Hello.

Hi. Thanks for coming over.

You’re welcome. I didn’t know you lived in this district.

No one does, that’s why I live here.

You rang the Banjax office and spoke to me directly, and
I know you wanted to use this interview to set a few things straight after recent events.

You mean Reeves?

Yes I do. I mean, is this the best way, a music magazine?

You guys understand, and I’m a subscriber, so fire away.

Okay, so here we go, the tape’s running. … When did you first know about the special powers? Was it a sudden thing?

It wasn’t until my neighbor drilled through the wall one Sunday evening when I was watching the ball game. Made me pretty angry that a man should drill through my wall when the ball game was on. I grabbed the red-hot bit and I held it firm between my fingers. Sent the guy spinning on the end of his own drill. I knew then. A feeling of good power, overwhelming goodness.

But when did first suspect you possessed special powers?

I knew something was different. I was down a lot. The doctors said depression. Shut my eyes and I’d see disasters. Imagine that? No doctor could help me. This was before Prozac. Those intrusive thoughts were the special powers informing me. It’s not like in the films or comic books. They don’t show half of it.

And what happened to Reeves set you back?

You mean the Curse of Superman?

I haven’t heard it called that.

Well it’s for real. I guess no one will want to play me in the movies now. Maybe that’s for the best. I was growing concerned. People were behaving as though he was me, as if Christopher Reeves, a Hollywood actor was me, which was fine, but being Superman, you know, no one knows what it’s like, and I wanted the opportunity to tell people.

You’re going to tell the world there’s a Kryptonite shortage?

That’s exactly the kind of nonsense I’m concerned about. I’m just a regular guy with special powers. That’s all. There’s no Kryptonite. This isn’t make believe.

Are you saying Reeves wasn’t helping your image?

He was just a regular guy too. I mean, he might have had the looks. That’s how people perceive Superman, but how do I look? Do I look like Superman? Be honest.

You look like Homer Simpson.

Okay fella, that’s not honest, that’s a little mean mind you have there. I’m saying Reeves looked the part, that’s all. Having superpowers isn’t a rose petal bed. I hit on the twelve stage warning about the superpowers and I wanted someone to listen. There’s only one Superman, and that’s me.

Okay Superman, fire away.

Well it goes like this: Stage one: Beware of moments of extreme distraction. Early signs. You want to snap out when it happens. It’s a road to mass expectation you can never live up to.

That’s pretty clear. Let’s hear the second stage Superman.

Stage two: Beware of flying dreams. Flying dreams indicate an overactive brain, and that’s unhealthy. If you’re imagining you’re waking close to the ceiling, get some help. It can only lead to long term damage.

Superman, I’ve wanted to ask you this for a long time. Which living person do you admire most?

Santa.

A mythical character?

Come on, you’re not saying you don’t believe. Mythical is good. He really delivers and never disappoints, flies unseen, always one step ahead of the game, a contender. He’s achieved the ultimate: a critical audience that never expects too much.

How do you mean?

No one expects him to cover everywhere in one evening. The whole planet? Be serious. And he never does cover the whole planet.

Seems as though you want to have your cake and eat it.

Look, all I ever get is, ‘Where was Superman? He let us down’ Having special powers means I’ve got to use them, but overall, high expectations and any involvement means a huge risk with insurance and compensation. Can you imagine my insurance premiums? I have to work entirely undercover now, with my own people for protection.

Like Tupac?

That’s a case in point.

Stage three please, Superman.

Stage three: Watch out if you’re always telling the other guy how to drive his car. The next thing is, you will be driving his car, and everyone else’s. Try to steer your own properly. That helps.

Do you have any regrets?

Not calling my lawyers sooner. I allowed them to brand me, comics, Hollywood, the whole outfit, it’s gross. I needed space and time for my work to develop, not everyone pointing and saying, ‘Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it’s Superman, but where’s his underpants?’

Can we have stage four please?

Sure. Stop having ideas you’re being called upon. Understanding messages in the foam in an empty beer glass is a bad sign. Get over it. Leave it to the experts.

Girlfriends?

Let’s move on.

Stage five.

Having a face that causes trouble. If domestic disputes, road rage, supermarket fights, all seem to happen as you arrive, that’s bad luck. That’s not special powers. Don’t go there.

Stage six.

Stage six: Small flying experiences in elevators and escalators. These can cause small children to cry and have bad, bad dreams. Stop it, for the kids’ sake.

Could you have stopped it?

My mom, or should I say my creator, she said I should go for the travel market. What help is that? That’s selling out.

Stage seven please.

Stage seven: Uncontrollable sneezing causing local damage. It’s surprisingly easy to explain. This means you’re well on the way, no turning back.

Would you like to turn back?

I was distracted and downhearted. I was physically shrinking. I had dreams of falling all the time. People barged me off the sidewalk. Getting service was impossible, but I pulled through.

Stage 8 please.

Eight is discovering amazing powers of concentration and then staring at objects until they explode. Don’t do it.

And nine.

Stage nine: Gaining sudden, new, important friends. The president calls you. Boy, are you in trouble.

Ten.

Having thoughts about world domination. Don’t act on them.

Is that why you’re a recluse?

I went bad, going on the streets picking fights. That’s not good.

Eleven.

Extreme dissatisfaction with public servants. It will spiral out of control. Try to sort yourself out. Take flying lessons.

The twelve stages, do you want them published?

Oh sure. Print them all please. It’s a warning.

And now, Superman, the final stage please.

Okay ... I guess it’s the phallus thing.