I talked about why I love the JLA in this piece here. Now I’m breaking down each and every issue of the comic book, from their very first appearance, with Atom-sized summaries. Enjoy!

PREVIOUSLY

What do 1960s children most want in a funny-book about a team of superheroes? That’s right. Heavy-handed bureaucracy. And so we begin with the villainous Headmaster Mind (yes, that is his name, yes, he is a teacher, and yes, his henchmen are formally enrolled as his students) who has invented a device that converts whatever mysterious substance the JLA produces when they use their powers into natural disasters. He dubs this substance ‘cardial energy’, a phrase that was invented forty minutes before deadline, and uses it to force the Justice League to mess up a routine iceberg incident, like a commonplace captain of the Titanic. The UN promptly passes a strongly-worded injunction about superpowers, which leaves the non-powered Batman and somehow even more non-powered Green Arrow, to solve the entire scheme by checking passenger lists and customs records and the like. While those two get heavily into the cross-referencing, the rest of the team - Wonder Woman, Flash, Green Lantern, Superman, Aquaman, the Atom - defeat their assigned B-tier villains (eg, ‘The Tattooed Man’ - a nemesis from an era where tattoos were a defining characteristic or ‘The Top’, a foe who can pirouette without becoming too badly dizzy). They manage this without using any of their powers, just to shove it in the UN’s overly officious faces. The important thing is that Batman has gone through the customs records and found the villain’s home address, and everything else from there is a formality. “Hey,” says Snapper Carr. “You could have used me! I don’t have any powers either.” But Batman’s not having it. “You shut your goddamn mouth, you ghastly little creep.”

Fun With Comics!

MVP

You’d think it’d be Green Lantern, for magnificently overcoming the inability to use his powers by instead using ten pin bowling skills to take down The Tattooed Man, while simultaneously bragging about all the hot date night action he has with Carol Ferris.

But then you also remember that GL drove to JLA HQ in a yellow car. I know you’re not using your power ring (which, ‘due to a necessary impurity, Green Lantern rings are powerless against’), Hal, but you shouldn’t even have a car that colour. What in blazes are you thinking?

Top Panel

Wait, what? Wonder Woman puts on shows above Paradise Island to entertain passing men? This feels somehow even less canon than ‘cardial energy’.

Villain Cryptic Crossword Clue

A school for villains? This troubled man had demerits. (10, 4)

Next Issue: THE JSA’S BACK, BABY!

I talked about why I love the JLA in this piece here. Now I’m breaking down each and every issue of the comic book, from their very first appearance, with Atom-sized summaries. Enjoy!

PREVIOUSLY

When the self-absorbed, interdimensional alien known only as ‘I’ realises that his life force is inexplicably drained every time the Justice League succeeds in defeating a villain (ie, once per issue), he responds as you or I would. Namely, by penning fake correspondence to the team, falsely attributed to the secret identities of members absent from this particular meeting, then kidnapping everyone via wormholes and space tentacles that drain the ‘success factor’ that allows the JLA to defeat their opponents, but only when they’re working as a team, thereby eliminating the entire concept of the team-up comic book. Realising he has no hope of achieving market penetration in any form of solo title, Snapper Carr therefore solves the problem. He suddenly remembers that the team kept multi-powered super-android Amazo around as an immensely dangerous and irresponsible trophy, which means that while they aren’t able/can’t be bothered to defeat ‘I’ themselves, they can reactivate Amazo to get him to do it for them instead. Which he does, restoring the JLA’s ability to work as a team. Amazo’s thanks? The team work together to pummel the snot out of him, before deactivating him once more. So, in effect, Amazo’s now just a time-saving appliance, like a blender or robot vacuum cleaner.

Fun With Comics!

MVP

It’s Supes, who, despite recognising Batman’s secret identity as a return addressee on this postal request for assistance, keeps his cool, deploying super-facial-muscles-control to prevent Green Lantern from picking up on the secret. That’s what dealing with Lois Lane’s snooping for several hundred issues teaches you. Hal, meanwhile, is oblivious, obsessed instead with admin.

Top Panel

Don’t you hate it when you’re summoned via aperture tentacle into an other-dimensional ultraworld to telepathically deal with a mortal enemy, the existence of whom you were previously unaware? Still, any mortal enemy of Snapper Carr is a friend of mine.

Villain Cryptic Crossword Clue

One alien (1)

Next Issue: UN SUPERPOWER BANS!

Previously on my confabulannotations of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes mystery, The Hound of the Baskervilles: Words were rearranged!

And now, the story continues…

“Because that is my special hobby. The differences are obvious. The supraorbital crest, the facial angle, the maxillary curve1, the⁠—”

“But this is my special hobby, and the differences are equally obvious. There is as much difference to my eyes between the leaded bourgeois type2 of a Times article and the slovenly print of an evening halfpenny paper3 as there could be between your negro and your Eskimo4. The detection of types is one of the most elementary branches of knowledge to the special expert in crime, though I confess that once when I was very young5 I confused the Leeds Mercury with the Western Morning News. But a Times leader is entirely distinctive, and these words could have been taken from nothing else. As it was done yesterday the strong probability was that we should find the words in yesterday’s issue.”

“So far as I can follow you, then, Mr. Holmes,” said Sir Henry Baskerville, “someone cut out this message with a scissors6—”

“Nail-scissors,” said Holmes. “You can see that it was a very short-bladed scissors, since the cutter had to take two snips over ‘keep away.’7”

“That is so. Someone, then, cut out the message with a pair of short-bladed scissors, pasted it with paste⁠—”

“Gum8,” said Holmes.

“With gum on to the paper9. But I want to know why the word ‘moor’ should have been written?”

“Because he could not find it in print. The other words were all simple and might be found in any issue, but ‘moor’ would be less10 common.”

TO BE CONTINUED

Over on the HitchPod podcast, we’ve just done a bonus episode for paid subscribers on D.O.A. from 1949.

Enjoy!

Check out more Hitchcock material!

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I talked about why I love the JLA in this piece here. Now I’m breaking down each and every issue of the comic book, from their very firs…

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Chris and I finish answering the question, what is the greatest three-episode run of Breaking Bad?

In the process, we cover such topics as the existential horror of Toy Story 4, piracy patriotism and the sublime glory of Columbian remake Metastasis.

PLUS: List Within A List - our favourite prison breaks!

PLUS PLUS: We reveal which show we’re covering next!

…

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Previously on my confabulannotations of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes mystery, The Hound of the Baskervilles: Holmes banged on about tariffs!

And now, the story continues…

“On the contrary, I think we are parti…

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I talked about why I love the JLA in this piece here. Now I’m breaking down each and every issue of the comic book, from their very first appearance, with Atom-sized summaries. Enjoy!

PREVIOUSLY

The Flash is teleported away from a JLA meeting to the Sahara Desert, where he beats up three dudes before they can even finish introducing themselves. Which, to be fair, is an occupational hazard of being a super speedster. Once Barry gets that out of his system, though, these dudes - who are, in fact, aliens from the planet Sfarl - explain that they are somehow generating enormous amounts of energy just by existing in proximity to other planets, with the charming side effect that those planets then explode. They’re rightly embarrassed by this, and ask the Justice League to help stop the Earth from exploding. Also, if they have time, could they confront Kraad, a villain who has been harvesting this catastrophic energy for his own weapons program, turning a cosmic tragedy into a personal power source. A fairly relatable Silicon Valley-style business model. The JLA charge Kraad’s fortress and are immediately disintegrated. Ha ha ha! That’ll teach you to get cocky. Luckily, the Atom, who was too small to bother with, reintegrates his teammates successfully, in the sense that all the original parts are accounted for, although he does mix up several sets of upper and lower bodies in a way that the story breezes past with remarkable composure. The reconstituted half-and-half JLA triumph regardless, and Kraad goes down in history as a villain who couldn’t even defeat heroes with the wrong legs.

Fun With Comics!

MVP

Wait. Green Lantern can will kryptonite into existence? And doesn’t do it all the time to force Superman to perform random chores around JLA HQ (fetching him a beer, taking his uniform to the dry cleaners, sitting there while Hal explains, at length, what a test pilot actually does, and so forth)? That’s the mark of a true hero.

Top Panel

So much good stuff in this one panel. Clark, stunned that he’s turned into crystal, as if this isn’t like the equivalent of an F tier red kryptonite side effect in a random issue of Superman’s Pal Jimmy Olsen. The Atom giving Hal credit for the nitwitted plan to turn Superman into crystal. And then Flash, out of nowhere, hitting on Wonder Woman, albeit with the faintest of praise. ‘The prettiest crystal girl I’ve ever seen’? Oh? Out of how many, Barry? Raise the bar, mate.

Villain Cryptic Crossword Clue

This villain takes a dark turn (5)

Next Issue: OLD SNAPPER!

Good news (for me)! I’ve just signed a two-book deal with Allen & Unwin and am about to start work on my next cricket book. Which means, once again, I’m inviting you to watch it all unfold, shadowing me throughout the entire process like some kind of literary Nazgûl.

The idea is the same as last time. Over the next six months, a small group of people wil…

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Chris and I continue to answer the question, what is the greatest three-episode run of Breaking Bad? In the process, we cover such topics as IMDB review wars, Chevy Chase documentaries and a Peter Gould screenwriting tip!

Email us: peakstreakspodcast@gmail.com

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Previously on my confabulannotations of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes mystery, The Hound of the Baskervilles: A threatening letter was revealed!

And now, the story continues…

“You shall share our knowledge before you leave this room, Sir Henry. I promise you that1,” said Sherlock Holmes. “We will confine ourselves for the present with your permission2 to this very interesting document, which must have been put together and posted yesterday evening. Have you yesterday’s Times, Watson?”

“It is here in the corner3.”

“Might I trouble4 you for it⁠—the inside page, please, with the leading articles?” He glanced swiftly over it, running his eyes up and down the columns. “Capital article this on free trade. Permit me5

to give you an extract from it.

“You may be cajoled6 into imagining that your own special trade or your own industry will be encouraged by a protective tariff, but it stands to reason that such legislation must in the long run keep away wealth from the country, diminish the value of our imports, and lower the general conditions of life in this island7.”

“What do you think of that, Watson?” cried Holmes in high glee8, rubbing his hands together with satisfaction. “Don’t you think that is an admirable sentiment?”

Dr. Mortimer looked at Holmes with an air of professional interest, and Sir Henry Baskerville turned a pair of puzzled dark eyes upon me.

“I don’t know much about the tariff9 and things of that kind,” said he, “but it seems to me we’ve got a bit off the trail10 so far as that note is concerned.”

TO BE CONTINUED

Rafts
Grade: A-

With the shocking ousting of Keeley, we enter the final week with Jackson musing philosophically about the very nature of ‘underdogs’ and how it can be that the Underdog Alliance here on Australian Survivor: Redemption can, in fact, have the numbers.

“Yet how can a lone dog be under the ‘underdogs’?” he wonders aloud in confessional.

But there’s no time for further rumination, because Caleb has made a raft and is fleeing the show! A bold play, indeed, from the season’s wildest player.

Jackson takes the opportunity to make the first palindromic confessional in Survivor history when he utters this two word sentence to producers: ‘Raft far!’

Everybody continues to watch from the shore in mild confusion, until our gorgeous sea king Kaelan from Brains v Brawn 2 rides in on a pair of dolphins, and guides Caleb effortlessly back to shore, before returning to the depths to rule his ocean empire.

Sally
Grade: D

Then it’s time for the final four immunity challenge, a classic game of Axe Ladder Water Discs™.

It’s precisely the kind of challenge in which Don would take great delight in telling everybody how he’d do each leg of it better. And yet, despite the lack of Don’s assistance, Jackson surges through to win immunity to establish this as one of the all-time tag-team challenge beast seasons. (Caleb, however, absolutely dudded by this not being a ‘build a raft and sail out to the middle of the fucken ocean for no reason’ challenge.)

Now it’s time to determine which of the underdogs (Loz, Caleb and Sally) will be betrayed by the other two. They each take turns to run off in pairs and assure one another that they have no choice but to vote off the third person. Which, of course, goes without saying. It’s literally their only option. But they say it anyway, because there are ad slots to fill.

(This includes ads for the new season of MasterChef. To which I say, pivot from the Australian Survivor season to the MasterChef one by having the chefs make a meal out of rice, rotten coconut and a dead sea slug, Channel Ten, you cowards!)

Jackson, on the other hand, is adamant he’s voting for Caleb.

“There’s nothing Caleb can say to me that I’d believe,” he tells us.

“Everything you’re saying is true,” agrees Caleb, setting up a paradox for Jackson to wrestle against. And lose.

The point is that Loz agrees to vote with Caleb for Sally, setting up a fire challenge. Or, as it’s known in these parts, the poor man’s rocks.

But Caleb ignites the fire with only the raw power of his crazed, blue eyes (David: “I’ll allow it!”) and Sally goes home.

Oh, and, in doing so, Loz successfully books herself a spot in the final two, no matter who wins the final challenge.

Right?

The Caleb Convoy
Grade: A

Into the final three, and Survivor fans all around Australia (and traditional Australian rivals, The World) are clambering aboard the Caleb Convoy.

We’re doing it for BJ McKay. We’re doing it for his best friend Bear. We’re doing it for the Bandit. We’re doing it for Optimus Prime. We’ve got ourselves a convoy.

But there’s no time to think of any more pop culture truckers. For example, Clint Eastwood and orangutan chum Clyde from the Every Which Way But Loose and Any Which Way You Can movies? Did either of them drive a rig? Maybe. It’s been a long time since I’ve watched those films. And we can’t go back and check because it’s time for the final immunity challenge.

Or, to be more precise, it’s time to meet the loved ones before the final immunity challenge. And we do.

The challenge itself? A classic game of Look Out, Fuckers, I’m Gonna Stab Your Feet With Sharp Sticks For Hours On End™.

Once again, Australian Survivor producers, when considering my application to the show, please note I would not compete in a final challenge such as this (or, indeed, any of the other torturefests you’ve concocted over the years). I would instead tap out in the first minute and spend the rest of the time chilling with my loved one (Travis Head).

David reminds the players that victory here will ‘guerentee’ them a spot in the final tribal council, a lovely callback to his pronunciation of the ‘Berren’ tribe earlier in the season. Remember the Barren tribe? Not really? No, me neither.

Loz
Grade: C-

About nine hours into this ridiculous challenge, Jackson starts to feel sick. Is there a pressure point that could ease his nausea? If so, Jackson’s shameful ignorance of reflexology prevents him from finding it, and, after a number of false tumbles, he eventually falls into David’s mighty arms, defeated.

While medical professionals check if Jackson is still alive (good news: he is!), Loz tries to cut a deal with Caleb to let her win the challenge and put an end to all this torture.

“All what torture?” says Caleb, innocently.

And, of course, shame on Loz, who has known Caleb and his Gollumesque tendencies for weeks now. Simply offer the man a sweet juicy coney, delicious and tasty and warm, Loz. He’ll jump at the suggestion.

Instead, Caleb wins the challenge, and heads immediately to tribal council where he stuns everybody watching by keeping Jackson and brutally voting out Loz.

Then wakes up during the night to see Loz’s girls standing spookily over him, whispering ominous unspeakable threats.

Caleb
Grade: B

And so, after a final two breakfast that Caleb caught in his bare hands, it’s time for final Tribal Council.

Caleb and Jackson make their cases to the jury. And while Jackson appears, at first, to be the more compelling speaker, Mark is there to help Caleb along. Every time Caleb struggles to get his message across, Mark interrupts to set him back on the right path, the verbal equivalent of David catching Jackson as he fell off the challenge the previous night.

An example:

Caleb: I KNEW I HAD NO CHOICE BUT TO COME FOR YOU ALL, SLITTING YOUR THROATS WITH BRUTAL BACKSTABBING WHENEVER YOU LEAST EXPECTED IT AND SOMETIMES CATCH A FISH IN MY BARE HANDS!
Jury: (eyes widen in alarm)
Mark: But Caleb, would you say you’re the kind of truck driver who blows the horn when kids signal for him to do it?
Caleb: YES I AM!
Jury: (applauds)

As Mark lifts Caleb up, Jackson is dragged down by Blanche, who points out that Jackson didn’t talk to her for eighteen days! The jury tuts disapprovingly.

Look, I don’t want to brag, but if I were ever on Survivor, I could go eighteen days ignoring my entire tribe. Easy.

Anyway, after everybody’s had their say (notable surprise exception: Cam!), we see a couple of votes from Mark (for Caleb) and Simon (for Jackson). For fans who’ve monitored closely which of this pair typically has their fingers on the pulse, this is a bit of a spoiler for who wins.

Then David buggers off back to Sydney where he promises to read the votes live on air five days before the show, in front of those fans who are even more keen to be spoiled.

Because, yes. It turns out that Caleb is the winner. Congratulations, Mark!

And blast those air horns, folks!

I talked about why I love the JLA in this piece here. Now I’m breaking down each and every issue of the comic book, from their very first appearance, with Atom-sized summaries. Enjoy!

PREVIOUSLY

It begins, as so many things do, with issue three villain Kanjar Ro devising a plan based around his newfound Descartian mind-body dualism ability to separate beings from their auras. The plan is, as you’d hope, both simple and insane:

1. escape prison by leaving your body behind

2. steal the auras of five Justice Leaguers

3. use said auras as bait

4. defeat the JLA

5. steal Earth while they’re distracted

6. presumably rule the world as an alien king?

Classic Kanjar Ro! This is precisely the kind of lateral thinking that gets you very far in the Silver Age. The only hitch to this otherwise watertight scheme is that Kanjar Ro was imprisoned on the planet Rann, holiday home for famed Earthling jetpack-wielder Adam Strange. The only other hitch? Auras, it turns out, can’t actually do much. They’re mostly just metaphysical residue. Vibes. Mood lighting. So Adam Strange, lounging around on Rann, otherwise minding his own business, stumbles upon the aura situation, shows up on the aura-Earth using hand-woven science, where he briefs the real league on Kanjar Ro’s scheme. They employ the help of embittered Kanjar Ro aura henchman, Kanjar Ro’s aura-less body (!), to find the physical version of the Earth, reunite it with the aura version, and the whole thing wraps up with Kanjar Ro’s body imprisoned alongside his own aural duplicate. So, at least he has company?

Fun With Comics!

MVP

It’s Wonder Woman, who channels the infamous closing segment of equally infamous early-oughts ogle-fest The Man Show, by inexplicably turning a planet’s surface into a trampoline and bouncing up and down to distract Kanjar Ro’s mind-controlled aura version of the Atom. You can take the aura out of the man, but you can’t take the man out of the aura. Or some damn thing.

Top Panel

Oh, aura version of Hal. I reckon even if a beast’s breath wasn’t the colour yellow (which, ‘due to a necessary impurity, Green Lantern rings are powerless against’), the fact that it’s visible at all is a clue that it’s somewhere in which you don’t want to become trapped.

Villain Cryptic Crossword Clue

See issue three

Next Issue: SILVER AGE BODY HORROR!

Or, indeed, our favourite TV shows.

We kick off by asking, what is the greatest three-episode run of Breaking Bad?

In the process, we cover such topics as delayed credits, the writing of Star Wars Episode VIII and Vince Gilligan's shocking missed callback.

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And now there’s nothing.

Not nothing nothing. There’s the IPL, if you want to be up at midnight like a glassy-eyed possum, watching a fifteen-year-old tonk sixes into baying crowds, all screaming deliriously like they’re at a bloody Robbie Williams concert, and the big fella’s just taken off his shirt during ‘Rock DJ’.

Have you heard about this kid? Just out there, playing in the IPL, bold as brass. I’m not talking about one of those BBL ankle-biters who stand awestruck on the field while the fireworks go off then get to keep a player’s cap as a reward. Or those Rock Eisteddfod munchkins doing elaborate gestures at a Power Surge button like they’re in a school play about the wonders of electricity. Or the little ferals in the stands chasing after sixes like golden retrievers and lobbing them back into the ground. No, this little shit is playing in the actual match. Fucken smashing them too.

Everyone’s going spare about it - ‘extraordinary talent’, ‘generational prospect’. Analytics merchants weeping into their laptops. Look, good on the kid. Genuinely. Maybe he is that talented - I wouldn’t know, I’m not staying up until three in the morning to find out. But, frankly, I’m not that impressed. As far as I’m concerned, it just means the ‘best T20 competition on Earth’ can be dominated by some young ratbag jacked up on red cordial. That’s not a tribute to the child. That’s a damning indictment of the format. Hell, my asthmatic niece could hit just as many sixes if you gave her a big bat, a flat pitch, and boundaries shorter than a Hobart summer.

No wonder none of the Aussie bowlers can be arsed playing over there. What are you gonna do? Bounce the little bastard? You can’t win - you get him out, you’re being a cruel mongrel, picking on a child half your age. You let him slog you around, you’re a hopeless clown, past your prime. Nah, if I were Big Hoff, Big Cummo or Big Mitch Starc, I’d keep doing what they’re doing - stay at home until this precocious terror’s forced to go back to school or whatever.

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Previously on my confabulannotations of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes mystery, The Hound of the Baskervilles: Sir Henry finally arrived

And now, the story continues…

“Who knew that you were going to the Northumberland Hotel?” asked Holmes, glancing keenly1 across at our visitor.

“No one could have known. We only decided after I met Dr. Mortimer2.”

“But Dr. Mortimer was no doubt already stopping there?”

“No, I had been staying with a friend,” said the doctor.

“There was no possible indication3 that we intended to go to this hotel.”

“Hum!4 Someone seems to be very deeply interested in your movements.” Out of the envelope he took a half-sheet of foolscap paper folded into four5. This he opened and spread flat upon the table. Across the middle of it a single sentence had been formed by the expedient of pasting printed words6 upon it. It ran:

As you value your life or your reason7 keep away from the moor.

The word “moor” only was printed in ink.

“Now,” said Sir Henry Baskerville, “perhaps you will tell me, Mr. Holmes, what in thunder8 is the meaning of that, and who it is that takes so much interest in my affairs?”

“What do you make of it, Dr. Mortimer? You must allow that there is nothing supernatural about this9, at any rate?”

“No, sir, but it might very well come from someone who was convinced that the business is supernatural.”

“What business?” asked Sir Henry sharply. “It seems to me that all you gentlemen know a great deal more than I do about my own affairs10.”

TO BE CONTINUED

Bewildering Storms
Grade: B+

Some great lead-ins to this week’s Australian Survivor episodes. First, on Sunday, during a typically dreadful 10 News+ report, we had one of the newscasters outrageously oversimplifying a recent scientific announcement: “Tell me, Doctor. Why is 7am the best time for everybody to do their exercise?”

Only for this heroic doctor to not have it whatsoever: “There’s a simple explanation for that. It isn’t. These things vary across the population.”

The doctor then continued on in this vein throughout the conversation. A titan of not putting up with nonsense. Or perhaps a rebel. Either way, get him on Titans v Rebels 2.

Anyway, despite having just won a majority in the most recently concluded vote, Cameron starts scheming up a bewildering storm that nobody can quite follow, but laughing uproariously as he does so. A twisted Joker-like figure.

Brooke, however, now in the minority, gives a hearty thumbs-up to whatever it is that Cam is proposing. “I’d be more than happy to take you to the end,” she advises him, which should be a rather large red flag that you may not have quite been playing the greatest game in Survivor history. Cam doesn’t mind. He explodes in laughter at the very idea he’s a goat.

But suddenly, it’s time for a reward challenge, for more IKEA vouchers (so see last week’s jokes)! It’s a classic game of Knot Disentangle Muddy Bean Bag Toss™ that Cam wins comfortably.

Befitting his crazy schemes status, Cam then takes Sally and Keeley on the reward, inexplicably leaving poor old Loz behind to deal with the predictable suggestions that she might now be willing to vote out Cam? Make a big move?

Loz, however, is having none of it, instead asking all the boring questions like ‘how would this proposed plan benefit my game?’ Yawn. Grow up, Loz.

‘By what method might I win this $500K game I’m playing?’

Soooo dull.

Cameron
Grade: C+

Onto the immunity challenge, a classic game of Knees Bent Ball Balancer™. It’s an opportunity for Cam, who is remarkably good at the challenge, to yammer on endlessly and continue to annoy the living heck out of everybody, but in a manner that tickles him no end.

Eventually, even David gets irritated, and starts making up new rules.

“Hands on head,” he decrees. “Interlock your fingers. Close your eyelids 30%. Elbows at 70 degrees. Stop talking endless bollocks at your opponents.”

It’s the last restriction that dooms Cam, and Keeley goes on to win immunity, putting Brooke under pressure. A challenge beast finally not winning immunity one vote after the newbies finally won a hard-earned 4-3 majority? Perfect time to get rid of her, right?

Wrong. Instead, at a rainy tribal council, talk soon turns (as it so often does) to the story of Icarus.

“You’re telling me a dude flew?!” laughs Cam. “To the sun!?!” (laughs uproariously at the very notion) “How did he even breathe?” (continues laughing) “I hope he had some SPF-50+ sunscreen.” (still more laughter)

And so on. It’s enough to see Cam sent home in a unanimous vote, but laughing cheerily, even as his torch is snuffed.

A truly dreadful vote from the underdogs. Yes, Cameron might be annoying enough to justify it. Perhaps. But if he is that annoying, how furious will the jury be with them all?

Maggots
Grade: D

The Monday night episode is preceded by a wheel spin on Deal or No Deal. To which I say, no.

Deal or No Deal is a simple game. You choose a briefcase from a future Duchess of Sussex, then spend half an hour opening more cases and negotiating with The Banker, a voiceless embodiment of shared contempt for the finance industry, then take your winnings home. That’s it.

There is no need to burden such a simple concept with needless extras (eg wheels, islands).

Similarly, there’s no need to burden Survivor with needless fly larvae. And yet, that’s what we get, with the players waking up to a visit from the Maggot Fairy.

After a Classic Caleb Maggot Freakout Dance™, he’s warned by Sally that he’s getting on Brooke’s nerves, and it’s genuinely heartbreaking that he did not know that doing a maggot dance was annoying.

Although, perhaps Sally’s not the best judge of where everybody stands right now, given that, as this week goes on, there’s growing evidence that the maggots ate her cerebral cortex.

Nevertheless, there is a ceremonial burning of the maggots and all the clothes with which they came in contact. (This includes a replica of Don’s hat, which the producers provide, as a bit of a laugh.)

The maggots scream as they burn, as you’d hope.

Brooke
Grade: B

Suddenly, it’s time for the immunity challenge, a classic game of Rope Stretch Spelling Bee™! The words they’re spelling? ‘Final Five’.

It’s typically maddening (David: “You’ve been doing this challenge for an hour now. So to make it more difficult you have to put the next block down while having screaming maggots in your clothes.”) but, once again, it’s Keeley who comes good, earning immunity yet again.

At around this point, pretty much everybody forgets how to count to six. Jackson bemoans that the ‘underdogs’ have all the power, when, in fact, they have three votes out of the previously mentioned six. Which would, in accordance with the tenets of subtraction, be identical to the numbers he, Keeley and Brooke would have.

Muddling matters further is Sally, who, in a desperate search for a big move, comes up with a series of plans, each more convoluted and brain-broken than the last. So much so that I still don’t quite understand what, exactly, she was arguing for. But definitely the dumbest plans since… well, the previous night.

(I should also point out that Sally has the other half of Brooke’s half-idol. Not that Brooke knows this, because Caleb has deduced the half-idol’s existence and is pretending he has a half as well. A half fake-idol. Or a fake half-idol. Whichever works. Either way, I think I’ve officially resubscribed to Caleb’s YouTube channel and am all aboard the Caleb Convoy.)

“Mercy sakes alive, looks like we got us a Caleb Convoy.”

The point is that, despite all the bluster, Brooke is indeed voted out, saving my head from exploding at back-to-back missed obvious votes.

What if the biggest move was to not listen to producers endlessly egging you on to make big moves when small and normal moves would win you the game?

Keeley
Grade: A

Tuesday night’s Australian Survivor is preceded by a Millionaire Hot Seat in which somebody claims the Beckett play was called ‘Waiting For Poirot’. So that’s very much the vibe of the evening.

The players return after Brooke’s vote-out, amazed at how dark it is.

Jackson and Keeley - now calling themselves ‘The Kaputs’ - despair at being 3-2 down in the numbers. An odd reaction considering they did nothing when the vote was 3-3. Do these players have no conception of the forward march of time?

Caleb, meanwhile, is delighted. He explains how his goal the entire game had been to eliminate all the returnees. “On day one, I looked around and saw that I was surrounded by some of the best players in Survivor history, as well as Simon, and I knew I had to get them out.”

There’s also some more half-idol chatter, but that’s interrupted by another infuriating immunity challenge, this time a classic game of Stacking Maze Claw™!

At one point, when David is busy counting his biceps, Keeley commentates her own progress in the challenge. Great stuff from Keeley. Started as a player, joined the returnees, now hosting the show. Speed-running David’s entire career. The Golden Goddess. Get her in a season of DONDI.

Not that it helps in the challenge, which Jackson wins. The question then becomes one of whether Keeley and Jackson can drag another random player into their alliance. This new alliance (‘So hot. Like a sunrise.’) would, of course, then be known as Rando and Kaput.

(I am not apologising for this terrible joke.)

But no such alliance is forthcoming. Instead, Sally, still on a quest for baffling big moves, tells Keeley at Tribal Council that if she (Keeley) shares her (Keeley’s, previously Brooke’s) half idol with her (Sally) then she (Sally) will play the whole idol for her (Keeley).

“Okey-dokey,” says Keeley and hands over her half idol. And then Sally doesn’t play it for anybody, and Keeley goes home.

Sally, with the very big move of ensuring Keeley will never, ever vote for her.

I talked about why I love the JLA in this piece here. Now I’m breaking down each and every issue of the comic book, from their very first appearance, with Atom-sized summaries. Enjoy!

PREVIOUSLY

All members of the team incapable of concocting an excuse have gathered in JLA headquarters to celebrate Snapper Carr passing his exams (what does Snapper study, you might ask? He is pursuing a Bachelor of Ridiculous Jive Linguistics, and you can tell he’s doing well, because in his very first panel he refers to his ‘tardy card’ and calls a cake a ‘flour tower’). Luckily for all in attendance, the ‘festivities’ are interrupted by news of a spate of robberies by alien bee-men! Flash, Green Lantern, Wonder Woman, the Martian Manhunter, and Green Arrow charge off to put a stop to this insect crime spree, only to find themselves captured by their Queen, Zazzala of the planet Korll, who blackmails them into finding an immortality serum invented by ‘a bee man genius’ named Per Kazz. The quintet dutifully head off to track down the chemicals needed to create this serum, inexplicably protected by a lava monster, triffids and a glacier chess board? They magnetise, weed and checkmate the various opponents respectively, and return the chemicals to Zazzala, who permits them to return to Earth and Snapper’s party. ‘Ugh. Can’t we stay here?’ says J’onn. And when Zazzala says no, they tighten the vials of chemicals so tight she can never open them up. Or something. A fitting revenge.

Fun With Comics!

MVP

It’s a three-way tie between Aquaman, Batman and Superman, who’ve all feigned important cases that allow them to miss Snapper’s party. Frankly, Arthur’s the one who deserves the most credit here. Bruce and Clark have a convincing track record of ongoing adventures worth reading. But what’s Arthur claiming? ‘Oh, I have some kelp to check on’? (Atom also misses the party, but is forced to fight Doctor Light in an issue of his own book (issue 8, editor Julie Schwartz desperately informs us, as if we’d care), and that’s barely better.)

Top Panel

One of the robberies taking place sees Zazzala’s bee-men stealing important literature and, in the process, removing the embossed letters from the covers of books! It’s wonderful nonsense, improved immeasurably by Hal’s stupid old power ring once again being incapable of specifically stopping the yellow ‘menacing letters’ and needing a rescue from Green Arrow, of all people. Superb stuff.

Villain Cryptic Crossword Clue

An alien queen has some pizzazz, a la Amidala (7)

Next Issue: KANJAR RO RETURNS!

Previously on my confabulannotations of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes mystery, The Hound of the Baskervilles: Holmes deduced victim witlessness

And now, the story continues…

Chapter 4 - Sir Henry Baskerville

Our breakfast table was cleared early, and Holmes waited in his dressing-gown1 for the promised interview. Our clients were punctual to their appointment, for the clock had just struck ten when Dr. Mortimer was shown up2, followed by the young baronet3. The latter was a small, alert, dark-eyed man about thirty years of age, very sturdily built, with thick black eyebrows and a strong, pugnacious face. He wore a ruddy-tinted tweed suit4 and had the weather-beaten appearance5 of one who has spent most of his time in the open air, and yet there was something in his steady eye and the quiet assurance of his bearing which indicated the gentleman.

“This is Sir Henry Baskerville,” said Dr. Mortimer.

“Why, yes,” said he, “and the strange thing is, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, that if my friend here had not proposed coming round to you this morning I should have come on my own account. I understand that you think out little puzzles6, and I’ve had one this morning which wants more thinking out than I am able to give it.”

“Pray take a seat7, Sir Henry. Do I understand you to say that you have yourself had some remarkable experience since you arrived in London?”

“Nothing of much importance, Mr. Holmes. Only a joke8, as like as not. It was this letter, if you can call it a letter9, which reached me this morning.”

He laid an envelope upon the table, and we all bent over it. It was of common quality, grayish in colour. The address, “Sir Henry Baskerville, Northumberland Hotel,” was printed in rough characters10; the postmark “Charing Cross,” and the date of posting the preceding evening.

TO BE CONTINUED