No More Mr Nice Guy

evil4some

Nothing puts our noses more out of joint here at Evil UnLtd than to discover there are those out there more evil than us. Not to mention circumstances beyond our control. We are firm believers that nothing has any business being beyond our control.

So, it pains us to use the phrase now…

Owing to circumstances beyond our control, we have been obliged to end our long-standing custom of donating 100% proceeds from Evil UnLtd books to charity.

We are somewhat stubborn and pig-headed, however, and rather than end our charitable giving altogether, we have reduced the percentage of royalties that will be donated. Hence, until further notice 20% of royalties from the Evil UnLtd series of books (ebook and paperback) will go to Cancer Research UK.

Evil UnLtd Vol 1: The Root Of All Evil (Kindle)

Evil UnLtd Vol 2: From Evil With Love (Kindle)

Evil UnLtd Vol 3: Evil UTD (Kindle)

Evil UnLtd Vol 4: Tempus Sinister (Kindle)

We don’t really do apologies, being Evil, but the author of the books is sorry. In fact, I understand he is rather upset about the whole business and is committed to making this only a temporary reduction if possible. Which is why I have been asked to write this announcement.

Frankly, for my part, I have no idea what we were doing contributing to a charity in the first place.

Mine all mine, most sincerely

Dexter Snide.

DexterBW01

Advertisements

Proctor Who? Part Two

Toolbox

Who is the Proctor?

A question central to the latest Evil UnLtd volume.

The Proctor is a conundrum wrapped in an enema and – wait, either we’re getting déjà vu or we’re caught in a chronic hysteresis. We’ve been through all that before.

Today, we’ll be profiling one of the individuals who lays claim to the title of Proctor, cast in order of appearance, ugliest first.

 The Second (?) Proctor

Proctor02

(aka Proctor Occam)

Exclusive Time/Space snippet:

 

Talulah Belle’s eyes roamed so far and wide over the walls and ceilings of the Imperial Palace, why, it was a marvel they didn’t just set off on an adventure of their own. Travelling all this décor, they’d need horses to properly explore the splendor. Or a coach, for avoiding the saddle sores.

(Splendour, she belatedly corrected herself. While her mama had told her to mind her ‘P’s and ‘Q’s, her Gentleman was strangely more insistent about her proper inclusion of ‘U’s in all kinds of words that hadn’t previously shown any use for them.)

She’d been working the Dixie Cleopatra when he’d come and whisked her away and she’d thought that queenly old steamboat was pretty palatial, but she was a tramp compared to this space. Mercy, she could have counted the gentlemen who’d wanted to save her – for themselves – on the beads of one abacus. Her Gentleman was different: he’d promised to show her the wonders of the universe. She’d been real close to saying no, on account of his professing to be a proctologist, but then she figured it must be a big old universe out there, with plenty of call for all kinds of professions, and who was she to judge. It was only later when her misunderstanding came to light, in polite company, that he explained that no, he was a Proctor, and went to some pains to stress the differences.

As the Empress Sabella swept forward, Talulah curtsied, safe in the understanding that her Gentleman Proctor was not here to probe the royal derriere. Discovering any means of access under all those regal skirts would have been no easy feat anyhow and her escort of purple-clad guards looked apt to fend off any attentions too personal.

The Proctor settled for a stiff bow. Formality rooted in gentlemanliness as well as a general stiffness of bones and joints and pretty much everywhere in his body apart from where it had mattered most to the bulk of the clientele on the Dixie Cleo. He cranked his old back upright and smiled. Something Talulah Belle recommended he did sparingly, seeing as how his cheeks were so hollow and his nose more befitting a bald eagle, and stretching his wiry lips to any degree often made him appear creepy. His brow was more furrowed than a ploughed field, topped off with a ghostly frosting of hair like fresh-whipped cobwebs and cotton candy.

“Your Majesty,” he said in his voice that scraped like a fiddle that had mouldered in the grave longer than John Brown’s body.

The Empress, bless her heart, showed no signs of being intimidated. She held her head aloof, nose at an angle to guarantee any errant sneezes an uphill journey. “Proctor Occam, I understand you have a gift for me.”

“Indeed, Your Majesty. I hope you will keep it in an extremely safe place.”

He stood aside and gestured like a showman at their captive.

She was like a caged tigress and she was in no mood to perform. She beat against the invisible walls of her containment field. Talulah did not begin to pretend to understand the technology – walls clearer than windows, hard as anything she’d encountered on the Dixie Cleo – but she’d seen the girl go through similar motions in one of her promotional music videos. Her Gentleman showed her one sequence where the girl appeared in paroxysms of orgasm while sealed in a glass tank that would have been better situated in an aquarium. She had thrashed about, steamed the glass with her breath and imprinted the mist with big fuzzy red kisses. The song was called Love My Brain. A marriage of image and lyrics that struck Talulah like a lot of marriages, leaving her to wonder what in tarnation had united the two together in the first place.

The Empress swanned up to the container, almost gliding in those skirts of hers.

“Careful, sugar,” Talulah warned. She sucked at her pinkie. “She bites.”

The Proctor whipped out his Tool.

The royal guards levelled their fancy rifles. Something folks invariably did when her Gentleman produced his Tool all sudden like.

EvilFork

Watch this space for further profiles of this compelling character.

Alternatively, read Evil UnLtd Vol 4: Tempus Sinister.

Royalties for all books in the Evil UnLtd series go to Cancer Research UK.

SAF 2015

Of Time And Towels

Evil4Cover

Tick tock.

Happy Towel Day! And here’s to the late, great Douglas Adams.

Today struck us as a timely time to unveil the cover of the next volume in our Evil UnLtd series.

Evil UnLtd Vol 4: Tempus Sinister will, barring any chronic hystereses, be available in [Edit!] May 2015.

Lord, it’s about Time.

SAF 2014

Note: 100% of royalties from all Evil UnLtd sales will continue to go to Cancer Research UK, at least for one more year.

May 24th Be With You!

Welcome to 2013.

50th Anniversary year of some long-running sci-fi show. Ah yes, Doctor Who, that’s the one. One of those infuriating hero-types who’s been around forever and a symptom of some villains not doing their job right.

Anyway, yes, it is late to be welcoming people to the new year, but we at Evil UnLtd do love to be fashionably late and besides, while time waits for no man, it had better wait for us and just count itself lucky that it isn’t waiting on us.

We have special minions for that.

Speaking of dining, it has come to our attention that the world was recently shocked to discover that some of its beefburgers were found to contain 29% horsemeat.

horsedoeuvres

Perhaps the world now understands the horror and disgust we felt when it was discovered that our Evil enterprise was found to contain unacceptable levels of goodness.

Our ‘illustrious’ – and often inebriate – author, Simon A Forward, is entirely to blame.

Over the course of just over a year, Doctor Who fans were hit with the sad news of the passing of three actresses who had portrayed three favourite companions from the series. Lis Sladen (Sarah Jane Smith), Caroline John (Liz Shaw) and Mary Tamm (Romana). All down to cancer.

DWCompanions01

So you can see how a sensitive soul with an affinity for this Doctor Who phenomenon might feel moved to do something in this anniversary year. Especially someone, like Simon A Forward, who lost his own mum to cancer seven years ago this coming May.

Hence, all royalties from Evil UnLtd books will be going to Cancer Research UK until May 24th 2013.

Vol 1: The Root Of All Evil

Paperback

Kindle – Amazon (UK) £2.05

Kindle – Amazon (US) $3.31

Other Ebook – Smashwords $2.99

Paperback (Signed) £9.99 (inc P&P)

Vol 2: From Evil With Love

Evil2Cover

Kindle – Amazon (UK) £2.05

Kindle – Amazon (US) $3.31

Other Ebook – Smashwords $2.99

Paperback (Signed) £9.99 (inc P&P)

EvilFork

Furthermore, with Evil UnLtd Vol 3: Evil UTD due for release that same month (in time for Towel Day, Douglas Adams/Hitchhikers Guide fans take note!) our author was keen to continue with some longer-term contribution beyond that date.

With that in mind, he has decided that a full 50% of royalties on all Evil UnLtd books, including future volumes, will go to Cancer Research UK.

50% goodness is a troubling level of contaminant to find in your own produce and we are far from happy about it, let us tell you. But it’s not in our nature to apologise or withdraw our products from circulation. We’d much rather withdraw circulation from consumers.

Naturally, those same consumers can dispense with book purchases altogether and donate directly to Cancer Research UK.

Jedi and others of a similar lightsaber-wielding hippy-dippy persuasion would caution you to beware of the dark side. We would urge people to embrace it.

Much as it pains us, you will be doing some good.

But ultimately, as we’ve mentioned before, cancer is evil and we could do without the competition. So, please, treat yourself to a book and/or help spread the word by sharing links on your blogs, Facebook, Twitter, by email, whatever your preferred means of communication.

The Farce Of The Dark Side, it proclaims on all our book covers. Although we’re sure that must be some sort of typographical error.

In any case, as the subject header says, May 24th be with you.

Help Evil do some Good.

Evil Movie Database

(Click on the images for larger views)

SAF 2012

Title Sequence

Not all books have such lavish opening title sequences. This is an excerpt from Evil UnLtd Vol 2: From Evil With Love

Through thrashing white water, we descend into swirling blue. Rays of light slant down to play among the bubbles and fluid shadows. Shadows transform: the slender silhouette of a naked woman emerges to dance in the light. Others rise from the depths to swim, almost shark-like, around her. We dive slowly into the midst of their circling naked forms.

An elegant silver gun juts in from the left, one beautifully manicured finger closes around the trigger and sends a bullet streaking across the oily maelstrom of silhouettes.

Sparks ignite and in the explosion of flame, the women are now fiery sirens. They dance, they somersault, they act out some fairly amateur martial arts. If you watch too closely, one of them can be seen to fall over.

Mostly they twist and turn gracefully, rising in a seductive fiery spiral. Above us, sunlight ripples on the surface.

Suddenly, a flotilla of speedboats spears past overhead, painting a screen of churning white in which the burning sirens die, fatally extinguished.

But no, we break through the white, rising into sky blue, bringing the dancing figures with us as curvaceous, vaporous hotties. Babes of cloud, cumulo nymphus, they take to the air, flexing sinuously as – suddenly – sleek fighter jets weave their way between them, looping them with vapour-trail ribbons as they engage in a deadly, balletic dogfight.

Some of the cloud-babes swoop in on the lead plane, settling to dance on the wings as it arcs through the sky, a brace of heat seeker missiles streaking hotly after it.

A phone rings.

Templar hit pause on the remote and turned up the lights. Every bloody time, without fail.

“Templar. Salmon Templar.”

“Templar. We have a situation. Get your tailfin to HQ ASAP.”

“What’s the situation, sir?”

“Are you alone? Need I ask?”

“No, sir, but I soon can be.” Templar looked over to the couch where the deluscious Bunny was peeping over the back with her tousled hair and come-back-hither eyes. “Sorry. Something’s come up.”

“It’s what I was hoping.”

She had succumbed to his charms pretty quickly. They always did. “No,” he told her, gesturing with the phone. “Time you skedaddled.”

She pouted. “Really?” She jerked a thumb at the screen. “That’s all you wanted me for? To film me in silhouette and drop me into some fancy graphics?”

“It’s a hobby.”

“You’re weird.”

“I get that a lot.”

Shaking her head, she hopped off the couch and disappeared to the studio to collect her things. Templar watched her cute butt receding, barely cloaked by the short robe.

“All clear, sir. What’s up?”

“Evil, Templar. Evil Unlimited.”

One Week Later…

Dexter. Knucks. Tanith. Ferret. Doomy. They all huddled together, frightened, bewildered, terrified. Ferret was bleating more than usual, but not for long.

A wave of blinding flame ripped through the ship, wiping the horrified, disbelieving expressions off their faces – and wiping their faces off the existential blackboard.

SAF 2012

The Dexter Factor

Everyone’s talking about The X Factor.

Not to be outdone, here at Evil Magazine, we thought it would be fun to catch up with the members of Evil UnLtd and, at the risk of interrupting their busy schedule of intergalactic criminal activity, quiz them on which acts were their favourites in this year’s X Factor competition.

Dexter Snide:

Must I pick one? I mean the whole sorry phenomenon is insidious trash and I couldn’t even begin to tell you how far beneath me. Of course, it’s not without its merits. I do delight in the desperation and the crushed dreams. Early on, watching the deluded no-hopers make idiots of themselves, that has a measure of entertainment value. But it only really scores points when they send home one of the genuinely talented ones. All those tears and misery, priceless. Who was that little girl? The one they called ‘adorable’. Gamu. Yes, I’d have sent forty of her home. Brilliant. Adorable? Detestable. But as for the rest, what does it matter as long as it floods the music industry with more inane ditties? You don’t even have to be a winner these days. A runner-up has just as much chance of being packaged and distributed to some pestilent tune coughed up by someone whose idea of bubblegum pop amounts to something scraped off their shoe. Ideally something insanely catchy that lodges itself permanently in millions of brains and drives half the populace up the wall. It’s to be applauded for that, but the outcome – I really couldn’t give a fig.

Evil Magazine: Go on. Please. It’s only for, you know, fun.

DS: Very well. In that case, Katie Waissel. I gather from the reports she’s a scheming, manipulative bitch, which is something to her credit, but more importantly she’s quite the public hate figure, isn’t she? Her winning could only incense the nation further, so yes, she gets my vote. Not that I’d trouble with phoning in. But I urge all of you out there, if you’ve a shred of evil in you, vote for Katie. There. Happy now?

Mr Knucks:

Aiden. That guy’s real intense. Psycho singer. All he wants is a microphone in one hand, a big-ass kitchen knife in the other. Give him a shower curtain, a splash of chocolate sauce and he’s good to go.

But Evil is many different things to different people and among its often overlooked facets we must count its chick-lit credentials.

 

Mr Ferret:


Diva Fever. I’m mortified. <Sniffs>

 

 

 

Prof Doomladen:

Oh, um, well, I guess – out of this year’s batch – I’d have to go for, ah, oh yeah, that girl band. Belle Amie. I could really make something out of them. Probably your basic femborg, nothing too challenging, but they’ve got the sort of materials I can work with. With a bit of tuning and surgically implanted MP3 players I could even get them to sing.

 

 

Evil Robot:

<Silence>

EM: (We’re not sure but we think we catch a glimpse of One Direction in his targeting scope.)

The Hatchling:

<BESTIAL GROWL>

EM: So, Wagner, then?

Tanith Troy:


Mary. The woman has an amazing voice. Plus, you know, not a whole lot going for her in the looks department. Not exactly any danger of her breaking into movies or stealing media exposure from us natural cover girls. And she’s built like a planet. It’s a short step from there to a star, isn’t it.

 

 

So there we have it. The X Factor verdict according to Evil UnLtd.

If you consider your tastes even more discerning you might wish to register your vote for Evil UnLtd by visiting

Amazon.Co.Uk

Or

Amazon.Com

Internet connection will cost nothing, but calls from neural networks and other communications interfaces much in advance of 21st century technology may cost considerably more. Note that Kindle software can be downloaded for FREE for your PC, Mac, iPhone, iPad, Blackberry or (Evil) Android, but please do obtain an adult’s permission before downloading.

 

SAF

  • Vol 1 – Kindle (UK)

  • Vol 2 – Kindle (UK)

  • Vol 3 – Kindle (UK)

  • Vol 4 – Kindle (UK)

  • Signed Paperbacks

    Signed Copies Direct From The Author