Superman: True Brit by John Cleese and Kim Howard Johnson, and John Byrne and Mark Farmer.
Title: Superman: True Brit.
Author: John Cleese and Kim Howard Johnson.
Artist: John Byrne and Mark Farmer.
Genre: Graphic novels, fiction, super heroes, satire, parody.
Country: U.S.
Language: English.
Publication Date: 2004.
Summary: In this very British tale, the Last Son of Krypton's rocketship crash-lands in an English town even smaller than Smallville - Weston-super-Mare - where the infant Kal-El is taken in by adoptive parents - the Clarks - who raise their son Colin to hide his powers, because the worst thing anyone can do is stand out from the crowd. But when Colin grows up to become a mild-mannered reporter working for the Daily Smear, a powerful tabloid newspaper dedicated to uncovering the biggest story of the century, he finds that the key to his success may actually be to go public. What will the neighbours think? The story aims to poke fun at the apparent desire to conform embedded in the British psyche, as well as mocking the British tabloid press.
My rating: 6/10
My review:
♥ "After hurtling countless light-years through the blackness of space, he will land in the heart of the greatest civilization on earth, their mightiest, most advanced, most powerful nation, The British Empire! Think of the wonders our Kal-El will experience in England! The scintillating dialogues! The insights of the great earthly minds! You will be a super-man among men... They will cheer your name wherever you roam! Soar proudly, my little Kal-El..."
♥ And so, Colin Clark grows up British. Quietly. Respectably. And without causing embarrassment. Suppressing every temptation to use his natural-born abilities. So super-flying. No super-speed. No super x-ray vision. No super-dancing. No super-chartered accountancy. No super-radioactive spiders. And, most of all, no super-heat vision.
♥ "We should have helped him learn to control himself, like a true Brit."
"What if no one thinks he's a Clark? After all, if a tree falls in the forest-"
"-then Colin's probably pulling them out by the roots!"
♥ "I'm ready, mum."
"Look at you, all grown up, ready to leave for university. Now, Colin, you know what we've told you. Come sit a moment."
"Always wear clean underwear in case I'm in an accident?"
"Not that!"
"Uh... About my special powers?"
"Yes, dear. No one must ever see you using them. People hate what they fear. They despise what they don't like. No... They don't understand what they believe-well, they might think you're a mutant!"
"What?"
"Or an elephant man."
"Beg your pardon?"
"Or worse... Their superior, gifted with powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal man. Folks 'round these parts don't care much for that. Especially the press..."
"Then I'll tell them I'm not a mutant! I'll tell them I'm Colin Clark..."
"Hmm... Well, I suppose-"
"...from the planet Krypton."
"Tsk. That's not going to reflect very well on your father and me. They may think we're aliens, too, the vanguards of a vast alien armada out to undermine all earthly civilisation."
"Then what should I do?"
"Do what we've taught you all along, son. No one must see you using these powers. We're a humble family, us Clarks."
"Aw, but, mum-"
"You have been cursed! Hide these powers away! Anytime you're tempted to show off, just say to yourself, "W.W.T.N.T.?" What would the neighbours think? Our family motto for generations. The words all of England lives by."
♥ "You know, people respect a postman."
"I don't care about respect! I'd rather be a reporter, mum!"
"I suppose you'll probably meet one of those girls they put on page three..."
"Dad, I'm not going to work for one those tabloids! I'm shooting for the good ones! The papers that fight for the truth, for what's important. Even without using my natural-born abilities, maybe I can still make the world a better place!"
"So, you're not planning to work for a British newspaper?"
♥ "We lose the biggest match of the year, and it's all my fault! And to make matters worse, I impale a bloke!"
Mom and dad were right! I'm ostracised by my peers! I'm a social pariah! Could my week get any worse? Yes, it could...
"People ask me, "Mr. Whyte-Badger, how can you print such terrible things in your papers?" And I say, "It sells, doesn't it?" That's why we can offer jobs to future journalists-know what I mean? Life is full of sex and violence. Look at your own school newspaper. "Young man gets impaled by a cricket bat." Bloody 'ell, what I wouldn't give to cover a story like that! And how does the student reporter here write about it, this Colin Clark? "...He suffered serious internal injuries when the bat slipped. Doctors decided against removing the object, and the subject is currently recuperating..." No blood gushing twenty feet high, no guts hanging out! You call that journalism?! And, Mr. Clark is the one who flung the bat in the first place. What a great first-person piece-what it feels like to actually impale someone! A good reporter uses every advantage, Clark! A good reporter takes advantage! How could you waste an opportunity like this?!?"
♥ And so, Superman raced across Britain, from the beaches of Brighton-
"Their names are Jonathan and Martha..."
-to the hills of Wales!
"...about this tall..."
From the moors of Scotland-
"...makes a lovely Yorkshire pudding..."
-to the pubs of Ireland!
"...could knock you down with one hand behind her back..."
And from the docks of Liverpool-
"...so I was an only child..."
-to the clubs of London!
"...when he got to the barn, all the cows had died!"
Nothing!
Fearing he might have become an orphan... again... he returned to Weston-Super-Mare.
"Can we come out now?"
"Shhh! He's come back!"
"Mum? Dad? It almost sounds like they're next door! Huh?!"
"Colin?!"
"Uh-Martha, did you forget to tell him?"
"Tell me what?"
"Well, actually, Colin, we moved house. We needed a change of... umm... scenery-Hope you don't mind."
"But if you needed change of scenery, why did you move next door?"
"A change of angle?"
"It's this Superman business!"
"Yes, but nobody knows I'm Superman. I'm just Colin Clark, reporter. Even if I have to-compromise-to be a good tabloid journalist, I can still be helpful, pleasant and nice when I'm Superman! And if I'm helpful, pleasant and nice, nobody will ever think I'm a tabloid journalist. Right?"
"Colin, you're missing the-"
♥ "..Queen herself presented Superman with a special Royal Award today for his efforts. She then announced the second of her three impossible super-tasks: Reduce the waiting time for hip operations."
"I'm afraid I don't really understand surgery. ..I think it would be better if I speak to the medical society meeting next week.
..."So, if you all played less golf, you could easily decrease the waiting time for hip operations. And that would help me out quite a bit with Her Majesty! So what do you think? For the good of the nation?"
♥ "Mum! Dad! I was so worried!"
"Colin! I mean--Superman! Come inside before one of the neighbours sees you!"
"Did you move house--again?!"
"I could have sworn we told you this time!!"
"Mum, I looked everywhere!"
"Yes, well, we've had a lot on our minds, son. Superman. Colin. I don't even know what to call you anymore!"
"Mum, I'm just Colin! I've been having a rough time, I'm afraid. Everyone loves Superman... Well, almost everyone. And Mr. Whyte Badger is very happy with me. but I have to write these dreadful stories. If I don't make them lurid enough, they're rewritten until they're really sleazy. I thought journalism was about reporting, but they've lost interest in any kin do reality--"
"Son, do you have to wear that getup in the house?"
"What? Oh, sorry, Dad... Turn your head please, Mum. The Queen is happy with Superman, but I still feel guilty."
"Never mind, dear."
"I met this great girl yesterday. But she has to go back to America."
"Why don't you just come back here and get a part-time job with the Weston-Super-Mare Mercury?"
"But--I mean, Mum, what do you think?"
"Best listen to your father, dear. Give up this silly Superman business or it'll end in tears."
♥ "Are you alright?!"
"Oh, I'm just fine! Except--I've got a cricket ball lodged in my skull! Is there a doctor in the house?"
"If we try to take the ball out, he could die! But it's destroyed the area of the brain controlling logical, rational thought. Don't worry, they'll never notice in Australia. "Brainiac" here might make a valuable addition to one of my newspapers!"