Let The Meatballs Go...

By Tony Lee

And the prize for oddest title for a column? Goes to Anna Mondo, comics blogger extraordinaire for the above line, uttered to yours truly and Bevis Musson while waiting for a table in a Pizza Hut on Saturday. But I'm getting ahead of myself and I'm moneyshotting all over the floor before I even begin like a naughty gimp with a premature ejaculation problem. So. Let's start at the beginning.

This weekend was the Birmingham International Comics Show, or BICS as it's known. A weekend of comics in the town that I live in, which saves me on extortionate hotel bills. Huzzah and all that. It was also the first weekend con that I have ever 'exhibited' at, something I thought was going to be a nightmare, but in fact – hold on, I'm drifting again.

The original plan of the booth was to have a place where Dan Boultwood and I could sit during the day and chat to people. In Bristol we call this the 'Ramada bar', as it's the main place between panels and rooms in the Ramada hotel, it's warm, comfortable and sells food and drink. Lots of drink. But in Birmingham, there was a choice of hotel, which meant that you couldn't risk not being at the centre, because like the New York Comic Con, once the day was over, professionals scattered to the four winds like dust. Also, whereas the panels in Bristol are in the hotel, in Birmingham? They're in the Exhibitors hall.

And so we decided that year that this Birmingham, we'd get a table. We'd have a variety of things to sell anyway, DFC comics. Doctor Who issues and suchlike. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Of course, a week before the convention Dan had to drop out due to family related reasons, mainly the fact that if he ran off to a convention on the weekend of his girlfriends birthday, life wouldn't be worth living. And so I was left alone with the table. Which cost almost £100. That's about $600 or something in your American dollars, Yankees. I get confused these days.

We never intended to make the money back though, we were happy to blow it as an expense, as it really was just a chance to speak to fans and pros, sit and have a laugh. But alone, I'd look like Billy no mates. And I'd already bought the banner.

Ah yes, the banner. This caused a lot of controversy this weekend, with apparently the UK creators being 70/30 percent split, the former (and larger) group actually understanding that my banner was a joke, ironic and totally taking the piss out of me (I mean, a banner that states THE MAN, THE MYTH, THE LEGEND – TONY LEE – MIGHT NOT BE ANY OF THESE with a load of mildly depreciating, tongue in cheek quotes, what isn't there to get that I might not be taking myself seriously), whereas there was still a good thirty percent who actually believed that I was serious, that I believed my own press and was an arrogant fool and out of control.

Now first off, for fucks sake guys, have you ever bothered to look more carefully at me than your usual cursory disdaining glance? How could you honestly think that I'm taking myself seriously? I mean, I've only mentioned in this column, ooh, I don't know – about once a bloody month that the waistcoat/tie Tony is a brand, a recognisable visual medium that's aimed purely for self promotion. And when I say that, I mean promotion of my work, as well as building brand awareness to publishers who might not know me. If you honestly, after all these years still believe that I'm actually being like this because this is the way I am? Then either a) you don't really know me, you've not bothered to get to know me and you sure as hell haven't had a relaxed drink with me or b) You're a cretin.

Anyway, I made this banner. It was a piss take banner, and a lit of creators looked at it in ways that varied from impressed ness to repulsion. And even the ones who looked at me and went 'That banner. Really? I mean, you spent all that money for that, really?' when hearing how much it actually cost, were asking me for details and actively stating the egotistical things they'd do with their own banner. So I'm not alone. I'm just the one happy to take the piss out of himself before you all do.

So anyway, I arrived on the Friday with a small collection of comics including a couple of Doctor Whos, and my patented cardboard stand.

Yup, I made a stand. Of cardboard. Why? Because to get the exact same requirements, a three tier comic rack that could hold two comics wide? Would cost me over fifty pounds. Made with gaffa tape and a cardboard box on the Thursday night? Cost me nothing. And it stayed up the duration.

Anyway. I set up my stand, set up my comics, set up my banner. And the end result looked like this.

The booth, Friday...

And so with this done, I went to the convention party. Well, first I went to a bar with Lee 'Budgie' Barnett and the comic podcasters Comic Racks and Geek Syndicate. And then I went to the party. Which was good, and a lot of old faces were there which is always nice. Managed to also finally meet Paul Peart-Smith, my artist on the upcoming AiT/PlanetLar book Dodge & Twist, and he's one of the coolest and nicest guys I've ever met. No word of a lie. I also caught up with Harry Markos and Michael Wright, chatted to the 2000 A.D. guys about fan reactions to "Stalag 666" and managed to have an incredibly geeky Doctor Who conversation with Mike Collins and Al Ewing. I caught up with Ravens Gate artists Dom Reardon and Lee O'Connor and saw amazing art. I saw the new, improved Dez Skinn 2.0, toned and tanned and looking like a smaller version of Right Said Fred. And when it finished around 1am, we escaped to the next bar to carry on. The hardcore drinkers went on to the Subside rock bar, open til 6am, but I went home. And I'd like to point out that I was sober, hadn't touched a drop all night and drove home.

Saturday? I was there bright and shiny while all around me were dull and grey. And I was up at a stupid time in the morning. Why? Because I'd realised that the previous day, I'd not actually picked up any change for the booth, in case someone actually (shock horror) bought something. And so I had to go find a bank that was open to change some money. Which of course meant I started my day stomping around Birmingham looking for a bloody bank that was open. But this didn't deter my joy. And my sparkle meter doubled when Bevis Musson, my erstwhile Journal collaborator joined me at the booth, selling some Dead Queen Detectives. I love Bevis to death and a better booth companion I couldn't have hoped for. We saw the doors open. And the crowd came in.

Doctor Who, as expected sold out within an hour. What was a surprise was that other things did too. My three copies of The Doppel Ganger Chronicles that Harry had passed me the previous day (previously the Tizzle Sisters) sold out. I almost sold out of Hope Falls. I sold an entire run of Starship Troopers including three trades. And two hours after the doors had open? I was in profit. And at that point possibly the only comic creator that wasn't sketching that did.

But the highlight of the day? Was seeing Tom. I won't give his surname, but Tom is a seventeen year old boy with Aspergers that I met last week while talking at a college in Birmingham. He's an incredibly talented artist, self taught and I was able to arrange a pass for him and his father to attend the convention. To see Tom's face when he was allowed in as a 'professional'? Priceless. To see his face when he'd had Emma Vieceli and Sonia Leong, two incredibly good artists – and let's face it, two beautiful women – actually spend time with him going over his work and giving tips? Even more. But best? Seeing his fathers face when people shook his hand saying how proud and impressed they were with Tom and his work. I think for a moment Tom's Dad couldn't be happier at that point. And I'm incredibly blessed to have been able to arrange that.

Oh, and the people who still think I'm stupidly arrogant and all 'me me me' on the internet because I'm actually like that? Fuck you.

Anyway, money made, and remember that this was money we weren't actually bothered about making made, we relaxed. I spoke to a nice girl called Stacey who reads this column – and in tradition started in New York in April, here's a picture of Stacey.

Stacey...

We wandered around a bit, I saw the wonderful Amy of Birds of Geek and Matt and Jon the Quiet! Panelologists At Work guys – who I still love lots and lots and lots and they are still the only people I've donated to...

I did a signing stint at the DFC booth and a few panels including Budgie Barnett and Ade Brown's Kryptonite Factor game show. Now this was only performed by the grace of God, as Budgie had laptop issues, Morag from Sweatdrop Studios lent them hers and there were some software differences that meant some of the PowerPoint didn't work – and it was a bit stop start at the beginning, but we muddled through. In the end? We had a good show with some generally laugh out loud moments, and I don't think we deserved one twitter poster who called it a 'car crash of a panel' – but the he did later explain that he wasn't criticising, he was being sympathetic to the problems...

From there it was a change of shirt and tie and then food at Pizza Hut. Many people were off to the Diamond party in the Mailbox, but we couldn't be bothered to walk in the rain there – which was a good thing as people started returning saying that it was a disappointment, with the 'open bar' being anything but. Bevis, Anna and I joined up with Wake Carter, the guy behind the excellent Dredd badge I showed a year back, and Emma Vieceli and new shiny hubby Pud (who was playing with his new shiny laptop earlier in the day) and Sonia Leong and her hubby Matthew. Yup, the Married Manga table. Later we had a Tim Pilcher and a Paul Peart-Smith and the Soaring Penguin guys joined us. A group of drunken rugby players gatecrashed our area and were mildly dismissive to comics until one realised that his favourite film ever, Road to Perdition was actually a comic, and suddenly their inner geek came out.

From Bennett's we made our way back to the Briar Rose where I caught up with Declan Shalvey, whose amazing Frankenstein adaptation was released this weekend, as well as Michael Wright who had the 'what sleep?' glazed look by this point that we were all starting to get. But it didn't end there, as we then made our way to Subside rock bar. Again.

Sunday was a harder day to get up. I had a killer hangover and by this point I was still in single figures for hours slept since Friday. But I valiantly struggled into the convention centre with five more Doctor Whos I'd managed to find. We sold them in an hour. We sold some of Bevis' book, I signed at 2000 A.D. – in the process properly meeting the wonderful and incredibly talented Pete Doherty and I finally had a chance to go around the booths, picking up various things from people, chatting to Paul Grist about a possible future thing, chatting to the FutureQuake guys about my 2000 A.D. story and chatted to Jonathan Dukes from Best Bitter Comics about the brilliant The Optimist. I bought some comics, a couple of action figures – and then after one final panel? It was all over. The banners were rolled up and it was time to go home.

All in all? A successful convention. No work done, no work gained, no work tried for, comics sold, visitors amused by the banner. Which is exactly what I wanted. Chatted to people I haven't seen in a long time, didn't get to chat enough to people like Leah, John, Si, Jamie, Frazer, Bucky, Jock, Andy, Sean, Dave etc. Got home at seven pm, wrote this. Now I'm going to bed. Apologies if I forgot you, forgot to mention you or such like, I know there's loads I have, as well as things I did and heard, like why Sean Azzopardi was shouting loudly in the Britannia bar on the Saturday night around 3 a.m. that he'd had enough cock, thank you...

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And after this weekend? This week I'm talking in a school up north. Next weekend (the 18^th) I'm in Manchester for a Doctor Who convention, held in a bar in conjunction with the Manchester Literary festival. That should be fun as I'm there with Paul Cornell and Gary Russell. The weekend after? London MCM Expo in docklands. So, I'm everywhere.
And I'm watching you. After all, I'm the man, the myth, the legend...

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© 2008, Tony Lee

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