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Post by dem bones on Sept 4, 2008 11:23:51 GMT
John Llewellyn Probert - Coffin Nails (Ash Tree Press, June 2008) Jacket art by Keith Minnion Introduction
The Moving Image Nefarious Assortment Of Music and Mayhem The Brook The Ossuary Final Act Between the Pipes The Sacrifices We Make The Measure of a Man Keeping It In the Family Taking Over Don't Look Back Maleficarum NewLands Guided Tour A Matter of Urgency The Topiary Patch An Absence of Malice
Afterword and Story NotesFrom the blurb THE FILM-MAKERS who unleash a curse from an ancient abbey . . . The teenager who murders the sister he never had . . . The care-home whose attic harbours a monstrous secret . . . A schoolbook of poetry that means death for its readers . . . The witch's familiar unleashed by church organ music . . .
Welcome to the sinister, scary, and sometimes outrageous world of John Llewellyn Probert. A place filled with troubled schoolchildren, overbearing theatre producers, brilliant surgeons, and nervous billionaires. Where a walk in the country can lead to a mansion filled with beautiful women, or a trap from which you can never escape. Where a picture on the wall of a primary school classroom can come to life with appalling consequences, and a rugby match can be the scene for a burned witch's revenge. Meet the parents who think they know what is best for their son — until he returns from the grave to show them otherwise. Learn about the girl who found solace in a burial chamber near Prague; and discover the real reason why West-End musicals succeed or fail .....
As with 3rd Black Book Of Horror, so with Coffin Nails: I'm gonna have to add my oh-so insightful comments as I read the stories and worry about how ugly it all looks later. Nefarious Assortment: The title might serve as a veiled warning for what you're in for when you settle down for the night with your nice box of rusty Coffin Nails! Tony's job requires him to spend much of his week away on business and Kate is frustrated at the lack of time they spend together. Is he having an affair? Maybe, frets Kate, I'm already over the hill at twenty-nine; I knows I've gained a few pounds of late... Now he's off to Manchester for the week, standing in for a sick colleague. By way of the latest peace offering Tony buys Kate a nice box of chocolates, and the 'Love' selection from the mouthwatering Nefarious Assortment really are better than sex! Kate will be wanting more of these for sure, but when she turns up the receipt it seems Tom somehow made his purchase from a grocers shop that went out of business in unpleasant circumstances several years ago! Not to worry: she still has the enticingly named, purple wrapped 'Desire' layer to savour ..... Deliciously, gleefully macabre, this had me grinning to myself like an idiot for the rest of the day. Of Music And Mayhem: Marlene Rothersay may well be "Britain's premier producer of Musicals", but she looks to have lost her touch with ill-advised latest offering Oh, Hell!. After a series of increasingly spectacular mishaps blight rehearsals, a certain Stanley Beasey volunteers the services of his 'Theatrical Renovation Service' to ensure the smooth running of the production henceforth. All he asks for in return are the souls of cast and crew. Considering the show's big number is a little something entitled I Was Tickled To Death By My Thong, Oh, Hell! is surely beyond saving whether Marlene accepts the Devil's bargain or otherwise. Maleficarum: Short and far grimmer than those already mentioned. Released after spending several years in a psychiatric hospital, he feels compelled to return to Temple Road School, the setting for the horror that overtook he and his young classmates when a dream demon set them to painting a mural on the wall of Form 3B. The school is now a condemned building, but he climbs the gate and locates what was once Miss Gawsworth's class. Sure enough, the wall painting remains and, as he scrapes away a thick coating of fungus and grime, it becomes apparent that there have been subtle alterations down the years as each of his contemporaries came to their harrowing ends. Suddenly .... NewLands: When Richard Hamilton's wife Susan storms off to stay with friends after the latest stupid argument, rather than kick his heels indoors, the still smarting Richard drives far into the countryside and takes a room at a quaint village tavern. Unwisely straying from the pub to kill his inevitable hangover the next morning, Richard slips through a portal and comes to a large isolated farmhouse, occupied by beautiful widow Julia Enderby and her three, equally attractive young daughters Delphine, Emma and Sarah. Much shagging ensues, although Richard can't help but feel uneasy and not only on account of his nagging conscience. What happened to the other guys who preceded him through the gateway? You can bet it was something really horrible! Reads like a tribute to R. Chetwynd-Hayes in The Humgoo/ It Came To Dinner mood with added gruesome ingredients. More to follow ...
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Post by dem bones on Sept 6, 2008 14:24:06 GMT
Twelve life-size stone statues stood evenly spaced around the garden's border. They were all of young women in different stages of undress and decay. As he watched, they turned their heads to regard him with blank, grey eyes, the hint of a cruel smile playing upon their once smoothly chiseled lips.
Guided Tour: Recoiling from the shock of having been ditched by his fiancee and not up to facing family or work colleagues, Malcolm ducks into Coverleigh Manor to try and come to terms with his heartbreak. A gaunt old curator leads him around the musty rooms, the portraits and grim relics displayed in such a manner as to become progressively more unnerving as the tour progresses. The saddest - and my favourite - of the coffin nails to date.
Keeping It In The Family: There's many a family could convince themselves that locking a troublesome granny away in the attic is doing her a favour. In the case of fifteen-year-old Paul's parents, however, it's true. Father explains how it all began in the fourteenth century when the Black Death ravaged a small Welsh village. When the religiously-inclined inhabitants pissed off the Dark One by refusing to accept his usual generous offer of deliverance, he retaliated by casting a seriously spiteful curse upon them ...
This one ups the blood and entrails count plenty and should appeal to those with a fondness for the mixed-up monsters of R. Chetwynd-Hayes' imaginings. Bonus point for top pop culture references: the Charles & Diana ashtray and meaty bouncers on the door of the Dark Garage nightclub.
The Brook: His teachers are the usual bunch of bullying P. E. masters and slipper-happy sadists, but Mr. Gartside, a temporary replacement for old Burger who's affair with a colleague's wife had come to light, is a demon of a different stripe. His methods are deceptively innocent; he merely gets the boys to recite a modified version of Tennyson's poem. But .....
The Sacrifice We Make: He finally musters the courage to approach the belle of King Richard III Secondary School, Nicola MaKendrick, at the summer fete and it proves worth the effort - she even agrees to accompany him to the annual fair on Saturday night! But, for the first time in seven years, he's plagued by visions of the "sister" his parents swear is a figment of his imagination, and worse, back in the playground Nicola has studiously avoided him as her chums wouldn't approve. Come the arranged time, however, she astonishes him by keeping their date and it's everything he ever dreamed until .... where did this stone circle spring from? And why this awful certainty that he's been here before?
Watch out for a scene-stealing DJ spot from Jimmy Watson's dad with his Bee Gees collection before things take a turn for the sombre and downright creepy.
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Post by dem bones on Dec 18, 2010 10:30:03 GMT
Just been reading these in front of the cricket. I can see why Lord P. is so highly regarded - great stuff. Re-reading Bother In The Belfry has put me back on the Coffin Nails which i never did finish writing up. To say Don't Look Back is different in mood to the aforementioned Bother In The Belfry is like saying (Rest in Peace) Captain Beefheart's Dachau Blues is slightly less jolly than Slade's Cum On Feel The Noize though they're all great in a different way. Mark Benson is overseeing an archaeological dig on his employer, Lord Morton's estate when his wife Jenny learns that she has cervical cancer. Helen Marston, the attractive young leader of the excavation team, draws his attention to a pit of bones. These, she explains, belong to the victims of an ancient black sorcery aggregate who appeased their deity, most likely Hecate, with regular orgies of human sacrifice, in return for favours. Mark, desperate to save his fast ailing wife, is prepared to try anything once, and returns to the site after dark with a Labrador pup specially acquired for his purpose. But as he prepares the poor dog for slaughter, who should emerge from the trench but Helen, her hands dripping blood! Mark is not the only one who is losing a loved one to the Big C., and they realise it is their mutual interests to operate as a team ... To reveal any more would be unfair and doubtless land me a spell in the stocks at Probert Towers, but if you like 'em downcast, Don't Look Back will see you alright. The Brook: commented on briefly (and badly) in the earlier post, but i just re-read it without remembering i'd ever been there! I particularly like that, when the corrupt version of the poem is read aloud, a shadowy form passes Typhoid Mary fashion among the boys .... Bet if any reader is unfamiliar with Tennyson, they'll do as i did and look up The Brook to try and double-guess the extreme custom job Mr. Gartside performed on the final verse to make it so lethal!
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Post by dem bones on Dec 21, 2010 12:25:05 GMT
it's been less than two years since i read Coffin Nails through, but revisiting it is like having an entirely different collection before me. This next doesn't seem to have registered me at the time but it sure hit the spot last night.
The Topiary Patch: Beneath the mighty oak tree in the corner of the playing field lies an ugly, bog-like stretch of soil where nothing can be encouraged to grow. Bright spark new headmaster, Mr. Parleton, wants something done about it. An appeal to Gardeners Question Time on Radio 4 is met with the suggestion that the eleven year old pupils transform this blot on the landscape into an animal-themed topiary. The narrator, looking back on the traumatic results from a vantage point of three decades, was experiencing his first taste of love just then, having struck up an immediate rapport with Clare from the girls' school whose musically inclined students had been drafted in to rescue the boys' terrifying attempt at an orchestra.
It's Clare who first notices that the ivy-clad animal figures of the topiary take on a sinister aspect after dark, seemingly twisting their chicken-wire skeletons into altogether more bestial shapes.
With the help of Clare's mum who works at the local library, the kid's do some research into the origins of the school. Back in the seventeenth century, Joseph Brenner and the co-founders had bought up the huge expanse of land save the small patch belonging to Myfanwey Evans, a twenty-six year old healer, who could not be bought off by whatever generous sum they were prepared to pay. Myfanwey had buried her parents on the property and she loved her little home, finding the earth especially good for growing the wild herbs she used in potions. Brenner eventually overcame the Myfanwey obstacle by accusing her of witchcraft. The outcome was a foregone conclusion and the poor young woman exited this world, nailed to the oak for the flames to consume her. Nothing has grown on the ugly patch since, and the tree reacts viciously to attempts at removing it, though it's fair to say the topiary is coming along famously.
On the day of the big rugby grudge match versus Llanbridery College, the young narrator and his girlfriend are among the spectators who watch in horror as a shadow falls over the players and ....
Different again. For the most part, The Topiary Patch plods along amiably in distinctly Jamesian fashion (even the title brings Ghosts & Scholars to mind), slowly introducing hints of its impending horrors. Come the rugby match, however, and evidently M. R. J. had to nip back to Cambridge to translate an obscure medieval manuscript that afternoon, as a jarring gear change sees the story take an almighty turn for the gung ho, building to a twist (or, at least open) ending i never saw coming, and one which makes perfect sense in the circumstances.
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Post by cw67q on Dec 21, 2010 12:53:27 GMT
I can't hear you, I can't hear you <fingers in ears> :lalalalalalalalalallalalala
(i'm going to studiously ignore this thread, no matter how tempting, as this one is another passenger in my ebay funded splurge on the Ash-Tree Press sale. Slowly making its way accross the Atlantic, package expected sometime in new year)
I can't hear you, I can't hear you <fingers in ears> :lalalalalalalalalallalalala
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Post by Johnlprobert on Dec 21, 2010 13:31:19 GMT
Absolutely delighted that you're enjoying this one so much, Mr D, and thanks for those synopses - I'm finding the experience very nostalgic indeed!
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Post by dem bones on Dec 22, 2010 14:19:38 GMT
Sorry for slight delay in answering, lord p. i've been busy hacking out spoilers to sprinkle across several unlikely threads as a festive gift to Chris.
i rather belted through Coffin Nails when i first got hold of a copy, liked it well enough, but it benefits from being taken at a more sedate pace (i've stalled on Picnic At Hanging Rock for same reason. You can't rush these things!) The diversity makes a mockery of those reviewers who blithely trot out "very Amicus!" every time. It's true enough of Catacombs Of Fear and Faculty Of Terror, i guess, but hardly applicable to the bulk of this collection or the Wicked Delights. Chris will love it.
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Post by cw67q on Dec 23, 2010 10:16:19 GMT
Sorry for slight delay in answering, lord p. i've been busy hacking out spoilers to sprinkle across several unlikely threads as a festive gift to Chris. . eek sounds great though - chris
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Post by lemming13 on Dec 23, 2010 13:35:51 GMT
Now, why can't Hammer use our own Lord P's stuff for their revival? Great for a tv anthology series.
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Post by dem bones on Dec 25, 2010 7:54:25 GMT
Blimey, here's a first. Christmas morning, stone cold sober and raring to bang out yet more supremely wide of the mark "observations" on the hard work of some poor sods who never did me any harm.
An Absence Of Malice: Following a minor prang en route to a Health Economics conference in the Midlands, John Teasdale pays dearly for allowing himself to be waylaid into a drinking match with his colleagues. For the convention's duration, Teasdale is haunted by a lethal spectre, visible only to himself, which manifests on TV and cinema screens, even the blank wall used for a slide projection. While his fellow audience members concentrate on the lectures, John watches, transfixed and appalled, as the shadowy figure slowly detaches itself from the screen to walk among them, and whoever it touches, so they or one dear to them is marked down for death. Having deprived the harbinger of one intended victim during the live transmission of a European Championship quarter final, John barely survives its attempts to get at him in his hotel room. Terrified for the safety of his heavily pregnant wife, Lisa, John tears out of the conference and hits the motorway ....
Forget whatever drivel i posted above because, not only has An Absence Of Malice all the trappings of classic Amicus, including the all important framing device, there's even a hint of Ealing's timeless Dead Of Night thrown in for good measure. The setting is a hospital ward where Rev James Kendall is on an errand of mercy, trying as best he can to placate a man badly injured in a motorway accident, his second in a matter of days. "He talks a lot, and what he says doesn't make a lot of sense" confides Carstairs the overworked medic. There's a bad atmosphere about the building tonight - the police have finally captured Corrigan the serial killer who requires treatment on a lacerated limb and, while he's been dosed with enough dope to tranquilise bison, well, you wouldn't want a guy like that slipping his guards ..
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Post by Johnlprobert on Dec 25, 2010 8:00:34 GMT
Now, why can't Hammer use our own Lord P's stuff for their revival? Great for a tv anthology series.
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