IT was the height of the 1980s video rental boom and Manchester had its very own action hero.

But whereas Charles Bronson, Sylvester Stallone and Chuck Norris went on to secure a place in the annals of gritty VHS history, the knock-'em-dead exploits of Cliff Twemlow have been largely forgotten.

A new book entitled The Lost World Of Cliff Twemlow seeks to remind film fans of the era when a Millionaire Club doorman and musical score writer turned his attentions to movie-making.

Born in Eccles, Twemlow had wrestled lions on Morecambe sea front and worked in an asbestos factory before falling in love with the world of entertainment, writing theme tunes for television shows and gaining small roles in Granada productions.

The body-building fitness fanatic and nightclub bouncer was then inspired by the DIY-possibilities of video tape to become a one-man movie making machine: directing, scripting and starring in many of the movies which would make it in to the corner shop rental racks which were common at the time.

His ambitions were in such stark contrast to the budgets he worked with that his so-called exploitation films - named as such for their shocking levels of violence, sexual content and the way they aped the storylines of contemporary blockbusters - earned Cliff recognition as the "Orson Welles of Manchester".

And he was certainly prolific, creating a mini-Hollywood between 1982 and 1993 that would knock out at least 10 completed feature films.

At least as many more trailers were made in an attempt to snare willing financiers into backing further projects and can now be seen on YouTube for a new generation to enjoy.

Many of the films used Manchester as backdrop, the team making them capitalising on the "scenery" around them.

There were gangster film scraps in the Armenian Taverna in Albert Square, Manchester, and a fight on the roof of a building in Northenden.

Car chases took place around Eccles and along the East Lancashire Road on quiet Sunday mornings, a member of the cast standing on the end of the road to tell motorists that it had been closed.

As time went on, the films became more ambitious.

One of them - an Alien rip-off entitled Firestar: First Contact - entailed the construction of a 60ft "space craft" in a Droylsden joinery shed.

Jodrell Bank in Cheshire became Space HQ, even though permission hadn't been sought for filming to take place at the secure site.

Others movies shot in exotic locations like Grenada and Ibiza - unscripted encounters with armed soldiers were quickly added to the plot.

Among the first was the gangster movie GBH, in part based on Twemlow's book The Tuxedo Warrior - a biography rooted in his years as a doorman.

It centred around a late 1970s disco called The Zoo in a building which is today the home of Manchester city centre nightspot 42nd Street.

It isn't clear how much money Twemlow made, but it seems that there was always a wealthy punter at The Millionaire prepared to stump up some cash to invest in one of Cliff's ventures.

Rumour has it, however, that some "stars" ran out of money to feed themselves on location because budgets were so low.

It's even suggested that a cast member had his car "stolen" so that the insurance money could be used to finance an incomplete film when the cash ran out.

Tragically, the father of three no longer had his Rolls Royce and other trappings when he died alone from heart problems in a one bedroom flat in Northenden - his money spent and his seemingly boundless energy eventually used up.

The Cliff Twemlow book has been co-written by Salford University film lecturers Chris "CP" Lee and Andy Willis, who simply stumbled across his legend while researching the Manchester movie industry.

"I thought 'somebody has to write a book about this man," Lee says. "He went out there and single-handedly set up a mini Hollywood. He wasn't somebody we'd heard of - the legend had literally been lost."

Key to the research were the people who worked alongside Twemlow, many of whom who went on to more prominent movie careers.

A lot of information was provided by Steve Powell, who advised Twemlow on fight scenes and still runs Manchester's Jeet Kune Do, Jun Fan Martial Arts Academy.

"GBH was the best-known of the films he'd made and if you mentioned it, people might have heard of it", Willis says. "But once we started to scratch the surface, then suddenly all the rest tumbled out."

While there was certainly an element of being "so bad that they were good" about Twemlow's films, both men insist that Twemlow's work wasn't to be scoffed at.

"He had a clear idea of what he wanted to do eventually but it was so grandiose that it never would have come off," Willis adds.

"But he did have all those people around him - professionals - who went on to do great things. Ray Nicholas is now a top stuntman, David Tattersall went on to the work on the later wave of Star Wars movies, John Saint Ryan went from having never acted before to Coronation Street and is now a Hollywood actor.

"One of the things that stood out for us was that they were taking this stuff seriously: they weren't taking the p***. The results might not be as good as a Hollywood movie but the intentions were there to make modern action movies around Manchester and to use the models of Cliff's heroes, including Charles Bronson and Clint Eastwood," Willis says. "They just got up and did it."

"I think they knew they were making romps," Lee adds. "But they didn't let the limitations of the equipment hold them back."

*The Lost World Of Cliff Twemlow by CP Lee and Andy Willis is available now from books@hotunpress.com and is priced at £12.99. A launch event and movie screening at the King's Arms, Salford, on Sunday is now sold out.

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