Friday, October 31, 2008

Spoliers: Kill your Boyfriend.



A one shot comic written by Grant Morrison drawn by Philip Bond, this is probably the greatest comic I've read this year. I enjoyed it so so much that I'm gushing whenever I think about it. Which is why I haven't talked about it to any of my friends yet and I choose to vent my feelings here.

"Kill your boyfriend" to me is a love letter to the bygone days of youth spent thinking about all the things we could have done and didn't for some reason or other. Right at the start of the book there's a classroom scene where our heroine daydreams about whipping out a machine gun and gunning down everyone in sight, all the while having her blouse hanging loose, bra exposed. I can't count how many times thoughts like that have struck me while I was in anywhere akin to meetings or classrooms, sans the bra and blouse part of course.

Our main girl starts out relatively innocent, with her sins equally so. Hiding skanky underwear from her parents, getting caught with a condom in her room, wanting to fuck her dork boyfriend Paul desperately so yet denied every time by Paul himself no less in favour of "fantasy books written to be more poetic" or some shit like that.

Adventure starts when she meets an anarchic, out of control, free-spirited youth that shows her the little things in life her parents worked so hard to keep her away from like drinking, smoking, guns, drugs, and letting loose. With him in tow, they set off on a small road trip across the UK, ending in Blackpool. Along the way, our heroine breaks away from the confining dictations of society, allowing her to do, and be whatever she wants.

"I'm a page three gril, a Warhol superstar, I'm a dyke, a riot grrrrl, I'm the queen of sex."

Reading "Kill you Boyfriend" is pure guilty pleasure. A perfect vent in which misgivings about that fat fuck that blocks the stairs at the station can be exorcised. Remember that asshole back in high school you've always wanted to drag back an alley and beat the living shit out of? How about the queue cutting fuckers at the ticket stops? I hate those guys too. Reading this was like being given an opportunity to do all those things. Of course, there's no big moral at the end of the story, no big revelation or moment of clarity. It's always great to see that you're not alone in your own sick, twisted desires and this really did resonate with me, and my earlier days spent doing jack shit.

Like being given a loaded gun and being dared to fire.

Fucking excellent.

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