James Bacon: - could he really charm the knickers off a nun?

By Lee Justice

With Aliens Stole my Handbag in 2001 James Bacon single handedly recreated and reinvigorated the stereotypical overview of mainstream conventions across the UK with madcap, inane and insane humorous asides. He took the emphasis away from the generic backbone on which most other cons are built around, and created a premise of surrealism, chaos and diverse mayhem as starting points from which to build something to stand in stark contrast to a widely perceived and generalised formulaic impression of stoic fandom. Just because there were other people involved doesn't mean he didn't do it all himself, for this is the effect James often has; a power he wields inadvertently. James is, in his own larger than life way, a butterfly of chaos. If he wants something doing, it will generally, and much more often than not, get done, despite the continued reservations from those around him - reservations of which there are usually many. James has a contagious affability, an uncanny way of getting the very best out of people.

Of course it wasn't always like this. Although now, looking back, in decipherance of such a statement I find it difficult to find any such instances with which to back that sentence up with. Maybe he has always been like that, it certainly seems so. I recall one time when James White was to be the guest of honour at Octocon, Irelands premier Science Fiction Convention. James White couldn't make the trip with his wife Peggy as she was not so good at travelling. James got his dad to get in his car, and take him on a two hundred mile round trip to get the White's to the con in time and then he convinced his mother to bring them all back, they were happy to do so, their sons enthusiasm bursting forth as it were, they were taken in the flow, and loved doing the task set before them, nay a task more a joy. And here, of course is where it all began, of course, at Octocon, many years earlier, where a young James would attend and look upon the committee with awe. It wouldn't take long before he found himself not only on the committee, but as a driving force of many Octocon's through the nineties. From here he'd make several inroads into science fiction media, not least as a founding member of Sproutlore, the Robert Rankin fanclub, and editor-in-chief of the Brentford Mercury - the clubs fanzine that he rescued from obscurity in 1995. With the vigour and verve that James manages to put into everything he touches he has turned Sproutlore into what it is today. A dictatorship with James at its head. Even Robert has learned to bow down to his unrivalled and catatonic superiority!

Two years on and James turned his attentions to running single, one day events for Sproutlore and its members. From small and humble beginnings, they say, great oaks will grow. And never was a statement more apt. A tiny pub in Brighton and a gathering of thirty or so members saw the conception of what would later grow to become full-on hedonistic inspired weekend events; chaos strewn none-stop three day insanities like Aliens Stole my Handbag, Damn Fine con and the wondrous They Came and Shaved Us. Interspersed through all these, across eight years, were the surreal one dayers. Hiring an open top bus to voyage a troupe around Brentford, Mecca to all Sproutlorians. Not once but twice. Hiring a riverboat to voyage us all along the Thames, renting pubs for whole evenings of mad-cap festivities, organising book launches with publishers and tours around tube stations. All insane and surreal ideas, dreams made real at the hands of one man. And why? Because, simply because, he thought about it. This is all James needs to do. He has the ability to turn dreams into reality, because no matter who you are its hard to say 'no' to James. Even when James asks you to shave every hair on your body, wear sea weed and paint yourself green, hit someone with your fist while there's a chicken strapped to it, eat stuff till you're sick, and then eat the sick, drink copious amounts of alcohol for three whole days without eating, stick needles in yourself till you almost pass out, burn the hairs on your leg off with a lighter, or just to simply smile and enjoy yourself. Often he doesn't even need to ask, he'll just say, 'wouldn't it be cool to...' And someone will say 'yeah...' and then they'll go away and do it. Because they want to. James brings the best, and sometimes the worst, out of everyone.

But despite having done everything that he has ever said he's going to do, when he came up with the idea of taking over the whole of a London Borough for a weekend, renting not just a public house but a theatre a football ground and a hotel, all dedicated to Sproutlore, well I thought that maybe this time he'd bitten of more than even he could chew. But not so; I should have known better. Brentcon 1 is up and running and looming ever closer. Is there any end to this mans capabilities?

But despite all the grande ideas, and the hectic life that such ideas generate around the man himself, James is still a down to earth guy who'll do anything to help a friend. There are no boundaries to James, if it's humanly possible and he thinks he can do it, consider it a done thing. So is it humanly impossible to charm the knickers off a nun? If he ever gets around to trying I'm sure the Catholic church will collapse around him.

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