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The extracurricular adventures of Vlad and Ms Crockofshit

Blogging it to death

He Digs A Hole, By Danger Slater.

12/5/2018

3 Comments

 

Initially it seems somewhat formulaic, we have heard it before many times, boy meets girl in the rope aisle of a DIY store, while contemplating which one might best hold their weight. Boy and girl fall in love, get married, buy a beautiful home in a quiet neighbourhood, marriage becomes stale, boredom and contempt set in. The boy, now a man, rips of his hands with a power saw and rams digging tools into the bloody stumps and commences digging a very, very deep hole. Are you seeing the subtext? Are the metaphors becoming clear? You had better hope so, or the narrator will not be at all pleased. At some point, the man and his wife disappear into his massive hole, and quickly realise what a pointless waste their lives are, and in the end they are nothing more than worm food, or perhaps sex toys for worms. At some later point, (no spoilers here), they probably have some kind of realisation, which could crush them completely, or make them stronger, helping them to conquer and overcome their situation, I would not like to say which.<br /> Modern human existence comes in for some scathing analysis, however the story is not depressing, but witty, fearless, horrific and funny. Written in a flowing, friendly, 'bantery', manner, the narrator made me laugh often, and I believed he was talking directly to me. In my opinion, Carlton Mellick III has been the King of Bizarro fiction for years. Look out Mr III, Danger is gaining on you fast! Read this book, you'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll google worm porn, you'll vomit up your gizzards!
3 Comments

    Sometimes one simply needs to get away. My neighbours, amusing as they sometimes are often re- awaken in me certain ‘urges’. Urges which invariably concern the use of greased wooden poles.

    Of course when I do have the opportunity to scamper off on a jolly jaunt, my ideal destination tends not to be ‘usual’.

    I prefer charnel house to manor house, gin palace to Buckingham palace, Bran castle to Windsor castle, boneyard to botanic garden. You probably discern the pattern.

    Therefore, fascinating as life on the strangest street in this sceptered isle may be, I thought readers might appreciate the occasional diversion further afield.

    It is my intention to regale you with tales of my light-hearted cadaverous caperings into the weird, the macabre and the unusual around the UK and (sometimes) beyond.

    Perhaps I may visit medieval buildings guarded by faithful gargoyles, graveyards and catacombs inhabited by the restless dead, extraordinary natural landscapes where pagan gods dwell, restaurants, pubs and hotels in unusual places, haunted by ancient denizens and hopefully run by mad chefs with mad ideas. I will not know until I get there. I can only say they will be places to replenish my essence and head off those pesky impaling urges.

    Tread with me if you will, paths less well known.

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