Back in 1977, along with the droids bickering in the desert, the only Star Wars clip ever to be shown on TV, be it on News At Ten or Screen Test, was the escape from the Death Star attack. And if one thing stuck in the mind of impressionable ten year-olds, beyond that hairy gorilla co-pilot thingee, the squat robot that put out a fire and the shaggy-haired kid in a judo suit, it was the image of a TIE fighter pilot sitting in a cauldron of a cockpit, stars rushing by in the background, moving in for the kill.

Looking like the offspring of a drunken one-night stand between Darth Vader and a stormtrooper, we now fully understand that the TIE fighter pilot is the epitome of sleek unknowable cool - especially compared to their Rebel counterparts. Where TIE pilots are bedecked in good-for-all-occasions black, the Rebels sport orange jumpsuits that would be garish for a CBeebies presenter; while the Rebel pilots witter on about "the size of that thing" and "Beggar's Canyon back home", TIE aces have a taciturn demeanour, talking only when necessary ("Yes, sir" and "Look out" is the extent of their dialogue in A New Hope), otherwise keeping schtum.

In a galaxy seemingly governed by incompetence - stormtroopers are not much better than the fey Rebels, banging their heads or shooting with a Stevie Wonder-esque precision - TIE fighter pilots are the model of clinical, efficient professionalism.

Featured almost fully-formed in a very early Ralph McQuarrie concept painting, TIE pilots also point to another joy of the SW universe: the level of detail and logic applied to even the smallest bit-part character. The helmet, bulkier than a stormtrooper's, suggests reinforced padding or an internal communication system, the connective tubes seemingly providing life-support gases.

Enhanced by such vivid minutiae, the TIE pilots have prevailed through their masked impenetrability, mysterious devotion to their cause and their almost kamikaze mentality. That and the action figure smelt like liquorice. IAN FREER