performed particularly well, achieving 12 times platinum status and managing a seven week stretch at number one. The American Billboard Charts featured War Of The Worlds for seven months, and produced sales in excess of 475,000 albums.

Add to this a variety of other versions, including a Latin American version featuring Anthony Quinn, a Spanish version and a German edition with Curt Jurgens, all of which were released three years after the original work, and all of which went on to promote the original album's success. In Spain, with the original language version of number seven and the new Spanish version at number one, the related single release of The Eve Of The War shot into the singles chart at number one.

The Eve Of The War was not the only single release: Forever Autumn also made an independent outing, and even enjoyed a slight revival as Ben Liebrand offered a remixed and revamped version for the 1989 dance scene. Indeed, since 1978, the album has offered considerable material for artists wishing to cover not only The Eve Of The War, but many other aspects of the album. Indeed, a recent release, ULLAdubULLA, offered a remix of the entire album, featuring contemporary DJs such as Hybrid and Todd Terry, presided over and compiled by none other than Jeff Wayne himself.

Between these two extremes, however, lies a success story that can be measured by the plethora of awards received by Wayne and the album itself, including Best Recording In Science Fiction, Horror and Fantasy (awarded in 1979) and number 30 of the Best Selling 100 Albums Of The Past 25 Years from BBC Radio 1. Recent re-releases on the CD format have done unexpectedly well, and the album seems to have an enduring appeal despite its occasionally dated prog-rock sound.

The Performance And The Performers

The actual music of the War Of The Worlds was composed, orchestrated, conducted and produced entirely by Jeff Wayne. Assistance with the libretto was provided by Gary Osborne and Paul Vigrass, and the actual script was based, by Doreen Wayne upon H.G. Wells' original novel.

The album consists of long instrumental pieces, linked with short vignettes of spoken narrative and the occasional song. Richard Burton plays the part of the journalist, the witness to the events of the martian invasion of earth. Other roles in the story include an Artilleryman, played by David Essex and the parson, Nathaniel, who is played by Phil Lynott, familiar to many from his involvement with Thin Lizzy. Julie Covington played the brief but important role of Beth, and further vocals were provided by Chris Thompson and Justin Hayward, the latter of whom released a single version of Forever Autumn.

The story itself is remarkably faithful to Wells' original, though there is an unusual inclusion of Carrie, the journalist's sweetheart and reason for travelling to London. Similarly, there are minor differences with the scene involving the parson, though none of these differences are as great as those made in, for example, the 1953movie. As a whole, the album hangs together coherently, and Wells' vision remains intact.

Originally a two-LP set, the War Of The Worlds is split into two discs: The Coming Of The Martians and Earth Under The Martians. The first side tells of the cylinder arriving on Earth, unscrewing to reveal a terrible creature, glistening like wet leather, rising up to sweep the surrounding countryside with its terrible, deadly heat ray. The cylinder unscrews, slowly and ominously, pumped straight into our ears, and Wayne wastes no opportunity to link the music and events together perfectly.

Side two opens with The Artilleryman and the Fighting Machine, in which we learn of the terrible power of the Martian fighting machines, and the journalist meets the young artilleryman. It is here, too, that the danger to Carrie becomes apparent, and the journalist makes his way down to London where he witnesses her escape on a steamer, and the subsequent defeat of the war ship Thunderchild by Martian fighting machines. Thus at the end of this second side the earth is enslaved to the Martians.

Side three, the second LP, introduces the red weed with slow, New World Symphony-like themes, before spilling into the frenzied, desperate encounter with the parson and Beth. A reprise of the red weed theme ends the third side with a despondent, futile feel. On the final side we meet the artilleryman once more, who this time has grand plans for a underground society. Alas, his plans do not match his work ethic, and the piece Dead London leaves us with a chilled vision of the Earth under the rule of the Martians.

The ending of the book must be familiar to all. If the reader is unfamiliar with the final outcome of the tale then it would be unwise to read further. It is at this point that bacteria come to mankind's rescue, and the first epilogue rounds the album off with a triumphant return to everyday life.

At this point, the story itself is finished. And yet with a touch of genius, Wayne moves us on to 1999, and the second part of the epilogue takes place: an incredibly chilling radio broadcast from NASA as their mission to Mars goes terribly, terribly wrong, and green flares once more erupt from the surface of the planet. It's an ending with the potential for disaster - a classic bad sci-fi film ending, but in this case it works, and it works well.

Tracklist:

1. The Eve of the War (9:06)
2. Horsell Common and the Heat Ray (11:36)

3. The Artilleryman and the Fighting Machine (10:28)
4. Forever Autumn (7:55)
5. Thunder Child (6:02)

6. The Red Weed (Part 1) (5:51)
7. The Spirit of Man (11:36)
8. The Red Weed (Part 2) (7:00)

9. Brave New World (12:08)
10. Dead London (8:37)
11. Epilogue (Parts 1 and 2) (4:35)

The tracklist as above, split into four sections, indicates the four original LPs. For the later CD releases, tracks 1 to 5 appeared on CD one, and the remaining tracks on CD two. Later, a further CD version with three extra remixes also appeared, further complicating the track arrangement. For good measure, a highlights CD is also available, edited down to a single compact disc. The recent remix album, ULLAdubULLA is also available as a double CD set, though original promo CDs featured an entirely different single compact disc.

The torment was ended. The people scattered over the country, desperate, leaderless, starved,

the thousands who had fled by sea including the one most dear to me;

all could return, the pulse of life growing stronger and stronger would beat again.

Donald Sutherland

The Basics:

Donald Sutherland, Canadian by birth, was born to Frederick and Dorothy Sutherland in 1934, in Saint John, New Brunswick. Following an education at the University Of Toronto, Sutherland studied at the London Academy Of Music And Dramatic Arts in the late 1950s and subsequently played a number of small roles in horror films and thrillers. As his career progressed, Sutherland's roles became more complex, with the result that by 2000 Donald Sutherland had become a most respected actor, with many major films to his name, and a career that has stood the test of time. Nowadays, as well as major film roles, Sutherland hosts television shows and has even appeared in music videos.

The Beginnings:

Of course, returning to the very beginnings of Sutherland's career, these initial roles are in no way to be ignored. Look where they got him! With a penchant for the sinister, lanky type, Sutherland's physical appearance lent a certain disturbing quality to his roles. Tall, gawky and with, it has to be said, rather googly eyeballs, Sutherland was perfect for initial roles such as Bob Carroll in the luridly-titled Dr Terror's House Of Horrors, or Joseph in the intriguingly-named Die! Die! My Darling!. Following a modest career boost in The Dirty Dozen, Sutherland's real big break came with the 1970 film M*A*S*H, in which Sutherland took the role of surgeon Hawkeye Pierceand, in the process, discovered that not all films are cheap horror flicks that give away the entire plot in the title.

Stardom:

Following this, Donald Sutherland, it has to be said, attained stardom. His mainstream successes were mixed with more peculiar film ventures, often verging on the politically volatile. Co-starring with Jane Fonda in the popular thriller Klute (1971) seemed like a good career move, but going on to write, produce, direct and star in an anti-Vietnam war film (FTA, 1972) may, at the time, have seemed less sensible. Then again, the graphic sex of Don't Look Now may well have drowned out any controversy from his previous ventures. Even if such things weren't shocking enough for the late 70s, the brutish, ruthless characters depicted by Sutherland in The Day Of The Locust and 1900 were guaranteed to attract peoples attention. I'm reliably informed, though I've yet to see it for myself, that his appearance as a pot smoking professor in Animal House is well worth witnessing.

The Eighties And Onwards:

It was in the seventies that Sutherland really came into his own, though he remained a respected and popular actor right through to his more recent films. Playing the father in 1980's Ordinary People, and a Nazi spy in Eye Of The Needle continued Sutherland's propensity for creepy roles, and though his eye seems drawn more to smaller roles, evinced in such films as Lock Up and Backdraft, Sutherland is remembered fondly for his mainstream, well-known roles just as much as his more obscure film outings: playing Wilhelm Reich in Kate Bush's video for her song Cloudbusting being one such fan-delighting appearance. His rolled-back, scary-eyed howl at the end of Invasion Of The Body Snatchers, too, provides more than enough material for a film buff to adore Donald Sutherland forever.

More Than You Need To Know: A Summary

Height: 6'4"
Date of Birth: July 6, 1934
Birth Place: St. John, New Brunswick, Canada
Education: University of Toronto, where he majored in Engineering and Drama, followed by the London Academy of Music and Dramatic Art.
Wife: Currently Francine Racette (actress; whom he met in 1972). Originally, Sutherland was married to Lois Hardwick, also an actress, whom he married in 1959 and divorced in 1966. She was followed by Shirley Douglas, another Canadian actress, whom he met while filming Castle of the Living Dead in 1964. They were married in 1966 and subsequently divorced in 1971.
Other Relationships: Jane Fonda (with whom he had three-year relationship)
Father: Frederick Sutherland, a salesman
Mother: Dorothy Sutherland, originally Dorothy McNichol
Children: Angus Redford Sutherland (born in 1979), Rossif Sutherland (born in 1978), Roeg Sutherland (born in 1974), Kiefer Sutherland (born on December 21, 1966 to Shirley Douglas), Rachel Sutherland (born on December 21, 1966 to Shirley Douglas; twin sister of Kiefer)

Selected films you may have heard of:

Salem's Lot (2004) (TV) (filming ) - Richard Straker
The Italian Job (2003) - John Bridger
Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within (2001) (voice) - Dr. Sid
Space Cowboys (2000) - Jerry O'Neill
Virus (1999) - Capt. Robert Everton
The Puppet Masters (1994) - Andrew Nivens
Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1992) - Merrick Jamison-Smythe
JFK (1991) - X (unknown general in black)
Backdraft (1991) - Ronald Bartel
Kate Bush: The Whole Story (1986) (V) - Father in the music video Cloudbusting
Max Dugan Returns (1983) - Brian Costello
Animal House (1978) - Prof. Dave Jennings
The Eagle Has Landed (1976) - Liam Devlin
The Day of the Locust (1975) - Homer Simpson
Alien Thunder (1974) - Dan Candy
Don't Look Now (1973) - John Baxter
Steelyard Blues (1973) - Jesse Veldini
Klute (1971) - John Klute
Kelly's Heroes (1970) - Sgt. Oddball, Tank Commander
M*A*S*H (1970) - Capt. Benjamin Franklin 'Hawkeye' Pierce

Selected films you probably haven't heard of:

Da wan (2001) - Tyler
Threads of Hope (2000) (voice) - Narrator
The Hunley (1999) (TV) - General Pierre Beauregard
Oldest Living Confederate Widow Tells All (1994) (TV) - Capt. William Marsden
The Poky Little Puppy's First Christmas (1992) - Narrator
Lock Up (1989) - Warden Drumgoole
Gas (1981) - Nick the Noz
The Kentucky Fried Movie (1977) - The Clumsy Waiter
Oedipus the King (1967) - Chorus Leader
Billion Dollar Brain (1967) - Scientist at computer
Die! Die! My Darling! (1965) - Joseph
Dr. Terror's House of Horrors (1965) - Bob Carroll
Hamlet (1964/III) (TV) - Fortinbras, Prince of Norway

Chris de Burgh

Introduction

Ah, Chris de Burgh. Born as Christopher John Davison in 1948 in Argentina. Currently living in Ireland and with British nationality. Personally thanked by Princess Diana for writing his greatest hit, Lady In Red, and almost unavoidable in the UK at Christmas time because of A Spaceman Came Travelling, which is played only slightly less than Slade's Merry Xmas Everybody. De Burgh has sold over 45 million albums worldwide, and managed to sell 8 million copies of his hit, Lady In Red, which is initially surprising since most people profess to loathe it. Which also makes it interesting to hear that it reached number one in 25 separate countries, including the United Kingdom.

Career

So where did it start? Well, Chris de Burgh signed a contract with A&M Records in 1974, at which time he was touring as the support for Supertramp. His early releases were a kind of folksy seventies pop, and didn't do particularly well. Neither did the next album, or the next. By 1981 there was enough material to release a best of collection, although the best of a not terribly successful bunch was hardly destined to do tremendously well in the charts. And yet, although there wasn't much UK or US chart success, de Burgh continued to improve his global profile, clocking up reasonable sales in many a far-flung corner of the world. Regardless, the greatest hits collection served as a nice introduction to The Getaway, which produced the single Don't Pay The Ferryman. And, at last... a US hit.

Don't Pay The Ferryman, a peculiar song with a mythology-influenced feel, helped the album to get to number 43 in the US charts. The album did slightly better in the UK, reaching number 30. The album Man On The Line followed, with increased success. Riding on this success, as record companies are wont to do, a further greatest hits album was released, achieving de Burgh's highest chart position so far. And then... Into The Light.

Released in 1986, Into The Light hurtled up the charts, carried (not literally) by The Lady In Red. The album reached number two, and the single, Lady In Red - well, you'll need to be some sort of hermit to have avoided hearing it so far. Similarly with the next single, a re-release of A Spaceman Came Travelling, which was originally on de Burgh's 1975 album, Spanish Train And Other Stories. Into The Light, despite containing The Lady In Red, has a lot going for it. Vaguely progressive, vaguely 80s synth in some places, there are hints of an interest in the events of Revelations - in fact, for the eagle-eared, there are a fair few Biblical references dotted throughout Chris' career. (The Risen Lord on Flying Colours is a pretty big hint, and The Leader and The Vision are clear references to Revelations.)

His career sort of took off from there, actually. Although not exactly well-loved by the common man, there are enough people out there to buy his records, watch his concerts and generally adore him for Mr de Burgh to be an enduringly popular artist. Having your own record label helps, though I doubt we'll ever see Chris clamber up the charts again, unless it's some sort of re-release of an old hit at just the right time. And his career continues - there's a general descent into release after release of greatest hits collection, cashing in on earlier successes, but he continues to tour and, indeed, was apparently the first Western act to perform in Iran after the 1979 revolution.

A Small Note

I may be alone in this, but I have to stand up and point out that by all accounts and being reasonably charitable, Chris De Burgh is actually pretty successful, and (although it may come as a shock to you), not all his work is as maudlin and downright soppy as Lady In Red. There's plenty of soft rock in his back catalogue, yes, but there's also elements of prog, plenty of lovely 80s synth stuff, a bit of concept-album-tinged stuff and a fair few groovy ballads, out-and-out pop hits and even some rather saucy stuff. Well, Patricia The Stripper, anyway.

Bill Bailey is prominent amongst de Burgh's detractors, pointing to his wildly uncontrolled eyebrows, picking on the undeniable cheesiness of some of his songs. But then I love Bill Bailey's work, too, at least once he's managed to get started. His first five minutes of any set usually consist of him going 'ooo' and 'hello' and 'I look like a klingon'. But regardless, the Cockney medley of Chris de Burgh songs speak true love to me, and giving him pride of place as the top spot in the scale of evil is surely a veiled worship attempt. And what's so bad about Lady In Red? Don't we all have off days? Didn't Kraftwerk produce The Hall Of Mirrors at one point in their career? Did they not ever think of getting a guest vocalist? Does Marillion's Kayleigh not still haunt them, even as children dance around under sprinklers in the park? But do we judge Kraftwerk by their reedy vocals? Do we blame Marillion for Kayleigh... well, maybe just a little. Er... do we not listen to Toyah because of her lithp? Um... isn't Chris de Burgh much, much richer than us and aren't we all just a teeny bit jealous? Perhaps. Or it might be his recent claims to be able to heal people by laying on hands, or the alleged affairs of the early nineties. Or is it, perhaps, that some people are just naturally annoying? Whatever it is, you can't deny his success, however much you may wish to join with Bill Bailey and describe him as a 'mono-browed purveyor of ultimate filth'.

Oh, and he's 5 foot 6 inches tall. Just in case you were wondering. His website's an endless treasure trove of such snippets...

(Mostly Complete) Discography Note the increase in collections as time passes...

Far Beyond These Castle Walls, 1974
Spanish Train and Other Stories, 1975
At the End of a Perfect Day, 1977
Crusader, 1979
Eastern Wind, 1980
Best Moves, 1981
The Getaway, 1982
Man on the Line, 1984
The Very Best of Chris de Burgh, 1984
Into the Light, 1986
Flying Colours, 1988
Spark to a Flame: The Very Best of Chris de Burgh, 1989
High on Emotion: Live from Dublin, 1990
Power of Ten, 1992
This Way Up, 1994
Beautiful Dreams, 1995
Live in South Africa, 1997
The Love Songs, 1997
Quiet Revolution, 1999
The Ultimate Collection - Notes from Planet Earth, 2001
Timing Is Everything, 2002
The Road To Freedom, 2004
Live In Dortmund, 2005
The Ultimate Collection, 2005
The Storyman, 2006
Gold, 2007
Now and Then, 2008
Footsteps, 2009
Moonfleet, Coming in 2010

Piranha

1978 was a good year for horror films. Dawn Of The Dead, Halloween and The Amityville Horror all terrified entire audiences at a time. Jaws 2 was threatening to be nearly as good as the original, and The Swarm was bravely unsuccessful attempt to continue the mutated-animals-gone-mad theme. In amongst all this was Piranha.

Later, its director, Joe Dante would move on to The Howling, Gremlins, Innerspace and Small Soldiers. For now, then, it would be charitable to put Piranha down to inexperience. Piranha must, one feels, be the woeful evidence of a sharp learning curve. It's entertaining, in a way, but mainly because of its inedequacies.

A distinct lack of originality mars the film from the very beginning. Clearly taking a leaf from Jaws' script, a couple of teenagers ignore all common sense and gleefully strip off before plunging into the dark and ominous stretches of a mysterious, fenced-off pool. An entire troop of cellists immediately begin to play an appropriately dirgeful score, whilst the young chap complains bitterly about being a bit bitten. However, ignoring both the unusual nibbling and the sudden orchestral interest, the two bravely plunge on for the centre of the pool whereupon they are unceremoniously devoured. None of the cellists help, incidentally, choosing instead to perform a rousing chorus of appropriately spooky music.

This dodgy beginning quickly leads on to a dodgy middle and, eventually, a rather dodgy end which carefully leaves the way open for James Cameron's tacky sequel - yes, he's another director who has benefited from the sharp learning curve of early mutant animal horror. Within the dodgy middle portion we discover the usual stuff - secret government experiment, accidental release into large river, that kind of thing. Oh, and the large river just happens to be full of kids. And people on boats. Stupid people on boats, come to think of it, who can't seem to withdraw a limb from the water once they've realised that something's not quite right. It's the foaming and the bright red 'blood' that tips them off, albeit a little slowly.

There is only one conclusion. It's parody. It has to be. Writer John Sayles, sitting down to his first screenplay ever, must have decided to take a piranha-sized bite at Jaws and produce the perfect parody. But if it is parody, then deadpan simply doesn't describe it. There is no hint of intentional humour, no tiny glimpse of sarcasm at work. The whole film, from beginning to end is a non-stop rollercoaster of really bad horror, littered with cliche and stock characters, however entertaining it turns out to be. And it is entertaining, in its own way. Desperate for 94 minutes of fun? Then rent it, but don't buy...

Piranha was originally released in 1978, starring Bradford Dillman, Heather Menzies and Kevin McCarthy. The most notable of these is McCarthy, who starred in the original Invasion Of The Body Snatchers. Originally, Eric Braeden was cast in Dillman's part, and though he pulled out to pursue an alternate project, some of the swimming footage still shows Braeden.

Arthur Herzog

You've probably not heard of author Arthur Herzog. During the seventies and eighties, he was merely one of hundreds of authors who seemed to be highly concerned about nature taking some sort of revenge and thus set out to warn mankind to change their ways. You know the thing: giant spiders, mutated horribly by toxic waste just outside of Manhattan, struggle with an insatiable urge to take over the world. If it's not mutant spiders, then it's super-intelligent ants, taking over the Nevada desert and having a bit of a go at anyone who comes near, spending their leisure time building large 3D blocks. That sort of thing. (That was a reference to Phase IV, by the way. If you got it... fond memories shared herewith. Mmmn. Oh, sorry - if you didn't get it, move along please, and try to watch or read 'Phase IV' at some point.)

But you should have heard of him, getting back to the point. Why? Because a number of things set Arthur Herzog's work apart from all the rest. His writing ability, the plausibility, the unremitting terror and the attention to detail; each of these made Herzog's books more than just potboiler horror. Each book, whether it was The Swarm (African killer bees slowly make their way into populated areas of America and are destroyed by genetic alteration to induce sterility) or IQ 83 (retrovirus is accidentally released, reducing the average IQ of the population to 83), was preceded by real newspaper clippings that, while not assuring the reader that such things would take place, at least gave one a nasty feeling of helplessness.

Other books dealt with global warming, earthquakes and convenience foods gone horribly wrong. Yes, even worse than Soylent Green. Of course, the glory days of nature's revenge on mankind as a good read has long since passed - we've moved on to a new age of ensured destruction, as embodied by 'The Road' (Cormac McCarthy) or 'One' (Conrad Williams), both of which are great pieces of new apocalyptic fiction. Herzog's books are still in print, though, ready to offer the connoisseur of sci-fi-horror a good dose of plausible unease.

Arthur Herzog's 2003 publication, described as vivid short stories somewhere between science fiction and horror, is available exclusively on-line at www.arthurherzog.com. You're thinking: Hmm, only available online? Brave move to embrace new technology or last ditch attempt to get published? The answer: go back, read his books and you'll find you're in a position to decide...

Two of Herzog's books also made their way onto film, unfortunately ending up as examples of the standard 70s disaster movie. Orca, the story of an enraged Killer Whale (which isn't quite as bizarre as it sounds: killer whales share a common trait with man, in that they're given to killing solely for revenge), made a 1977 film release whereupon it was immediately derided as a Jaws rip-off, even Charlotte Rampling and Bo Derek failing to make much of a splash.
The killer bees from Swarm took on an almost other-worldly power in 1978, however, raging unstoppable through nuclear power stations and a school or two before being stopped by Michael Caine with a giant mating call transmitter, a standard plot device by that time which was, unfortunately, completely different to the book, far less plausible and a good deal less entertaining.

It should also be noted that Herzog also writes non-fiction books on a variety of subjects and has enjoyed a successful career as a journalist. This was early on in his career, however, when after writing some eighteen stories for the New York Times magazine he turned down the coveted role of editor and later declined a doctorate following his master's at Columbia University, preferring to concentrate on a career devoted to realistic science fiction novels.

A short bibliography:

Aries Rising (Drugs thriller with appropriate quantities of sex, guns and death.)

The Craving ('What happens when hunger becomes a fatal obsession only death can stop..?')

Earthbound ('Your name is Harry Vail and you alone know the terrifying truth...')

Glad To Be Here

Heat (Global warming takes off in a big way.)

IQ 83 (Escaped retrovirus reduces average IQ to 83.)

L*S*I*T*T (FDA approved aphrodisiac works slightly too well...)

Make Us Happy

Orca (Enraged killer whale seeks revenge.)

The Swarm (Africanised bees move north.)

Body Parts (Short stories; Available online only.)

Non-fiction:

The B.S. Factor

The Church Trap

McCarthy For President

17 Days: The Katie Beers Story

Vesco

The War-Peace Establishment

The Wood Chipper Murder

How To Write Almost Anything Better And Faster (Sadly not consulted for this writeup.)

Baccara

Baccara are a Spanish pop duo, most famous for Yes Sir, I Can Boogie, which reached number one in October 1977. With a penchant for peculiar song titles, including Ay Ay Sailor and Sorry I'm A Lady, the duo stacked up a variety of europop and disco hits before quietly disappearing.

It started back in early 1977. Mayte Matee and Maria Mendiolo were discovered on the Spanish island of Fuerteventura by RCA, where they performed cabaret and flamenco for the tourists. Named after the Baccara Rose their first song, Yes Sir, I Can Boogie reached number one in the UKand became a massive international hit. Followed swiftly by a second single, the hilariously camp Sorry, I'm A Lady, and a self-titled album, Baccara were a hit. Briefly.

Of course, more singles followed: Darling, Ay Ay Sailor, The Devil Sent You To Laredo, and an appearance representing Luxembourg on the 1978 Eurovision Song Contest. But this appearance pretty much marked the peak of their career. They faded swiftly from fame in the UK, though they remained popular in Germany, Scandinavia and Japan for some years. By 1981 their fourth album release, Bad Boys, was largely ignored in most of Europe, and was not even released in the UK.

To further complicate matters, Mayte and Maria decided to split, both releasing solo albums in countries with a strong Baccara fanbase. Furthermore, each group wished to retain the Baccara name and form a new band, leading to the introduction of Baccara (Mayte's version of the group) and New Baccara (Maria's version). New Baccara still exists today, featuring the talents of Maria and new girl Marissa Perez. Their success remains limited.

La Cage - Jean Michel Jarre

La Cage is a 1971 pastiche of scary musique concrete and experimental electronics, the very first single by Jean Michel Jarre, five years before Oxygene entranced listeners with its gentle, melodic ambience. It's a three minute fifteen second track, rather discordant, with clanging percussion and a jumpy, random-sounding bassline with ghostly screeches. It relies heavily on the electro-acoustic manipulation of audio tape, and is very, very different to any Jarre tracks you're likely to have heard.

Despite its 1971 release date, the single was actually recorded in 1969, and it says something that Jarre was unable to find anyone willing to release it until the record company Pathé-Marconi rose to the challenge two years later, releasing La Cage on 7" single with a b-side of Erosmachine.

The company's confidence was ill-founded; only one hundred and seventeen copies of La Cage were sold, and the remainder were destroyed. This, of course, makes the single fantastically rare, although the tracks (La Cage and b-side, Erosmachine) were released on a 1978 compilation, 'Made In France', and have popped up on various bootleg recordings.

Blood On Satan's Claw

The Blood On Satan's Claw is classic British horror, a Tigon films production which adheres very nicely to the Hammer Horror mould. It's all set in seventeenth century England, which means 'authentic' costumes (which are almost supernaturally clean, even those belonging to the peasants and farm labourers), and 'authentic' dialogue, which basically means people swap round the order of the words and use 'thou' and 'mightn't' an awful lot. But you either love these sort of horror films or you don't, and if you do then part of the whole delight of them is the cheesy dialogue, the pristine costumes and the egregiously bad special effects.

As the film opens, a strangely deformed skull is unearthed (featuring what looks like a real sheep's eye), surrounded by strange fur. It promptly vanishes whenever anyone of any importance comes to look at it, and instead the more gullible members of the village are slowly taken over by its evil and sinister power, ring-led by Angel Blake, finder of a most sinister and unearthly claw. Most of the possession and evil acts centre around the children of the village (all of whom seem to be played by teenagers, probably because there's a fair bit of nudity and clothing removal in the later stages, along with the odd satanically-induced rape). Very shocking, for 1971 standards.

Thankfully, the chap who dug the skull up in the first place figures out what's going on when he comes across a band of men trying to drown an innocent woman as a witch. He recognises the same fur, growing in a patch on her body - 't'is Satan's skin' he declares, and after a pretty good attempt at removing it with a straight razor, grabs the judge from a nearby village. That's just what's needed to get together a band of burly peasants and give the satanic beast a good hiding. Phew!

The Blood On Satan's Claw misses off the 'the' for most film listings, although it appears in full on the actual film's title shots. It was released as Satan's Skin in the US. The soundtrack, by Marc Wilkinson, is hardly noteworthy, yet managed a CD and limited edition vinyl release in 2007.

Released: 1971
Director: Piers Haggard
Genre: Horror
Starring:
Barry Andrews as Ralph Gower
Patrick Wymark as The Judge
and Linda Hayden as Angel Blake

Disco Inferno - The Trammps

It's 1976, a full year before Saturday Night Fever would tell you where to go when the record was over, a full year before Studio 54 began to fill up with the celebrities of the era. The Trammps, one of the original disco bands, down in Philadelphia, were about to release their defining single, the one song for which they would be most remembered. Not their first single, no - there was 1972's Zing! Went The Strings Of My Heart and 1973's Love Epidemic. But Hold Back The Night and That's Where The Happy People Go weren't inducted into the Dance Music Hall Of Fame in 2005, were they?

The Trammps are better than just Disco Inferno, of course, but every band needs an anthem, a favourite song that excites the fans and keeps the royalties coming in when the imperial phase has ended. It was released with a b-side of You Touch My Hot Line on 7" and 12" by Atlantic Records, and there is even a ten-minute version on the Disco Inferno album. Rumours abound concerning an unreleased twenty minute version, mixed together by Tom Moulton, for the hardcore fans.

If you're wondering why, out of all the singles released by The Trammps, Disco Inferno should be the one to make it big, then you probably need to look at the soundtrack to the film Saturday Night Fever. Then there's the cover versions, including Cyndi Lauper's version on the soundtrack to A Night At The Roxbury, with accompanying single release. Oh, and Tina Turner - as if we could forget Tina, and her 1993 release with added Beatmasters remixes. There are other versions, of varying quality, and even Madonna decided to have a go at singing the lyrics from Music over an instrumental version of the song. 'Music Inferno', apparently.

As for the lyrics, apparently we're in a large discotheque in which 'the boogie' presumably reaches critical mass and begins to explode. Before you know it, everyone's getting completely out of control, there's some form of chain-reaction and woomph, everybody's becoming rather hot under the collar. They're probably dancing in a really outrageous way, that kind of thing, Halston dresses and Qiana shirts melting left right and centre due to the friction. Oh, it's easy to mock, I know; it's hardly as if anyone's going to imagine it's about a real fire - clearly it's a sort of metaphor, although not a particularly good one at that. You may now look erudite.

Actually, if you've ever seen Phoenix Nights, there is a delightful scene with an over-the-top fire safety inspector, who has received a letter concerning a fire which he reads out to show the severity of the situation. As he reads, it becomes obvious that he is reading the lyrics to the song, entirely convinced it describes a real event. 'Burn baby burn, disco inferno, burn that mother down,' he intones dramatically, adding 'Another kiddie orphaned there.' Ah, the genius of Peter Kay.

Erosmachine - Jean Michel Jarre

Erosmachine is the 2:54 b-side to Jean Michel Jarre's 1971 7" single 'La Cage'. Like La Cage, it is an experimental track based around manipulated tape loops and acoustically-altered analogue recordings. In a later interview around the time of Chronologie, Jarre recalls measuring and splicing the magnetic tape to create the background rhythm track, composed of clanging metal and twanged steel rulers, forming a mechanical, machine-like background. The same rhythmic pastiche is re-used in Chronologie Part II as a representation of time passing, this time created with far less effort using a computer.

Erosmachine is a disturbing track, as over these mechanical twangings and grindings is the breathy sound of a woman, gasping and moaning, and electronic chords straight out of early David Cronenberg soundtracks. It's like the theme song to some mad, sexual horror film - the rape scene from 'Tetsuo: The Iron Man', or those penetrating cables from a H.R. Giger painting. And then, at the end, the screaming starts...

Babycham

The inventors of Babycham were, in my opinion, geniuses. They somehow took a light, sparkling perry, which is basically pear cider, and whipped up a host of 60s and 70s advertising to appeal to a couple of decades worth of women. It worked - at one point 'brandy and Babycham' (for those who wished to splash out) was considered the height of sophistication, if a little pricey, and was almost certainly guaranteed to get you wobbling on your barstool.

Babycham was the first alcoholic beverage to be advertised on UK television, beginning in 1957, with the exciting, if baffling, slogan: 'the genuine champagne perry'. A small prancing fawn was used as a mascot, and the factory in Shepton Mallet is still guarded by a large plastic version complete with blue bow.

The Cassandra Crossing

This rather cheap-looking 1976 horror film had me terrified as a child. A messed-up terrorist attack on the 'International Health Organisation' leads to a rather deadly viral form of bubonic plague being released. Carried aboard a long-distance trans-Europe train by a terrorist escapee, the train is quickly quarantined by a general who appears to be only very slightly megalomaniacal.

It is decided that the train will travel over the Cassandra Crossing, an extremely rickety bridge, and eventually stop at a medical camp. As events unfold, it slowly dawns on the train's inhabitants that they're not really heading for a distant medical centre at all, but are in fact intended to plunge to their death, ridding the world of a rather tricky problem.

Of course, as it turns out, the plague is curable. But will the general stop the train? Will he hell, and one small train-based uprising later, the train is stopped just in time.

This film, along with The Satan Bug, was one of a number of disaster films that focused on unexpected viruses. The tradition continues, of course, with films like 28 Days Later; an escaped disease always makes for plenty of fun. Nowadays, watching these kind of films, I'm not remotely worried. Back when I was seven or eight, however, the very idea of it terrified me. A later passion for reading things like The Andromeda Strain didn't do much to cure me of this delicious penchant for biological terror. But nowadays, if you do decide to inflict The Cassandra Crossing on yourself, you're likely to spend much of the film with the corners of your mouth turned down in a wry smirk.

Overacting, men in white wellies, and huge oxygen tanks authentically marked 'O2' all add to the fun. The train changes shape, size and colour repeatedly throughout the film, and the shots of a man crawling on the roof of the train features the worst superimposing I've ever seen, and that includes early Carry On films when they're riding in a carriage and the same scenery keeps going past outside.

The Cassandra Crossing was directed by George Pan Cosmatos - yes, the guy responsible for the second Rambo film. Burt Lancaster, Sophia Loren, O.J. Simpson and Martin Sheen all feature heavily. It was released in 1976, and if you have 129 minutes of your life that you don't want back, you'll love it. It's excellent. Keep an eye out for the model train hurtling off the bridge at the end!

Released: 1976
Director: George Pan Cosmatos
Genre: Disaster
Starring:

Sophia Loren as Jennifer Rispoli Chamberlain

Richard Harris as Dr. Jonathan Chamberlain

Roddy Navarra as Robby Navarro

and Burt Lancaster as Col. Stephen Mackenzie

Blue Remembered Hills

"Into my heart, an air that kills from yon far country blows. What are those Blue Remembered Hills? What spires, what farms are those? That is the land of lost content. I see it shining plain. The happy highways where I went. And cannot come again." - extract from A. E. Housman's 'A Shropshire Lad'.

Blue Remembered Hills is a play by Dennis Potter, written for television as part of the BBC's 'Play For Today' series. It follows the success of his 1978 play 'Pennies From Heaven' and differs from it in a number of exciting ways, a significant change for Potter. The studio-based performances, recorded on video, of his previous work are replaced with film shot on location in Dorset. The result is a panoramic, sweeping feel to the film which alternates between moving shots that swoop past the characters and static, countryside-backed scenes. A memorable shot zooms down through the branches of a tree, hugging the trunk as the characters pass below. Excellent stuff.

But the main feature for which Blue Remembered Hills is notable is its depiction of children, seven of them, are all played by adults: Colin Welland (Willie), Michael Elphick (Peter), Robin Ellis (John), John Bird (Raymond), Helen Mirren (Angela), Janine Duvitski (Audrey), and Colin Jeavons(Donald). To begin with, there's something vaguely comical about Collin Welland's chunky frame, clad in grey flannel shorts and a knitted sweater, rolling about making spitfire noises, but after a while it all falls into place. The reminiscing begins: what it was like to be a child without adult supervision. The rosy glow of memory, and it's fun to watch. For a while.

Desperate for a bite of apple, Peter's character wrestles Willie to the ground, kneeling on his chest and spitting in his face. More friends join them, and a hapless squirrel is knocked from a tree with stones and then bludgeoned to death. All change, as a moment later they discuss holding a proper funeral for the poor creature. To say more would spoil the play, but suffice to say that children existing in a state of nature is all Potter needs to produce a gripping, horrifying, yet darkly humorous play, and one that's well worth tracking down on DVD.

Brown Girl In The Ring - Boney M

So, Brown Girl in the Ring is a playground game, thought to have originated in the Caribbean. The players, both boys and girls, form a ring around one child. As the song is sung, the child in the middle of the ring skips around the inside until a specific point in the song: 'Show me your motion', at which point the centre child performs a favourite dance. Alternately, they may be asked 'Show me your partner', and a friend is picked to join them in the circle.
Which explains an awful lot. Arguably the most popular version of 'Brown Girl In The Ring' is by disco superstars Boney M, who released it as a B-side to their 1978 hit single Rivers Of Babylon. The A-side had torn up the UK charts, but as its success slowed and it made its way down to number 20, DJs began to flip the disc over, instantly mystifying an entire generation of ignorant Brits. Britain of 1978 wasn't the most socially aware culture, and traditional West Indian children's songs hadn't really registered. Indeed, a friend of mine recently confessed that they had but one black child at their school, and they would form a ring and sing this very song at her. That's not funny, by the way - it's sad.
Boney M aren't the only group to have released a version of Brown Girl In The Ring, of course, though it might be argued that their version is undeniably the best ever, depending on whether you're a die-hard Boney M fan or not. Regardless, see Waterloo And Robinson for a German version which uses the same arrangement as Boney M, or The Wiggles for an Australian feel. There's also a remixed '93 version from Boney M, if you're really, really interested.
Let's not forget Joe Simpson from Touching The Void: 'Bloody hell... I'm gonna die to Boney M!'

Debbie Does Dallas

One of the five best selling porn films of all time, Debbie Does Dallas appeared in 1978, close enough to the release of The Exorcist, The Driller Killer and other such notorious seventies video nasties to provide blessed (if rather sticky) relief from a stream of blood and gore. Starring Bambi Woods, whose parents must surely have realised a name like that gave her little choice of career beyond pornography or wildlife films about deer, the film is, in truth, abysmal. Cheap, badly edited and portraying some of the worst acting in the history of bad acting, one can only assume the producers were fully aware most people would be focusing on the more 'artistic' content of the film - namely the endless parade of naked breasts and white, hairy arses.

The plot is simple. Debbie, cheerleader beyond compare, has been chosen to travel to Dallas and become a cowgirl. Alas, she is penniless and must raise the money herself. Her parents, quite wisely, refuse to support her. Despite having only two weeks, Debbie and her cheerleader chums decide to raise enough money to allow them all to travel down to Dallas and give Debs the support she deserves. (Understand that whilst this discussion takes place each girl removes her clothes and idly soaps herself in the shower, a scene that would later influence the infamous shower scene from Porky's. The display of mis-aligned tan lines is a highlight here - one girl has a white stripe that comes halfway up her buttocks at an angle of approximately thirty degrees off the horizontal.)

But where to find the money? The girls flock off to offer their services as bookshop assistants, sports equipment saleswomen and auditors of novelty candles at Mr Hardwick's candle store. The inclusion of a candle shop turns out to be a happy occurrence, of course, as later on in the film the young lady is possessed by an irresistible urge to penetrate herself with a sizeably-girthed wax item more commonly used to provide subtle or romantic illumination. Needless to say, she is discovered and diverse entertainments ensue: Mrs Hardwick somehow ends up with her fingers inside the young lady whilst her husband, never one to miss a bit of excitement in a candle shop, masturbates vigorously and rounds the whole thing off with a spot of inter-generational intercourse.

Of course, she's not the only one. Two other girls accept an offer of twenty-five dollars for a kiss. This, as you'd expect, leads to breast-licking, cunnilingus, fellatio, anal intercourse, ejaculation and a spot of ooh-look-I-can-rub-my-face-in-your-spunk. Other girls enjoy a bit of a spanking, various bouts of fondling and the usual stuff. All of it, remember, badly shot, badly edited and badly acted.

You'd think, with all this industrious copulation, there'd be enough cash to send an entire football team to Dallas, but no - in order to raise that final injection of cash Debbie is obliged to dress as a Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader and indulge in various sexual shenanigans with an appropriately dressed Mr Greenfeld. In return, Mr Greenfeld will pay for the whole lot of girls to make their way down to Dallas. It's been hot, sweaty work, but it's clearly worth it... at the end of the film the word 'Next....' appears on the screen, concerning which we are left to draw our own conclusions.

There is no doubt that Debbie Does Dallas is famous for being famous, and that of those who speak of its nefarious charms few have actually seen it. Certainly the porn scenes on any copy commercially available in the UK are cut to ribbons and thus reduce the film to a rather tame, soft porn epic. The Debbie Does Dallas available today is not top-shelf, scorching-hot pornographic material. Add to this the fact that the quality, even on the later UK DVD releases, is extremely low. One of the early scenes has been clumsily edited and includes a painfully lengthy section filmed before action has been called - cue one second of teen cheerleader poised ready to 'act'.

Nevertheless, Debbie Does Dallas has entered modern culture as an epitome of adult entertainment, a paragon of pornography. Infamous but ultimately unsatisfying: an afternoon spent watching Debbie Does Dallas is not, it must be said, an afternoon well spent. Still, curiosity may get the better of you, or the urge to be one of those who can proudly say 'Yeah, I've seen Debbie Does Dallas'. If that's the case, Debbie was recently re-released in the UK on DVD in that censored, hacked-up form, or there's always those original seventies VHS and Betamax copies if you hunt round hard enough. Then, if even that doesn't quench your insatiable desire for tack, there's always the sequels... many, many sequels...

Debbie Does Dallas was directed by Jim Clark and released in 1978. It starred Bambi Woods as Debbie, and a host of other, now forgotten, actors and actresses who all did their clumsy, inept best with Maria Minestra's rather plain, straightforward script. There's surprisingly little information in The Internet Movie Database about Debbie Does Dallas, but a google search will provide those all important details, plus information on the Debbie Does Dallas play, which features no sex or nudity, functioning more as a tribute to one of the most famous pieces of pornography of all time.