First published back in November of 2014, British author Adam Millard’s outrageously inappropriate festive offering ‘The Human Santapede’ offered up everything that the lurid cover promised. It just goes to prove – sometimes you certainly can judge a book by its cover.
DLS Synopsis:
The elves were already behind with their toy making thanks to the heavy snowfall that’d ground the Land of Christmas to a complete standstill during the run up to Christmas. Finklefoot –one of Santa’s favourite foremen – was getting nervous. They’d need to pull out all the stops, each one of them working through the night on double-shifts, from now until Christmas Eve if they were going to get everything done in time. Luckily the snow had started to peter out, and with that, the elves could dig themselves out of their little homes and finally get back to work.
Santa wasn’t overly worried. He knew he could rely on the elves to get the job done in time. Although he was glad to see the factory doors finally open again. He’d spent the past few days cooped up in his office with his wife – Jessica. She’d tried her best to keep his mind (amongst other organs) occupied – but his heart just wasn’t in it. Although legend had it that Mrs Claus was in fact an ex-stripper. She certainly had the body to prove it (as pretty much all the elves would testify). She also had a short person fetish (again…which pretty much all the elves would testify to).
However, when Elves Jimbo and Sissy failed to turn up for their shift, the first inklings of panic start to set in. Finklefoot is sent out to find the two missing elves, but to no avail. And then Santa’s trusty reindeer – Rudolph – goes missing. It appears that for some unknown reason, someone or something, is abducting Santa’s workforce.
Lurking in the shadows a cloaked figure has been kidnapping Santa’s helpers as he works his way through the Land of Christmas. Before long over fifty elves have been abducted. The question is can Santa and Finklefoot get them back in time for Christmas? And what horrific fate awaits those that have already been snatched?
Close by something bowl-looseningly terrible is in the making. Something that will destroy Santa’s family reputation. Something that will leave a stain on the Land of Christmas forever. Something that will ruin Christmas once and for all…
DLS Review:
Adam Millard - how could you? Some things are just plain wrong…and let’s face it, a chain-gang of elves with their mouths sewn to the proceeding elf’s arsehole, headed up by Santa, his promiscuous ex-stripper wife Jessica, and good old Rudolf – it’s just wrong on so many counts.
Okay, so with it being the season of goodwill and all, what better time to settle down to a nice heart-warming story of festive joviality. And at the end of the day, that’s exactly what Millard’s offering up here. We’ve got everything we need in this oddly tantalising book for a delightfully seasonal Christmas romp. Snow, Santa, reindeers, elves, stockings…what more could you need during the chilly festive period?
As I seriously hope you’ve guessed by now, this book is a comedy. It’s a pretty messed-up, sexually-charged bizarrofest, but a comedy nonetheless.
It has to be said that some of the most original, some of the most wildly eccentric and off-the-wall hilarious stories have been born from the small nugget of a comical ‘play-on-words-title’. From that initial hook, the rest of the story can be built upon. However, the absolute key to making it work is to make sure the story’s not just the one-joke. There’s got to be a hell of a lot more in there. It’s also got to maintain the same tone (for better or worse). You’ve hooked in a certain type of reader with the risqué title and (possibly even-more-so) coverart. The rest of the novel needs to keep to the same vibe…light-hearted yet grubby as sin in this case.
Thankfully with ‘The Human Santapede’ Adam Millard has absolutely one-hundred-percent nailed it. From start to finish this festive fuckery is as sleazy and sordid as a teen’s weekend in Magaluf. There’s more colourful witticisms and frisky quips than you can shake a Jessica Claus-soiled sugar cane at. There’s variety and humour throughout the novel, and most importantly, there’s a damn good plot to keep the whole thing tight as an elves arsehole.
Yeah, it’s a fairly short read. Although you really wouldn’t want it to be much longer than it is. The worst thing that befall the novel would be for the jokes to get old. Luckily Millard doesn’t let this happen. Instead what we have is a fast-paced, tightly written comedy that goes for the ‘Naked Gun’ approach by cramming in as many jokes as is (in)humanly possible, so that even with just a fifty-percent success rate, it’ll result in a near-constant flow of sniggering.
I have to admit that I took some childish delight in reading the paperback of this little beauty on the train during my daily commute to work in the run up to Christmas. Every now and again I’d catch a glimpse of a fellow passenger chuckling or sly smirk from across the carriage as they noticed the cover of the paperback I was shamelessly reading. So much fun!
For me though, the greatest enjoyment to be had out of reading Adam Millard’s work is in the absurdity of this jester-punk’s oddly meandering but wonderfully creative mind. No analogy is simplistic and without eccentric digression. No description simply straight to the point. Instead absolutely everything is given a touch of wackiness. It’s what keeps the tone quirky and quick-witted. Everything’s told through clitoral-pink colour glasses. Everything’s smutty and silly – with an offhandish carefree charm to it.
The Human Sanatpede is a story for the masses. I say that honestly and wholeheartedly. And that’s because, whether you’re cleverer-than-Stephen-Hawkins’-calculator or as thick-as-two-short-planks, whether you’re black or white, male, female (or a bit of both), whether you’re rich or poor, fat or thin, whoever the hell you are – each and every one of you will be amused by this joyfully festive romp. There’s just so much snow-covered fun to be had.
The novel runs for a total of 177 pages.
© DLS Reviews
