Oh boy, where to start? I suppose I should go the traditional route of giving a brief plot synopsis even though I've only just finished Munging - erm, reading Munging, that is - and I can almost taste the foul effluence coating my tongue in the same way that drool coats the windows of a special needs bus. And if you found that simile offensive, then you need to steer clear of Munging.
Right, onto the plot:
Two mortuary attendants have been making money on the side by filming their necrophilia exploits and posting them on the dark web. One day, a particularly large and bloated corpse is wheeled in, and the pair embark upon their magnum opus, which will bring them enough cash to send them into early retirement. Or, at least to a morgue where the corpses are more attractive.
And that's all I can say without spoiling anything. Munging is a short story, but it packs in enough bodily fluids and hilarious descriptors to more than make up for its page count. Like a midget smuggling drugs, it's not the size but how much you can pack inside that counts.
One thing I like about McHardy and Hawker's collaborations is I can picture them giggling away, like a couple of kids, as they bounce ideas off of one another. No doubt, each more fucked up than the last. Yes, the story is puerile, silly and grotesque, but it's supposed to be. Not only that, but the pair have managed to add enough character into the story to ensure it has a plot. Sure, it's a thin one, but it could easily have been ignored and have just been a silly set-piece without substance - and let's face it, there are a lot of substances sloshing around in Munging.
If you haven't read anything by the duo, then let me describe it like this:
Imagine being thrust face-first into a fat rancid corpse. As your weight pushes the gas that has been building inside the cadaver, a smell like rotten fish, faeces and urinals after an asparagus eating contest envelopes you.
And then, to top it all off, a leprous hobo starts masturbating as you try and extricate yourself from the bulbous mess.
Once free, you run home and leap into the shower, washing, over and over again, with more obsession than Lady Macbeth.
A week of feeling unfulfilled goes by when you realise you're craving the experience. As horrific as it was, you enjoyed it. You're craving more. So, you head out once again, looking for another bloated carcass and deviant hobo. And maybe a gimp-suited dwarf with an inflatable koala sex toy.
My only complaint comes from the ending. Let me just clarify; there isn't anything wrong with it, and it was pretty damn funny; it's just that I was expecting something else. I had it in my head that there was going to be an excessive eel expulsion, and when that didn't happen, I was left a little tiny bit disappointed. However, me having a complaint about the story not heading to where I thought it was, is probably just me being more nitpicky than a doctor at a crabs clinic.
Munging is fetid fun, and as usual, when it comes to flipping off the pc-brigade and mixing the grotesque with guffaws, you can't go wrong with Simon McHardy & Sean Hawker.
In the style of a certain retailer, it's not just splatter-punk; it's Mchardy and Hawker splatter-punk.
If you're looking to dive into Munging (As well as many other great extreme titles), you can find it over at Godless.com by clicking on this link