Saturday 7th November 1953, amThe following composite report has been assembled from those by Vince Clarke (writing as 'The Inquisitor' in VARGO STATTEN SCIENCE FICTION MAGAZINE, vol 1 no 1., Jan 1954), Brian Varley (writing as 'Brian qui Boit' in SPACE TIMES, vol 2 no 10., dated Oct 1953), and from BANG! A ONE-SHOT MEDCON REPORT BY A LUNATIC FRINGE. This last is billed as "composed on the stencil during the Medconvention and edited by Vince Clarke, Chuch Harris, Dave Newman and Pete Taylor. Corntributions by all and sundry, Esquire." The colophon at the end suggests most of the written 'corntributions' were actually by Clarke and Newman.
There was a surging rush of atmospherics from the loudspeakers, a frantic stutter A background Morse, a voice booming and fading across the interstellar ether.
"The next record will be played for an android on Sirius Two...."
No, it wasn't a nightmare after a lobster and science-fiction supper, but the Medcon, the Medway Science-Fiction Convention in November. Tony Thorne, leading enthusiast of the Rochester, Chatham and Gillingham fans, is a communications engineer, and consequently his club has more than the usual number of gadget-mad electronics experts.
My first job must be to congratulate Jim Guy, Tony Thorne, Brian Lewis and all their helpers for putting on a Grade A show. It was clear to all present that preparing this ingenious display must have been almost a full time occupation for the past few months. To get down to a few of the basic details we must admit that in common with most conventions the morning session was delayed, not I might hasten to add because of the Medways' lack of co-ordination, but due solely to the small number present.
"There's nothing much happened so far."
This is a report straight from the centre of the MEDCON, the first Con. associated in any manner with water, or, as we scientifiction fans know it as, H30 (sic).
The time is 12 noon, the intercom system has just broken down, and Tony Thorne is making an announcement concerning lunch. The morning so far has been a disconnected series (?) of odd events; as everyone except Mancon types know, it's no use organising anything in the first morning of a Con.... everyone is too busy getting drunk.
We have nothing but praise for the drinking arrangements here - the bar was open at ten o'clock, and was properly christened by those present at that early hour. At the time of opening there appeared to be enough assorted booze to intoxicate a regiment but at the time of going to press (12.00), the inroads of the Fen are already making themselves felt.
Crunch time is just about tickin' up... Aargh! people are squirting orange juice in our shell-pink lugs. Desist fiendish fan!