Don’t Write Another Modesty Blaise Story

I was picking up a copy of what I thought was the London Evening Standard at Victoria Station when I realized the paper had changed its name to The London Standard and had been given a new design.

"Yes, it’s different," said a gentleman in a cotton coat standing next to me. He had just picked up his copy too. He was about my age but looked older, in the way your parents did when they were your age. He had heavy black glasses—Michael Caine style—not too much greyish hair, a blue V-neck jumper, and behind it, a white shirt with, to be honest, a tasteless tie. He looked like the kind of man Paul McCartney could have had in mind when he wrote “When I’m Sixty-Four.”

"Funny, I looked for The Evening Standard yesterday at a couple of tube stations but couldn’t find it," I answered.

"It’s become weekly now," the stranger said. "Actually, this is the first issue of the new Standard. It’s been launched today. The last version of the London Evening Standard was published last Friday."

I looked at the front page of the new Standard, featuring an AI-generated picture of Keir Starmer, who apparently wants to make London the "AI Capital of the World." I bet he got that from Tony Blair, who, as Prime Minister, had coined the term "London Tech City" some 20-odd years ago. That turned out pretty well.

"It’s a shame people don’t want to read real newspapers anymore," I said, sounding like a grumpy old man. "As a young journalist, I worked on a newspaper, and it started a lifelong attraction to the smell of freshly printed papers."

"Well, circulation has been dropping for five years. What else should the old spy do?" He smiled. (The Standard is owned by the former Russian intelligence officer turned oligarch Alexander Lebedev)

"I worked for the Evening Standard for 38 years," he continued, still smiling. "I wrote a cartoon strip called Modesty Blaise. 10,183 strips in all—I can hardly believe it myself. I also wrote 13 books about her."

Seeing my astonishment, he explained further.

"In 1962, the cartoon editor at the Daily Express asked me to develop a female adventurous cartoon character—this was when James Bond had just emerged. For nine months, I worked on the idea with the artist Jim Holdaway. We came up with Modesty Blaise—a refugee girl from the Middle East who had fought for her life in the desert from childhood until, as a teenager, she established her own criminal network in Tangier, alongside her sidekick, the knife-throwing Cockney, Willie Garvin. Then she left crime and settled down in a penthouse on Park Lane, London."

"The Daily Express didn’t want to go ahead with the cartoon because of Modesty’s criminal past, but the Evening Standard did, and on May 13, 1963, Modesty Blaise was born as a cartoon heroine. In 1965, I wrote the first book."

"That’s amazing!" I almost shouted. "You must be Peter O'Donnell!"

I was blown away. I’m a lifelong fan of his. I read his first book as a teenager, and I have five of the original strips from the Standard framed on the wall in my office. I’ve read all his books—several times. I was even carrying A Taste for Death in my bag. I couldn’t believe it. What were the chances of meeting him at Victoria Station with a copy of his book in my bag?

"You’ve read my stories," he said. "They’re full of strange coincidences and people with amazing abilities. Exploring men and women and events that stretch the borders of normal life is where mystery begins and where you start to feel alive."

"I’m thrilled to meet you!" I exclaimed. "For the last ten years, I’ve had this idea of writing a new Modesty Blaise story. Bringing her out of the sixties and into modern times. Sherlock Holmes and Watson have been reimagined in films and books countless times over the last 25 years—some quite successfully. Why not Modesty Blaise and Willie Garvin?"

Peter O'Donnell looked at me with tired eyes. "Please don’t," he said. "I’m not questioning your ability as a writer, but Modesty and Willie have had their time. I honestly didn’t create Modesty she created me as a writer and storyteller. It’s not about action, it’s about character. My last strip in the Evening Standard was on Wednesday, April 11, 2001. I was 81 years old then and felt it was time to stop while I was still relatively sharp. It had to end, so I let Modesty and Willie be killed in The Cobra Trap."

"I know," I replied. "The Cobra Trap is the only story of yours I haven’t read. I refuse to read it."

"Do it!" he encouraged. "I think you should create a universe of your own instead—bring new and unique characters to life. Let them form the fiction writer you have the potential to be. Don’t get trapped by my books or copy me; you can most likely write something much better by being yourself. It’s also more fun," he added with a smile. "Personally, I wouldn’t want to write a book with second-hand characters."

There, at Victoria Station, I realized Peter O'Donnell was right. I felt embarrassed. In a London heading for global AI supremacy, any robot would soon be able to read 10,183 cartoon strips and 13 books and create a new Modesty Blaise story—or hundreds. But they would lack originality and aura. AI could bring Modesty from the sixties into the future far better than I could—my job, like O'Donnell’s, was to create something human and original, not imitate the past through a filtered lens.

The old man had politely guided me away from a cobra trap that my creative laziness had almost led me into. I turned to thank the old writer, but he had already left, with The London Standard lying on the ground.

He must have taken the 5:16 Southern train to Brighton.