In this week of 1976, there were two versions of Let's Do The Latin Hustle in the UK Top 40.
I can't remember either of them.
I sadly fear this means I won't be able to do the Latin Hustle.
Whatever it is.
There's only one thing for it. I'm going to have to do the Marvel Hustle and see if I have more joy remembering what was in our favourite comic company's output in that week, instead.
Arkon might be back but, far more importantly, this is the week when we get to find out if we're Mastermind finalists.
I assume they mean a Marvel Mastermind finalist rather than a finalist in the show with the scary chair and Magnus Magnusson.
I can confirm that I was not a Marvel Mastermind finalist. Nor have I ever been a finalist on the TV show.
I do, however, have a scary chair.
I like to sit in it and hum the scary music that goes with it.
For some reason, this causes great annoyance to the people who're in the room with me.
I'm going to try and plumb the depths of my memory and declare that I think Malaguena was some sort of Mike Ploog drawn gypsy girl who Jason and Alexander met on their journeys.
Was she something to do with the Magic Man's Last Gasp Purple Light Medicine Show or whatever it was called?
I don't think I've ever read a single Brother Voodoo story.
I take it, from the cover, that his methodology for dealing with occult menaces was more likely to involve a punch in the teeth than a mystic incantation?
This story was my first-ever encounter with the Cobalt Man.
I think it was also my last.
To be honest, that's basically all I have to say on the subject.
It did put me right off making suits of armour from cobalt though. So, I suppose, in that way, it had a major impact upon the future course of my life.
I've just discovered that when you try to type, "Super-Spider-Man with the Super-Heroes," it's very easy to type, "Super Spider-Man with the Super-Herpes," by accident instead.
It's a mistake I shall try not to repeat.
If I was Spider-Man, I'd make sure not to repeat the mistake of swinging straight towards someone who's got a machine gun.
It's a cover story that I've never read.
And there are no clues as to what other tales are contained within this issue.
Did it not occur to Marvel UK that, forty years later, such a scenario would cause me serious blogging problems?
It's almost enough to shake my faith in humanity.
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