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Post by dem bones on Sept 29, 2017 19:43:00 GMT
Before The Folly, there was .... David Anne - Day Of The Mad Dogs (Corgi, 1978: originally published as Rabid, W. H. Allen, 1977). Blurb: The chilling novel that could become fact
The chilling story of what could happen if rabies did hit Britain.
It started when John and Pauline Denning smuggled a loveable stray dog across the channel. It ended in total terror ....
"Exciting and terrifying" - The Sun
"As gripping as a canine's canines." - Times Literary Supplement
"Horror is piled on horror ... whew!" - Sunday Telegraph What, no love for Day Of The Mad Dogs by David Anne? Don't ask how the rabid Rexes manage to see with all-white eyes as shown on the cover. Probably best not knowing. This piece of crud was serialised by the Sun in 1978, which gives some idea of the calibre that we're dealing with here. Best remembered for a totally daft twist in literally the last page or so, wherein rabies somehow becomes airborne with no explanation whatsoever and oh God we're all going to die. Abysmal. "It's been a running item in the papers this summer. We both know it. 'Rabies nears channel.'" "Rabies! Oh, John! For Heaven's sake!" John and Paula Denning, both 36, married ten years. Home is Gunn House, a Queen Anne cottage set in five acres of land on the outskirts on a Hampshire village. Middle class, well off on account of him being someone important in the tobacco industry. But for their disappointment over a lack of child, everything in the garden is relatively rosy, until the tragic death of George, their pet Labrador. Paula has been in pieces ever since. Why did she leave that bucket of paraquat unattended, and on such a hot summers day! The unscheduled vacation in an Aux-en-Provence holiday villa has proved a complete wash out (France is full of bloody foreigners) and John wishes he'd saved his money. Comes the blessed day a skeletal stray dog wanders into the kitchen of their holiday villa. "We absolutely have to keep her, darling!" cooe's Paula, making a playful grab for her husband's crotch. John is at his most vulnerable - they've not had sex (well, he hasn't, anyway: we'll come to that) since George went to the happy hunting ground, and will happily agree to anything if it means getting his leg over. A compromise. If the dog hasn't strayed some place else within the next three days, they take her in. Asp (as John christens her - she's "All spare parts") knows when she's well off. The reality of the situation sinks in when John realises the kennel fees are likely to be astronomical while Asp is quarantined. He's not short of a few bob but this unscheduled second summer vacation has hit him in the pocket, and his job is by no means as secure as it was a month ago - his managers were not impressed over his taking compassionate leave over a dog death. "Oh, bugger the quarantine!" scoffs Paula. We'll get your best mate, Peter Halliwell, to smuggle her across the channel in his private yacht (I know he'll oblige, because I've been screwing him behind your back for ages. We take the piss out of you all the time we're doing it!). A month later, and Asp has settled in nicely, destroying flowerbeds, shredding Paula's prize suede handbag as an encore. Paula's sick of her. She's sick of her milksop excuse for a husband. Most of all, she's sick of Halliwell for reneging on his promise to give her a regular seeing to when John's away on business, which is often. She demands John take Asp for a walk because she can't be expected to do everything. For once John is happy to oblige. It's a good excuse to stroll down to The Dog & Fox, enjoy a couple of pints and take in the cricket match on the village green. At least cheery landlord Wilf Hopper and his customers appreciate him, well, most of them. He's never seen eye to eye with young Maggie Peacock, the local schoolteacher, on account of she's a Socialist who supports the proposed building of a housing estate. All is well until Asp invades the pitch and gnaws the ball something terrible. Maggie steps in with a soda syphon to cool the dog down. John is almost grateful ... until he remembers she's a lesbo leftie. John walks part of the way home with Ted Rimmer, the local tramp, and his terriers, Chip and Chop. Asp attacks them. Ted takes it all philosophically, Chips has had worse from a rat, but suggests John take his mad skinny beast to the vet. He daren't! And now Asp is off her food, won't even touch a drop of water. The Denning's can deny it no longer. Their dog is ill. Very ill indeed. How typical of those spiteful French peasants and their so-called "laws", driving decent English folk to smuggle rabid dogs out of the country! They probably did it deliberately. Three chapters down, think I am beginning to understand why Rabid/ Day Of The Mad Dogs should appeal to The S*n. |
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Post by dem bones on Sept 30, 2017 16:18:02 GMT
We've lost the one likeable member of the Denning household. Confronted by the tortured, red-eyed berserker that until recently was his faithful hound, John man's up and puts a bullet through her head. Despite the evidence of a wrecked kitchen and the filthy foam dripping from the dead dog's jaws, Paula refuses to accept the dog was rabid. Peter Halliwell shows what a great pal he is by curtly informing John over the phone that he's far too busy screwing his latest bimbo to pay him a visit, but, should he be stupid enough to give into his conscience and confess to the authorities that he may have smuggled a diseased dog into Britain, he, for his part, will deny all knowledge.
Ted Rimmer's dog, Chop, is playing up.
Paula's father, Rupert Marsh, who treats John like a favourite son, gifts his son-in-law pup, Troy, son of the beloved George. Happiness briefly pays a visit to Gunn House. Eager to show off his new pride and joy, John pays a visit to Ted "the educated tramp's barn. The same Ted who was bitten on the hand by the terrier bitten by Asp. Troy whimpers, holds back, acts terrified. Maybe it would be to give it a miss. Too late, John has pushed open the door ....
That was nasty.
Back at Gunn house, an ashen John takes a belt of whiskey and resolves to make a clean breast of it to the police. Paula gives her little speech (edited highlights above). When that doesn't work, she tries emotional blackmail. She's pregnant. No matter that the father is Peter Halliwell, he wouldn't want her to give birth in Winchester Prison, would he? And think of the headlines. John Denning would be a cross between a laughing stock and public enemy number one.
John again stays his hand. The rabid terriers of the seriously deceased Ted attack Florrie the jolly barmaid, Miss Weldon of the Village Preservation Society's two corgi's, and a playground full of kids.
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Post by dem bones on Oct 6, 2017 18:30:28 GMT
"This is England. Not France or Germany."
As the infected are ferried to Southampton Hospital, 'Book One' ends with the suicide of a lead character who realises they've contracted the disease. Despite a written confession, it's their surviving partner, out of the country on business, will ultimately feed the public's lust for blood.
'Book Two' concerns the tireless efforts of Chief Constable Morant, PC Jock Reid the village copper, and Dr. Erich Kesseler, a world authority on combating rabies, to contain the disease. The locals do not take kindly to the wholesale slaughter of every animal within a twenty mile radius including their family pets, and one old-timer stages an armed resistance which sees further casualties, but Kesseler screening of footage showing a victim in his death throes subdues further protest, even if he is a bloody foreigner. Then Morant learns of an outbreak in Pembrokeshire. Another in York. As the disease spreads, so the media frenzy escalates, chancer politicians point fingers and society fast unravels. A "nation of animal lovers" decide they are anything but.
Can't agree with oatcake's "abysmal" verdict. Admittedly the epilogue trowels it on a bit thick - at least I hope it does - but the preceding 270 pages are convincing enough, held my attention throughout, anyhow.
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Post by ripper on Oct 31, 2017 15:49:01 GMT
I am old enough to remember the concern that rabies would spread to the UK from mainland Europe in the mid-70s. There were even public information films about the risk. The crux of the matter, I think, is which of the rabies books that were written at the time to cash in on the fear is the one to get. I was rather surprised when Dem mentioned the length of 'Day of the Mad Dogs'--250+ pages sounds too much for this kind of thing. Anyone read its rivals to judge their various merits when compared to David Anne's offering?
Just on The Sun's serialisation; I don't remember 'Day of the Mad Dogs' being serialised, but 'A Bridge too Far' and 'Zero Population Growth' were, in order to cash in on the films of the same name.
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Post by dem bones on Nov 6, 2017 18:19:41 GMT
I am old enough to remember the concern that rabies would spread to the UK from mainland Europe in the mid-70s. There were even public information films about the risk. The crux of the matter, I think, is which of the rabies books that were written at the time to cash in on the fear is the one to get. I was rather surprised when Dem mentioned the length of 'Day of the Mad Dogs'--250+ pages sounds too much for this kind of thing. Anyone read its rivals to judge their various merits when compared to David Anne's offering? Just on The Sun's serialisation; I don't remember 'Day of the Mad Dogs' being serialised, but 'A Bridge too Far' and 'Zero Population Growth' were, in order to cash in on the films of the same name. Hi Rip. Have read 'Jack Ramsey' (Gordon McGill)'s The Rage and Walter Harris's Saliva, but not Nigel Slater's The Mad Death. Day Of The Mad Dogs flies by in no time. The last chapter apart - which seems grafted on to provide horror appeal - the novel doesn't strike me as too long at all, and I prefer it to The Rage. Saliva would have been at home among the Hamlyn nasties. You can't really go wrong with any of them. Had no idea The S*n went in for so many serialisations. Have since heard that The Ma*l ran a lot of short fiction, notably a couple of Caroline Graham Midsomer Murder shorts which, to best of my knowledge, have never since seen the light of day. |
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Post by ripper on Nov 7, 2017 20:24:44 GMT
Hi Dem and thanks. I think Saliva sounds like the one I would enjoy most if it is similar to a Hamlyn nasty.
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