OCR/retyping this issue by Claire Brialey & Mark Plummer.

SHORT SHORT

Radar blip...
...Alien ship!
Write it quick!!!
...Rejection slip.

brian lewis

We will stop at nothing. We must stand together. Have no pity, women of famdom. You must be ruthless and our menfolk must henceforth look to their laurels. It is time a woman wore the beanie in fan households. We will fight for our rights! We demand the right to be recognised as the brilliant species we are; the right to be admired, not just for our beauty – though we must never allow that to be forgotten – but for our intelligence, our wit, our unfailing patience and ungrudging silent aid. We must claim our rightful place at the core of fandom.

Now we cry out against their unjustness, we will fight to the bitter end. Break down the doors of their dens, snatch the duplicators, seize the ink, the stencils and all the paraphernalia of fanac that we have guarded so faithfully and so thanklessly.

We will chain ourselves to the lamp-posts outside the Globe and every fannish club or meeting place and we will not go until we are acclaimed with due respect. We will go on hunger strike, and if any of us die in such a brave cause our deaths will lie like an inky black smudge on every fanzine and, on a sudden, there will no longer be witty quotes alive on the bacover. Nirvana will publish a black border edition. No more will we stand like guardian angels ready with the life-giving tea or bheer, at their beck and call like slaves to do the bidding of serious and constructive Dan Dares seeking the enchantment of Trufandom.

There will be no lack of volunteers to be the first martyr crushed beneath the wheels of the bearded motor-bike and the stain of her militant blood will turn in the wheels of the rider's mind so that the pages of Authentic are stained for ever and the beard is clogged into a mere shadow of its once beauteous self. She will go down into history as the first martyr of famdom and we shall see that her sacrifice is not in vain.

To arms you shackled slaves of marriage! You who economise with the housekeeping, going short yourselves, nay all but starving so that they might buy their duplicators, their ink and paper, their stencils and their infamous magazines. An end to all this. United we are strong. Let them brew the tea whilst we besmear ourselves with ink and swearwords, producing the gems of wisdom for which we are justly famed. Women for fams! Fams for women!

Women of fandom – the path is plain before you. The fen circle aimlessly and do nothing but yak. Let us take over fandom and show them how to do something and still yak.

Famdom expects this day that every fam will do her duty.

"Hi!" said Bill. "Subject normal I see."

"Lo Bill – Hiya!' The greetings came from all round and he felt at home.

"Oh Bill," said Joe Wilkes, coming forward. "I've got that copy of Amazing '35 you wanted, and I've some more stuff you might be interested in."

Bill grinned. "Hope it's cheap," he said, and ambled over to have a look through Joe's case. He sat down, leafing through the mags, happily wondering how many he could afford, and which to take...

It happened about half an hour or so after Bill had arrived, during one of those quiet spells that occasionally seems to fall on any company. There was a knock on the door and everybody turned, wondering who it could be at this time of night. Then the Alien walked in.

The creature was not a great deal different to themselves. Its hair seemed a little longer, and it wore a sort of tunic affair that stopped just below where its knees would be. That is, assuming it had knees. On its feet were some sort of sandals fastened with tiny buckles of a metal that could have been gold. The creature's face – well, it had two eyes and a nose and a mouth put together the same way as their own, yet every man present – though he didn't stop to analyse it – saw and felt the difference.

The Alien opened its mouth and in a voice pitched slightly higher than a man's, speaking in English without a trace of an accent, enquired, "Is this the Science Fiction Club? I'd like to join if I may."

They all smiled in welcome. Except Bill. He bent his head over his book and muttered fiercely to himself, "Blast it to hell. A woman!"

Tuesday: Ma got to hear about the row – jets me how she knows everything. I suspect Joan's Ma tho. Anyways, I still went out with Temm at night, and he bought me a huge box of Venus fruits to make up for it.

Wednesday: Went to the gyro-races with Jan. She said I never see you these days, so I told her all about Temm and the bother with Ma. She was most sympathetic – her Ma is just the same, always on about 'why not go out with a Terran.' Huh! as if they weren't ten a credit. Won 50cr. betting on Teni Rarl again. He's so veeney I'd die if he just looked at me.

Thursday: I wore my Sirian houra to the cafe today, and the boss said, 'That's right, Lena, just the stuff to bring the customers in!' He gave me a ten credit raise and was Joan's face green. Ma was quite nice about it on account of the raise and on account of she is mad at what Joan's Ma said about me.

Friday: Out with Temm again tonight. Went back to the Sky Hotel. We 'flew' in the games room again and I am sure improving. Could almost loop the loop. Didn't let on to Temm tho, 'cos it's nicer when he helps me. He goes tomorrow and Space! am I desolate.

Saturday: Saw Temm off and cried and cried. After he had gone I was walking away when a Venusian bumped into me. After apologising he said, "How sad to see so fair a face in tears" – so romantic! So he saw me home and I have a date with him for next week.

A bit more news. Since this was first written ((Page 14 was originally cut for the October issue – JWC)) we have discovered that Matt Elder is now at Hut 5, Mearskirk Hospital, Glasgow, Scotland. So that is the place to watch for the emergence of yet another fandom! I think Matt would appreciate getting letters from some of you fen or femmes. Hmmm?

Dept. of Queries
???????????????? (Joan taking over for a minute.) Er – ahem – er Ethel dear – what's in a name? And I hope the answer is 'Nothing'!

These single sheet productions, in many cases from amateur presses, 'penny plain, twopence coloured', ranged in content from signs and portents and prophecies through fire, flood, and famine to the eternally popular 'Murder Most Foul'. Those who complain of the standardized press captions of today… KILLER SLAYS SEVEN IN LOVE NEST DRAMA… WE'RE JUST GOOD FRIENDS SAY PEER – STARLET… would not be pleased to find many standard wood-blocks used in these broadsheets, so that the same picture illustrates a dozen different executions, or a ship wreck and a mutiny, or even different murderers, presumably reduced to the lowest common denominators popularly recognised as portraying villainy at its most moustachio­twirling!

Odd… or perhaps not… how often the attention of visitors was attracted immediately to the same exhibit – 'The Sale of a Wife, for one pound and a silver watch' – have we a comparative economist in the house?! From there you could wander round such attention­rivetting descriptions as that of 'A Funny Wedding: wife left in pawn by her hard-hearted husband to pay for the wedding dinner' or of 'A Lady who longed for charcoal and was this morning delivered of' a Fine Black Boy' (Sunday papers please copy!). How little the gap between the gentlemen of the press then and in the present day could be considered with 'The Fight of Coburn and Mace for £1000, October 4th, 1864', with full details of the first five rounds and a space left for the result. The fight never took place! (Any con reports written on this principle?). Back to the 'Atrocious and Horrible Massacre of the Crew of the Ship Boyd by the Cannibal of New Zealand' – 'Eight Persons Murdered! A Father, Mother, Two Husbands, Three Children and an Uncle, all murdered by Margaret Joyer and Katherine Renter' – 'A New Mill Invented for Grinding Old People Young' (who says science fiction began with this generation!) – 'The Extraordinary Discovery of a Female Husband who has been Married to Another Female 21 Years' (take another look at your dear ones, femmes; you may find some new writers for Femizine yet!). And wall upon wall of pious exhortations upon religion, the aristocracy, politics, folk ballads and horoscopes.

The exhibition was opened by Gibbs-Smith of the Victoria and Albert, a man of such varied tastes as balloons, jets, and

Best wishes to you and your co-editors.

((I agree that articles by Vin¢, WAW, Mal Ashworth etc., are not to be sneezed at, but why should we always depend on them? We want to develop our own writers. I think the BNFs would agree with this policy anyway. They can't keep every zine in fandom going on their own. For instance, I bet this is one of the few zines that WAW has not been asked to write for! We wouldn't mind hearing from Madeleine though...))

ASF, October '53. 'In a way their closest skinship is to the - - -'. They don't come any closer!

In case any of you are wondering, the rather nasty looking type on the left is a 'sand-devil'. They keep popping up all over the place out here. For instance, the minute you step outside the office you look around you; not a breath of air to disturb your hair. But the minute you take your beret off there is a slight rustling sound, a spiral of dust, and there is the sand­devil to spoil the hair you spent all the previous night fixing! Or again, take Sandy. He is often afflicted by sand-devils. I have never yet seen him succeed in lighting a cigarette out of doors. No matter how calm it is, and despite all his speed, a sand­devil always manages to form in time to blow out the match. I have come to know these creatures fairly well in the time I have been here, and ever since they found out I edited a fanzine they have been demanding publicity. Seems they are annoyed about the publicity given to various types of swamp-critters etc. in other zines. These swamp-critters, being damp, are their worst enemies. I don't want to start a war, but what can I do? It hurts when they twist my arm. Back to the letters!

I know that my mental picture of you slaving over a hot duplicator with your khaki sleeves rolled up, feebly brushing tons of desert sand from the works, is probably all wrong, and that you are actually known as the Cleopatra of MELF 17 and trail a retinue of adoring, fawning sheiks and Sergeants around

ARCHIE MERCER: 434/4 Newark Road, North Hykeham, Lincoln, England.

FEZ 2 to hand – and if ever a mag title needed an abbreviation, this one does. I hated to mention it before, but the name 'FEMIZINE' conjures up awful visions of Woman-and-Beauty type of thing. ((Why 'awful'? You a misogynist or something?)) You could hardly have chosen yourselves a worse name, and I hail the abbreviation with undiluted feelings of sheerest relief...

Now, look here. If you want to receive interesting letters – or letters that I fondly imagine might possibly be construed as providing interesting reading – the first essential is to settle on some interesting subject to discuss. That is what the mag's supposed to provide. And what do we get? Conrep. Pages and pages and simply pages of conrep...

From which you may judge that I didn't much care for 'Up The Hill Down'. I don't even see anything particular in the title. I've dreamed of better titles than that before now.

So much for Conrep. What else have we then'? A story. A short story. A very short story, for which relief much thanks. (Shakespeare, I understand.) ((I'm glad you understand something! Oh, I see what you mean. 'For this relief much thanks. 'Tis bitter cold and I am sick at heart.' Don't let old Bill influence you too much, Archie.)) But not a very good very short story. Even if it was, of course, I probably wouldn't care for it, but still, to the stake with short stories.

Conrep and short story. What else now? Poetry, if you please. Now I haven't even read that – except for the one on p.18, which is good but repulsive. Oh yes – and the bit on p.24, which is good but seductive. Which leaves absolutely nothing except for the editorial matter pure and simple, such as 'P. Around the P.', lettercol, reviews and odds and sods. All of which give me absolutely no cause for complaint, which is at least something saved from the wreck. Can you run a mag on nothing but editorial, lettercol and filler? If so it'll probably be good. ((Well, thenk you! Excuse me' while I interlineate –

Well, maybe one teeny-weeny little pointlet – that of stylus. Strikes me you've been going a long way round to get one. Now I've just had cause to cut me a stencil, and for stylus I used the point of a compass – opened out full-length for easier gripping. And it worked perfectly. Of course, I fully realise that a compass (geometrical, of course, not geographical) probably doesn't figure in the normal equipment of an Army Pay Office. ((How else could we fiddle Estimates in round figures?)) Can't you go to the stationery bloke and tell him you want to draft a circular

Well, I've had my say. I've probably given you grounds to do a Chuck Harris on me, but still. ((Oh no, I'm not falling for it! One 'Gilbert Harding' can be quite amusing but I have no intention in helping the formation of a second one. Besides, FEZ hasn't been going as long as Hyphen yet. I want to see what you have to say in your next few letters.))

HARRY TURNER: 10 Carlton Ave., Romiley, Cheshire, England.

I guess Orma McCormick has a hold on you – why else the gentle review of Starlanes and further reprints? 'She nestled, drank, and took my best'… I ask you! Sounds like a report of the London Con party. I like the bits about 'folds of space' and 'panting ship'; and could anything be flatter than that gruesome line: 'Thrown clear he clutched a squirming clump of sticky, orange grass'? Wish you'd typed 'familiar aunt' a bit further down – it would have livened up the piece… No, I am not tempted to try 40¢ worth. The pomes by Anon are the type you want, not this precious stuff that Orma's followers churn out. If Anon is who I think he is, you should get Frances to coax him to write more for you. The lad's an unrecognised Genius at this sort of thing when in the mood. ((No hold Harry – maybe I just like to get your letters of comment? No more reprints after this issue anyway. Er, 'he'? Get to it, Frances.))

Why waste your time at the next Con? So far as I can see, if the trends at the Supermancon continue, future conventioneers will go in search of alcohol or women, or both, and wander around clutching little note-books to record every 'witty' word that passes, while endeavouring to ensure their own carefully memorised witticisms are recorded. It looks as though the pendulum is at the end of its swing away from the tight programme reaching the tight party. I prefer to stay in the peaceful atmosphere of the Stock Dove at an unofficial gathering of the Romiley Fan Veterans and Scottish Dancing Society. Can I tempt you up? ((Better make it Ethel. She should be interested in the Scottish Dancing, and besides, she should also be used to being tempted after the last Con.))

As to whether BNW and 1984 are sf or not, surely it is a matter of how one defines the term? I'd love to see S&y expounding on this. Personally, I shouldn't think the authors considered their works as 'sf'. Anyway, it is the book that matters, not the label: I don't enjoy a book merely because someone has described it as sf (that's more likely to scare me off) but because of its intrinsic merit – or so I like to think! It seems that there are some folk in this world who read little else but sf, and are annoyed if misled by a title or recommendation. Anyway, after all the argufying, I am tempted to read Limbo '90: if the public library can get it in time I might let you have my views on this vital matter! ((One of the best novels I have read recently is 'Bhowani Junction' and that is far from being sf. I showed your letter to S&y who had this to say: a) he liked 'Limbo '90', b) he wouldn't dream of trying to define sf, except to say it does not include books of this

TERRY JEEVES: 58 Sharred Grove, Intake, Sheffield, England.

The printing is very good, as is the dummying and page centreing. Triode will have to watch out for stiff competition, though we do have an edge, if only by virtue(?) of having no policy… we're not confined to femmes, but we love 'em just the same. I liked your editorial, especially the irrelevant(?) cracks, but the pyramid heading rather jarred on me… draw it next time huh? ((I did – but the stencil ripped as I put it on the machine. At 1.00am I wasn't going to settle down to draw it again!)) The poetry I did not like but then, being an intellectual misfit, I never do like poetry...

I saw a saucer in the air,
It flew along without a care,
10,000 saw I at a glance,
But everyone said I was potty. - Beattie Jay.

That portion of a rare poem shows you my reverent approach to the poetic muse. Gertcha. ((*))

Fanzine reviews. I like this section in any zine, and I'm eagerly waiting (waiting eagerly)(?) for you to get round to T. Your write-ups give the gen, low-down, or what have you (fallen arches?) in a manner which I like. The lettercol is another good section, but I object to Brian Varley's insinuations that I was pruned of wearing apparel… just because I lost my shirt in a strip poker game… he never saw the six spare cards I had in my pocket, just as insurance against an early Fall. Again, on behalf of my client Ethel Lindsay, may I announce that owing to my investigations the lost day has been returned to my client. On the other hand she is in error when saying that I tried unsuccessfully to have the lights put out. Good staff work by Eric Bentcliffe saved the day (or night) – check with Ethel under Lensman's seal. Only snag with the letters – seemed to be too few, and too long – however, as they were all interesting, I can't grumble.

Last, but top of the lot, comes the con-coverage; this I liked, especially the various viewpoints presented. I also liked it for the nice things said about me, and the backshi egoboo. Who am I to say it isn't all true? I'd like to shed a little light on the panties (no cracks). Glad to hear you got the pink ones; I'd have brought them over myself if Sandy had mentioned it. As for the black pair, I am still playing at 'Cinderella' in the hope of finding a wearer. Sad to say, no customers have been forthcoming. ((You must mean 'Prince Charming' – or perhaps 'Buttons'...?))

Then there is PAUL ENEVER who says – 'Right off I was disappointed with the potry [SIC] in FEZ 2. I read it through two-three times in bewilderment before I realised that it wasn't meant to be rude. Fancy publishing clean poetry...' This seems to be the general feeling, and unless there is a different reaction to this issue, clean poetry will be out. Coming to the ((*)) I stuck in the

Like twin star-spangled shards of silver
The roving rockets roared above the plain;
Then, with a whining whimpering whooshing,
They cleave the void again.
Past Neptune and cold Pluto, past Vega and Ymar,
And faster, ever faster, beyond the farthest star.
The crew grew old and haggard, and the chromium drew rust;
In spite of spit and polish, the ship grew full of dust.
Then up spake bold Ignatious, a thirsty man was he:
"It's time to turn the ship around, or we'll all be late for tea."
The crew to action stations, the captain to the bridge,
The cook stayed in the galley; he was stuck inside the fridge.
By valour and by courage, by blood, sweat, toil and tears,
By tippling on tomato juice and boozing fast on beers,
They turned the rockets round again and headed home for Sol.
But halfway back the reaction mass ran out, and everyone
All... each… FELL... Stark... Staring... MAD... into the Sun. It was
FATE.

Don't condemn caves with rhetoric arousing
For after the bomb, they may be our housing.

Another that pleased was 'Worlds' by K Houston Brunner. (Didn't know you wrote poetry, John – I like!) One that did not please was 'A.B.C.s' by Isabelle E Dinwiddie. This consisted of twenty-six lines, each beginning with a different letter of the alphabet and written in alliteration. Lines such as 'Jangling jewellery just justifies jeers' or 'Vagabond vampires vanquish vigilant visitors' might be technically 'clever' but have no meaning or feeling.

'Tis strange – but true; for truth is always strange,
stranger than fiction. Byron, 'Don Juan'

And judging by some of the war stories and 'escape' books that have appeared during the past few years, the quotation above is quite true. I have always thought so anyway. Excluding, that is, fantasy and sf. After all, what could be stranger than some of the things in the latest promags?

Now, don't all dash away to make out magnitudinous lists. I know that in many things the real world is fast catching up with the sf world. Atom bombs, rockets, robots and heaven alone knows what else. But these are the conspicuous things. The momentous things... And they don't form the sf world I live in. My 'dream' world is made up of the infinitesimal details of stories. A mood. A hint of future morality. In fact, all the minor delineations of that school of writing so brilliantly lead by Sheckley, Matheson and Leiber. This is the sf world that I have hitherto mentally excluded when agreeing that truth is stranger than fiction. But now I'm not so certain...

I noticed the following items while reading the newspapers:

1. New: The self-lighting cigarette. When you take one from its normal type packet (20 in each) a chemically coated tip strikes an abrasive strip and hey presto! the cigarette is alight.

2. When Mrs Jack Fletcher cooks an egg, her frying pan floats in the air over the stove. The stove looks like a TV cabinet and even the top is wood. The secret is an electro-magnetic cooking unit inside the cabinet. Without burning the wood, four coils heat the metal pan and cook the egg. Three magnetic coils steady the pan in the air so she won't have to bend over the stove. It is all part of the Fletcher's 'house of the 21st century'. When a rainstorm starts, a high wind blows, or the temperature falls uncomfortably, the windows close themselves. The lights turn on automatically as you enter the room. The same invisible rays that put them on ring a bell as anyone approaches the house from outside. Mrs Fletcher watches the children inside or out in the garden on an inter-house TV and her voice can reach them in any corner by a loudspeaker system. The three-bedroom two-bathroom house has floors electrically heated. Work is progressing on an outside air conditioner to keep the garden comfortable on hot days.

3. Designers let themselves go (picture of a beautifully designed streamlined car of the future): The driver sits in the centre of a red, white and blue plastic body and handles controls, not a wheel. The car is called 'Aatmos' and has fins on the rear wings (air stabilisers). It is only 4ft high, but 6ft 8inches wide. On the front wings, where one would normally expect to see headlights, are two needles jutting forward. These obviously 'must be there to impale pedestrians'.

4. Four youths have been prowling Brooklyn parks at night beating and torturing almost anyone they found alone. Two of

their victims died. 'We set a kick out of seeing blood flow,' they said. They attacked two elderly men seated on benches. Then – But we needn't continue with that one!

You could almost make a competition out of this . Name the sf authors and stories that have paralleled the above news items. In fact, I think I will. Most fen will probably find them rather easy, but I'm always interested in reaction! None of these things are connected directly with the theme of a story; they all fit in to that mysterious portion known as background, the background that forms my fantasy world. I object to it being overshadowed by truth!

Ouch, no sooner do you put typer key to paper than you start punning at the expense of Cockneys – and talking about Cockneys – What am the '...London O...'? London Oddities mebbe... or even London Ostracisers? ((Just plain 'circle'.))

So you have neofangled ideas on fanlanguage? I plump for fanne – so chic I think. But as for your statement 'Fan – male singular', well, dammit, some fen are happily married you know – even those who run around at Cons in false beards and thick-lensed glasses proclaiming with pride to every popsie-fan (quote – Mal Ashworth) that he is yet the happy fan bachela. ((Come off it… Singular means one male as opposed to two or three males… Nothing to do with their marital status – as if you didn't know.))

Liked muchly Joy Goodwin's story. Great pity the theme didn't warrant a longer one; the idea of Homo Saps being kyboshed by such an innocent move as sending off a coupla monkeys in a test rocket is really intriguing. Do we have the pleasure of Joy's presence in a near future ish? ((I hope so.))

I'll bet your con feature would have been at least ten pages longer if two femmes had turned up wearing identical beanies – could imagine the spiteful scribbling that would have resulted. Frances might remember that I was also present at the Ping Hoy's (not Hong – you must have been thinking of his brother, Frances) ((You sure it's Hoy's? Frances only lives in Manchester, you know Anyway, it can't be Hoy's because that would mean my re-writing this pome:

The restaurant known as Ping Hong
Came over (they say) from Hong Kong
When the menu was read
To a gent name of Ted
The first thing he said was 'Pardong?'

He was a Frenchman you understand?)) and asked her if Chop Sue had ever contemplated joining the Femizine staff – especially after Jim Rattigan expressing the opinion that she was a tasty dish!

Your fanzine reviews were very good. I much prefer to see 2 zines reviewed from the comparatively detached viewpoint of an outsider looking on from the unbiased outside rather than

I particularly enjoyed the Con reports – it would appear from this (the fourth I have read), that I must have attended a Con at the Deansgate Hotel next door to the Grosvenor about the same time! (Only a Mancunian will appreciate that one.)

Especially I want to tell about next year's Con which is being planned as the Convention to End All Conventions. After this nobody will dare run a Con...

It is being planned along the lines of a French brothel. ((You mean it will be an enlarged version of THAT party?)) We are taking over an entire hotel with exactly half the number of bedrooms required, thus everyone doubles up. No husbands allowed with wives and vice versa ((and I doubt if you could get any versa vice any other way)); no two fellows allowed to sleep in the same room, ditto women. There will be three sleeping periods per day allocated to everyone throughout the three 24-hour sessions, which will be held at Easter not Whitsun, thus getting in an extra day and night of debauchery. Only people without morals at all or the most broadest of broads should even contemplate going. ((But won't Brian be lonely?))

Me? I don't expect for one minute that my wife will let me go, so I'll see you at the one in 1956 wherever that will be held… ((I wonder what film they'll show??)) ((PS. He's only joking – I hope!))

Many many thanks for the copy of Femizine, issue two. I enjoyed it very much… especially the convention article… and will have to accept Eva Firestone's hint. She wrote me not long ago reminding me that she would accept subscriptions for the magazine. I didn't know what she was talking about at the time, for the zine had not then arrived, but I know now! I don't believe I received a copy of the first issue. Do you have a spare one you might send me? Eva can deduct the cost from my subscription money. ((Isn't it just too too sordid to talk about cold cash? But then why should I end up in the red if it can be avoided? The first issue was for free, Bob. You should have gotten one. I haven't got any left here, but Frances will send one 'badin' ­- if she has any! How's that for international writing? English, American and Arabic. Clever))

I've read several Supermancon stories ((You mean articles hmm? – or do you?)) in several fanzines now and I'm puzzled by one aspect that is either prominently mentioned, or prominently omitted. The business of the necking parties on the beds in

But blast it, the three girls also left it unsaid. Now how will I find out the gossip? Pray tell, just WHO was lying on the bed with WHO? And what were they doing that had the limpid Willis eyes popping and the fair Willis cheeks blushing? After all, Willis observed a lot of that kind of thing in Chicago and should be immune. I'm curious as to who and what put on a better show than Chicago. Who could make Willis blush, mumble and back out of the room? ((Sorry, the heat generated when putting the complete details on paper is greater than Fahrenheit 451. As a matter of fact I do not know much more about the party than you will have read. And the others were busy at another one most of the time… Besides, if someone does REVEAL ALL, what is going to happen to the interlineation industry? However, to put you out of your misery, perhaps one of our readers can add to your knowledge. Anybody? Let me a have a copy if you do – I'm curious as well!))

I've run across references in the British Fan Press before this, about a certain 'Sergeant Joan'. Up until now I had always believed she was a sequel or something to Shaw's 'Major Barbara'. ((My mother. She was frightened by a St Bernard. I'm Joan of WRAC, and I have an idea that Sandy is a pygmy alien. As you can see, I'm being quite Candida-bout all this.)) How are you? Pleased to make your acquaintance. ((Ditto for me – very much so. Thinks: 'Why, in ten more years I might even be well known enough to figure as a Tucker book character!')) ((PS. If you are interested in what the Bhoyo Hiself has to say, a letter from 170 Upper Newtownards Road, Belfast, N. Ireland, has the next page all to itself – pretty hmm?))

I must confess that I found several items in FEZ that were hardly more scrutable to me than Potrezebie (the 'r' trilled) was to you. I'm reasonably au courant with the esoterica of the / & – crowd but much of this was as baffling to me as it would be to someone who'd never seen a fanzine before. But you are a good writer, a good editor and an excellent mimeographer (duping was definitely top drawer) and I found many items I liked. Despite your oblique and ladylike sneer at willisian humour ((What other kind could I use against Walt of O'Bleak House?)), you seem not totally bereft of talent along the same lines. I think that when I've read a few issues and begin to assimilate the frames of reference (I'm dreadfully muddled

CONTINUED ON PAGE 32 ---­

I wanted to say a couple words about your name. I suppose it's frightfully bad taste to ask but I keep nursing a morbid curiosity over whether the 'W' might stand for Wad. ((That's my secret – and I intend to keep it!)) Also, I did a mild double take at the initials at the bottom of page 18. We've become used to the confusion attendant upon two Campbells, both of whom edit promags called ASF. But the sight of 'JWC' tagging a paragraph gave me a brief giddy moment of wondering if John W Campbell Jr., had a hand in FEZ's operations.

My good friend Enever to the contrary, I think your typewriter does superbly well. I admired the crisp meticulous typing on your letter and the printing in FEZ leaves absolutely nothing to be desired... from this quarter at any rate. Would love to swap this machine for yours… sure you wouldn't like one with a $-sign and an 'é'?

Enjoyed the episode of S&y slipping into the Grosvenor. But why didn't he try disguising himself? Of course, in British Fandom, long black beards are of dubious help in such a situation but he could have resorted to a heavy walrus moustache and went as Sam Small (do I have that name right? – you know, the Flying Yorkshireman). ((But S&y is a Lancastrian – and for him to act as a Yorkshireman is unthinkable! Besides, wasn't he disguised enough with those clothes? On the right is my version of S&y. As a sketch on paper it looks remarkably like him even if I do say so myself. What it will be like on a stencil I don't yet know. You try drawing a moustache on him!))

It would seem that everyone who went to Manchester wrote a conrep about it and I think I have read most of them. But I still found interesting and amusing things in this one. I seem to get the impression that the folks at the SMCon were either less inhibited in their behaviour or less inhibited in writing about it than the people who go to such things over here. I've never been to a national affair myself but I've never heard of such incidents as have been reported to me from Manchester… Wonder how much a round trip steerage ticket costs? It would be worth it and more, just to drill Chuck Harris in the face with a stream of water from my trusty De Lameter Hydro-Jet (and I could show him all the notches on the handle!) Ah well… one can dream.

Just as I was about to – I think – puzzle some sense out of S&y's letter, I came to the top of page 33 and the upper 3 or 4 lines were scrangled up as though your stencil had

Would luvv to see an item in FEZ with the byline of 'Charlotte Harris'… haH!

One (very) minor complaint is that I wish you'd print the addresses of the contributors in the letter column. I know, for my part, there may well be some that I'd like to send my magazine to but in many cases you can't tell what country they're from, let alone where to address it. By the way, I got your address out of the Programme Combozine. Regarding that, I've meant to ask someone and you'll do – is 'souvenir' the approved British spelling or did the combozine have a typo on the cover? Just wondered – that's all. ((With effect from this issue addresses are given. I hope nobody objects – after all, fandom is to enable people to get together. My dictionary says that 'souvenir' is correct – from the French word of the same spelling.))

May I get nosy and ask what all the various initials in your address stand for? WRAC, RAPC and MELF? I have a large-size bump of curiosity for things of this sort and didn't rest till I'd found out from Ken Slater that BAOR stood for British Army On (the) Rhine, etc. ((You'll find my address in full in this issue – and you'll also be able to see why I use the initials!!))

Just for the records, what does 'FEM' stand for? I've heard some say it was a contraction of feminine while others – unchivalrous dogs – thought it stood for 'Frog-Eyed Monster'. Just thought I'd ask, that's all. If it stands for feminine, you have a good idea there… very good. Thinking it over, I believe I'll start a mag and club for himfans… I'll most likely call it MASCUZINE. ((Ten to one I'll be able to say 'He thought about publishing another fanzine but grue out of it' truthfully!)).

PAMELA BULMER: Tresco, 204 Wellmeadow Road, Catford, London SE6.

The con report was good – funny thing, we went to a Con at the Grosvenor in Manchester – they seem to have held half a dozen Cons there all at the same time – I've read about four different reports and I can only remember one Con. ((One more than most people can remember!)) I wonder what would really happen if we held a con in a Holiday Camp? One thing I didn't like was the way the quotes were inserted. As I see it they should be inserted at convenient breaks in the narrative and should form a part of the zine in their own right. It's very irritating to the eyes to have a break that isn't really a definite break. ((Agreed. They are now placed between paragraphs. But what about your OMPA zine, Pamela?))

I'm not quite sure just how to take the little tailpiece about Conventions. Obviously these can't really be your ideas, never having been to a Con. Personally I regard them much as I do a party. I go to have a rattling good time, to meet a lot of people I have heard about/written to (from now on) etc., and generally let my hair down in a Trufannish way. I don't do anything

The reviews were good. I shall be interested to see your view on Hyphen since you don't think it perfect. I rather gather you don't think a lot of it...((I'm afraid you've heard wrongly, Pamela. Of all the zines I have seen so far, I think I rate '-' first – as far as humour is concerned, at least. What I meant to infer was that, considering some of the pomes and quotes, I didn't think the Hyphen style was perfect for a ten-year-old girl. Hence the crack about the sort of stuff she would be writing at the age of twenty. Incidentally, I think it only fair to point out that Pamela's article on page 6 of this issue is one of those that was crowded out of the last issue. It was rather unfortunate, in view of a letter from Harry Turner also in FEZ 2. There is no connection. Another point (this wasn't mentioned by Pamela but I do know she was one of the people affected) concerns the mailing of FEZ 2. When the copies left here there was an interval of three days between the first and last. When they arrived in the UK the interval was a fortnight. Different ships I suppose. These copies will all leave together!))

Oh no more he'll shoot his sister with his little wooden gun;
And no more he'll twist the pussy's tail and make her yowl for fun.
The pussy's tail now stands out straight; the gun is laid aside;
The monkey doesn't jump around since little Willie died.

Still, one can hardly complain about one page out of forty-four! I was especially intrigued by the photographs reproduced on a Gestetner. Apparently the photos are cut onto the stencil by a 'Stenofax'. I don't know how this works, but at a rough guess I would say the process might be likened to the transmission of pictures by radio. Right or wrong? Who's the technical expert?

Another comes from CHARLES LEE RIDDLE who has been – 'extremely busy this past month being a father for the fourth time, as Mrs Riddle presented us with our first daughter on the 8th August …' Our sincere congratulations, Lee, and we hope everyone is doing well. Oh, and thanks for your offer. I might take you up on it when I've had time to think. (Lee said, 'Anything you want me to get for you over here?' – What an opening!)

And one from MICHAEL KELLY. He wants more femininity! Seems he likes knitting patterns and such. I don't give a Rapp what he wants. I did so much knitting during my first few months in the WRAC (to pass the time away) that I have now sworn off for life. Michael also wonders why I should spend three of the best years of my life out here with this female counterpart of

MAL ASHWORTH: 40 Makin Street, Tong St., Bradford 4, Yorks, Eng.

It occurs to me that in some fannish celestial sphere some deity is doubtless expounding to the others ((May Oogo forgive you for such vagueness)) on the lines of: "It's about time that sluggard Ashworth, who's been sublimating his fannish instincts such a lot of late up in Yorkshire, wrote to that lonely isolated and deserving fanne-ed by the name of Joan Carr, stuck somewhere out in the desert. ((The peaches and cream type?)) Darn it, she sent him the first issue of Femizine and he not only never said a word about it but he sent the exchange copies of BEM to Frances Evans instead of Joan Carr; and now even though he's sent a copy of BEM 2 to Joan Carr in addition to the one he sent Frances, he still hasn't written to congratulate her on one of the brightest of the recent fanzines, to say how much he enjoyed FEZ 2 and how he rated that issue high up among the current crop of fanzines. Consequently he hasn't made any corny puns about the current crop taking some raisin', or even one about the humour in FEZ to the effect that the old adage about Hell having no fury like a woman's corn still holds true. ((It's these Army pattern shoes – oh, sorry, you meant the other corn.)) He hasn't pointed out the similarity between her initials and those of another famous editor and he hasn't asked her why she Maida Camp just there. Neither has he told her how much he admires the editorial character which she gave to her magazine with its second issue and he hasn't expressed his appreciation of her many puns, witticisms and odd bits of humour and the way in which she answers correspondents in the letter column; he hasn't said how much he enjoyed that really wonderful con report and that lovely quote of Ethel's about being contra-Terry matter ((Frances surely?)) and he hasn't said a word about it being a superb little zine all the way round and about how he's surprised that the femme fans could make such a good job of it on their own without any (or with very little) male assistance. ((Most of said assistance comes in via the letter column – and we are grateful even if we don't always have time to write and say so.)) And to crown it all I'm DAMNED if he's said a word about how he wishes them all the luck in the world with it and hopes to see a lot more pieces of such fascinating whimsy just as often as possible. And it just won't do, I tell you. He'll have to do something about it."

Well, I'd just hate to get in bad with the fannish Ghods; believe me there are times when I need them (like, for instance, when one of your number goes and mistakes Burgess for me. Yeah. Or when I look for some femme fans at the Convention and there aren't any unattached ones around and Ted Tubb is there to boot) ((But must you take it out of poor Ted?)) – so to avoid incurring their wrath I'm writing to say just that.

PS. I wonder how many people noticed that the BEM pages have even numbers on the front and odd on the back instead of the other way round? And I wonder if it was done on purpose?

The cartoon on the opposite page would appear to have been very timely since it assuaged the wrath of the Lord High Muck-a-muck Chief Devil himself. Yes, I have just been visited by Khamsin (whirlwind to you) and, instead of bringing the office I am in down around my ears, he simply bowed slightly towards me and then rushed past the office and through the other ranks' tent lines. Now, all is well with the whirled once more – or at least I think it is, but I can't be certain because most of it is about two miles away by now. The things these winds pick up! Ugh, nasty, put it down. You never know where it's bin.

VIN¢ CLARKE: 16 Wendover Way, Welling, Kent, England.

Darned if I can remember when I received FEZ 2… It just seemed to fit into my life (fan life) so naturally, and is just here… like Trafalgar Square, haemoglobin, and the kids screaming next door. However, it was certainly some weeks ago when it arrived… probably in the frantic period around Sept 1st… trust you received your OMPA mailing OK… and is overdue for comment.

Overall the production is really first class: perfectly legible and beautifully justified. The only drawback is the lack of illustrations; it's particularly noticeable in the poetry section. Poetry needs good laying-out and preferably illustrating; it's part of the art itself. Haven't you ever noticed how, in commercial printing, the more luxurious the edition of poetry, the more illustrations and better lay-out it gets? In printing ordinary stories there is usually an increase, but most of the extra expense is devoted to the binding. A striking case in point is our old friend (and Ken Potter's) ((and mine)) The Rubaiyat, which can be bought in increasingly luxurious editions until one gets a full page illustration with every stanza.

Like your explanation of the two summers in the ed… ugh… pirouette. There is also a general 'joie de vivre' here which races along nicely. But fancy using paper clips for styli when you (presumably) have such oddments as knitting needles and crochet hooks (or perhaps not the latter, now I come to think of it) around! ((But I haven't!)) There's certainly some standardisation needed amongst fan names, tho I never have liked 'fen' as the plural. The origin of which is lost in the swamps of Norfolk… in other words, Ken Slater.

Joy's story well written and, for its size, good. Like the laconic ending.

Convention report: very nice idea, the conversation pieces. How did they do it? Wish you'd give technical details like.

Pomes weren't all that good, coming generally under the heading of 'Things Which Could Have Been Better Said in Prose'.

'Zine Here Please'… excellent reviews. The cracks at self will be answered, I think, in EYE 2 (latter has been held up for lack of paper, by the way). They could have been tightened a little, thus leaving you more space to burble on other zines or to include more of your opinions, but that'll come in time.

Next year's con: I've made an effort to contact other actifan; no one seems very eager to put on the '55 Con, so it looks as tho' London will Shoulder the Burden once again. Now folks know how difficult it is to put on an organised Con and how much the individual guest can contribute, we may have something really epochal. We are making tentative efforts to get a complete suburban hotel. And are all looking forward to seeing the mysterious Joan Carr in person, of course. ((You couldn't keep me away – after hearing so much about last Whit!))

'Mail and Female': Don't like the way you mark your editorial comments, but I'll say here that 'maybe a leetle more s-x' doesn't strike me as a strong condemnation… and it probably got you a few extra subbers. Of course, you may not like that kind of subber but they're faans, aren't they? ((I like all subbers – I was only being deliberately 'awkward', Vin¢. A bad habit of mine.))

((A couple of points raised above. Details of the typer etc. have been stated in my OMPA zine, but for anyone who isn't in OMPA but is still technically minded, I'll try to find space later on to repeat the information. As for the Conrep, well that was rather accidental – I had asked for a report, but time seemed to be passing, and I became a little anxious. Letters passed backwards and forwards, and then Voila! three conreps. Just as I was wondering what to do for the best, a fourth one turned up – and I also wanted to say a few words. I could have gone ahead and printed them as four straightforward reports but after reading them several times I noticed there was very little overlapping. So I spent two/three days cutting and splicing and making slight alterations – and 'Contour' was the result. On next year's Con, there is a note here taken from correspondence between Ted Carnell and Sandy re: the suburban hotel. Seems the main trouble is the fact that it might prove too expensive. It would be on an 'all in' basis – catering etc. As Ted remarks –

"It really is a most intriguing idea for a con – only ten miles from the centre of London, on a hill overlooking the river – and just think of those woods! But how much it would cost for two or three days (and nights!) and what rules and regs (if any) we would have to comply with still remains to be seen. Vin¢ was going to find out – but I bet he hasn't. If not I'll take a trip along there one Saturday and see what gives."

Sounds like a wonderful idea to me, and I hope it comes off. This would be halfway between a normal convention, and the convacation suggested by Eric Bentcliffe. FEZ has a no advertising policy but, of course, the Con is something special. If whoever is concerned will let me have a few details I'll be more than glad to publish them...

And still nobody seems to want my half-crown!

Talking about Conventions, what has happened to all the photos that were taken? I'm anxious to get as many as possible to see what some of you types look like! (And why not? Sandy said he'd pay for them as a recompense for missing the Con. Oh rash and foolish youth!) I think I opened double brackets way back – better close them again I suppose…))

HELEN WINICK: 12 Budleigh Crescent, Welling, Kent, England.

Ghod knows how you got my address; I feel this is establishing a dangerous precedent for me, as during an estimated seventeen years of reading sf I've remained rigidly uninvolved with fan activity – barring a somewhat incoherent session at the last London Convention. Also, after an early, and mutually disastrous, embroilment with the ATS, I felt for many years that I'd had women, and became highly selective about them – notoriously more so than about men! However, the women I've met at the White Horse and subsequently the Globe have been of a quality actually capable of inducing an inferiority complex in my normally blandly imperturbable character. (That latter description is a bit of typical British underestimation, by the way, as anyone who's heard the crash of breaking china when I'm aroused can testify!) Also, it is a welcome change to read adult prose in a fanzine, neither coy nor brash (only spoiled by that conscientiously jovial letter of Paul Hammett's. At any minute I expected him to break out with a polysyllabic rendition of 'Diddums then, there, there!'). And finally, one or two men who shall be nameless gave out with such smug comments on your zine one evening that I thought the hell with this, and my Irish came out with the rallying cry, 'Is this a private fight, or can anyone join in?' ((Come in, by all means come in! Just because the lettercol is the only place the men can get a word in, I didn't intend that they should hog the lot!)

A more recent letter here from NIGEL LINDSAY has a bearing on the above. He says – "You certainly have a grand letter column. I can see just what is happening; the BNFs, nettled at being excluded as contributors, are determined to get in through the only loophole. Apart from that FEZ is a good excuse to get in a dig

BRIAN VARLEY: 8 West Cromwell Road, London SW5, England.

...rather tickled by Irene finding me younger than expected; actually I owe it all to regular treatments by masseuse. ((Masseuse in the cold, cold groin…That one is straight from Limbo '90, but I couldn't resist applying it to you.)) Takes away those dissipated looks and gives a young, fresh, healthy appearance. If, for instance, Ted Tubb were to try my masseuse… ((Brian doesn't like letter columns that contain droolings on how good the previous issue was. I have no objection to getting letters of that nature if they are sincere – who has? But they don't stand much chance of being published unless they contain something of more interest to readers. I am interested in showing how different the opinions of individual fen can be, hence the inclusion of some letters in this issue. You have yet to see 'Gosh-wow-boy-o-boy' in FEZ, and I hope you never will...))

TOM WHITE: 3 Vine Street, Cutler Heights, Bradford 4, Yorks, Eng.

Having finally managed to pry FEZ from Mal's clutching (and sweaty) paw, and, having NOT written to you about the first issue – as I have been intending ever since I got it... now where am I?... oh start again.

If my wife Betty hadn't swiped the zine from under my nose I would have commented upon the second issue. The convention reports were good, but suffered from the fact that, by now, everyone else has also published one. Even the feminine angle, interesting as it was, has been published in 'Alpha' previously.

Not that this is criticism – merely condolence; how you ever manage to publish at all with your widely scattered staff is a mystery to me. Mal and I are no more than a mile apart, yet we suffer from frequent breakdowns ((There is room here for a remark about a Miss being as good as a mile, but I can't quite work it out.)) My cunning partner always manages to switch the blame onto me, but don't you believe it! When the page number is stapled under the spine you can bet he's irresponsible.

With all my gentlemanly instincts coming to the surface I hereby forswear the use of the hackneyed phrase 'corn in Egypt'... and by so bringing it out from under the stone (so to speak) also prevent anyone else from using it.

The pictorial heading for the con reports had me puzzled for a while – then, with a flash of intuition (or something) I saw the meaning! Of course – the wrinkles surrounding Brian Varley's eyes on the Sunday afternoon… Right? ((Ain't a-sayin'.))

I don't dislike the poetry at all. ((Surprise – surprise!)) Letter column was interesting. Regarding Paul Enever's

Ghod, I didn't know that Ethel had lost her tammy! What rogue would be foul enough to steal a woman's tammy? I'm surprised that she didn't make more fuss about it – should we run a Lost and Found column in BEM? ((A great idea! Then you could hold a Jumbled Monster Sale every now and then – meb.be?))

HA! Very funny – that little blue star on the bacover – for review, it says – for REVIEW! Are we a mere hack fanzine relying upon splashed ego-boo for circulation? Shall BEM descend to the depths of a mere huckstering publication in order to reap the boot-licking plaudits of faneditors whose crud items are dishonestly praised in the 'review' column? Never… what's that? Er – yes Joan – YES sergeant – at once Ma'am… ((Stand at ease, son. Just for that I've a good mind to re-write my review of BEM – only it's too much trouble. Severe rep. Next case.))

Sandy and I went out watching a bonfire the other night. (No, he was not the guy.) We went along to help the children of a married couple we know to enjoy themselves. They would probably have enjoyed themselves far better had they been left alone, but you know what grown-ups are like. The scene on bonfire night was slightly different from anything I could remember back home, because there is hardly a building in the area higher than a tent or Nissen hut. At one time I could see nine huge fires lighting up the horizon all around us. And as for the science fiction angle, well, the sky was full of rockets...

Talking about science fiction, have you read the fiftieth issue of Authentic? I felt quite at home with it. First there was that beautiful cover painting – spoiled somewhat by the amount of print on it – of the sand storms of Venus! (Incidentally, the credit is given to Davis, tho' the illo is signed 'Richards'.) Then the lead story... 'It Takes Two' by Ken Bulmer. More sand storms and camels yet! I enjoyed reading the beginning of this tale of a small group of refugees who developed a group mind away from the war hysteria of Earth, but the ending rather fell down badly. Of the short stories, 'Won't Power' by S M Lane and 'One Hour' by G C Duncan both toyed slightly with good ideas. 'The Kid' by K E Smith was rather useless I thought.

Orion No 6. Published by Paul Enever from 9 Churchill Avenue, Hillingdon, Middlesex, although 'Panting subscribers should make themselves known to George Richards at 40 Arncliffe Road, Eastmoor, Wakefield, Yorks, England'. They will require a sixpence if wishing to obtain one copy – and I recomend [SIC] that they do! (Shouldn't that have two 'm's?) Paul writes a very nice editorial, and there is the second part of a story by James Keeping about which I will say nothing because I haven't read it. And I haven't read it not because I don't I like fan literature, but simply because I never read serials in instalments. And if you think this is getting complicated, you should see the state of my mind. The irrepressible Willis is also present with a light piece (star-light?) concerning the regularity of the zine. (Now let's see someone make a joke out of that as they did about the periodicity of a fanzine!) I sympathise with George Whiting, who writes in his column 'A Fan In Greece' about the RSM types. Both Sandy and I have had similar experiences over here. In fact, Sandy was going to write an article on the subject, but I haven't heard anything about it for some time. Must remember to ask. A fanzine review column, in which fanzines are reviewed, and a letter column, containing letters, completes the issue. Oh, I almost forgot Harris on the Aristocracy! Still, he is so unlike the normal Harris that I can hardly be blamed...

Technically speaking, I'm supposed to work here at Maida Camp, and spend most of my time in another one just down the road. In fact, I sleep at this other joint, and spend most of my time here at Maida. The reason for not mentioning this fact before? The name of the other camp is Ladysmith! Now watch all the humourists have a field day! The reason for using Maida as an address, of course, is mainly due to the fact that the mail is delivered during the morning, and I get it on the section I work on. I'm always eager to see mail, even if I'm not so quick in replying to it. Another reason, of course, is the fact that all my equipment is here. I presume that there is a duplicator at Ladysmith, otherwise how could they publish all the orders they do? However, I have never seen it. Here there are three or four. In view of this, my section is fixed up for both office work and fanning. There is a desk in front of me, one to the left, and a rack of files against the wall behind me. In the morning the table in front has things like binders, block proofs and other office material, none of which can be of the slightest interest to you. To the left, there are – uncut stencils, cut stencils, typing paper, carbon paper, material for FEZ 3/4 (and for 5), card index of subscribers etc., Correctine, stylus (still that paper clip), cleaning fluid for the typer, oil for ditto, and several other accessories. There is also a pane of glass for cutting illos on, and sand paper for shading – and, last and not least, the typer. This (not this one, if you see what I mean) is an Oliver Portable, and it has just decided to do the dirty on me. It had developed several peculiarities before it finally went for a burton – the 'f' had begun to print double, the platen had become greasy from these non-wax stencils and wouldn't feed the stencil through properly. The platen had even warped a little from the heat. But I loved that machine. Then, about an hour ago, I came to the end of a line in a letter I was writing (see, I do, occasionally), pulled the roller back, let go, and the thing almost took off. No matter how I tried, I couldn't get it to stay in place. Then I picked the machine up and found a tiny piece of metal under it, shaped something like a small screw, but with no thread on it. Now all I have to do is find out what it is and where it goes, and put it there. At least I hope that is all I have to do… but perhaps it would be best to get an expert on the job. I don't know enough about them to fiddle about. The one I am using at the moment is an office one (naturally) – an ancient Imperial. I don't know how this stencil and the following ones will turn out, but it seems to be cutting very well. Here's hoping! Still thinking of the technically minded, the duplicator that the first twenty odd pages of this issue have been run off on was a Gestetner 26. At least, it had a cover with that written on. However, after getting to page 26, there was a gap of a week, and when I started again, the machine had become a Gestetner 230. They grow up pretty quickly. This one also had the same trouble as the typer, i.e. a warped roller. Nearly all the stencils I ran off on it (up to page 40) developed cracks in the same places. One or two, and I would have blamed myself for it, but not sixteen! By the time this is finished, I don't think it will be as good as the last – as far as repro is concerned. Still, we can but try...

Oh yes, that rack against the wall that I mentioned contains files of zines and correspondence. I also forgot to mention that at my loft I have a dictionary, a book of vocabularies, and a book on English language. It's not surprising that I forgot them really, since they have never been used. That is, except for the dictionary when I wanted to check on the word 'souvenir'.

Yes, here we are. In BEM 2, Mal Ashworth said "Two words in the dictionary, two whole words beginning with bem, and neither are at all punnish." Well, in BEM 3, the readers have a go and discover quite a number of other words. The best I think is Archie Mercer, but he used a number of reference books and only got four from the dictionary. I've just had a quick look-see at mine, and apart from words such as BEMAD, BEMAUL, BEMAZED, BEMIRE, BEMOCK, BEMUD, BEMONSTER (to make monstrous), BEMOUTH, BEMUDDLE, and BEMUFFLE, I noticed a couple of nouns: BEMBEX – a genus of sand wasps, noted for their loud buzz (it's a pity the second 'b' is pronounced. Otherwise it could be linked up with the cross for expired subs) and BEMA – the rostrum from which Athenian orators made their speeches. This last one should fit in somewhere. I think someone could do with a new dictionary for Xmas! Incidentally, BEM 3 is well worth having.

Move over Paul, or, Orion and FEZ both!

From what I have been told (in a letter today), it would appear that FEZ has now joined ORION in the 'Authentic Slated Club'. I haven't seen Bert's review of FEZ 2, but apparently it is completely the opposite to that he gave the first issue. I also believe that the horrible word s-x rears its ugly head again. Now, I don't want to get too deeply involved in a war over this, BUT – When Vin¢ and Stu Mackenzie first raised the point, they were joking. Or at least it wasn't deadly serious. When I took them up on it, I was joking also. The fact that my attempt at humour failed miserably, since nobody seemed to realise it was a joke, has nothing to do with it. It was a joke, and it circulated amongst fen. Now we have Bert Campbell making nasty noises at us through a professional magazine whose circulation is somewhat bigger than ours. I disagree with him entirely on this question of sex in FEZ. If anything, there were more 'risqué' remarks in the first issue (the one Vin¢ and Stu referred to) than there were in the second issue. And yet Bert gave No 1 a pretty good review. It just doesn't add up! Never mind, we'll struggle on. Only – move over, Paul, will you? We want to join you.

" – In a way that is a very masculine statement – when a man makes a risqué remark or joke, that is funny and a sign of virility. When a woman does the same thing – that is 'unhealthy'. – "

By the way, I've just realised that February is a short month, and from my point of view it will be a busy one. Towards the end of the financial year, work tends to mount up. On the back page, I have given January 14 as the date for material to reach Ethel for inclusion in the next issue. Will you try to make that the seventh? Sorry if I'm rushing anyone, but I don't want to be late again...

In that connection, I'm sorry if some of the stuff in this issue is a bit old. Quite a lot of this was originally cut for October.

If you picked up a copy of the first issue (July '47) of a fanzine called '2000 AD' and found that on the back were pencilled the magic names – 'Madelaine', 'Walt' and 'Bob' heading three columns of figures with the high-number under Bob, would you immediately assume that you had a real collectors' item, cover the zine in cellophane and put it in a bank vault, or would you sit down and think it out – finally coming to the conclusion that THEY had been receiving the Tucker Postal Course on Poker or Somesuch – with 'Bob' one lesson ahead...........?

Sandy came across one the other day in a stack of old zines he'd just got from Pete Campbell, and he's dying of curiosity!

Talking about fanzines – I've got a stack of them here myself, but I'm afraid this column has gone on too long as it is. I hope you boys don't mind if I just mention them while passing? In particular, there is 'Phantasmagoria No 2' well worth dropping a letter to Derek Pickles (address on page 26). Then there's the first issue of 'Brennschluss' put out by Ken Potter from 5 Furness St., Marsh, Lancaster – an excellent first issue with very clear duplicating. The illos in this issue didn't come through very well tho'. No doubt this is now under control. Next comes BEM 3 which I have mentioned – this is another good issue, but lacking somewhat in interlineations, which isn't like Mal or Tom. Subs to Tom (address on page 42). American zines are PEON, November 54, well recommended; Starlanes, October 54, for those who like fan poetry; the fourth and fifth copies of the Archives – a SAPSzine from Larry Touzinsky; STF TRENDS No 15, another SAPSzine, this time from Lynn Hickman; and CHIGGER No 4 from Bob Farnham. I enjoyed reading them all.

The letter situation is just as bad; in particular there are letters from Mavis Ryan and Irene Boothroyd, and TWO from Rose Frommann. I really will have to do something about them or else I can see myself being cut off without a friend in the world. To all who wrote – many thanks. To those who didn't – why? In company with most faneditors, we are more interested in hearing from you than we are in taking your sub money! Tho' we'll do that also if possible........

Some of you, seeing the name Robert Conquest on the contents page, have no doubt thought that this was the thin edge of the wedge. You're wrong. I happened to read the poem that follows in the 'Listener', and thought it just the thing for the final word on poetry. Not only does it have sf connotations, it is also a poem about poetry. My thanks to the author for permission to reprint.

Quotes Credits.

Walt Willis (Hyphen 9), Chuck Harris (Hodge Podge 7), ASF (BRE) May 54. Paul Hammett, Pat Doolan, Brian Varley, Ethel Lindsay, Michael Kelly, Mike Rosenblum, Mal Ashworth, some sources I have forgotten, and my head (just to prove it isn't exactly empty).

And that's your lot........

"Well," said Gladys firmly, "I'm going for the police."

"Yes," said Mrs. Hopkins, "a good idea. It's past eight." Some of the missing boys were mere seven-year-olds –

They walked quickly, nervously looking about them, eight or nine ordinary women – slow to anger except when something threatened their family – their secure happy homes. There was no conversation, just a sense of urgency. They didn't see a man at all on the way, or any small boys on the usual street corners. The police station was some distance away – somehow nobody mentioned the telephone.

Then suddenly, as they turned into the High Street, a voice spoke to them. "Return to your homes everyone, return to your homes." A sweet, sad, sexless voice – from where? The women paused. Again the voice. "Return to your homes, your menfolk are safe and will return, soon." There was something in the voice that impelled them. They turned and walked back again without question, yet somehow at peace. They turned to their individual homes. Smiles and goodbyes were exchanged – yes, all was well.

Gladys picked up the paper – nothing new. She cleared away – the food would not be needed now, and she did not feel hungry. She dozed quietly. When she awoke, her husband's arms were about her, and the boys were standing quietly by, their eyes aglow.

"My dear," said Frank, "we were called, all the males, at four o'clock. We have met the Venerians! They seemed to call to us in our minds, and we had to go. They have come to bring peace to all our hearts – there will be no war ever again. The Venerians are our people, our own flesh and blood. In past ages they left Earth in panic – just a few hundreds – and settled on Venus. They are here now so that the same panic will not occur again. They have learned to live in peace with one another, and their love of Earth has brought them back now that we are on the verge of catastrophe. They will help – must help. My dear, one of our sons goes back with them. That is all they ask in return, one son or daughter from each home because their race is dying. We agreed that the choice be left to you – which of our sons is to be honoured?"

She gazed at him fearfully, then at her two boys – still silent, but with eager faces.

She said slowly, "My choice? My son?" Her mind cleared.

"Neither," she said. "A sterile race?... No, when we reach the planets, as we will soon, then my boys will be pilots – pioneers. Earth needs no help – ours is a growing race. In good time we shall see our sons as men. The Venerian's lure, our love of peace, is not for us. We must make our own

There was a rushing as of wind. Her husband shook his head slowly, and the boys looked sullen now.

"That was our one chance, Mum," said Leslie.

Donald returned to normal. "I'm hungry!" he said. Her husband had been deep in thought, but now he came to her defence. "Your Mother is right," he said. "Nobody can give us the worthwhile things in life. They have to be worked for." The tension eased a trifle.

"'But, VENUS..." said Leslie.

"You'll get there," his father said. "And in our time too. Now we'll have an overdue meal. I'm hungry as well."

Gladys prepared the meal, laying the table again quietly.

When they were all seated, Donald said, "I wouldn't have gone anyway. I feel scared now."

"Yes," said Leslie. "So do I." He gave a glance at the window. "Mum," he said, "is my shirt ready for tomorrow?"

"Er – is Ken in?" said Norman.

I shook my head in frantic negation.

I've always dreaded being caught in such a predicament. I still couldn't think clearly but I just had to gain time so I asked him in – just inside the door that is.

"I'm afraid I'm just going out and I have an appointment which I'm late for and I can't cancel and I have to go right away – oh where the ----- did I put my gloves?" Norman looked a bit worried and uncertain and did a lot of uming and aahing and I raced from room to room distractedly trying to figure out just why I was racing from room to room distractedly. Norman followed somewhat gingerly but near enough to prevent me getting a quick look at the seams of my stockings (which were to torment me for the rest of the afternoon). I finally found my way to my own front door endeavouring to chat appropriately to Norman the while, showed him out and followed him and triumphantly closed the door. Then I knew what it was I had been racing from room to room distractedly for. My purse. I stared back at the door but it was indefatigably locked and my key was in my purse.

"I've locked myself out without any change for my bus fare and I can't get back in," I announced. Norman said ooooerrr and he was very sorry and what was I going to do now? Before I realised what I was saying I'd said you'll have to break in for me and had ushered him round the back. At this point I spied one of my neighbours and thought better of allowing Norman to climb over our fresh broken white paint. I said I'd manage. By this time my mental television set had caught up with me and I had a gorgeous picture of Norman breaking in to my own home for me and gallantly letting me in. (For appreciation of entertainment value of mental images – apply Walt Willis.) For some peculiar reason this mental picture stayed with me nearly all afternoon and Norman at least must have wondered why I spluttered into hysterics every so often whilst trying desperately to carry on a conversation

If Winter Comes...

As I write this S/Sergeant Buckmaster (Ron to you, brother to me, and husband of well-known famme Daphne Buckmaster) is engaged in extremely unfannish activity – cleaning his kit amidst muttered curses audible at least 100 yards down the street. Come to think of it, I've seen most of the London Circle doing unconventional things – Ted Tubb administering a fanbelt to his car – needed it to hitch his zap gun on (by Daphenition), Sid Bounds sketching alien entities, Ted Carnell and Burt Campbell trying to sell each other stories (at least I took it that was why they each bought the other a drink), Joy Goodwin administering black coffee to survivors of her non-alcoholic wine holocaust. I even speak to Ken Bulmer, Editor of Nirvana and president of the B.A.V.C.** – sometimes, when I'm not otherwise occupied. And Vin¢ Clarke working...

And the best of Fannish Christmases to you all!

Pamela Bulmer.

**((Bulmer Aqueous Vapour Company - Rob))

CONVENTION NEWS

The next day I went back to the place where I had left the White Horse; not seeing the old fellow around, I made enquires at the farm-house. "No White Horse has ever been in that field," I was told. "Surely you must be mistaken."

I spent the entire day searching for that horse, but not a hoof-print could I find. Only an empty whisky bottle under the hedge.

It is edited and published by Joan W Carr 'midst sand, sun and perspiration. (You see, I can be ladylike if I try!)

Material to	Ethel Lindsay (by the 14th January, please) 126, West Regent Street, Glasgow, Scotland (who can find time to acknowledge receipt).
Subs to	Frances Evans (9d per copy – 4 for 2/6) School House, Teignmouth Street, Collyhurst, Manchester 9, England (who can do ditto).

Fanzines for review and exchange, and letters of comment, to:
Sergeant Joan W Carr (Women's Royal Army Corps)
c/o Royal Army Pay Corps Sergeant's Mess,
Maida Camp,
Middle East Land Forces 17,
c/o General Post Office, England (who can't find time to acknowledge receipt of either excepting through the zine, because she is far too busy trying to make certain of being amongst those who move to Cyprus when this camp breaks up (the Greeks had a word for it no doubt – and it isn't Enosis)).

Our American Representative is:

Eva Firestone, Box 515, Upton, Wyoming, U.S.A.

(to whom subs at the rate of 10¢ per copy (35¢ for four), should be sent)

American columnists should still send material through Ethel – saves confusion!

This is the THIRD and FOURTH issue of FEZ, and is dated DECEMBER 1954.

It will, unfortunately, have to count as two against subs.

Lay-out of this page (and also page 31) is by kind permission of PiCaSsO!