So, who is Ogri?

Ogri’s beginnings are rightly obscured in the mists of time (but let’s aim for around 1967…), Allegedly, a mix of the name of our patron Saint George and Loki the norse God of chaos, it sounds a likely mix. Looking at our Ogri tells you all you need to know… biker jacket, spanner hanging out the back pocket of his jeans, stubble on that square jaw and a mis-shaped nose from the odd dust-up or two, he likes nothing better than a bottle (or four) of Newcastle Brown as well as the odd fried egg and black pudding sandwich. He’s a biker’s biker: not afraid of anyone, oblivious and impervious to rain and blessed with an utter hatred of conformity, pomposity, the establishment and with a healthy disrespect for those elements of the law that think they know best.

So what about his bike? This was his trusty Norvin, supposedly left to him by an uncle: a 1958 Norton Wideline Featherbed frame with a 1947 Vincent Rapide engine. We think. We think, because – well, he’s got a spanner hanging out of his back pocket and the real origins of this bike and the parts which make it up are probably (and rightly) as original as Trigger's broom. It’s said Ogri tinkered with a Kawasaki H2 triple for a while in the strip, and even something with a (gulp) fairing, but this cannot be substantiated and his old faithful Norvin – named ‘Armageddon’ – always seemed to out-run the Police, the odd Volvo and even the later, plastic ‘crotch-rockets’ that would appear on the streets. We mentioned the Volvos and their drivers, and it would be these and the Police (traffic) and traffic wardens who would often feel the wrath of Ogri, as well as the odd bike thief who’d cop a hiding for even deigning to steal Ogri’s faithful steed.

Friends were a select few. Malcolm (a perennially spotty, slightly-built fellow, who – while he may have lacked all of Ogri’s skills and abilities – was always backed up and helped by his more illustrious friend. The two complemented each other and also ‘sort of’ reflected both biker sides of Paul’s personality itself. Of course, there was also Kickstart, his faithful white dog, who often summed up the current panel/ situation perfectly through a thought bubble. Kickstart – it is alleged – came into Ogri’s ownership when some ‘b*stard’ (Ogri’s words, not ours) left him sat on his Norvin in the pub car park! Then, of course, there is Mitzi. Health and Safety would have a field day with sights of her riding in a basque and stockings, while feminists amongst us would be utterly disgusted. Suffice to say that – when you read Ogri deeply – Mitzi can ride a bike and is nobody’s fool! Mitzi was ‘born’ in the 1970s and Paul says he met her and maybe more...

If you know and love Ogri, then you really need to get hold of ‘Ogri – Everybody’s Favourite.’ This beautifully produced collection of 150 comic strips costs £24.99 and is available from www.ogri-book.co.uk