When you were younger, who was the fictional villain that had you hiding behind the sofa? The Daleks from Doctor Who? The child-catcher from Chitty-Chitty-Bang- Bang? Or, if you’re like my husband, the giant called Flesh-lump-eater from the BFG?
I recall being terrified as my mum and dad read to me from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets of the serpent sneaking through the pipes, whispering ‘blood’ and ‘death’.
Back then, writers knew how to make an enemy bad – really bad. We didn’t waver in our fear of them, didn’t question our hatred of them, and were overjoyed at their eventual comeuppance.
