This Side of the Pond

Do you want to be a superhero? It seems like every movie, book or telly show these days features some version of a caped crusader, saving the world from threats both fantastical and extraterrestrial – and they get to wear seriously snappy trousers while they do it.

I don’t believe there was every any doubt that a few individuals would step forward and answer, “Yes. This is something that will slot nicely into my daily routine between doing the dishes and streaming six episodes of Jessica Jones. Clear my schedule, Phyllis, there is evil afoot.”

Of course, back in the UK, we’ve never mastered the concept of looking cool. You lot do it automatically – there’s a certain swagger to the average American citizen that I would assume makes it possible to threaten bad guys successfully even when you forgot to change out of your sweat pants.

Naturally, the superheroes we’ve managed to come up with back home are not quite in the same league as the ones American comic books feature, largely because they do not have the benefit of that swagger. On the other hand, there’s something heartwarming about a person willing to put their own life on hold, poke two eye holes in a beanie hat and stalk the streets to point at criminals.

Some of these heroes have specific agendas in mind, such as Mr. Steven Heard of Minehead, known as the Dog Poop Vigilante. Mr. Heard uses a mobility scooter for medical reasons, you see, and a few years ago lost his patience with the number of times he’d had to clean his wheels upon arriving home.

He took matters into his own hands, as any good superhero would. As well as scooping a claimed 50 bags of poop every day while out and about shopping for teabags (a shocking number, if only because I didn’t realize there were that many dogs in the whole country), he has been spreading his own version of education to the masses.

Now, I should point out that the citizens of Minehead are not supposed to be walking away from the gifts their pooches leave behind on the sidewalk, but this is apparently not a rule that bothers all local pet owners. They obviously do need an intervention from someone with a bit more common sense.

Mr. Heard has unique ways of drawing attention to the problem, such as carrying a can of spray paint on his scooter with which he can mark out an offending poop and leave a message on the sidewalk, such as, “Come on, pick it up”. He has also developed posters to encourage better behavior, including one that asks if his neighbors are thinking of trying yoga and suggests beginning with the Downward Facing Dog pose while holding a scoop and plastic bag.

No superhero story sees the protagonist claim the approval of the authorities, and Mr. Heard’s tale follows this necessary trope. The council tried to slap him with an anti-social behavior warning, but it did no good – he’s out there right now, painting pavement and picking poop, a one-man clean-up crew. He’s even tried to fundraise for a better scooter, preferably a 4x4, so he can go off-road to collect his prizes.

Then you have the superheroes who are fed up of the status quo in their city – the ones who wish to use their own strength to protect those who may have less. A butcher from Loftus is one such character, along with his two sons and some locals who heard about what he was doing.

By day, Mick Green prepares cuts of meat and greets his customers. By night, he and his crimebusters are protectors of the town. His story began when a crime spree in the area saw a young family targeted by thieves just before Christmas, losing their car and all their presents.

“It’s only really a small minority of people in Loftus making people’s lives a misery, and the majority are living in fear of them,” he told the newspaper. “We think that should be the other way round.”

Mr. Green and his sidekicks patrol the streets at night, occasionally frightening off criminals with only his car headlights. He hasn’t had to do much in the way of karate because I’m pleased to report his plan appears to be working: there have been no break-ins or incidents of anti-social behavior since he began.

The police have said it’s a worrying idea because Mr. Green is not a professional. On the other hand, considering the funding cuts their department has just faced, I suspect they are secretly pleased.

And then you have the general purpose superheroes, such as a man in a mask on the Isle of Wight (the little island smack in the center of the south coast, just across the water from my house, if you happen to be near a map). He has named himself – wait for it – the Wight Knight, and he even wears a costume.

His armored duds have had an effect on wrongdoers all of their own, apparently stopping some young girls from throwing stones while he was on patrol because they thought he was a ninja. But while he has all the trappings of a Spiderman or Daredevil (except the superpowers), his methods are a little more down to earth.

The Wight Knight looks for issues that need to be reported to the police and attempts to de-escalate situations he happens across. Meanwhile, he helps out at the soup kitchen and Salvation Army and organizes litter pick-ups and assistance for people in need. He also scours the internet for misbehavior and claims to have helped take down two particularly nasty sites and one “fight club” that was rotating around the island.

It’s my personal opinion that the superhero story is a modern-day version of the ancient myths. Instead of Hercules performing his labors, we inspire ourselves with stories of people who have powers beyond the ordinary and use them for the good of society.

I don’t know if anyone was running around Ancient Greece in a cape claiming to be a demigod, but I bet there were a few. We tell each other stories in the hope it will make us better members of society and, for a few crusaders who’ve taken their moral quite literally, I would say it has definitely worked.