Cover by Cliff Robinson

Robert Frazer: It's a stock cover, but an attractive one as Robinson invests a good degree of detail into the pose - the texture effects on the Lawgiver are a nice touch, and everything else is drawn with care and consideration to form and structure - especially important given the narrow focus of the scene.

I might make one question about style - while everyone loves whickering brass ringing through the air, I'd say that there are a few too many spent casings for the size of the Lawgiver's magazine (it only leaves you wondering how they're supposed to fit six types of bullet in there). On the other hand, though, if there were fewer casings it is possible that they would be lost amidst the background detail of Dredd's uniform and shoulder eagle and they do help to emphasise the force that Dredd is squeezing down that flaming muzzle, so it can go either way according to your taste.

Stephen Watson: It may be a generic Dredd firing a gun but when it’s a Cliff Robinson Dredd firing a gun that’s fine with me. I do prefer my covers to be a taster of what’s within but this meaty effort is a solid well composed effort. I know we don’t generally see the ammo casings fly out and there may be too many to fit in the magazine but you can’t deny the power and energy of this effort.

Synopsis: Dredd destroys the attacking Inga, and they identify it as a "Swedish Love Droid" which reminds Dredd of PJ Maybe. The track the robot back to Ambrose, but in the meantime, Ambrose/ Maybe has already reported the robot as missing...

Robert Frazer: The high drama of Inga's last loyal gasp to finish Sinfield for Maybe was undermined by one unfortunate distracting detail at the end of the first page. I swear... that's the first time I've seen Hershey's hair
perform anything other than its severe cowling pageboy bub-cut!

Inga seems surprisingly doughty for a Dutch Wife. Even if some customers like it rough I doubt that splitting skulls, crushing throats and taking shots at point blank without flinching are entirely within the stimulating repertoire of a love-droid. But this doesn't detract from an instalment which is genuinely exciting. The battle against Inga is bursting with energy, and details such as shooting through the door help to emphasise its close-quarters desperation.
There are some appealing perspective tricks and panel-craft when Sinfield seems buried amongst Inga's shattered remains on the third page, so that for one tense moment we're not sure whether it's the Chief Judge or the Assassin who's blasted ribs we're seeing.

The remainder of the story doesn't disappoint, either. PJ Maybe has accomplished a tour de force in hiding in plain sight for coming up to three years now - and for all of Dredd's tenacity, with Maybe's contingencies and Sinfield's known snooping around the Maybe files it's not necessarily a given that Mayor Ambrose's alter-ego is going to be exposed. Everything's left to play for, and it's genuinely exciting.

Stephen Watson: After a time when both he and the strip were somewhat in the wilderness, Dredd has been really top notch recently with John Wagner harvesting the script fruit from the plot seeds he’s sowed over the last 20 odd years.

This week, PJ’s increasingly mad schemes start to come undone and for once it’s him who feels the pain as love droid Inga gets a hot filling for the last time. It was inevitable that’d be Dredd who saved the day and to be honest I’d have liked his twigging of the subterfuge to be more fan boy friendly - maybe a comment about Lopez’s moustache - that’d have made me smile.

As it was Dredd saved his enemy Sinfield but at least managed to make it as grudging as possible. As the investigation hits full swing we have to wonder if PJ can get out of this fine mess. This strip is truly peerless and the rewards for the long-term readers are legion. Whether someone dipping in would get the same fun I don’t know, or indeed care - where were they during ‘Crusade’.

The art chores here are bounced back to John Higgins and he does his usual consummate job. I normally prefer one Droid per strip but when it’s bounced between Colin MacNeil and John Higgins it’s like watching Federer versus Nadal, except with drawings.

Synopsis: Joe manages to take out the attacking apens by faking his death and shooting them from behind - but he refuses to say where he klerned the technique. They get back to the base where June is distraught at having apparently switched off communications (even though it was actually Jaeger) and has cut off her own finger as recompense. grayle now doesn't quite trust Jaeger...

Robert Frazer: June's appearance this week is very striking. When composed she was really rather pretty, but now the transformation effected on her is discomfiting without mutating her into an entirely different character who happens to have the same name. Her face isn't drowned in streaming rivers of melodrama - her anguish is plain but we can still see the same design visible there.

It's not often that strip placement comes up in a review, but Tharg has positioned his stories with optimal care in this week's prog - Boo Cook's bright art is an ideal alternate beat between Hurst's muted palette and Flint's mucky toning. All of them have their merits, but separating them in this way gives each of the three strips room to breathe and shows them to their best advantage.

On bum note blares out, though: I'm not sold on Sieur Alpine Manhood as a villain. Does he hate aliens species? Does he hate lesser members of his own? Apparently both, but when that comes to sabotaging his own side and smirking about it, all it really seems to boil down is that he's a bit of a dick.

Stephen Watson: I’ve yet to fully take to this new thrill and to be honest it seems a bit too familiar. Al Ewing is writing practically half the Prog these days and although I enjoy his work I do wonder if this is a thrill too far. It’s OK stuff but nothing that exciting and when married with Boo Cook’s workmanlike art it’s not a strip I turn eagerly too.

This week a couple of our men see off some rampaging pigs with a hairdryer and come home to some knowing looks and a portent of mystery and misdeeds. So far so uninspiring. It’s not particularly bad, it just seems a bit like a strip left over from the 80s with nothing new to say.

As always in these cases it’s early days and hopefully it’ll grow legs and engage me, unlike recently gone and totally forgotten strip ‘The ‘86ers’.

Synopsis: Ichabod, Beauregard and the Marshal are surrounded by horsemen but are saved when the Marshal lets loose with the guns from the plane. They head for the mountains, with the man raised to pursue them getting ever closer...

Robert Frazer: The verbose narrative style has been satisfying up to now, key to evoking the atmosphere and character of this Thrill, but here it is starting to wobble and trip over itself ("nonchalant alacrity"?). It's maybe for the best, then, that the narration fades out in the last two pages.

As for the story that that narration describes, something curious seems to be developing. If Ichabod's revolvers lacked ammo, and his ability to conjure up mystical bullets is exceptional, how come the turret that the sheriff uses is all bombed-up and primed to fire? Maybe it's because the plane didn't arrive attached to a particular person in the manner of Ichabod's pistols, but nonetheless it was a question which stuck out when I was reading the scene and the
inconsistency lessened its impact.

Artwise, the 'sketchy ones' are as compelling as ever. It's a single design choice, but a continually effective one that hasn't lost any appeal at all over the last two months. They really bestow the strip with style, and they enliven and animate wherever they appear. The sketches can be artistic in their own right, too - the horseman and his mount disintegrating in panel 2.3, streaked out by the powerful cannons; also the wounded demon blasted by and bleeding off into the white background in panel 3.5.

Stephen Watson: This, for me,  is the kind of unexpected and offbeat strip that makes 2000AD the continued joy that it has been for me for over 25 years. If you saw the synopsis you’d probably think it’d never work but it really does and for me it’s the best thing in the Prog.

I know people say he’s a bit like the Saint of Killers from ‘Preacher’ but you could say that about any supernatural unkillable killing machine! The totally detestable protagonist is so well written that we can’t help but hope that he reaches the promised land of the coloured panels and while his quest keeps us compelled the reason for his being keeps us enthralled.

The afterlife looks like it should do with lots of cruelty and queuing. I like the timeless idea with the WW2 bomber showing up as if it’s nothing unusual. The best part however is the narration which needs to be read out loud in a Morgan Freeman voice to gain it’s full resonance.

Dom Reardon’s scruffy art is well suited to the poorly defined afterlife and the black and white with only the odd splash of colour is amazing.

Best new thrill in years, and I’ve read ‘Zombo’!