D for Deviant, K for Korpse…

Doktor Deviant’s Diary of Depravity: Kandid Konfessions of a Kompulsive Korpse-Kopulator, ed. Dr David Kerekes and Samuel P. Salatta (Visceral Visions 2022)

Praise for Doktor Deviant’s Diary of Depravity…

• “Doktor Deviant makes David Fuller look like Mary Poppins.” — Nancy Mailer
• “Fetid fakt or fukked-up fiktion? YOU decide!” — Zac Ziali
• “Dank, deplorable and disgusting. I delighted in it!” — Dr Miriam B. Stimbers
• “D                                                                              ” — David Slater
• “David Slater makes Doktor Deviant look like David Fuller.” — Philip Tatzenrott
• “Wow!” — Justin T. McGliverton
• “An extraordinary excursion into the darkest domains of death.” — Chibo Bassher
• “Headpress hits it outta da park again.” — Freddy Goragadescu
• “Maxed-out morbidity. Mmmmmmmmmm!” — Dr Mikita Brottman
• “David Kerekes makes David Slater look like Doktor Deviant.” — Roger Prendergast

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Previously Pre-Posted on Papyrocentric Performativity…

• Fuller Frontal — a review of Deviant. Devious. Depraved.: The Sickening, Slimy and Sizzlingly Septic Story of Noxiously Nasty Necrophile Nonce David Fuller, David Kerekes, with an introduction by David Slater (Visceral Visions 2022)

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In the Bland of the Blind

An Unexplained Death: The True Story of a Body at the Belvedere, Mikita Brottman (Canongate 2018)

This is the second Mikita-Brottman book I’ve tried and the second Mikita-Brottman book I’ve failed to finish. It’s a much better book than Crossing to Kill (2003), but that doesn’t make it any good. The title is uninspired and so is the book. If Mikita is as bland in person as she is in print, I’m not surprised by her complaint that she’s “invisible” to many people. They meet her, then fail to recognize her when they meet her again. Understandably, Mikita doesn’t like this, but there are worse things to suffer in life.

I spotted some of those worse things as I read the book. Or rather: I failed to spot them. Yes, there’s a deep unacknowledged irony at the heart of An Unexplained Death, because even as Mikita was complaining about her own invisibility and the erasure of her personhood, she was invisibilizing others and erasing their personhood.

And unlike privileged white Mikita, those invisibilized others lead genuinely difficult lives and suffer from genuine injustice. This book is about Mikita’s life in the luxurious Belvedere Hotel in an American city called Baltimore. Maybe you’ve heard of Baltimore? Ah, you have heard of it. And what does Baltimore mean to you? That’s right: Baltimore is world-famous both for the rich, vibrant culture of its Black community and for the suffering of that community, whose Black bodies are under 24/7/52 assault by the hegemonic forces of white racism and white supremacy.

Mikita Brottman has lived in the Black-majority city of Baltimore for over ten years. She has been surrounded by both the rich, vibrant culture of the Black community and the suffering of the Black community for every second of those more-than-ten-years – that’s more than 315,360,000 seconds. But does she deign to notice the slightest crumb of that Black culture or the slightest tear-drop of that Black suffering in this book about her more-than-ten-years in Baltimore? You guessed it: she doesn’t. Or at least, not that I saw in what I read of An Unexplained Death. I didn’t see her reference the Black community once. Not once. So one thing is for certain: she did not center the Black community in her book about Baltimore, as she would have done if she had any decency and compassion.

Instead, Mikita Brottman centered herself and her tony world of white privilege. It’s true that, yes, the “Unexplained Death” of the title references a Hispanic male, Rey O. Rivera, who died by falling from the roof of the Belvedere. But Rivera was a rich, white-adjacent Hispanic businessman. What about the many, many Black victims of “unexplained death” in Baltimore? Mikita obviously doesn’t care about them. She doesn’t identify with them and she can’t use them as a mirror for her own neuroses and self-obsessions. So can you wonder that I felt sickened to my stomach, repeatedly, as I read the book? I kept thinking to myself: “You ain’t a Mikita, baby: you’re a go’damn Karen.”

But even if I hadn’t been sickened by the book and its white-centered self-obsession, I wouldn’t have found it any easier to read. The main story, of Brottman’s search for the truth about Rivera’s death, just wasn’t interesting. Not to me, anyway. I found myself skipping forward to the digressions Brottman sprinkles through the book. She talks about everything from vultures and their unsavory thermoregulation techniques to how a mouse can survive a fall that would shatter a human being or liquefy a horse. Those were the best bits, for me, but they didn’t last long enough to rescue the book from its white-centeredness or redeem Brottman’s sickening invisibilization of Baltimore’s Black community.

I don’t think anything could ever redeem that. And inevitably I found myself comparing Miki with Miri. And Miki did not come well out of the comparison. What am I talking about and whom am I comparing with whom? I’m talking about Mikita Brottman and Miriam Stimbers, and I’m comparing the former with the latter. Mikita Brottman and Miriam Stimbers were both bright young Britishers from humble backgrounds who, by dint of sheer cerebral effort and dogged determination, won scholarships to study English Literature at Oxford University. First they did a BA, then they did an MA (probably), then they did a PhD, then they entered the wider world.

And it was now that both Mikita and Miriam faced the same stark and simple choice. Either they could embrace white supremacy, exploit their white privilege, and coast to success in terms of the literary world. Or they could oppose white supremacy, refuse to exploit their white privilege, and achieve success only and entirely on merit. I am afraid to say that Mikita chose the former course. Miriam, in complete contrast, chose the latter.

But it was not the first time that their life-trajectories had divagated in terms of core ethical dilemmas. During her time at Oxford, Mikita had written for Headpress, the journal of strangeness and esoterica overseen by committed counter-culturalist, proud Gypsy and unashamed gargoyle-fan David Kerekes. Miriam, however, had refused to write for Headpress, on the ground that Kezza, although a proud Gypsy and unashamed gargoyle-fan, was nevertheless a dim but devious adolescent voyeur, like a cross between a Daily-Mail reader and a necrophile.

In short, Miriam was prepared to take an ethical stand. Mikita was not. Sad to say, after she wrote for Headpress, Mikita’s embracement of white supremacy and ruthless exploitment of her white privilege came as no surprise to perceptive observers. Having moved to America, the headquarters of white supremacy, Mikita became the life-partner of a rich and successful white writer, acquired a well-connected white literary agent, and began to write acclaimed but underwhelming white-centered books like An Unexplained Death. But when Miriam moved to America, things were very different. In complete contrast to Mikita, Miriam became the life-partner of a member of the Black academic community, the proud Black-African Diasporan Dr Nigel M. Goldbaum, acquired a Black literary agent, Rebecca Rubinberg, and began to write masterpieces like Jane in Blood: Castration, Clitoridolatry and Communal Cannibalism in the Novels of Jane Austen (TransVisceral Books 2021).

But Miriam’s masterpieces have not enjoyed a tenth of the success nor received a hundredth of the exposure of Mikita’s mediocrities. Why not? It’s simple. Miriam is fighting white supremacy and rejecting her white privilege, rather then embracing white supremacy and exploiting the hell out of her white privilege. That’s for why. Mikita’s An Unexplained Death is a case in point. It has an uninspired title and it’s an uninspired book. But it’s been much more successful and been much more extravagantly praised than all of Miriam’s masterpieces put together. In the land of white supremacy, the Karen is Queen.

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Previously Pre-Posted on Papyrocentric Performativity…

• Cannibal HolocAusten — Miriam Stimbers and Rebecca Rubinberg interrogate issues around Jane in Blood: Castration, Clitoridolatry and Communal Cannibalism in the Novels of Jane Austen (2021)

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Goyles, Goyles, Goyles…

I, Gargoyle: Toxic True Tales of Fetid Freaks, Wild-Eyed Weirdos and Kore Kounter-Kultural Kooks Who Insidiously Identify as Human Gargoyles…, edited by David Kerekes and Norman Nekrophile (Visceral Visions, forthcoming)

Fine books. Feral books. Fetid books. Year on year – OMG, decade on decade – passionately putrid publisher Headpress has been incendarily issuing said itemry. But for me, as for many, many other keyly committed core components of the counter-cultural community, the fetid flagship of the Headpress brand has always been sizzlingly seminal snuff-study Killing for Culture (1986).

That septic status quo may be about to change. ’Coz Headpress are preparing to incendiarily issue a book that may just be capable of steaming up alongside-of fetid flagship Killing for Culture and giving it a broadside that sends it straight to the bottom of the abjectional abyss. Ladies and gentlemen, boys and goyles: I am beyond excited to announce that later in 2022 Visceral Visions will be publishing an entire book devoted to the deeply disturbing – and corely counter-cultural – toxi-topic of fetid folk who insidiously identify as Human Gargoyles. As David Kerekes and Norman Nekrophile write in their introduction:

The symbolic resonance of Skywald’s “Saga of the Human Gargoyles” rings out loud and clear. And we ain’t here to deny in any way that an allegorical interpretation of the Saga can be made on a maximally coherent basis. Yes, we agree without demurral that the Human Gargoyle family of Edward Sartyros and Mina Sartyros and little Andrew Sartyros are enacting the Immigrant Experience and Outsider Experience, performatively proximating the minorities of all kinds, racial and cultural and sexual, who have pursued the American Dream – and been rewarded with marginalization, misunderstanding and mephitic mistreatment. Yes, yes, the Immigrant Community, the Otherized Outsider Community, the LGBTQIA+ Community, and many others, they can all see themselves reflected in Edward and Mina and Andrew.

But that isn’t what this book is corely concerned with or keyly campaigning to cover. We’ll be blunt and put our counter-cultural cards on the toxic table. We don’t want the allegory – we want the actuality. Many, many folk have read the Saga of the Human Gargoyles and thought “That’s like me.” That isn’t enough for us. No! We wanna to hear from those who’ve read the Saga of the Human Gargoyles and thought “That is me!” Yeah, we wanna meet and mingle with the fetid freaks, wild-eyed weirdos and core counter-cultural kooks who wanted to be and were determined to be and actually thought themselves to be real Human Gargoyles. I, Gargoyle tells their toxic true tales. Enjoy! (© David Kerekes and Norman Nekrophile 2022)

Got that? OK, then here’s an esoterically exclusive extract of just ONE of the incendiarily idiosyncratic items you can expect to find within the passionately putrefactional pages of I, Gargoyle…

(click for full-size image)

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Sudden Glory Laughter— Sudden glory, is the passion which maketh those Grimaces called LAUGHTER; and is caused either by some sudden act of their own, that pleaseth them; or by the apprehension of some deformed thing in another, by comparison whereof they suddenly applaud themselves. And it is incident most to them, that are conscious of the fewest abilities in themselves; who are forced to keep themselves in their own favour, by observing the imperfections of other men. And therefore much Laughter at the defects of others is a signe of Pusillanimity. For of great minds, one of the proper workes is, to help and free others from scorn; and compare themselves onely with the most able. (© David Kerekes and Norman Nekrophile 2022)

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Meet the Maverick Munch-Bunch…

Naked Krunch: The Sinister, Sordid and Strangely Scrumptious Story of SavSnaq, Dr David M. Mitchell (Savoy Books 2022)

Genius creates. We can all agree on that. But genius also… connects. And perhaps the greatest literary connection of the past fifty years and more was made when maverick Mancunian publisher Savoy Books began to interrogate core issues around the Holocaust, on the one hand, and crisps, on the other (“potato chips”, in American English).

It was a perfect example of that signature Savoyish celebration of jarring juxtaposition, of high and low culture, the epochal and the trivial, the supremely sacred and the sensibility-smashing subversive. But once the connection was made, yes, it seemed both utterly wrong and utterly right. As Savoy C.E.O. David Britton himself said: “Crisps are rock’n’roll in motherfucking excelsis – cheap, strongly flavoured, and loud!”

And when did Britton first bring crisps and the Holocaust together in the atrocitous atom-smasher of his incendiary imagination? It was in the transgressive toxi-text Fuck Off and Diet (1997). Recall the scene where Lord Horror performs a pas-de-deux with Eva Braun on the burning hull of a cannibal-crewed Zeppelin plummeting parapraxically to its doom on a municipal gasworks in Rusholme. Just before the end of the scene, Horror remarks to Eva in twelfth-century Guipúzcoan Basque: “Fancy a pickled onion?” Eva responds by silently – and synergistically – removing a single dead-Jew-flavoured crisp from her cleavage; sliding it into her mouth; crunching it with a sly wink; then belching Zyklon-B into Horror’s face. He savours the cyanide slay-gas with a sigh of satisfaction even as the Zeppelin hits the gasworks and explodes.

Maverick Munch… A seemingly innocent bowl of SavSnaq crisps…

It’s one of the most disturbing moments in one of the most disturbing books ever written. There are no more overt references to crisps and the Holocaust in the remainder of FOAD, but Britton was merely biding his time. As Dr David M. Mitchell describes in the first third of Naked Krunch, although crisps were a seemingly casual component of FOAD, six years later they had become a major motif of what is perhaps Britton’s maximal masterwork, the epoch-eviscerating Basted in the Broth of Billions (2003). Among much else in the book, Auschwitz is a felonious food-factory where Jews are turned into cheese’n’onion crisps, Gypsies into BBQ-Beef hula-hoops, homosexuals into smoky-bacon Pringles (“Once you popper, you can’t stopper!”), and so on. Mitchell conducts a thorough crispological survey of BitBoB, hunting down and hermeneuticizing even the most remote and recondite references to crisps, crisp-crunching and the Holocaust.

Having completed that literary survey of Savoy’s crisp-connecting, he next embarks on a detailed history of SavSnaq, the crispocentric company launched by Savoy to “storm the ramparts of the savoury-snack / party-nibbles market.” One of their early marketing slogans was “SavSnaq = Maximal Munch.” Another was: “You’ll Nosh Nowt Noxiouser.” And they did their very best to live up to the menace of that slogan. Mitchell describes how, in the early days, SavSnaq teetered on the brink of bankruptcy multiple times, as Britton & Co. fought off vicious legal challenges from the Health and Safety Executive after weaponizing a “Burroughs-themed heroin-flavoured crisp range.” Even today SavSnaq has never turned a profit, but Mitchell sets out an unassailable case that SavSnaq’s party-nibbles and savoury snacks have done to food-manufacturing what Savoy’s books and graphic novels had already done to English literature: revolutionized and reinvigorated a sadly and suffocatingly staid and sedentary sector.

Savinyl Tap: the wradical wrapper of SavSnaq’s Heretical Heroin™ range of “none-more-black” Burroughs-themed crisps…

In the first edition of Naked Krunch, Mitchell ended things there; in this updated edition, he goes on to examine the continuing impact of Savoy’s crisp-connections on wider culture. To take but one example: radical musicians have embraced Savoy’s incendiary interrogation of crisp-crunch to create revolutionary new genres, including the cataclysmic “crispcore” practised by sensory-overloading sonic terrorists Crunch-E))), who are now widely hailed as “the loudest band in the multiverse.” Dressed in shiny imitation crisp-wrappers, the three musicians of Crunch-E))) each eat a single packet of crisps into an ultra-sensitive microphone on stage. The resultant crunching is then slowed dramatically and amplified enormously before being projected through giant speakers onto an enraptured audience bathed in billowing clouds of cheese-and-onion-scented artificial smoke.

As Mitchell relates, David Britton once joked that every packet of SavSnaq crisps should be “so loud that every motherfuckin’ muncher develops terminal tinnitus.” Crunch-E))) have realized that visceral vision. The band have also explicitly acknowledged their artistic debt to Savoy and SavSnaq by naming their first three albums Basted (2005), Broth (2006) and Billions (2008). But this extra publicity for Savoy has not increased sales of Savoy’s books or of SavSnaq’s products. As Mitchell emphasizes repeatedly in Naked Krunch: Savoy and SavSnaq remain far too dangerous for general consumption.

And they always will. But the counter-cultural cognoscenti will continue to savour every last crumb that falls from super-subversive Savoy’s teratotropicly toxic table…

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Previously Pre-Posted on Papyrocentric Performativity…

• Fuck Off and Dienetics… – Headpress CEO Norman Nekrophile surveys Savoy’s satirical saunter thru Scientology…
• Naked Krunch — interrogating issues around David Britton’s Basted in the Broth of Billions (2008)
• Commit to Crunch — a review of Will Self’s Maverick Munch: Selecting a Sinisterly Savory Snack to Reinforce Your Rhizomatically Radical Reading (TransVisceral Books 2016)

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Fuller Frontal

Deviant. Devious. Depraved.: The Sickening, Slimy and Sizzlingly Septic Story of Noxiously Nasty Necrophile Nonce David Fuller, David Kerekes, with an introduction by David Slater (Visceral Visions 2022)

Headpress have done it again. In spades. This passionately putrid publisher prides itself on incendarily issuing at least one core counter-cultural classic a year. This year they’ve done it early. Their new book Deviant. Devious. Depraved. – or D3, as I’ll call it for short – is surely destined to be both a feral fan-favorite and a bulging bench-mark in the atrabilious abyss of toxically transgressive true-crime. But make no mistake: as good a job as David Kerekes has done in the bulk of the book, his long-term thinking-buddy David Slater has possibly gone one better in the introduction. That intro truly is one of the most disturbing things I’ve ever read. Or rather (spoiler alert): it’s one of the most disturbing things I’ve never read.

That’s coz Slater’s introduction consists of three blank pages. And I mean exactly that: blank pages. No words, just empty paper. It’s as though Slater has sat there, fingers poised above the keyboard, ready to begin churning out his usual 120+ words a minute… and then realized that nothing he could write could even begin to plumb the depths of deplorableness repulsively represented by the cranium-convulsing crimes of David Fuller. Those crimes were simply too dark, too disgusting, too demonic for him to describe.

And when David Slater, simul-scribe of seminal snuff-study Killing for Culture (1996), recoils at the task of tackling the teratically toxic transgressions of a sizzlingly septic slayer, you know that said slayer has really been a naughty boy. Just quite how naughty, David Kerekes describes in the rest of the book. David Fuller murdered at least two young women. And that’s how he finally came to the attention of the British police, when analysis of stored DNA from the crime-scenes belatedly brought him to book. Kerekes produces good evidence that his real body-count may have been much higher. But that merely scratches the surface of Fuller’s fetidness. What really put him in a league of his own – and what really brought him to the attention of committed corpse-crime contemplator Kerekes – was what he got up to on the sly in the mephitic mortuaries of at least two British hospitals.

Fuller was a core corpse-copulator on an exhaustively industrial scale, deviantly, deviously and depravedly defiling the bodies of scores, possibly hundreds, of dead women and girls. And he fetidly filmed his noxiously nauseating necrophilia. Wow. No wonder Kezza felt that he had to write a book about him, like. And no doubt other books by other authors will attempt to tell the same sickeningly sordid story. My confident prediction is that no-one will do it with anywhere near the priapismatic passion and esoteric obsessivity as with what Kerekes and Slater have done it in this core counter-cultural classic. D3 is a book that you will read, retch over, and reprehensibly remember for the rest of your life.

Gangrenously guaranteed.

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Elsewhere Other-Accessible…

• Headpress — the Home of Heresy

Previously Pre-Posted on Papyrocentric Performativity…

• Voy Veh — review of Gay Talese’s The Voyeur’s Motel (2016) by Dr David Kerekes

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Kops. Kameras. Kerkees.

So. If you’re a keyly committed core component of the counter-cultural community, you may well be aware that core counter-cultural compendium Headpress (“The Journal of Strangeness and Esoterica”…) used to run a feral feature called “It’s A Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World…” in which the antics of the mentally ill were esoterically exposed for the amusement and edification of Headpress’s incendarily intelligent and ruthlessly radical readership… As Headpress CEO Dr David Kerekes still likes to chuckle: “Loonies are a lorra, lorra laffs, like.”

He’s right, of course. But it isn’t only keyly committed core components of the counter-cultural community like Dr Kerekes and his incendarily intelligent readers who find loonies a lorra, lorra laffs… As you can see here…

An alleged police culture of impunity helped an officer who took selfies while on duty at a murder scene commit a litany of disciplinary offences on an “industrial scale” for six years, it has been claimed.

PC Ryan Connolly, 37, from the Merseyside force, resigned after his taking and sharing of photos of the vulnerable came to light, as well as his sharing of racist and offensive images.

The Guardian revealed that between 2014 and 2020 Connolly took photos on his mobile phone of people in mental health crises, in hospitals, and had photos and graphics on his mobile phone that were grossly racist, including an image of a Ku Klux Klan member.

Merseyside police and court officials confirmed that Connolly was also convicted in November of three counts of possessing extreme pornography. He will be sentenced next month at Manchester crown court. — A Kop and his Kamera

Wow. Even though cops are, as a core commenter at Papyrocentric Performativity has rightly pointed out, “the least counter-cultural group on earth”, they too enjoy Headpressean things like laffing at loonies. And watching extreme porn. (But racism is not Headpressean, obvs. As a proud and passionate member of the Gypsy Community, Dr Kerekes has always been a keyly and corely committed component of the anti-racist community.)

So. Anyway. The next time you see a core component of the cop community, just think to yourself: “It is more than possible that this entirely unesoteric individual enjoys core components of Headpresseanism.” Or to put it another way: “Kerekes and kops are komrades under the kutis.” A strange and disturbing thought, ja? Which is to say: a Headpressean thought…

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Previously pre-posted on Papyrocentric Performativity…

Noxious. Nekro. Narratives. — an earlier esoteric exploration of the unkanny parallels between Kerekes and the Kop Kommunity…

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Elsewhere other-accessible…

Another Kop and his Kamera — how a cop took secret (wow) photos of nekkid laydeez…

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P.S. “kutis” = cutis = a medical term for the inner layer of skin.

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KOPS. KHAVS. KEREKES.

KOMRADES IN KAMERA

(et sub kute)

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Noxious. Nekro. Narratives.

Readers’ Advisory: Key counter-cultural quotations contain core corpse-contemplation (and worse)…

PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK.

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Headpressean:

Met police officers plead guilty over photos [wow] taken at scene of sisters’ deaths

A police officer made degrading and sexist insults about two murdered women as he shared pictures from the scene where they were found with a colleague photographing their bodies [wow] and also sharing the images via WhatsApp.

The two Metropolitan police officers pleaded guilty on Tuesday after sharing photographs from the crime scene they were supposed to be guarding in a London park, where two sisters, Nicole Smallman, 27, and Bibaa Henry, 46, were found stabbed to death.

PC Deniz Jaffer, 48, and PC Jamie Lewis, 33, admitted misconduct in public office at the Old Bailey, with the judge, Mark Lucraft QC, warning that they were “extremely likely” to be jailed.

Jaffer left the post he had been assigned to in June 2020 at Fryent Country Park in Wembley, north-west London, and went into bushes where the women had been left by their satanist-obsessed killer. The officer took out a mobile phone and took pictures of the bodies [wow].

He sent four images to Lewis [wow], who edited one of the photos and superimposed his face on to it with the two murdered women visible [wow] in the background. – Cops Contemplate Corpses, 3xi21

Headpressean:

Plumber, 57, put cameras [wow] in female customers’ toilets ‘to meet his sexual needs’

A plumber who secretly installed spy cameras [wow] in his customers’ toilets “to meet his sexual needs” has been jailed for 12 months. James Hulme, 57, was caught when a female client spotted a hidden camera [wow] on her sink in her downstairs toilet and reported him to police.

Detectives discovered that Hulme, from Glendon Drive, Sherwood, Nottinghamshire, had put secret devices in up to six other women’s bathrooms. After a search of his home, officers found 302 indecent images of children and pornography involving animals.

Hulme pleaded guilty to voyeurism [wow], making indecent images of a child and possessing extreme pornographic images. He was jailed for 12 months at Nottingham Crown Court last Wednesday. The court heard he was caught while carrying out work at a woman’s home in Clifton, Nottinghamshire, in June 2018. She confronted Hulme when she found a spy camera attached to a sink in the downstairs toilet.

Hulme admitted being responsible and fled the property with the recording device when the woman called police. Hulme was arrested a short time later, and Nottinghamshire Police said he admitted recording the customer, as well as five or six others, “to meet his sexual needs”. – Cameras for Culture, 2xi21

Very Headpressean:

David [wow] Fuller: man admits two murders and sexual abuse of multiple corpses [wow]

Trial of former hospital electrician is believed to be worst case of necrophilia in British legal history

An electrician who admitted murdering two women in 1987 also sexually attacked scores of corpses [wow] in a hospital mortuary in the worst offending of its kind in British legal history, prosecutors say.

His trial heard that he also sexually assaulted women’s corpses [wow] in the mortuaries at Kent and Sussex hospital and Tunbridge Wells hospital while working there. When Fuller’s home was raided police discovered 4m images of sexual abuse. Most were downloaded from the internet, but Fuller had also recorded himself abusing bodies [wow].

The CPS said Fuller’s necrophilia was unprecedented in British legal history: “Searches of Fuller’s home following his arrest uncovered hard drives concealed [wow] in a hide in his home, revealing evidence of prolific sexual offending of a kind no British court has seen before. Between 2008 and 2020, Fuller had filmed and photographed himself sexually abusing the bodies of dozens of women and girls [wow] at two Tunbridge Wells hospital mortuaries he was able to access through his job as the maintenance supervisor.”

Fuller was arrested for murder on 3 December last year after new analysis of decades-old DNA evidence, and officers searched his home. There they found images of dead women at the two hospital mortuaries being abused by Fuller [wow], the prosecutor, Duncan Atkinson QC, said on Monday.

Officers then found four hard drives with 5TB of data storage in total attached to the back of a cupboard. “When these hard drives were examined, they were found to contain a library of unimaginable sexual depravity [wow],” Atkinson said.

Libby Clark, of the CPS, said: “This highly dangerous man has inflicted unimaginable suffering on countless families and he has only admitted his long-held secrets when confronted with overwhelming evidence. I have no doubt he would still be offending to this day had it not been for this painstaking investigation and prosecution.”

Sajid Javid, the health secretary, said the NHS had written to all health trusts asking for mortuary access and postmortem activities to be reviewed [wow]. An independent review has started at the trust where Fuller worked and the Human Tissue Authority has been asked for advice on whether rules need to be changed. – Devious Dave copulates with corpses, 4xi21

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Elsewhere other-engageable…

• Killing for Culture – the seminal survey of the sizzle of snuff…

• Serial Slay (UK) – Britain’s biggest and best serial-slayer surveillance site. Updated daily.

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Kore Kounter-Kultural Kwotations

• “Our ability to mind our own business is inversely proportional to the emptiness of our lives.” — Norman Nekrophile waxes philosophical whilst accepting his “Best Editor” award at the Golden Gargoyles, 2019

• “It’s impossible to mind your own business when you have an empty soul, an empty mind and an empty life.” — Norman Nekrophile waxes philosophical again whilst accepting his “Best Subject of a Super-Sizzlingly Seminal Biography” award for Slime-Sniffer: The Norman Nekrophile Story at the Golden Gargoyles, 2020

What korely key kounter-kultural kwotation will Norman Nekrophile kum up with at this year’s Golden Gargoyles dot dot dot question mark question mark question mark

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Norman Nekrophile will need no introduction to keyly committed core components of the counter-cultural community. His latest book is Snuff. Is. Never. Enuff.: A Seasoned Slime-Sniffer Sniffs Out the Toxickest Transgressivities of Tobacco-Based Snorting Substances (TransVisceral Books 2021)

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Morbid Miriam Matters

On September 21, 2020, at 12:07 EST, Dr Miriam B. Stimbers and her life-partner, the proud Black-African-Diasporan Dr Nigel M. Goldbaum, lit a sustainably sourced “Black Lives Matter” candle, held hands, and commenced watching split-screen video of the inspirational inaugurations of President Barack Obama in 2008 and 2012.

Dr Stimbers and Dr Goldbaum had been performing this core soul-strengthening and white-supremacy-defying ritual on a keyly committed daily basis throughout the summer of 2020.

But that day’s ritual would prove horrifically different.

At 1 minute 21 seconds of the video-view, Miriam began to shake uncontrollably.

At 1m38s, she released a cry of irrepressible anguish.

At 1m46s, she slumped into core unconsciousness.

She has been in a coma ever since.

The horrors of white racism had finally proved too much for her…

We in the close-knit Papyrocentric-Performativity community would like to extend our profoundest respects to Dr Stimbers and Dr Goldbaum, to express our sincerest hopes for Dr Stimbers’ complete and speedy recovery, and to humbly endorse what Dr Goldbaum has said of his life-partner: “Even in a coma, Miriam is doing more to fight systemic racism and dismantle white supremacy than some so-called progressive persons have managed in their entire non-comatose existences.”

In tribute to Dr Stimbers, we herewith list key Papyrocentric-Performativity posts referencing this truly inspirational psychoanalyst and anti-racist activist:

• #MiToo — a review of Morbidly Miriam: The Mephitic Memoirs of Miriam B. Stimbers, Dr Miriam B. Stimbers (TransVisceral Books 2018)
• Doc Proc — a review of Botty: An Unnatural History of the Backside, Dr Miriam B. Stimbers (TransVisceral Books 2014)
• Twice Has Thrice the Vice — Miriam processes the grieving-process of losing a core fish-community

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And the close-knit Papyrocentric-Performativity community heartily recommends core engagement with “Faut-il Brûler Smith? (Con)futing the Hate Speech of Klarkash-Ton”, Dr Goldbaum’s seminal essay on Other-phobia in the work of Clark Ashton Smith.

P.S. Cutting-edge counter-culturalist, veteran visceralist and über-edgy esotericist Norman Nekrophile adds: “As a proud member of the Roma Diaspora, my Journal of Strangeness and Necrophilia was always privileged to host the acutely intelligent and incendiarily insightful psychoanalysis corely crafted by Dr Stimbers. That is, I mean I’m the proud member of the Roma Diaspora, not my journal, which is inanimate, obviously. A bit like Miriam at the moment, sad to say. I’m sure all core components of the counter-cultural community will join me in wishing Miriam a radical re-assumption of optimal health status on a maximally accelerated basis.”

P.P.S. Sizzlingly sleazy, super-psychotropic serial-slayerologist Sam Salatta adds: “So I’m parked up with this head on the passenger seat, right, thinking how the fuck’m I gonna get the car clean, and does this cop-car pull up out of the blue right beside me? Yeah, it fucking does! And I’m like, ‘Oh, fuckety-fuckety fuck!’ and this cop goes, ‘Are we having any problems, sir?’ and I’m like — what? Oh, yeah, Miriam, yeah. I’ve always been a massive fan. Fingers crossed that she recovers as soon as. If not sooner.”

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Necrofil cel Mare Stă cu Ochii pe Tine…

In a World of Adolescent Voyeurism…

One Human Gargoyle……

Maintained a Core Commitment………

To Key Counter-Cultural Values…………

Norman Nekrophile is…

…SLIMESNIFFER…

(Out soon on Visceral Visions…)

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Elsewhere other-esotericizable…

• Headpress Bokos……
• Killing for Culture…
• Night of the Necrophile……
• The Stockport Slayer… (a seriously sinister story)

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