IIPC Magazines Ltd | 14p | Edited by Barrie Tomlinson
Back in November 1980, this issue of Tiger and Speed hit the shelves — and I was ten years old, sprinting (well, walking fast) to the paper shop between TISWAS and the start of Grandstand. Forty-odd years later, it’s part of my ever-growing digital archive — one of over 10,000 comics I’ve collected, scanned and revisited more times than I’d admit. These weren’t just stories; they were part of the Saturday routine. You bought it, read it, and then tried half the stunts in your back garden.
And this particular issue?
It’s Tiger at full tilt — football, motors, wrestling and mayhem, all told with complete sincerity and zero irony. Below is both review and generalisation – You will need to read the comic for full value.
Billy’s Boots – Pages 1, 8 & 9 (in colour)
We open with Billy’s Boots, the strip every schoolboy secretly believed in.
Billy Dane’s off his game again, plagued by self-doubt and relying a little too heavily on those mystical Dead-Shot Keen boots. Naturally, redemption arrives in the dying seconds — a last-gasp goal, a roar from the terraces, and a weary smile from the coach who’s seen it all before.
John Gillatt’s artwork is superb: lean figures, proper movement, and the kind of muddy, overcast pitches you can still smell in memory. No shortcuts, no gimmicks — just football, drawn with heart and a bit of mud round the edges.
Skid Solo – Pages 2–4
Skid’s back on the circuit, rain hammering down and someone tampering with his tyres. You could set your watch by this strip — there’s always a rival mechanic, a snapped hose, and a last-corner overtake. Yet it still works. The cars look right, the pacing’s sharp, and Skid stays cool when everyone else is losing their nuts.
It’s British racing in a nutshell before it became all about the money: no glamour, just oil, grit and the odd moral about fair play.
Death Wish – Pages 5–7
The mood shifts immediately. Blake Edmonds — disfigured daredevil and walking cry for help — takes centre stage. This week, he leaps through a wall of fire for a live TV audience. He lands, collapses, and still manages to look like he’s thinking about the next one.
Death Wish didn’t pull punches; it was as close as Tiger ever got to full-blown nihilism.
The kind of story you read, then instantly re-read because you weren’t sure they’d actually print something that dark in a kids’ comic.
Trevor Francis Column – Pages 10–11
A rare bit of real-world perspective in between the stunts and mud. Trevor Francis gives an honest glimpse into life as a professional footballer — the travel, the training, the constant pressure to perform. It’s straight, no frills, and feels like something he actually wrote, not a ghosted puff piece (although I do suspect Mr. Tomlinson may have been involved). You can see why Tiger readers respected him — he wasn’t a cartoon hero, but he belonged in the same universe.
Billy’s Sports School – Page 12
This week’s “lesson”: how to make your own goalkeeper’s crash mat out of a mattress. You can just imagine the nation’s back gardens by Sunday afternoon — rope everywhere, one broken window, and a sheepish “sorry Mum.” A page that sums up Tiger’s charm perfectly: part football, part chaos, and entirely convinced it’s a good idea.
Johnny Cougar – Pages 13–15
Straight back into the madness. Johnny’s in the ring again — muscles, mayhem, and melodrama. His partner betrays him mid-bout, the promoter legs it with the takings, and the crowd start throwing chairs. It’s loud, ridiculous, and utterly brilliant.
You don’t read Johnny Cougar for subtlety; you read it because it feels like Saturday-afternoon wrestling on ITV with the volume turned up.
Centre Spread – Lively Leeds!
A two-page Leeds United poster in glorious colour. Allan Clarke, Alex Sabella, Trevor Cherry — all in their prime, all sporting haircuts last seen on Top of the Pops.
It’s the kind of thing that ended up blu-tacked above beds nationwide, leaving a perfect Tiger-sized rectangle missing from half the surviving copies.
Pete’s Page – Page 18
The letters, jokes and quiz answers page — always a highlight. Kids proudly listing their football scores, swapping tips, and showing a level of politeness modern social media could learn from. One week a lad from Louth claims his Subbuteo team could beat anyone; another wanted his poster back because “Mum binned it.”
And the jokes?
“Why did the football pitch get wet?”
“Because the team dribbled all over it.”
Still worth a chuckle.
Topps on Two Wheels – Pages 19–21
Eddie Topps is back — stunt rider, showman, and the only man alive who can crash and still smile for the cameras. This week, sabotage again, a flaming hoop, and a perfect landing. You could almost hear the theme from Kick Start playing in the background. It’s quick, simple and pure fun — exactly what comics like Speed brought to Tiger after the merger (although I wasn’t a big fan of mergers).
Nipper – Pages 22–23
No gimmicks here — just football done properly. Nipper returns home from the States to a frosty reception, scores the winner, and wins the crowd. Every strip reads like the game itself: fast, honest and soaked in effort. It’s the working-class heart of Tiger, and even all these years later, it still rings true.
File of Fame – Pages 26–27
Trevor Watson’s back on the track, still fainting mid-race and still the best driver in the country. There’s a dodgy sponsor, a few whispered threats, and just enough suspense to keep you hooked for next week. It’s pulp perfection — high-octane soap opera before anyone called it that.
Hot-Shot Hamish – Pages 29–30
We finish with a classic Hamish disaster. The big man’s learning to drive, and within two pages he’s demolished a fence, reversed into a pond, and scared a small dog.
Completely ridiculous, endlessly likeable, and somehow still football-related.
David Sque’s artwork makes Hamish larger than life — a force of nature who means well but destroys everything he touches.
Adverts & Extras
Airfix kits, Fleetway annuals, Spangles, Shoot! magazine, the usual handful of bonkers toy adverts you’d forgotten existed. and TUCKER JENKINS!
It’s the background noise of an era — loud, optimistic, and utterly British.
Verdict
By November 1980, Tiger and Speed had the balance just right: football for the dreamers, engines for the thrill-seekers, and humour for everyone else.
Reading it now — even on a screen — takes you right back to that paper shop on a grey Saturday, the smell of print and crisps mixing in the air.
Best Bit: Hamish’s driving lesson — unintentional slapstick perfection.
Most Nostalgic Moment: That Leeds poster (despite being one of the most hated clubs of all time), reminding you just how much hair footballers once had.
