In Northampton, stories about Alan Moore abound. He's the one living legend in the area that everybody (or almost everybody) has heard about. The other day a taxi driver told me he had some original artwork by Moore. And then a woman I know told me Moore made a pass at her in the Fish Inn in town (about 500 yards from where I am now). She didn't know who he was, bless her, and reported to her boyfriend that she had just been propositioned by a hairy tramp. Moore, of course, is infamously hirsuite. Her boyfriend, who had seen the incomplete pass take place while on his way back from the toilet, told her that her failed suitor was the famous comics writer responsible for "From Hell" and "The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen". As a boy, of course, he'd know.
I've never seen Moore myself, and therefore doubt his existence.
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