King Of The Squares

I can’t say that ‘Arthur & The Square Knights Of The Round Table’ was the first thing I looked up on the internet when the internet came into being, but was in amongst my first dozen or so searches. It wasn’t that I was a huge fan, but my incomplete memory of the show (I was sure it had 'groovy' in the title) slightly annoyed me, and I’d never met anyone else who had seen it, so I needed to find out and move on with my life. So, here are the facts –

‘Arthur & The Square Knights Of The Round Table’ was an Australian cartoon that ran for 36 five minute episodes from 1966 to 1968. The writers and performers included Rod Hull, and the story-lines, which are more or less incomprehensible, feature characters of Arthurian legend dicking about with octopuses and beanstalks and genies and all sorts of non-canonical shit. The accents throughout are awful, and the animation is basic but garish. I originally watched it when it appeared as unscheduled filler between Anglia TV programmes in the early seventies. 

Like many cartoons of the era, it now comes across as little more than a hubbub of sound and colour, facetious rather than funny, frantic rather than frenetic, chaotic rather than kinetic. It’s actually rather tiring to watch, and I wouldn't necessarily recommend it - some things are better left as unscheduled filler between Anglia TV programmes in the early seventies, I suppose.  

Old King Coal

In this 1948 National Coal Board animation by Jules Pinschewer, the industry promotes itself by making up its own mythology in which King Coal is roused from his underground kingdom by calls from the surface for more energy. The benevolent King provides it, and Britain marches forward, as one, powered and warmed by his regal lantern. It's ace.

Look Who's Back...

One of the benefits of having a bit of time off is watching films and television programmes that don't normally wash up on 'The Island' and, occasionally, being surprised by them.

Case in point: the new 'Napoleon Dynamite' cartoon, which is not only very funny but also pays tribute to our old friends Jason King / Peter Wyngarde in the form of Professor Koontz, Napoleon's ever so suave British science teacher.

It's good to be back. Oh, and don't forget that there's now This Is Not The Universe for all your non horror and smut related needs.

Strawberry Fields Whatever

I'm not a huge Beatles fan, by any means, but as a kid starting to learn about music, I was fascinated by their transition from cheery moptops to hollow eyed dope fiends and the desolate sounding psychedelic records they made whilst under the influence. At the time, I associated hallucogenic drugs with madness and darkness and all those newspaper taxis and fish and finger pies presented a world that unsettled me - perhaps not a bad trip, but certainly a very bad dream.

From 1965 to 1967, the Fab Four had their very own American syndicated cartoon. Produced by the King Brothers, it was pure cash in trash, and the group had virtually nothing to do with it other than lending their music and likenesses - but obviously not their voices which, as presented here, are fundamentally wrong in every respect. Each show was  loosely and crassly based around a Beatles song, and also featured a 'sing-a-long' where random images acompanied a tune as the lyrics ran across the screen.

Despite the group's real life evolution over the show's two year run, the cartoon Beatles remained resolutely stuck in 1964/65 - mop topped, sharp suited and with the individual roles they had created when they still cared about stuff like that - John the acerbic leader, Paul the boyish charmer, George the deep one / mystic (he is given what sounds like an Indian accent) and Ringo the loveable lackwit.

When faced with the disparity between their mass market, cheapo product and the increasingly sophisticated image and odder and odder music of its inspiration, King Brothers did what any production company would do - they went quietly mental...
  

I've always thought that there was something dead at the centre of 'Strawberry Fields Forever', anyway - a sort of blank, burned out horror and, somehow, this garish, childish, baffling cartoon seems the perfect accompaniment.

As cartoon John says in the show in his stupid half toff, half cockney voice: 'it's all in the mind, you know'. Nothing is real.