Shaun's Shit

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February 2026 - An Unexpected Rant

Twitter is an absolute fucking joke.

Free speech!! Don't make me fucking laugh.

People can go on there spouting all sorts of racist, violent hate speech and continue using it.

I've just been suspended for 6 days for saying that Jamie Carragher will need his tongue surgically removed from Pep Guardiola's arse.

This is fucking pathetic.

It's not like I wished death on both of them. What kind of cunt AI is judging remarks on there to be offensive? Who the fuck would find that kind of observation offensive?

It is staggering that they still have the nerve to insist this country, social media etc. is still a home of free speech. It's only free speech if you say what the masses want to hear. If you tow the line. If you bow down to what you're supposed to say.

I know this is hardly an earth shattering problem but it's the point of it, the thinking behind it. I can still browse Twitter apparently which means I can still read the comments made by other cunts who aren't banned for much more inflammatory remarks. What a relief.

I don't "do" Social media as you guys know but I do like the odd snide comment on Twitter. It makes me feel as if I'm part of a conversation... LOL. What this also proves to me again is how much so called "celebs" are protected in every single fucking walk of life. If I want to say that David Beckham is a fucking maggot I should be able to. If I want to say that Katie Price is a talentless, overpaid sack of shit, I should be able to. If I want to say that Jamie Carragher is an arse licking cunt I should be able to.

I also got a ban for saying I wished someone would break a certain footballers leg in 3 places. Apparently the comment might cause offence. To who? Some ball less, spineless fucking snowflake somewhere who'd never been to a football match or who sleep walks through life without any hint of conflict?

Give me a fucking break. I'm not stirring up anarchy in this country (although God knows I'd like to). I'm not slagging off the worst fucking government in living memory (although God knows I'd like to). I'm not making comments on the criminal fuckers flooding into this country on fucking boats every day of the week (although God knows I'd like to).

Well, fuck Twitter, fuck any cunt who tries to suppress free speech. I am sick and fucking tired of bullshit. And this is bullshit of the highest order.

Right, back to my new book. I must add something about what a fucking waste of space Twitter is...

January 2026 - Xmas and New Year thoughts

This wasn't going to be a rant believe it or not.
I was sitting there thinking, "it's Xmas, good will to all men and all that." Then I thought, "fuck it."

I was going to tell you all about signing the boxed sets of HOLLOW POINT and also about how well SLUGS 3 was going and stuff like that then I stupidly looked at Twitter and saw that story about David fucking Walliams being dropped by his publisher. His publisher? The cunt isn't a writer. He never has been. He's just another so-called fucking celeb who puts their name on a ghost-written book and picks up millions for it.

A writer slaves for months or sometimes years to complete a novel then gets it rejected by fuck knows how many publishers before one finally gives them a pittance of an advance for it.

In celebrity publishing, the publisher approaches the agent of the so-called celeb, offers them an obscene amount of money if the so-called celeb will put their name on a ghost-written book and then, basically, kisses goodbye to a huge advance.

These celeb advances are not recoupable. The publisher could pay the cunt half a million and the book might only sell three copies but they can't recover any of that money. That's why you see so many "celebrity" books in bargain bins in shops and charity places. It's a final desperate effort by the publishers to claw back the huge amounts of cash they've pissed away.

They also give out contracts depending on how many social media followers the so-called celeb has got. If some twat has got a million followers on fucking Instagram then a publisher is likely to offer a book deal on the mistaken logic that all those followers will go out and buy a book. It doesn't work like that.

The upsurge in self-publishing and vanity publishing is also indicative of this.

I'm sorry if anyone self-published is reading this but there's no quality control with self-publishing. No one to say, "hold on a minute, parts of this are actually shit." It's the same with fucking YouTube and all these other social media platforms. There's no one to look at the content and tell the creator that what they're doing is bollocks. It's just some egomaniac polluting the internet with yet more of their own shit.

Anyone who pays a publisher to publish their book isn't a writer. Publishing works like this: a manuscript is submitted to a publisher and they offer you money for it. You do not pay to have your stuff published. If you do, you're not a writer. Sorry.

I once met a woman who told me (loudly) that she was a published author because she'd paid someone 500 quid to publish her book of poems. I resisted the temptation to say, "no, you're not an author, you're some sad cunt who couldn't write well enough to get someone to pay you, so you had to pay for the publication yourself."

I know some of you are shouting, "but Shaun, you've said in the past that you don't have to be a good writer to get into print." Very true. You have to be commercial. Or a good entertainer. Or have an agent who has lunch with the most important people at a publisher's. I am in no position to tell someone what is good and what is bad when it comes to writing. That's why I won't give talks on it. Just because I'm published doesn't mean I know what the fuck I'm talking about when it comes to other people's work!!

I was once taken to task by a friend of mine who witnessed me "dash the hopes" of a budding author at Comic Con one year in London. I merely told the budding writer that the most important part of getting published was luck. I believe that. I always have. I always will.

However, I suppose when you're starting out, that's not what you want to hear. But then I thought, well, I had forty-odd rejections for about five books and scripts at the beginning. It's not as if I just fucking walked in, sat down by the publisher's fireside and accepted an enormous cheque!!! I had to work at it. I suffered lots of rejection. You just do. That's the nature of the business.

Unless you're David fucking Walliams or some other so-called celeb.

I feel sorry for the ghost writers. They were on a good thing (apart from the fact that their cut of the money would have been miniscule compared to that creepy fucker) but, make no mistake, that cunt was never a writer and never will be.

Anyway, having proved to myself once again that I'm triggered far too easily by these talentless twats, I will wish you all a very Happy Xmas and New Year.

Take it easy, don't take any shit from anyone and have a good one you wonderful bastards.

December 2024 - Christmas Rant

I was thinking, maybe I shouldn't be ranting at this festive time of year what with good will to all men... etc. etc. Then I thought... No... Fuck that.

Just because it's Xmas, it doesn't stop things pissing me off. After all, there are still fucking so called celebs around at Xmas aren't there? In fact, there are more of the useless bastards around than there are during the rest of the year because Xmas TV seems to consist entirely of shows that feature so called celebs. All of these I will be avoiding like the plague over the festive season. It's either that or I'll just be sitting on the sofa shouting "oh fuck off" every time one opens their mouth.

Speaking of so called celebs. What about Greg Wallace? Fucking bald twat. The BBC certainly know how to pick their presenters don't they? Jimmy Saville. Rolf Harris. Greg Wallace. Huw Edwards. Jesus...

I've been trying to finish my new book, HOLLOW POINT, and I'm struggling. Almost done it but just trying to end it convincingly. That isn't me looking for sympathy by the way. Any author who starts whining about their book should imagine what it's like to do a PROPER job.

I once read something about Marian McKee (or whatever her name is), who writes romcom novels which are basically sub-Bridget Jones type shite. She was whining about depression. Oh, cry me a fucking river... You're paid a fortune, you write from an office in your fucking mansion or luxury apartment, you don't even have to go out in this weather. Shut up and get on with it. Try doing a shift on the till at Tesco at this time of year and you'll know what depression and pressure really are.

Keira Knightly and Emma Watson were at it recently too. "I can't go out shopping, I can't have any privacy... etc. etc."

You've got personal fortunes of about 30 million you whining cunts, provided by the very people you are moaning about. If it wasn't for the public you wouldn't exist. If you don't like it, give your money to charity and fuck off and work in Ikea where no one will recognise you.

I think the fact that Trump won the recent American election was also a valuable lesson, or should be, to these self-important so called celebs who were backing Kamala Harris and telling people how to vote.

NO ONE FUCKING CARES WHAT YOU THINK.

I see Sharon Stone accused the American public of being ignorant because they voted Trump in. Well, Sharon, considering the only reason anyone knows you is because those same members of the public went to watch you cross your fucking legs in Basic Instinct, maybe you should ease up a bit on the criticism. These fuckers amaze me.

Also, weren't Robert de Niro, Taylor Swift, Whoopi Goldberg etc. threatening to leave the country if Trump won? Er... Still there as far as I know... Hypocrites as well as self important.

Just glanced at the TV and noticed that Matt Baker (that internationally famous presenter of Country File) has got another TV show where he travels around the country with his fucking parents!!! Who fucking cares? Having another z-list asshole on the screen again is bad enough but who wants to see his mum and dad too? I don't give a flying fuck about any of these bastards so I certainly don't care about their fucking families.

I blame Social media.

For nearly everything.

Watched a thing earlier about that OnlyFans girl who slept with 100 guys in a day... Jesus... She's now planning to fuck 1,000 guys in one day. I'm guessing that might be a tad... Painful... As well as logistically difficult. Still, it's her body.

The thing I do object to is that OnlyFans, like Tik-Tok, has made a generation of brain dead, talentless, idiots think they're models when, in fact, they're prostitutes.

I think there was a song years ago called "Stop the World, I want to get off... " Fucking right.

Anyway, you lot have a brilliant Xmas and New Year and I'll be back in 2025 with more of this shit and with more books.

What I won't be doing is starting my own Youtube channel, subscribing to OnlyFans or opening a profile on Tik-Tok.

Happy Xmas you wonderful bastards. I love every fucking one of you.

October 2024 - Definitely Not a Rant

As the title says, this is not a rant, it's more of an update and the sort of thing that some twat on Instagram, TikTok or some other fucking social media, would do with pictures and stupid captions.

I'm writing this from my apartment in Lille (no, I haven't left the fucking country) where I'm four days into a ten day French tour. The reason I'm writing this is not to complain but just to let you guys know what's going on. You hear/read me moan so I thought you might be interested to hear some observations on stuff that isn't just me blowing a gasket and going apoplectic about some no mark so called fucking celebrity.

I'd just like to say a word to the place where I bought a sandwich on St. Pancras on Friday afternoon.

YOU ROBBING CUNTS.

But, honestly, five and a half quid for a fucking egg sandwich!!! I'd just paid £2.69 for a bottle of Lucozade minutes before so I wasn't happy. I felt like grabbing a copper and saying I'd just been robbed!!

Arrived in France on Friday on the Eurostar and was driven to my apartment by my French publisher, a quite wonderful man called Marc Falvo. I always consider myself lucky to have such a supportive publisher in the shape of Darren Laws at Caffeine Nights and Marc is definitely in that mould.

What is really beginning to bother me is the fact that I can't speak French. Not even a little bit. Not even broken French spoken in a loud voice and pointing a lot. And yet, everyone who turns up to get a book signed here, it seems, can speak enough ENGLISH to get them through.

What the fuck was I doing at school for two years that I learned nothing in French class!!! I must admit that I think we English tend to take it for granted that wherever we go in the world, the natives will speak our language in enough of a form to let us get by. How the fuck do they do it? Is it because films are in English and they hear it all the time? Probably not. I could watch fuck knows how many Claude Chabrol movies and still not know how to order a fucking croissant in French.

My publisher speaks excellent English fortunately so I don't have a problem communicating but I feel as if I should be doing more. When my hosts launch into a conversation I would like to join in. Not because I think they're talking about me behind my back and sticking it to me because of Agincourt and Waterloo but, because THEY deserve more from me.

At the signing session in Paris on Saturday I was interviewed by two different film and TV companies and the interviewers spoke great English thank God. Nearly everyone who wanted books signed managed to let me know that and also how much they'd enjoyed my previous novels. I just sat there, smiled and nodded as if someone had just hit me over the head with a meringue!!

At a book fair on Sunday I met one of the most talented, gorgeous and sexy women I've ever met (the author Caroline Caron) who, thank God, spoke English but I told her I felt inadequate because I didn't know how to speak HER language in the country where SHE lives.

Oh shut up, Shaun for fucks sake, I hear you cry.

Yeah, yeah I know I'm going on about this language thing but...(probably when I'm back home it won't bother me so much but, right now, it's getting on my tits) I mean to say, I'm guest of honour at the weekend at a huge Fright Festival and I can't even speak French!! I know that not every actor or musician etc. who visits France can speak the lingo and they have interpreters in their press conferences etc. but... what the fuck.

I'm here to promote SLUGS (a new French edition) and MONOLITH and there are more titles to come from the same publisher next year, SPAWN, BREEDING GROUND and a brand new novella called THE INFERNALS. The editions of SLUGS, SPAWN and BREEDING GROUND that were done when I was younger were cut to pieces so these are previously unseen full versions.

Anyway, I'm back in England now and, if I ever do another French tour I doubt if I'll be able to speak one word of the lingo but...well, just thought I'd mention it.

Right...I will leave you guys in peace for now...

June 2024

I've probably gone off on one about this before, you guys know I tend to lose my fucking mind when I get too annoyed... lol but it's on the subject of cinema, streaming and the future of the cinema in general.

I went to see Furiosa, the new Mad Max film on Friday and thoroughly enjoyed it. I then re-watched Mad Max Fury Road and Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome again over the weekend. What really pissed me off was that Furiosa apparently has done fuck all at the box office!!! Don't get me wrong, I'm not surprised that the great unwashed fucking public are too dumb to see a picture like this (no reality stars in it). But what really fucked me off is that the CEO of Netflix came out shortly after and said that it doesn't matter what size of screen you watch a film on and that streaming is as good as cinema.

What a fucking dickhead.

You haven't seen a film unless you've seen it at the cinema. I've only ever seen Godfather 2 on video (yes, I'm that old), TV or dvd and I still feel I've never seen it properly. For this cunt to come out and say that watching films like Lawrence of Arabia on a two inch fucking phone screen is the same as seeing it in a cinema is not just stupidity, it's bordering on complete lunacy.

That is, I believe, one of the reasons that younger directors have no fucking grasp of how to populate scenes, have no idea of composition etc. Because they grew up watching films on TV or streaming the fucking things where everything is jammed into the centre of the screen.

The whole screen is there to be used!!! That's one of the reasons Sam Peckinpah was always my favourite director. His compositions were incredible. Breath-taking. Now I don't care if your average popcorn shovelling, large coke slurping neanderthal goes to the flicks to get entertained, I appreciate that, that's what we all go for. But you can also be entertained by the technicalities of film, not just because Vin fucking Diesel, Jason fuckwit Statham and The cunting Rock are in a film!!!

This rant is about my passion for cinema. One I've had since I was a kid. My mum and dad took me to the pictures when I was a kid like other parents took their kids to fucking zoos etc. I learned things there. I was mesmerised by the stuff I saw on that huge screen. When I was a teenager I spent most of my time in the two cinemas we had in the little town where I grew up. They were like a second home. I did my apprenticeship there. I learned the art of story telling, story construction etc. by going to the cinema two or three times a week!!

I learned how to write during those years. Films inspired me. Films were my life blood.

And now some cunt at Netfux is trying to convince me that I would have learned as much watching these films on a fucking two inch screen!!!

My contempt is at new heights.

Films like Lawrence of Arabia, The Wild Bunch, The Dirty Dozen and thousands more would never even have been made if everyone had watched films on a fucking two inch screen years ago.

I realize going to the cinema is expensive and that the food there is obscenely overpriced (the easy answer is, don't buy it inside, sneak it in like I do... lol. Or, better still, don't eat at all while you're in there.) But, you go to the cinema to see a film, not to stuff your face. Having said that, I stood behind a couple the other week who's food bill was over thirty quid!!! Why not just go out for a fucking meal?

I think the same with the pricks who talk while the film is on or, even worse, use their mobile phones. If you want to talk, eat and look at your fucking phone then why not get a takeaway and sit at home? You're obviously not interested in the film. Also, if you stay at home, you don't ruin it for people who actually want to see the bloody flick.

I go to the cinema to see the film not to listen to some twat talking about his fucking job or his girlfriend or checking Facebook every few minutes.

But, before I go off at a tangent about how generally fucking useless the general public are, I will get back to the real reason for this rant.

Sorry, not rant, expression of opinions.

I love the cinema, I owe it my fucking career. I learned there. I escaped there. I grew up there.

I can't conceive of a world without cinemas and a world where the only way to see films is by fucking streaming.

I don't WANT to conceive of a world like that.

I was taken to see Jason and the Argonauts at the cinema when I was about five. It has lived with me ever since. I was mesmerised. Ensnared by the magnificence of cinema. I took my own daughter to see A Bug's Life at the cinema when she was four, her first visit and she too was enraptured. She's still a film fan to this day, thank God.

There is nothing to compare with sitting in a cinema with other people watching a 70 foot screen and being totally caught up by what you're seeing.

You cannot get anywhere near that sensation watching films anywhere else, not even on TV.

And anyone who disagrees has never been to the fucking cinema.

I think that's why, for me, the greatest thrill I could ever have would be watching an adaptation of one of my novels up there on the big screen.

It would mean I'd somehow come full circle.

I live in hope... .