Bibliography: Skinheads vs. Zombies (2006), Chainsawhead (2006), What's Your Problem You Stuck-up Wanker? (2007)
Welcome to the book...if you dare.
I’m a horror writer, see? A real, proper horror writer. I don’t hold with these fuckers who write stuck-up horror like what thinks its clever and stuff. All horror writers need to come together and stop all the infighting bullshit that goes on.
Writing ain’t about a fancy way with words, it’s about sheer fucking bloody terror. It’s about making the reader shit himself. Just in case people misunderstand me (and they have, because they’re retards) it’s all about the smell of fear. You know that smell, and I know it. Everyone knows it. And it ain’t nice. But it’s real. Here’s a tip from one who knows (me), write what you like, do it quick as you can, and screw anyone who tells you it’s unpublishable. There’s nothing wrong in starting your own company to publish yourself (better still, get the wife to do it).
Let me tell you, if I’d listened to what people have said about Steve Bates, I wouldn’t be where I am today. OK, so I’m in prison for GBH right now, but that only means I’ve got lots of time to write even more stuff. It’s been an honour working with Richard Staines, a fellow white man (not many of us left), on “Lobster Holocaust”. The man’s a fucking God to me. Everyday he spoke to me on the phone for at least five minutes and helped me on the actual writing.
As for other horror authors, with their so-called fancy “prose styles”, all I can say is let’s all work for the good of horror as a whole, you bunch of wanking self-absorbed cunts. I mean, not all of them are like that (but 99% ARE). There’s one (I can’t tell you who, he asked me not to) who I quite like, because he bought me a drink once, and he’s not slagged me off (then again he’s never slagged anyone off. I think he is a bit scared of upsetting people) but, not to generalise, or anything like that, as if I would, they’re worse than the dogshit in the street. They think they own the place, the place of Horror. Well they don’t.
Who the fuck wants to read about paint drying on a wall? Ohhhh, scary ohhhh very gay...but that’s all your so-called literary horror is. I read this story in the prison library the other day, right, by someone called Algernon (I mean, for fuck’s sake his name’s ALGERNON!!) Blackwood. It was about two canoeists and a bunch of trees on an island. Seriously, THAT WAS IT. THAT WAS THE STORY!!!!!It was so boring I fell asleep. Nothing happened, except for some spooky noises, the trees swaying and that was it. Shite!!!!!!!!!! Not only that, mate, IT WAS OVER A HUNDRED YEARS OLD. That’s about the same age as my old nan, and there’s no way she makes sense anymore, poor old cow, but that’s what happens after about age seventy. You get ga-ga. It’s one of the rules of life. I mean, in horror it’s much better to forget all about anything before, say 1970. (The year I was born by coincidence; or maybe not). All that rubbish written before 1970 should be ignored, it’s all just fucking history, know what I mean? Who really cares apart from old farts? All that matters is the future, and all you stuck-up shitbags who laugh at my so-called “lack of ability” had better give me some long overdue respect and realise I AM THE FUTURE. Because if you don’t, I swear, I’ll glass one of you. Wake up and smell the shit in your eyes, the same smelly shit that keeps you from seeing that the same readers who made Dan Brown a multi-millionaire won’t be reading your up-your-own-arse books.
Seriously though, since we’re talking about the future you’ve probably heard that me and Dick (very few folk are allowed to call good old Richard “Dick”, only Millwall fans like me, and even then he likes to be called “Big Dick”---it’s true he’s a hefty geezer, although his cock’s actually tiny, I saw it in the gents bog once by accident) Staines are creating the future of Horror, or SadoHorror, by way of the LOBSTERS series of books. Poor old Dick is in a old people’s home these days, (sorry, just back to the cock thing. I reckon Dick’s wife Deidre had a go at it with a chopping knife after he wrote MY WIFE WAS SATAN’S SLUT--only a guess, mind). But, as I was saying, Dick’s now banged up in an old people’s home. Nothing wrong with his brain though, he’s as much of a fucking genius as he ever was, it’s just that eighty fags a day has taken a toll on his health, not to mention the eight pints of snakebite and the vodka chasers.
So, to conclude (that means “finish”). God bless you Dick. Maggie didn’t give you the Knighthood you deserved, but fuck me, you should have had it my son. And a final word to all the snobbish wankers out there, KEEP SCRUBBING YOU STUCK-UP WANKERS, YOU’LL NEVER GET RID OF THE STAIN(E)S!!!!!
(Fade out as the crowd sings: “No one likes us, we don’t care. Oi! Oi! Oi!”)
IN THE TRADITION OF “THE DEVIL RIDES OUT” COMES A NEW SATANIC CLASSIC THAT WILL BLOW MORE THAN YOUR MIND…
BECAUSE EVERY WORD OF IT IS TRUE!
You may think that “Black Magic” is a brand of fancy chocolates in a nice box, but there’s no one more aware of the real nightmarish truth about devil worship than horror author Richard Staines. In this touching yet nasty true-life account, he reveals how his wife fell in with a coven of lesbian witches and indulged in rites of such filthy depravity that your own brain could be damaged by what you read within these pages...
DAMAGED SO MUCH YOU MAY NEVER READ AGAIN.
“…so when I got back home from the Catford greyhound track on the Monday night, I expected to see my dinner on the table, as usual. It wasn’t there. That was the first thing that was wrong. Anyway I was dying for a slash after having sunk eight pints and I needed to drain the old python. That’s when I found wrong thing number two. My electric toothbrush wasn’t in the right place. And the bristles smelt all fishy. Then I heard groans from behind the bedroom door. I kicked it in and Deidre was in bed, starkers, with that fat old tart Doris with the short hair and beret. Then I heard a funny noise and a black nanny goat crawled out from underneath the blankets, its long tongue lolling out of its mouth…it seemed quite pleased with itself.” From My Wife was Satan’s Slut.
Before it happened to me, I didn’t believe in all that devil worship stuff either. But I must advise my readers not to mess around with the Secret Art. If your wife gets invited to something like “Women’s Lib Discussion Group”, "Weightwatchers", “Peckham Campaign for Solidarity with South Africa” or “Female Poetry Workshop” I strongly advise against letting her go. There are dangers of a very real nature in dabbling with things we don’t understand.
If your wife gets invited to something like “Women’s Lib Discussion Group”, "Weightwatchers", “Peckham Campaign for Solidarity with South Africa” or “Female Poetry Workshop” I strongly advise against letting her go. There are dangers of a very real nature in dabbling with things we don’t understand.
I'd love to run it, but i think Dr. Terror has first dibs and it's deserving of inclusion in a Black Book Of Horror.
Perhaps if Halcyon Dayze were to strike a deal on some Stains merchandise the Pitbull might slip you a pirate copy??
From the first, I set myself against "literature"; the story was the thing, and no amount of style could persuade me to select a story that lacked genuine, unadulterated horror. For those who wanted something high-brow there was plenty.