Fish Pie Face Fuck! by Sean Hawker - book review.

Because true love means you’ll fuck her, no matter how dead she is.

After reading and thoroughly enjoying The Captive Dwarf (aka Die, You Fucking Cunt!), I was excited when Sean Hawker sent me an advance copy of his new story. Well, perhaps ‘excited’ isn’t the correct word. I saw the title and had a little childish giggle, mixed with a smattering of, what the fuck am I letting myself in for? The title added to my trepidation as, at the time, I was outside a fish and chip shop on the Norfolk coast. So, deciding to ignore the fish, I had sausage and chips instead.

Sean and I messaged back and forth as I asked about the book. I took a bite from my sausage, and then the following message I received from Sean mentioned the words ‘man meat.’ I froze with my lump of half masticated sausage clinging to my mouth, trying not to look at what sat in the chip-shop paper and think of it as a severed cock. Part of me thought about sending a picture of it to Sean as it tied in with the conversation. But, as it was covered in batter with a bite taken out of it, and I didn’t want him to think I was sending him a photo of my weirdly deformed and crust-coated penis, I changed my mind. So, I carried on eating, hoping that was batter crunching between my teeth, not stale smegma, and decided not to say anything about it.

Well, until now, when I’ve probably overshared.

What has any of that got to do with the book? Admittedly, not much. But I love having a personal story surrounding something. There’s now a good chance that I’ll never look at a battered sausage without thinking of Sean - no, wait, that sounds weird. Perhaps, without thinking about Fish Pie Face Fuck would be more accurate. Then again, after reading the story, I don’t know if I’ll ever look at a fish pie (not a euphemism for a vagina in this instance either) in the same way. Or a can of WD40. Or Simon Cowell. Or even the people of Gloucester.

So, let’s move along and get to the review.

As with all great tales of love and romance, Fish Pie Face Fuck opens on a touching scene between a man and a woman. Jon and Wendy.

Things get hot and steamy too. Panties get removed, genitals are exposed, and Wd40 gets used as lubricant - Oh, did I forget to mention that the lady of the hour is a corpse?

So yeah, not so much hot and steamy, as it is cold and chafing. But for Jon, that’s exactly what he wants. The deader and more rotten, the better. It is the perfect thing to turn him on. Well, dead bodies and maybe veal steaks, his mum’s severed head, or even Simon Cowell.

A lot of things make Jon horny, all of them weird and unnatural.

And, of course, there is Jon’s brother Spencer.

Spence is not a happy chap. Jon doesn’t let him play with any of the nice (dead) girls he brings home. That means Spence is left to quench his sexual urges by using Gummy Mummy’s severed head, or more often than not, a potato.

What type of potato isn’t specified, but I imagine Spence goes for a Maris Piper because it sounds like a girls name. Then again, maybe he prefers a King Edward so that he’s fucking royalty?

I’m probably overthinking this.

Saddened by his lack of a lady friend, Spence convinces Jon to take him out for a night on the town to find a companion of his own.

The duo ventures out onto the streets of Gloucester and find themselves embroiled in even more mayhem as they anger a herd of homeless people, junkies, rent-boys and numerous other folks.

Author Matthew A Clarke makes a brief appearance in his snazzy mantis costume, and he fares a lot better than the character of McHardy, whose first name isn’t mentioned but fans of extreme horror will most likely recognise, as he drunkenly stumbles through the streets with a cum-permeated companion.

And what streets they are too.

Sean Hawker’s version of Gloucester comes across as a mixture of the depraved and lawless city featured in Hobo with a Shotgun, sprinkled with a liberal dash of New Detroit from Robocop. I’ve never been to the city myself, so who knows, maybe his descriptions are accurate? I have family living nearby, so perhaps next time I visit, I’ll go and take a look. From a safe distance. Possibly equipped with a flamethrower and a fast car.

To mention anything else about the story would be to spoil it. It’s a non-pc joyride into necrophilia, and that is only in the first few pages. Things only get better (or worse depending on your point of view) from there on out.

Anyone who doesn’t like the title of Fish Pie Face Fuck, and let’s face it, they’re probably not reading up to this point, is not going to have a fun time. Whereas anyone who smiled at it, even just a little bit, is going to have a great time reading the story.

It’s not often that I laugh when reading a book, even one that is supposed to be comedic. I’m a grumpy fucker, and a faint smile, a twitch of the lip like I’m about to have a moment of the palsy, is the most that usually happens. This time though, I was genuinely laughing aloud. Loud enough to cause my wife to pause the program she was watching on the telly and ask me what had got me laughing. Something she instantly regretted when I explained what I’d just read. It got me the sigh, mixed with the disapproving look over the top of her glasses that I am so very used to.

It happened a lot too, as I laughed quite a bit whilst reading. There are some fantastically bad taste, yet hilarious, lines.

If I have one complaint to fire at it, it’s that the story is a prequel of sorts to another tale of Sean’s. Nothing wrong with that, but I’m not sure I would have noticed if it hadn’t been pointed out to me. It didn’t give enough info on how Spencer goes from potato fucker, to being a limbless loft lump. It was that prequel knowledge that left me expecting (and wanting) more at the end.

Fish Pie Face Fuck is not only gross and disgusting in all the right ways that a splatter-punk comedy should be, but it’s also very therapeutic.

I suffer from depression and anxiety from time to time and wasn’t feeling that great when I received the message from Sean about the book. And then I saw the title, and I smiled, relaxed, and laughed. The thought of reading it when I got home elevated my mood, and then to get home, read it, and physically laugh; well, that was just what I needed.

I just hope I don’t think of Sean Hawker whenever I see a battered sausage.

One thing’s for sure, if I see anyone with a fish pie and a can of Wd40 together in their shopping trolley, I’m going to presume they’re a necrophiliac.

Head over to to find Fish Pie Face Fuck along with other titles by Sean Hawker.