Richard Staines - England B: Ninety Minutes of Hell

[David A. Riley]

England 'B': Ninety Minutes of Hell by the controversial Richard Staines is now available in paperback. An electronic version will be out within the next twenty-four hours.



trade paperback:
Amazon.co.uk £8.00
Amazon.com $12.00

What they are saying about Richard Staines:

“Please get in all the Richard Staines horror books and chuck out all that other rubbish you have on the shelves.” The T.L.S. (Tooting Library Service), message left on their public noticeboard, 1975.

“Richard Staines is one of the most valued contributors to our magazine and we are glad to have him, despite the avalanche of protests. No animals were actually harmed in the photo-spread referred to.” Readers Wives editorial, 1977.

“Unfortunately, the jury have not been able to reach a verdict due to food poisoning, hit and run incidents, and the disappearance of close family members, but the great British public outside this courtroom will doubtless make up its own mind about your filthy, depraved, sickening and contemptible books. Case dismissed. You may leave the dock.” Lord Justice Haigh (deceased), summing up in the case of Regina vs Richard Staines, 1978.

“Many horror authors insult the intelligence of the people. Staines not only does this but is a bloody good read, too. He is the future of horror in the 1980s.” Anonymous letter to Colour Climax, 1979.

“We do not feel under any obligation to have to respond on a point by point basis to your repeated claims that the Nobel Prize committee for Literature have deliberately overlooked your horror fiction and cannot undertake to reply to any further letters on this matter.” Official letter from Lars Svenson (deceased), Nobel Prize Award Committee, Secretary, 1979.

“That snob and has-been Dennis Wheatley has never lived in a council flat on a Peckham estate with only cheap cans of lager, a black and white telly, and Yes and Genesis records to keep his muse lubricated. Dennis Wheatley's simply not as socially relevant in today's world as a “man-of-the-people” like Richard Staines. The truth is that Wheatley recognises all this and was just being a dick when he refused to write the introduction to Staines' book Psycho Flasher.” Anonymous letter to The International British Black Magic and Horror Club Newsletter # 8, 1975.

[franklinmarsh]

Great news! Hopefully will be able to afford a copy next month. ISTR writing to a dodgy R Stains website (possibly something to do with the good J Mains) some time ago. Nice to see another long forgotten author return to the bookshelves. Huzzah!

[David A. Riley]

Jan 4, 2016 14:35:08 GMT franklinmarsh said:

Great news! Hopefully will be able to afford a copy next month. ISTR writing to a dodgy R Stains website (possibly something to do with the good J Mains) some time ago. Nice to see another long forgotten author return to the bookshelves. Huzzah!

The only man who can make international football smell worse than Sepp Blatter.

[franklinmarsh]

But Stains harks back to the good old days when football was a furious farrago of foul language and fisticuffs, when a good player was some long-haired layabout who'd spend an evening swilling 26 pints of gassy lager in some dodgy boozer, end up tumbling some Page 3 floozy in a back street hotel all night, miss training because he was down the bookies, enjoy a Players No 6 whilst strolling on to the pitch and then sprint the length of the field to curl in a beautiful 25 yarder before coughing his lungs up (literally) and getting sent off for pole-axing his opposite number with a corner flag. Stains massive!

[David A. Riley]

Jan 4, 2016 20:28:08 GMT franklinmarsh said:

But Stains harks back to the good old days when football was a furious farrago of foul language and fisticuffs, when a good player was some long-haired layabout who'd spend an evening swilling 26 pints of gassy lager in some dodgy boozer, end up tumbling some Page 3 floozy in a back street hotel all night, miss training because he was down the bookies, enjoy a Players No 6 whilst strolling on to the pitch and then sprint the length of the field to curl in a beautiful 25 yarder before coughing his lungs up (literally) and getting sent off for pole-axing his opposite number with a corner flag. Stains massive!

I think you've nailed it pretty accurately there, Franklin!

[dem]

Richard Staines - England B: Ninety Minutes Of Hell (Parallel Universe, Jan. 2016)

No Such Thing As A Friendly
A Game Of Two Halves
The Ref's Decision Is Final
Get Your Fritz Out For The Lads
Football's Dark Arts
They Think It's All Over

Stainsy's 'Football is Horror!' masterpiece centres on the exploits of Vince Grinstead, the near-legendary Crystal Palace clogger, survivor of the Goboya horror of summer '70 and interim manager of the England 'B' squad from 1974-6. Spoiler alert. The highlights will follow immediately you've bought a copy and sit down to read it, so if you don't want to know the result look away now.

No Such Thing As A Friendly: 14 June 1970: As Sir Alf Ramsey's England are busy blowing a 2-0 lead over West Germany in Mexico, the 'B' team are shunted off to play a meaningless friendly versus Goboya, a small island off the coast of South America. The England side, coached by glass-eyed xenophobe 'Mad' Mickey Clinch, are captained by Crystal Palace's Vince Grinstead, 34, who gives us a first hand account of the ensuing bloodbath.

Goboya are a disorganised rabble of a team who'd probably be no match for England schoolgirls, but they've a secret weapon in their swift and outrageously skilful number 10, Genio, a budding Pele who is soon tying Grinstead's blood in knots. Vince grudgingly concedes that the youngster has far more talent than anyone on the pitch and can't bring himself to follow Mad Cinch's orders to "break his f**k**g legs". So, with England 2-0 down at the break and staring humiliation in the face, psycho-coach takes matters into his own fists .....

N. B. This version of No Such Thing ... is essentially the same as that which appeared in The Fifth Black Book Of Horror save that Vince has now dropped his pseudonym.

A Game Of Two Halves: The horrific events in Goboya proved too traumatic for Grinstead, who swiftly hung up his boots to concentrate on assisting Big Mal in getting Palace relegated and running up an astronomical slate at his local, The Smuggler's Arms. Come April 1974, with the FA having agreed to play a goodwill fixture versus the Soviets on enemy soil, the search was on for a new patsy to succeed the late unlamented 'Mad' Mickey Clinch. Luckily for our National pride, chief Blazer, Sir James Bassingdon-Smythe, knew just the mug for the job. Which is how Vince came to assemble a squad of chain-smoking, skirt-chasing alcoholics to take on the might of Professor Ivan Hairnitz USSR Representative XI in the Molotov Stadium, Murmansk ....

To be continued ...

[dem]

The Ref's Decision Is Final: Firhill Park, 26th October 1974. Never mind hostile away fixtures versus bloodthirsty Jivaro wannabes and simian Soviet cosmonauts high on experimental serum 7, Vince's toughest managerial challenge was duping his squad of rejects * across the border to face the auld enemy, aka the Jocks, on their home turf. Unfortunately, the match coincides with mad axe-murderer Hamish MacDougall's escape from a Glasgow asylum. Could Vic's offering a lift aboard the team coach to a hitch-hiking referee prove a diplomatic master-stroke? Come half time it doesn't look that way. In fact the odds are stacked against the England B squad surviving to reach civilisation ever again!

Members of Billy Stamford's fan club circa 1974. Nice of them to pose with their own scarves for a change. Image © Ealing Blues on Only Barnet forum.

* The roll-call of the damned included such fondly remembered talents as Orient's perennially youthful goalie Derek Phelps (a fan of Pan Horror and Dennis Wheatley paperbacks); Leroy Floyd (QPR reserves, the first black player to represent England, connoisseur of funny cigarettes); Chelsea's 'Razor' Reynolds in a Norman Hunter marauding hatchet-man role; nippy non-league gem Billy Stamford of the Underhill mob on the wing: Fulham's almost universally revered goal-hanger, Stan Riddell: Team captain, Bernie Crawford (or Campbell when playing Scotland) of Bolton Wanderers; midfield dynamo 'Baldy' Branson of the trendy comb-over; and Big John, coach-driver and dispenser of the magic sponge.

[dem]

Get Your Fritz Out For The Lads: If Vince's boys could count themselves a supernaturally fortunate bunch of Sassenach bastards to escape from Glasgow with their lives, worse, much worse is to follow when the now fully air conditioned coach breaks down on the journey home to The Smugglers Arms. Though young Derek Phelps, connoisseur of proper horror stories, warns against paying a visit to that creepy country house in the middle of nowhere, Farquhar Hall, nobody listens. Quite understandable, really, as book reading was still the perverted pursuit of benders in the early 'seventies ** and they'd give you one up the arse as soon as look at you. But then, as we who live in enlightened times now realise, there are yet more terrible creatures abroad on this planet than woofters, or even mad Jocks. Women. Specifically women who think they can play football.

The astute reader will have deduced that the monocled, cross-dressing female Nazi who cordially invites the lads inside is not the real Lord Farquhar but S.S. Oberführer Dr. Helga Drexler, a total lezzer female supremacist! Much to their indignation, England B are persuaded at machine-gun point to play an impromptu ninety minutes versus Drexler's eleven identical seven feet tall Valkyrie XI!

The Bermuda Triangle, sexy nuns, lots and lots of pigtails, and, for one lucky winner, an orgy aboard a U-boat. Fair to say, this one has something to offend everybody. And it is almost certainly the first football horror story to name-drop Sir Charles Birkin and James E. Gunn's The Misogynist.

** Richard Allen Skinhead novels and copies of Readers Wives being the honourable exceptions.

[dem]

Cover: Sleum Askram

Football's Dark Arts: **** Perhaps the strangest, certainly the most nakedly autobiographical of Vince Grinstead's adventures to date. The summer of 1976 finds him at his lowest ebb. He's fat, forty, and depressed, acrimoniously divorced from the love of his life, Carol (see the harrowing My Wife Was Satan's Slut), and unemployed since walking out on the FA after the Jock/ Nazi feminist dual-nightmare. To add insult to injury, good old Bert at the Smugglers is refusing to serve him until he settle his astronomical tab. It is a far cry from the glory and glamour of Gobaya, Glasgow and the Arctic wastes.

All seems lost, until his old nemesis, Sir James Bassingdon-Smythe, breezes in, nonchalantly pulls Sylvie the barmaid (herself involved in a bitter power-struggle with Deirdre of the humongous tits) and shoves a suspiciously generous cheque Grinstead's way informing him that he's been reinstated as England B coach for a goodwill friendly in Texas versus a U.S. National XI to mark the Bicentennial.

All is well until the team arrive at Devils Point to discover that the opposition, coached by one man freak show Jake Gein, are a bunch of Satan-worshipping inbreeds, hideous to the point they'd struggle even to land a walk on part in Deliverance. Yes, this fixture is to played on the Astral, and England B will be competing not merely for prestige but their immortal souls!

**** Copious footnotes.

[dem]

The England 'B' Squad. (Photo courtesy of Bert in The Smugglers Arms.)

“You don’t want to go there, mate, especially after dark. Find another pub to drink in. I’m telling you this for your own good.”

They Think It's All Over: Those who've survived the various Vault calenders will be familiar with an earlier incarnation of this one. It is now some months since Vince overdosed on young Derek Phelps' Dennis Wheatley ***** black sorcery novels, and, all washed up and desperate for cash, he embarks on a new career - as a pub landlord. Problem is, The Jolly Roger already has an established clientèle, and they are not for shifting. Poop old Grinstead has inherited a gay bar!

Vince certainly isn't feeling the least 'jolly', nor is he up for being 'rogered' by creepy Luca Draygor, or any of his chums. Clearly, a New Cross makeover is in order and Mr. Stains get stuck straight in. An emergency name-change to The Bricklayers Arms, a dartboard, Deirdre flaunting her fabulous melons for all she's worth behind the bar, proper manly records on the jukebox (Max Bygraves, Joe Brown, etc.) and everything is ... still the same. Even the combined forces of 'Razor' Reynolds and Dierdre's dynamic décolletage are powerless in such desperate circumstances. It looks as though poor Vince is doomed to see our his days serving half shandy's to benders until Father Lyle, the world's least gaga vampire hunter, volunteers his services ....

It is to be hoped that Mr. Stains can be persuaded to hack out a sequel because ninety minutes of Hell isn't nearly enough. Book of the century.

***** Fellow fans of Pop culture references can rejoice that we've hit the jackpot. Don Revie, Sir Alf Ramsey, Brian Clough, Sid James, Watneys Party 7, "Up yours, Mary Whitehouse!," Michel Parry (in an occult consultant capacity), the Millwall Bushwackers ...

[franklinmarsh]

Jan 24, 2016 12:01:03 GMT dem said:

Book of the century.

He's not wrong there! Thanks to the insane generosity of the good Mr Riley on this young person's social media thingy, I've managed to blag a copy - and, hurling a host of anthos, Goth compilation CDs and Shaun Hutson's The Skull to one side, hurtled through Mr Staines' first two soccer cautionary tales at high speed, being projected back in time to when attending a football match could be classed as an extreme sport (for fans and players alike), to when men weren't confused and women were glad of it, to when England still hadn't realised it was somewhere below the Third World in terms of significance, when a trilby was the heighth of sartorial elegance for one positioning themselves as a football manager and when Crystal Palace turned from The Glaziers into The Eagles (and released Hotel California to widespread acclaim and disgust in equal measure. The Sex Pistols had to happen.)

*SPOILERS*

No Such Thing As A Friendly was even better second time around, the psychotic Nigel-Green-In-Zulu Mad Mickey Clinch's all too soon demise had tears (of mirth) springing to my eyes.

A Game Of Two Halves upped the ante with cartoon Russkies eclipsing Michael Moorcock's The Russian Intelligence and any spy film from the 1960s. The actual make up of the Soviet opposition was unprecedented and brilliant. Vince's match unfitness and desperate hip flask swigging was all too real.

Utter genius! You can almost smell the grease and burnt onions pre-match atmosphere, and, casting a quick eye through Dem's synopses of the other stories, am looking forward to fear...the fear of becoming lost in unfamiliar side streets...hearing a roar go up... is it us or is it them....? Or failing that, some Satanic Haunted House shenanigans.

Can't thank you enough, David.

[David A. Riley]

Mar 2, 2017 12:35:40 GMT franklinmarsh said:

Jan 24, 2016 12:01:03 GMT dem said:

Book of the century.

He's not wrong there! Thanks to the insane generosity of the good Mr Riley on this young person's social media thingy, I've managed to blag a copy - and, hurling a host of anthos, Goth compilation CDs and Shaun Hutson's The Skull to one side, hurtled through Mr Staines' first two soccer cautionary tales at high speed, being projected back in time to when attending a football match could be classed as an extreme sport (for fans and players alike), to when men weren't confused and women were glad of it, to when England still hadn't realised it was somewhere below the Third World in terms of significance, when a trilby was the heighth of sartorial elegance for one positioning themselves as a football manager and when Crystal Palace turned from The Glaziers into The Eagles (and released Hotel California to widespread acclaim and disgust in equal measure. The Sex Pistols had to happen.)

*SPOILERS*

No Such Thing As A Friendly was even better second time around, the psychotic Nigel-Green-In-Zulu Mad Mickey Clinch's all too soon demise had tears (of mirth) springing to my eyes.

A Game Of Two Halves upped the ante with cartoon Russkies eclipsing Michael Moorcock's The Russian Intelligence and any spy film from the 1960s. The actual make up of the Soviet opposition was unprecedented and brilliant. Vince's match unfitness and desperate hip flask swigging was all too real.

Utter genius! You can almost smell the grease and burnt onions pre-match atmosphere, and, casting a quick eye through Dem's synopses of the other stories, am looking forward to fear...the fear of becoming lost in unfamiliar side streets...hearing a roar go up... is it us or is it them....? Or failing that, some Satanic Haunted House shenanigans.

Can't thank you enough, David.

I had great fun putting this book together for Mark Samuels (the culprit behind Richard Staines). I wish more potential readers realised just what a treat is in store for them between its covers. It's a unique blend of darkest humour, crazy antics and sheer, ridiculous, cor blimey horror!

[franklinmarsh]

David - have you considered trying to advertise it in football/comedy circles?

The Ref's Decision Is Final - if the portrayal of Russians in the previous story was somewhat stereotypical, this is taken to the nth degree with Caledonians (although as a Englishman I found it very truthful) and perhaps proscribes sales of the book north of the border. But I don't think anyone will worry as The Smuggler's Arms is as good a den of iniquity as you could wish for, Class War is alive and well and once again Vince and his merry band of handy reprobrates face a life and death struggle in pursuit of the not-so-beautiful game. However far from grass roots the Premier League, the Champions League and the obscene amounts of money now involved in football take us, Richard Staines can furnish a timely reminder of how it once was. And there's an axe-wielding psychopath and Moira Anderson.

[dem]

Mar 2, 2017 15:28:11 GMT David A. Riley said:

I had great fun putting this book together for Mark Samuels (the culprit behind Richard Staines). I wish more potential readers realised just what a treat is in store for them between its covers. It's a unique blend of darkest humour, crazy antics and sheer, ridiculous, cor blimey horror!

Just goes to show a prophet is never accepted in his own time. Has Pitbull ever tried to get the Palace club shop to stock a few copies? It would be great if some of the Sarf London football zine writers got wind of it - surely the Dulwich Hamlet 'rabble' would appreciate further evidence that modern football is indeed totally rubbish. Could be Derek Hammond & Gary Silke of the celebrated Got, Not Got: The Lost World Of Football library would also be interested, especially as they've not yet devoted a volume to a Crystal Palace, and I believe they've occasionally promoted football fiction on their blog.

Also, thank you Mr. Riley for the copy of Mike Chinn's Radix Omnium Malum which arrived yesterday. Will make a start on it over the weekend.

[dem]

Mar 3, 2017 10:27:22 GMT franklinmarsh said:

David - have you considered trying to advertise it in football/comedy circles?

The bride of dem suggests forwarding a copy to Danny Dyer of the trillion twitter followers, although had we wanted a woman's opinion on important manly matters presumably we would have asked for it.

Dominic Utton with Danny Dyer - The Real Football Factories (John Blake, 2008)

Blurb:
The UK may be home to the most respected football firms in the world but there are outfits in other countries which can give our hardest boys a run for their money.
These are the crews who think nothing of using tear gas, meat hooks, home-made bombs and worse to make their point - gangs of organised hooligans in countries as far apart as Brazil and Croatia, Argentina and Italy, football fans for whom their team is their life. Meet the firms prepared to go to the furthest extremes defending their honour.
Dominic Utton was behind the scenes as Danny Dyer and his team travelled the world filming for their hit TV series. This is the full story of what happened on that journey. Join them on a journey around the hooligan world in 90 days, visiting nine countries in three months to meet the nastiest, naughtiest football hooligans on the planet. Shot at, stoned, glassed and tear gassed, they survived gunfire in Brazil and a riot in Poland and the opportunity to stand shoulder to shoulder with the foreign firms as it all goes off.
Full of spine-chilling encounters, extraordinary characters and brutal clashes, this book shows that football hooliganism is alive and kicking - all over the world. This is the proof that it's not just Britain which has the most determined football fans.