Campion The Wonder Force

That'll Sort Out The Men From The Boys
And the women from the girls, as, whilst your humble scribe might have designs on World Domination, he shudders at the sin of sexism.  
     "Why will it sort them out, Conrad?" I hear you quaver.  
     Leaving aside your obvious ill-health, I shall explain.  Today's title is a punning reference to "Champion the Wonder Horse", and you have to be at least as old as your humble scribe to be at all familiar with this black and white Western television programme.

I shall leave you to decide whom is whom

     Having got thus far, we shall now come to a screaming handbrake turn and head off over there, as I am wont to do.  Better get a brew on, this will take a while.
     Your humble scribe is a man (for want of a shorter description) whom has come to terms with arriving at that station in life we call "Middle Age", where the earlier debauchery of a Friday night gives way to a lie-in on Saturday morning.  Which is as racy as it gets at The Mansion.
     Which is kind of tangential to what follows.  Conrad is of the opinion that, when you hit MA, a sudden interest in The Classic English Murder Mystery rises in your metaphorical bosom*.  How else, maintains this modest artisan, can you explain my interest in Lord Peter Wimsey - or Campion?

A rip-roarin' read, doncha know

     "Campion" is a television programme that I was watching on Saturday morning.  Set in the Thirties, it focuses on the mysterious gentleman Edmund Campion (played by Peter Davison), an amateur sleuth who solves crimes with the aid of his loyal butler, Lugg.  It doesn't quite descend to the level of cliche where all the suspects gather at the denoument in the living room, with the Inspector, a uniformed constable and Our Hero, though it can come close.

There he is, looking all suave and shizzle

     The particular episode I ended up watching was "Flowers For The Judge" and concerned a valuable manuscript, so valuable that people were willing to KILL for it!
     Well, obviously.  If they were only interested in having a look or taking a photograph then where would your dramatic tension be?  Eh?
     Sorry, got a bit off track there.  Occupational hazard when there's a party going on in your head 7/52.  There had already been one death, another man was at risk of being hung - entirely due to the legal process, I hasten to assure you, this is Thirties England and we don't have lynch mobs here - and Campion was being set up to get killed -
     - which is when I hiked my carcass** off the sofa in order to go compile BOOJUM! so I missed the ending.
     No, sit back down, I'm nowhere near finished!  The actor playing Ritchie Barnabas looked and sounded familiar.  Conrad recognised him.  From where?

Soz, couldn't find a photo of him as Ritchie.

     Well, it took a few minutes, until I discovered that he had been played by Barrie Ingham.  And he'd played the Thal leader in the film "Doctor Who And The Daleks".  Art?

Luuuurv the eye-shadow

     Conrad is immensely cross with this film and it's successor, as their tawdry attempt to wring a few coppers out of the drama-mentary reconstruction series "Doctor Who" has hopelessly confused people, many of whom now believe that it's actually fiction.       As if!  Next you'll be trying it on and maintaining that ITV's breakthrough documentary series "The Avengers" isn't real.
     Oh, and talking of coincidences - I know, I know, we weren't but it's that damned party in my head - how about this one with Peter Davison -

Looking all suave and shizzle, again.

Er - goodness me, we're nearly at count and there was so much more I wanted to tell you -
     Hey!  I heard that!  No it is not " - a narrow escape".

Scourging The Sin Of Sexism
This is almost entirely out of left field, but allow me to introduce you to - Ida Lupino.  Art?

A saucy minx, eh? Read on!

     Ida was actually British by birth (Hooray for the Pond of Eden!) but got head-hunted across to South Canada, where she won respect from the critics as an actress, and enmity from the studio heads due to her willingness to stand up to them.
     She also became, uniquely, a film director and producer in the Fifties, when both professions were exclusively male preserves.  They rather broke the mould with her, one has to say.

There you go - Conrad -  willing to enslave the entire population of Earth, but in a wholly non-discriminatory way.  Pip pip!



*  This is the poetical kind of bosom, not the kind that crops up on beaches in bikinis
**  Sorry if this creates an un-nerving image