Ignoring the queasiness which quakes my stomach like an uneasy swamp, I turn up my collar against the toothless gnawing of the early November wind and merge into the welcome anonymity of the city.' 'The thin, Sunday afternoon drizzle greases the tired streets. 'The traffic is barely moving and the back of the taxi still smells vaguely of last night's vomit. 'Strewth, the ultimate fascist comes apart at the seams - talk about divided loyalties.') I'm talking about the weather!

(Delano has an imaginative sense of humour: you'll find Arsenal and Chelsea fans here conjoined at the hip here, moronically beating the living shit out of each other. Jamie was never shy of making the title an unapologetic rallying cry against the unforgiveable ravages that Thatcherism wrought on our communities, our personal liberties and the individuals left on the rubbish tip piled up in its wake.Ībove all he communicated exactly how it felt to live in England at the time, and I'm not just talking about pollution, rags soaked in petrol stuffed through letterboxes or tribal football hooliganism. Under Jamie Delano HELLBLAZER immediately established itself as anti-establishment, and the title's always been at its best when it combines the trappings of the occult with everyday fears, all too human weaknesses and the very real horrors that surround us all: racism, homophobia, domestic violence and fear-mongering itself cancer, drug addiction, homelessness and hospitalisation police brutality, the trampling of the masses and political abuse of power. Furthermore, under his glib exterior with its wry wit and pithy putdowns lies a fierce determination and a horror of social injustice which he spies almost everywhere he goes, be it a starving Africa where 'there are flies drinking from the eyes of children' or the rain-soaked streets of London strewn with the dispossessed. If he didn't cherish his friendships he'd never mourn their loss nor would he be so susceptible to their haunting him. Worse still, as John will discover, there is no such thing as a clean break.Ĭreated by Alan Moore for SWAMP THING, Constantine was never callous, just careless. That he somehow returns to enjoy his next pint is a miracle that his friends rarely do is inevitable. Brash, rash and cocky, this streetwise trickster, this Laughing Magician with his nicotine-stained fingers and trademark trenchcoat relishes the war of wits - the blag, the bluff and the quietly palmed ace up his sleeve - and his insatiable curiosity drives him to places where no soul should go. John Constantine is a trouble magnet the problem is that deep down he enjoys it. Have you known him long? Do you trust him?' 'First, tell me about your strange friend.

Hellblazer original sins