cara – 051

Com um protector capilar.

spirou e fantásio de franquin #10

Neste álbum, Os Chapéus Pretos e Outras Aventuras, de Spirou e Fantásio temos as histórias:

  • Os Chapeus Pretos
  • Spirou Anda a Cavalo
  • Spirou e os Pigmeus
  • Mistério na Fronteira
  • Quick Super
  • Fantásio e o Sifão
  • Fantásio e os Patins Telecomandados
  • A Lagosta
  • O Tesouro Submarino.

Mais histórias divertidas com a marca Franquin.

son of apple

Uma versão de um universo invertido – ou o que quer que seja!

Qualquer semelhança com a pintura “Son of Man” é coincidência, or maybe not.

lol, camuflagem 10.0 – desvio

Apesar de ter criado uma história. Não a publico. Fica apenas a imagem de um lol tirolês.

lol, camouflage 8.1 – ishmael

The ship raced fast and the Jolly Roger waved proudly. Kissed by a steady wind the “Black” galleon caressed the waves sensuously – elegant. The buccaneers, led by Black Dog, knew that they would find good fortune as soon as they left the Bristol Harbor behind. Black Dog always had an ace up his sleeve, but this time he had the full deck. Black Dog obtained from Walter Raleigh, his great friend still imprisoned in the Tower of London for having seduced a handmaid of Queen Elizabeth I, the indication that El Dorado was located in the area of Guyana; in the tropical rain forest that extends from the mouth of the Orinoco to the Amazon: a better tip than this, impossible. Black Dog did not need great encouragement to aim to confirm firsthand the confidential information. If this proved to be true, Walter Raleigh would be a great friend; if it were false, Raleigh would not go through the shame of having been deceived. There are currently not many friends, true friends, like Black Dog: right? A golden friendship!
They landed on Tortuga for a light decompression and refueling. When they spotted Barbados, Black Dog ordered the crew to assemble on the deck. From the top of the castle, he told them they were going in search of the mythical El Dorado. His companions of fortune shouted sonorous “Hurrahs” and in joy sang the song:
‘Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!
Drink and the devil had done for the rest
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!’

[… an excerpt …]

facts about me

Facts about me:

paulo, cabeça

o que vai dentro da minha cabeça (versão 1.0)

  1. I’m very calm, except when I get mad.
  2. Yes, I earn my living making fun of nuns and I have already bought a cottage in Sawsea – praise the LORD.
  3. I do not personally know Rhys Hughes and I’m frightened to meet him in person; I’m sure he’s going to give me the tango. And I think I haven’t enough space at home to keep the tango alive.
  4. I love the PETA moto (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) and the PETA moto (People Eating Tasty Animals) – yes, I feed myself of sophists dialectic.
  5. I don’t like football, but if some salad have balls of cheddar cheese I will lick the balls.

bottled love story by rhys hughes

It’s easier to close a drawer with a key and then put the key inside the drawer, is easier to discover the speed of darkness, than be able to make a review of a book written by Rhys Hughes. I will, however, undertake this task, but only because I live in Meridian 0°.

A way of increasing with success the number of words to a review is to add things that at first glance have nothing to do with the book but with the author. For example: who knew that Rhys Hughes in 2007 has used a bottle to send in Toledo a message to Safaa via the Tagus River? The fact that he now puts the love in a bottle means that he has a loving fixation for bottles?


bottled love story

Now seriously.

chapter: The Story Begins with the Wave

In the first 16 pages of the book was difficult for me to find that I was reading a story of Rhys Hughes; but quickly I find the words of the villainous Rhys Hughes that even dares to enter as only he knows in the story, because? and I am forced to remind his own words:

As far as I am concerned there can only ever be two characters in a work of fiction — the author and the reader. The other “characters” are just words on a page and simply don’t exist.

Rhys Hughes

The chapter “The Story Begins with the Wave” is writing in the cinematographic style. We have the narration of Amira’s [1] wanderings interspersed with the adventures of Rufus Anton [2]; at the end of the story the two characters find themselves together in a unconventional and nothing loving way – I should add.

In this chapter we have an Rhys Hughes equal to himself, irreverent, tortuous, with ideas and a structure narrative that reminds us of the inventive skills of Dr. Karl Mondaugen. We have a bottle, a chess problem (the first time I read a book with a chess problem was the “Flanders Panel” by Arturo Pérez-Reverte) and the possible existence of the sea monster Xaratan.

The story begins with the wave because

AMIRA wrote her name on the sand of the beach in big capitals and when the tide came in it washed away the last two letters first, so she was left with a question that just needed the addition of a question mark.
Am I?” she wondered.
She knew she must find an answer (…)

page 7

The first answer

bottled love story

“Perhaps I am, perhaps not” (…)

page 8


A few lines later the author reveals an important characteristic of Amira for the unfolding of the story

Amira was curious about everything and this curiosity extended even to curiosity itself. What was curiosity? Why did it exist?

page 9

The second answer
after reading the message discovery inside the green bottle send by Rufus Anton.

bottled love story

Not yet, not yet.

page 13


And so Amira turned and walked back the way she had come and to her great astonishment she found that the last two letters of her name written on the sand weren’t obliterated by the tide at all but had merely been detached from the others and had floated intact first out to sea and then back again.

Who’s Rufus, by the way? The author explains

(..) Rufus was one of those people who forget to worry about anything and he seemed to have an instinct that meant he always ended up where he ought to be, even if he didn’t recognise that final place for what it was when he got there.

page 16


And are the questions

“What is curiosity? Why does it exist?”

page 17


said by Dr Karl Mondaugen, “a mad scientist“, that continues to be what moves the story. It is, therefore, the curiosity that leads Amira to “the oldest part of the university” where “was a library full of strange books, one of which was a bestiary of imaginary animals that included an entry on the xaratan [3]. But the xaratan, of course, isn’t imaginary.

At this time we are introduced to another animal that’s a real myth the Hound-Do-You-Do; see a photo of the animal with Ryhs Hughes.

hound-do-you-do and rhys hughes

hound-do-you-do and rhys hughes

Rhys Hughes does not miss the opportunity to introduce himself in the story as only he knows

Although I am only the author of this story and not one of the characters in it, and thus must always stand outside rather than within whatever happens now or next, I am happy to state that I once met the Hound-Do-You Do on one of the rare occasions when I was drunk.

pages 19/20


Amira reveals in the following words to be a woman with a strong character and that isn’t up to handle random daydreams – lucky us the readers. I started to like her even more.

Amira said, “This story belongs to the characters and you, the author, should really stay out of it.”

page 20


Throughout this chapter we have several verbal pearls; and this is why I love some much reading Rhys Hughes

(…) For example, when the concept of ‘repetition’ was invented it was hardly of any distinction until it was invented yet again, and it fulfils its function more wonderfully each time it is newly invented.”

page 22


“He was the Half Mate on the clipper ship Toe Scissors which sailed out of Nailcutta.”
“You mean Calcutta,” corrected Karl.
“Yes, I do, but that pun doesn’t work as well. (…)

page 23


They keep appearing many surprises but it’s on page 29 which is shown the greatest surprise: a “abandoned sea” chess game where

The cannonballs were pawns, the pistols were rooks, the suits of armour were knights, the tall hats were bishops, the sea-chests were kings and the cannon were queens and some pieces had been stained black and others white.

page 29


The chess problem that Amira will solve was created by Leonid Yarosh and it was “first published in March 1983 in the famous Russian chess magazine Shakhmaty v SSSR” [4] and “it is generally considered one of the greatest chess problems ever composed.” [4]

The words in this chapter continues to flow like the ocean waves. We have the ever present of the talented and magic Rhys Hughes. And he knows how to hold the reader to a story without using glue – fantastic! And when we notice we are looking at the last lines of the chapter.

He (Rufus Anton) was only dimly aware of a woman’s voice telling him that he had spoiled the game as she was about the make the move that would result in checkmate.

page 35

chapter: The Solution to the Problem

About this chapter I do not have much to say, not because I don’t want to, but simply because I can’t. I must blame the author for the way he wrote the chapter.

On the first pages Amira and Rufus begin to interact in a harmless way, but at the end of the story about the Xaratan the love begins to reveal itself. It is difficult for me to write about the chapter because from page 39 we have two stories simultaneously narrated: one “the main” story, other “the Xaratan” story.

chateau cheval sombre de la mer

new wine brand

When reached this part of the book is indifferent summarize what’s going on and is preferable to write how Rhys Hughes found graphically, so to speak, a way to tell the two stories at the same time. He ingeniously split up the pages into two columns.
In a column there is the story, that I call “the main” in which the font used is bigger; in another column we have the “xaratanic” story in which he used a smaller font. This artifice goes over 10 pages and it works very well.
I advise you to first read the story about the xaratan, keeping it in memory, step back 10 pages and read “the main” story. I laughed at the end exactly as Amira laughed.

The two stories “mate” perfectly – Rhys Hughes did a wonderful job. You need to read it.

From this union of words and after Rufus having closed the book and for

(…) the first time he looked at Amira properly, directly in the eyes, and instantly he lost all his old anxieties and acquired a set of new ones. His mouth opened and he said:
“You are as beautiful as a goddess.”

page 47


As they say that God writes in mysterious ways, also Rhys can write about love in a different way, but consistent with his verbal traps, puns; only he can mesmerize the reader with these words:

“Then take my hand and stop me from drowning in your lovely eyes.”

page 48


“Lake of my eye? That’s singular. Don’t you mean lakes in the plural?”
“This is just one of the lakes,” said Rufus, as his shoes squelched. “No man can look into both of a woman’s eyes at the same time. His gaze will switch from one to the other.”

page 48


this is Rhys at full steam. An he even have the chance to create a new wine brand: Chateau Cheval Sombre de la Mer.

The next chapter will be equally surprising and why? Because I read

This method of telling stories without using words is an invention of Italo Calvino and to him I now pay modest homage.

page 53

chapter: The Chamber of Crossed Destinies

This chapter is the easiest to comment. Where to start?
It’s full of pictures and are the images (tarot cards) that tell the story. And of course I will not recount the plot the cards are telling. I, only, can add that just reading this chapter you can realize not only the beauty of the chapter, but also the genius of Rhys Hughes.

And that single empty space was communal to both of them, so a collision of Fates was unavoidable.

page 60

chapter: The Thousand and One Kisses

And here’s the last chapter in which much is revealed.
The author is warned, again, to stay out of the story when he’s discovered disguised into a painter by our characters?

“I thought I asked you to stay out of this text and not bother your characters,” Amira said to me in a tone of weary disapproval.

page 64

The author attempts to justify is presence with brilliant puns, but

“You and your wordplay!” sighed Amira.

page 65

Once again the brilliance of Rhys Hughes is present in every line. He does not simply tell a story; he provides the reader with visual and language jokes – we just need to pay attention to the page 70 where we are faced with the transformation of the initial game of chess on a game of seduction.

I don’t dare to recount the details of this chapter. I only add that Rhys Hughes has created an ingenious story of love and – checkmate!

The book has another unusual features not seen in other books by Rhys Hughes, started:

  • by the layout of title
bottled love story - tittle

bottled love story – tittle

  • by the existence of lots of pictures
  • for typographic diversity like this one

bottled love story

  • or this one – the book has this precious image at the beginning of some paragraphs.

bottled love story



[1] arabic name
[2] which meant “red-haired” in latin
[3] the sea monster Xaratan was first mentioned in a conversation between Dr Karl Mondaugen and Rufus. (page 18)
[4] from Wikipedia

leonid yarosh

the duel

I have seen a preparation for war by Rhys Hughes. I have considered myself threatened and went to fight for whatever. I was more than ready with a 98.5% plastic bowl on my head, shield pan in aluminum ISO2000, oak spear 100% natural. To this I added a bit of madness, with a spot of daring.

The result is: books bleeding, gods weeping, and the writer lying on the floor writing the last chapter – I still want to read a story.


rhys hughes, gladiator

se as vacas voassem


merda de ave

“A tua sorte foi as vacas não voarem” – disseram-me.

Hoje logo pela manhã aconteceu-me um verdadeiro ataque aéreo capaz de fazer inveja a qualquer top gun.

Fui bombardeado por um pomba com um míssil balístico de merda líquida. Quando dou por mim não era, apenas, o cabelo que estava sujo, era a roupa, o livro que levava na mão, a carteira. Peguei no lenço para minimizar o problema e um fio de caca aviária descia pela testa.

Já tinham cagado em cima de mim, mas nunca literalmente. Outro animal que odeio. Vou acabar por comprar uma simples LG 21 Panther e andar sempre de chapéu; sinto que o meu zero craniano serviu de mira.

Serve-me de consolo a linda pança que evitou qualquer bombardeamento das partes baixas.

as atribulações de um português no porto

E antes que digam que existe um livro com um nome semelhante ao título desta entrada, eu coloco-o aqui: “Les Tribulations d’un Chinois en Chine” de Jules Verne. Pronto!

Ontem o dia correu muito bem. O almoço do Leituras de BD estava devidamente condimentado; espectacular companhia.

Quanto ao MAB – Festival Internacional de Multimédia, artes e BD, como ia com o pessimismo instalado, até gostei. Teria alguns aspectos negativos a apontar, mas o facto de ter efectuado umas boas compras, conhecido pessoal fantástico, e ter trazido uns valentes rabiscos, evita frases mais tristes. Além do mais tive o prazer de ver em primeira mão a exposição de Zakarella.

Contudo este post não servirá para falar do MAB – Festival Internacional de Multimédia, isso ficará para outro, mas das minhas aventuras malucas, que comprovam muita coisa ou nada.

Os apontamentos:

    1. Fui de comboio
    2. Como tipo precavido que sou, depois de ver o horário do comboio de regresso, marquei como alarme a hora de partida no meu Nokia x6 para não o perder.
    3. Às 17h45m o alarme disparou. No visor indicava 18h00. Com apenas 15m para chegar ao destino e como não sabia a forma mais rápida de chegar à estação de São Bento pedi indicações à diabólica Virgulina Labareda.
    4. Recordei-me que tinha deixado na mão do João Mascarenhas o Punk Redux, o novo álbum do Menino Triste. Fiquei mais que doido.
    5. Pesquei o marcador de livros da Dr. Kartoon, telefonei para a loja de Coimbra, pedi o número de telemóvel do João Miguel Lameiras e pedi-lhe para deixar o álbum com Nuno Amado – agora vou ter mesmo de pagar os portes!
    6. Perdi-me, temporariamente. Sabia que a rua de referência tinha uma data, mas só me lembrava do 25 de Abril. Como fui capaz de me esquecer de um livro!
    7. Quando me lembrei do 31 de Janeiro foi sempre abrir – claro que a descer ajuda.
    8. Chegado à estação de São Bento, pisco os olhos para o relógio de pulso que me indica 18h30m – merda, perdi o comboio.
    9. Ataco a tabela de horários Porto-Vigo para ver a alternativa e reparo que não existe qualquer comboio às 18h00, mas sim às 18h45m
    10. Amaldiçoo o Nokia x6 e especialmente o sujeito que gravou o alarme. Depois desta confusão ainda tenho 15m – nada mal!
    11. Na bilheteira: “Um bilhete para Barcelos”.
    12. “Não há hoje mais comboios para Barcelos devido à greve”.
    13. “Greve! Mas está no placard o comboio das 18h45m para Braga”.
    14. “Não tem ligações para os regionais.  A greve é dos regionais a partir das 16h00. Só tem comboio até Nine.”
    15. Ainda na bilheteira: “A sério?!! Que seja. Um bilhete para Nine.”
    16. Continuando na bilheteira: “Mas, mas… depois o senhor não tem comboio para Barcelos!”
    17. “Faço o resto do percurso a pé pela linha. O meu Nokia servirá de lanterna.” Fiquei um pouco melhor com a expressão do homem, apesar de ele ter a obrigação de não revelar qualquer surpresa perante um simples sujeito de chapéu aparentemente amalucado.

Ainda tive tempo de beber um capuccino extraído daquelas máquinas automáticas e comprar uma garrafa de 1,5l antes de entrar para o Comboio. Ufa!!!