Comic-books are a medium, not a genre; they can tell any story and suit any palate. You want horror? I've got bottles of the stuff. Welcome to 'Splashes of Darkness.'  The Bojeffries Saga is the kind of beveragre you eye with suspicion. It looks vaguely familiar, nostalgiac even, but there's something a little off about it. You take a sniff. Is that the Dandy? Hm. There's a chemical tang like Viz or bleach. (Mental flashes: hours spent throwing up, followed by an uneasy peace; your cheek resting on the cool, comforting porcelain of God's telephone. How funny.) You give it a doubtful stir and take a swig. An eyeball bobs against your lips. Ah yes, that's the stuff. Gothic humour with... hm... mm ... wet farts and stale Wotsits. Erm. Excuse me-- We’ve all heard of The Addams’ Family and The Munsters, living the high life in their imposing American-Gothic piles, but what you may not be aware of is that Alan Moore gave us a British equivalent in the 1980s. They’ve been quietly living out their bizarre lives on a council estate in the Midlands ever since. The ‘curiosity dampers’ around their house have started to fail now, so we can finally take a look at their bizarre little world. Leave your preconceptions at the door, wipe your feet, and step inside to meet the Bojeffries.  First up, there’s Jobremus, the head of the household, wearily struggling to keep his family in check. Uncles Raowl and Festus are (respectively) a cheerfully dumb werewolf and a bitter old vampire. Grandpa is in the final stages of organic matter, so it’s best to tread carefully around him. Young Ginda - Jobremus’ moody daughter - is quite possibly the most powerful creature on the planet, and the baby puts off enough radioactive energy to power nations! Finally there is Reth - son of Jobremus - eternally trapped in the body of an 11 year old boy. His only dreams are escaping this madhouse.  The Bojeffries Saga is one of those culty comics that you either love to bits or have never heard of. I was in the latter camp until this little gem popped through my door for review. It all began in the pages of Warrior, birthplace of V For Vendetta and Moore’s own take on Marvelman. At that time, British humour was being transformed by the alternative comedy scene and, whilst very different tonally from the brash antics of The Young Ones, The Bojeffries Saga does follow a similar path in that it deconstructs the classic British sitcom. Of course the critical question is ‘is it any good?’ The answer is a resounding, ‘yes!’  I fell in love with these characters from the very first page, and the whimsically dark sense of humour tickled me the whole way through the volume. The last time I saw straight up comedy in a British comic, outside of the little newspaper strips, was probably in my Beano and Dandy days, so it was really quite refreshing to read a book that was completely unshackled from lengthy back-stories or complicated plots; something that could just be read and enjoyed for what it was.  The artwork by Steve Parkhouse is smashing stuff, though the style varies massively from story to story – presumably in part due to the extended period of time over which it was produced. In each section though, he manages to give his Midlands suburbia a truly Gothic feel, with dramatic silhouettes giving depth to the night. His hatching makes things dirty looking and bleak, and there’s something kind of scrappy about his paneling, but all of this adds to the low-rate charm. His gallery of grotesques are not restricted to the house, which is another pleasing feature. So many comics these days try to make everyone and his mother aesthetically pleasing when the fact of the matter is that most people are kind of weird looking. You could (almost) say the Bojeffries Saga has a kitchen-sink reality to it, painting people (and behaviours) as they really are rather than prettying them up. In this way even Parkhouse’s most extreme freaks of nature feel familiar and comfortable.  There’s no getting away from it: we are the Bojeffries, and the Bojeffries are us. There is no particular main character; everyone gets their chance to shine in a personal story. Obvious favourites will be the uncles with their crazy eastern European ways and their profound innocence in the face of modern society. Ginda is a surprisingly funny person to watch in action (though you would never actually want to meet her). Reth and Jobremus are Everymen with little personal impact, but their reactions can be priceless to behold. What stands out above the characters though, is the quintessential Britishness of the strip: everything from our pass-times and traditions to the foibles of working class life, our attitudes to sex, and that mightiest of drinks, Bovril. It even comes out in the formats used: One story ‘Our Factory Fortnight’ is produced as wordless illustrations combined with short passages of text below, just like you’d find in the old annuals of the 1950s. Another story, ‘Song Of The Terraces,’ is done as a light opera à la Gilbert and Sullivan. My favourite story is a brand new one, written to round off this definitive collection. In it, Moore brings the Bojeffries bang up to date (well, to 2009 at any rate) to show us what life has been like for the family since they achieved fame. With this, Moore brings our modern obsession with celebrity and a (supposedly) broken Britain. The characters are boiled down to their essential qualities by contrasting their onscreen personas with their abrasive family life. Watching them trapped in the bell jar of the Big Brother house is like watching ourselves: funny and tragic at the same time. The Bojeffries may be ridiculous, but they are also true. Recommended reading. Just have some Alka Seltzer to hand for the morning after.  Written by Alan Moore Illustrated by Steve Parkhouse Published by Knockabout Comics Available now! Reading experience: 4/5 Reviewer: Dion Winton-Polak Review originally written for Geek Syndicate. TODAY ON THE GINGER NUTS OF HORROR WEBSITE[BOOK REVIEW] THE ANGELS OF L19 BY JONATHAN WALKER THE HEART AND SOUL OF HORROR COMIC REVIEWS Comments are closed.
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