Knight & Squire 2

There’s a very specific set of people that Knight and Squire is going to sell to. It’s a shame, really, that that group (UK-based superhero fans) is such a small subset of the comics-buying public as a whole – because despite its wit and charm, the series is going to leave the dominant US-based market, on the whole, somewhat baffled by its firmly British eccentricities; leaving it subject to exactly the same sort of fate that befell Paul Cornell’s earlier Captain Britain and MI13. If only we were the dominant market, though – if we were, it’d probably be the biggest thing in comics.

It seems strange that it’s taken so long for someone to finally sit down and have a crack at fully transposing the Batman & Robin concept to the British Isles. Perhaps it’s just that we’re at least reaching a point where the young up-and-coming creatives were fed a diet that relied more heavily on imported superhero stories than those of their predecessors, who would have had the likes of Eagle and 2000AD in their pomp as a more pervasive influence. Either way, it’s less surprising that it’s actually happened now – and not from the distanced perspective of an American writer in the ‘50s portraying the mythical “London” that he believes exists across the pond – but from the perspective of an Englishman who thinks “What would happen to those tropes – the secret identities, the Batcave, the phone hidden in a bust – if you put them in a sleepy Hertfordshire town?”

Of course, if you were to do that, it would be inherently ludicrous – so it’s no surprise that Knight and Squire is played in a largely humourous way. This was particularly evident in issue #1, which was itself something of a curve ball (or, to use terminology Paul Cornell would be more comfortable with, perhaps a googly?) in setting the entire story in the pub and serving as a slower-paced introduction to the characters – and which, although entertaining, was perhaps not quite what we’d expected from the series. This issue, however, is somewhat more straightforward – fully showing the Knight and Squire’s “home” setup, and giving them a menace to discover, fight and defeat, all in the space of 22 pages.

And it’s joyously fun throughout. Wisely, Beryl/the Squire is our point-of-entry character, going about her business in a town that clearly knows her secret identity but won’t say it out loud – on the one hand a nice bit of commentary on the sort of classic British repressed-speech most commonly evidenced on public transport, although on the other hand perhaps slightly outdated in a time where surely someone living in the same town as a famous superhero would be straight on the phone to the News of the World via Max Clifford. But these scenes are enjoyable, rattling through gentle gags both verbal (“This is the Organ Grinder! The destroyer of Morecambe Tourist Information Centre!”) and visual (“Total Castle” magazine). From there, it’s on to Somerset (it’s alright, says Cornell in the issue’s witty postscript – he’s from “Wurzel Country” himself, so he’s “allowed to take the mickey”) where the interest is more in the marvellously-named nature of the villain Morris Major (which, though I’m sure this wasn’t the intent, just makes me think of Tony Hawks) rather than his swiftly-dealt-with and not-really-elaborated-upon plot to bring forth a dimension in which England is Village Green Preservation Society meets Oswald Mosley.

If there’s a slight qualm about the series so far, it’s that the Knight himself hasn’t yet seemed like the most inspired character – it’s perhaps made up for by making Squire the focal point, but despite being given a moment that shows an apparently deep-seated contempt for right-wing politics, Cyril could perhaps do with a little more development. Furthermore, I’m yet to be convinced that Jimmy Broxton is quite the right artist for the series. There’s nothing wrong with his work in itself, and his slightly cartoony style and strong character design are a good fit for the tone of the book – but his referencing could use some work (it’s little details, like a “FONES4U” sign on the high street being generic rather than the logo parody the script presumably intended, or policemen wearing Dixon of Dock Green uniforms) if the book’s to feel like it’s actually set in Britain rather than a cartoon, comic-book version of Britain.

But then, perhaps that’s the point. This is, after all, a British version of the ‘60s TV series rather than the Chris Nolan movies. It’s gentle, affectionate piss-taking rather than an attempt to do realistic urban drama with superheroes in – in other words, it’s not Misfits (in fact, if anything the first issue was more reminiscent of the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it No Heroics). Arguably only really functioning successfully on that one level, it doesn’t have the immediate unmissable thrill of the wonderful Captain Britain – but it’s a worthy continuation of the ideas Morrison was setting out when first using the characters in Batman (even if Broxton doesn’t draw the pair’s bikes half as stylishly as Cameron Stewart did), and there’s plenty of fun to be had.