In August of 1976, the UK finished the Montreal Olympics with three gold medals. As I type this deathless prose, we have twenty one gold medals.
Does this mean the past was rubbish compared to the present?
Yes it does.
Does this mean we were downhearted in 1976?
Of course it does.
Does this mean I wasn't interested in the 1976 Olympics?
Of course it does.
Fortunately, I didn't need sporting glory. Why would I? I had the power and majesty of Marvel UK to keep me going.
It's that tale where the Fantastic Four find themselves up against the Maggia - and having all kinds of trouble with them.
Maybe it's just me but the very idea of the Maggia turning up in the FF's book seems like near-heresy. Surely the people who took on Galactus, Annihilus and Dr Doom shouldn't be lumbered with fighting a bunch of small-time gangsters who can't even beat Daredevil.
Zzzax is back!
And I still don't have a clue how many times the letter Z should feature in his name.
Neither does he, I suspect.
Neither does the Hulk, I suspect.
Then again, the Hulk probably doesn't know how many times any letter should feature in any name.
That aside, I always liked Zzzax. He had an appealing air of menace about him.
It's a tale of pulse-pounding drama, as the Tarantula continues his reign of terror.
Perhaps more importantly, Harry finally finds out Peter Parker's secret identity.
Surely no good can come of that.
Happy Herb Trimpe gives us the cover to a story I have no memory of.
All I know is that here we are, in the future and they still haven't got round to building a psychedrome.
What on Earth are the fools playing at? Why are they wasting all that money on the Olympics when they should be building a psychedrome?
I still remember our childhood chant, "Psychedromes, not velodromes!" Have they forgotten it already?
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