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The Slime Beast #1
The Slime Beast
Professor Lowson is searching the Wash for King John's lost treasure. Instead he awakes a reptilian creature buried in the mud, which seems to have arrived on this planet in a meteorite. It starts wandering around, killing and eating anybody it comes across. Lowson wants to capture it alive, his companions want to kill it before it kills anyone else. Soon the locals are involved and following a number of violent deaths and an attempted rape, there can only be a catastrophic finale.
110 pages, Paperback
First published October 2, 1975
5 people are currently reading
369 people want to read
About the author
Guy N. Smith
175 books297 followersI was born on November 21, 1939, in the small village of Hopwas, near Tamworth, Staffordshire, England. My mother was a pre-war historical novelist (E. M. Weale) and she always encouraged me to write.
I was first published at the age of 12 in The Tettenhall Observer, a local weekly newspaper. Between 1952-57 I wrote 56 stories for them, many serialized. In 1990 I collated these into a book entitled Fifty Tales from the Fifties.
My father was a dedicated bank manager and I was destined for banking from birth. I accepted it but never found it very interesting. During the early years when I was working in Birmingham, I spent most of my lunch hours in the Birmingham gun quarter. I would have loved to have served an apprenticeship in the gun trade but my father would not hear of it.
Shooting (hunting) was my first love, and all my spare time was spent in this way. In 1961 I designed and made a 12-bore shotgun, intending to follow it up with six more, but I did not have the money to do this. I still use the Guy N. Smith short-barrelled magnum. During 1960-67 I operated a small shotgun cartridge loading business but this finished when my components suppliers closed down and I could no longer obtain components at competitive prices.
My writing in those days only concerned shooting. I wrote regularly for most of the sporting magazines, interspersed with fiction for such magazines as the legendary London Mystery Selection, a quarterly anthology for which I contributed 18 stories between 1972-82.
In 1972 I launched my second hand bookselling business which eventually became Black Hill Books. Originally my intention was to concentrate on this and maybe build it up to a full-time business which would enable me to leave banking. Although we still have this business, writing came along and this proved to be the vehicle which gave me my freedom.
I wrote a horror novel for the New English Library in 1974 entitled Werewolf by Moonlight. This was followed by a couple more, but it was Night of the Crabs in 1976 which really launched me as a writer. It was a bestseller, spawning five sequels, and was followed by another 60 or so horror novels through to the mid-1990's. Amicus bought the film rights to Crabs in 1976 and this gave me the chance to leave banking and by my own place, including my shoot, on the Black Hill.
The Guy N. Smith Fan Club was formed in 1990 and still has an active membership. We hold a convention every year at my home which is always well attended.
Around this time I became Poland's best-selling author. Phantom Press published two GNS books each month, mostly with print runs of around 100,000.
I have written much, much more than just horror; crime and mystery (as Gavin Newman), and children's animal novels (as Jonathan Guy). I have written a dozen or so shooting and countryside books, a book on Writing Horror Fiction (A. & C. Black). In 1997 my first full length western novel, The Pony Riders was published by Pinnacle in the States.
With 100-plus books to my credit, I was looking for new challenges. In 1999 I formed my own publishing company and began to publish my own books. They did rather well and gave me a lot of satisfaction. We plan to publish one or two every year.
Still regretting that I had not served an apprenticeship in the gun trade, the best job of my life dropped into my lap in 1999 when I was offered the post of Gun Editor of The Countryman's Weekly, a weekly magazine which covers all field sports. This entails my writing five illustrated feature articles a week on guns, cartridges, deer stalking, big game hunting etc.
Alongside this we have expanded our mail order second hand crime fiction business, still publish a few books, and I find as much time as possible for shooting.
Jean, my wife, helps with the business. Our four children, Rowan, Tara, Gavin and Angus have all moved away from home but they visit on a regular basis.
I would not want to live anywhere other than m
I was first published at the age of 12 in The Tettenhall Observer, a local weekly newspaper. Between 1952-57 I wrote 56 stories for them, many serialized. In 1990 I collated these into a book entitled Fifty Tales from the Fifties.
My father was a dedicated bank manager and I was destined for banking from birth. I accepted it but never found it very interesting. During the early years when I was working in Birmingham, I spent most of my lunch hours in the Birmingham gun quarter. I would have loved to have served an apprenticeship in the gun trade but my father would not hear of it.
Shooting (hunting) was my first love, and all my spare time was spent in this way. In 1961 I designed and made a 12-bore shotgun, intending to follow it up with six more, but I did not have the money to do this. I still use the Guy N. Smith short-barrelled magnum. During 1960-67 I operated a small shotgun cartridge loading business but this finished when my components suppliers closed down and I could no longer obtain components at competitive prices.
My writing in those days only concerned shooting. I wrote regularly for most of the sporting magazines, interspersed with fiction for such magazines as the legendary London Mystery Selection, a quarterly anthology for which I contributed 18 stories between 1972-82.
In 1972 I launched my second hand bookselling business which eventually became Black Hill Books. Originally my intention was to concentrate on this and maybe build it up to a full-time business which would enable me to leave banking. Although we still have this business, writing came along and this proved to be the vehicle which gave me my freedom.
I wrote a horror novel for the New English Library in 1974 entitled Werewolf by Moonlight. This was followed by a couple more, but it was Night of the Crabs in 1976 which really launched me as a writer. It was a bestseller, spawning five sequels, and was followed by another 60 or so horror novels through to the mid-1990's. Amicus bought the film rights to Crabs in 1976 and this gave me the chance to leave banking and by my own place, including my shoot, on the Black Hill.
The Guy N. Smith Fan Club was formed in 1990 and still has an active membership. We hold a convention every year at my home which is always well attended.
Around this time I became Poland's best-selling author. Phantom Press published two GNS books each month, mostly with print runs of around 100,000.
I have written much, much more than just horror; crime and mystery (as Gavin Newman), and children's animal novels (as Jonathan Guy). I have written a dozen or so shooting and countryside books, a book on Writing Horror Fiction (A. & C. Black). In 1997 my first full length western novel, The Pony Riders was published by Pinnacle in the States.
With 100-plus books to my credit, I was looking for new challenges. In 1999 I formed my own publishing company and began to publish my own books. They did rather well and gave me a lot of satisfaction. We plan to publish one or two every year.
Still regretting that I had not served an apprenticeship in the gun trade, the best job of my life dropped into my lap in 1999 when I was offered the post of Gun Editor of The Countryman's Weekly, a weekly magazine which covers all field sports. This entails my writing five illustrated feature articles a week on guns, cartridges, deer stalking, big game hunting etc.
Alongside this we have expanded our mail order second hand crime fiction business, still publish a few books, and I find as much time as possible for shooting.
Jean, my wife, helps with the business. Our four children, Rowan, Tara, Gavin and Angus have all moved away from home but they visit on a regular basis.
I would not want to live anywhere other than m
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 42 reviews
August 10, 2023
It's everything I wanted from a book called The Slime Beast.
September 8, 2015
The Slime Beast was first published by New England Library in 1976 and saw many reprints.
Believed dead and forgotten, the Slime Beast has risen from the mud. Even more terrible than before, it roams in search of human victims and feeds ravenously on their offal.
We do not know whence this creature came, from outer-space or a survivor from primordial times? Furthermore, was it alone or did it have a mate who has also survived unseen out there on the mudflats? It is certainly thought provoking.
I believe that the book has now also been optioned for a Television series in the U,K.
If you like your horror old fashioned with a dose of gratuitous sex then this is for you.
Guy N. Smith has just published a sequel "Spawn Of The Slime Beast" a month or so ago.
It can be found here:
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/2...
This is copy 40 of 250 signed numbered copies. Signed by Guy N. Smith and Alan Clark.
Believed dead and forgotten, the Slime Beast has risen from the mud. Even more terrible than before, it roams in search of human victims and feeds ravenously on their offal.
We do not know whence this creature came, from outer-space or a survivor from primordial times? Furthermore, was it alone or did it have a mate who has also survived unseen out there on the mudflats? It is certainly thought provoking.
I believe that the book has now also been optioned for a Television series in the U,K.
If you like your horror old fashioned with a dose of gratuitous sex then this is for you.
Guy N. Smith has just published a sequel "Spawn Of The Slime Beast" a month or so ago.
It can be found here:
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/2...
This is copy 40 of 250 signed numbered copies. Signed by Guy N. Smith and Alan Clark.
June 30, 2020
It’s like a novelization of a silly ‘70s monster B-movie that never existed. An entertaining, albeit simplistic plot, is hindered by characters without depth, clunky dialog, and sex scenes more awkward that any Adult Western. I’m willing to overlook all this however as long as it’s a story worth reading, and it is. Sure, it’s not well written at all, but short, easy to read, and it’s a lot of fun. It was okay.
February 21, 2015
I rarely make New Year's resolutions because I know how bad I am at keeping any of them, unless they're things like “breathe everyday” or “procrastinate when you get around to it”. This year, though, I decided to try anyway. My resolution was to read more non-fiction books. Specifically to read more non-fiction than fiction. My fiction to non-fiction ratio is usually about 80% to 20%, so this won't be a trivial one to keep. On the other hand I do love learning new things so hopefully it won't be too difficult.
Of course, as Jesus said to the Devil, man cannot live by non-fiction alone. So having managed about seven weeks without reading any fiction, what made-up masterpiece did I choose to indulge in? Well obviously there was only one choice: The Slime Beast. I mean, sweet monkey Tuesdays just look at it!
I picked the book up (literally and figuratively) having spied it lying on the ground in the excellent second-hand bookshop in St Nick's Market in Bristol. The title, cover, and £1 price tag pretty much convinced me to buy it, and the blurb, which read like a précis to the world's most hackneyed B-movie, sealed the deal.
But there was more to come. Having got the book home I flicked through the opening pages and discovered more hidden gems. I'm not sure how long the book had been languishing in the shop, but an inventory note left inside the front cover revealed the book had been there since at least 2008. The nearby scribbled out price of 15p suggests it was probably there long before that. I can only assume it had been hidden for most of that time or someone would surely have picked it up.
Next came the list of Guy Smith's other novels, all of which sound like either magnificent monsterporn or parables on venereal diseases.
With so much excitement before I even reached page one, how could the story possibly hope to compete? Was it as good as the hype in my head had suggested? Well by golly gosh with a cherry on top, fuck yeah it was.
Think of every B-movie trope and cliché you can. This book has them all raised to the power of eleven. The main characters aren't really characters so much as they're walking exposition dumps with the obligatory personality traits demanded by the genre. There's The Stud. (I don't remember the characters' names, despite finishing the book a matter of hours ago. It's that kind of book.) The Stud is a twenty-something archaeologist. Or we're told he is. He spends a few hours digging during the first chapter, doesn't find anything, and is ready to give up and head back to London. Methinks he's in the wrong profession.
Next is The Babe. She's a twenty-year-old college student and would rather be off tanning her “beautifully proportioned body” than digging up jewels in the marshes. Also she's a virgin, which is apparently important. Or rather she's a virgin in chapter one. By chapter two she and The Stud are totes in love and busy skoodilypooping at every opportunity. Been a long day? Time for skoodilypooping! Attacked by a monster? Time for skoodilypooping! Nearly been raped only for the rapist to be horribly killed in front of you? Time for skoodilypooping! Lest you think she's only in the novel for titillation and exploitation you should know this book is from the seventies and her progressive attitudes highlight this. I mean, she tries to get pregnant with The Stud's baby the third day they've known each other (“Give it to me properly, like every woman wants her man!” she says, maybe even with a straight face). But she doesn't think about marriage until the fourth day they've known each other.
Completing the triumvirate is The Professor. He's also an archaeologist, leading this enormous three-person expedition to find King John's crown jewels. You can tell he's a proper scientist because he hates everyone. You can also tell he's batshit insane because just after finding the hibernating eponymous Slime Beast he decides he'll have to straight up murder his colleague The Stud and niece The Babe so he can claim the Beast's mysterious Power for himself. Since the Beast's main superpower seems to be making everyone around it vomit continuously I'm not sure what he's referring to. Oho, no, wait, sorry, I accidentally started thinking logically there for a moment. Won't happen again!
Logic isn't really in abundance anywhere in the story. At one point The Stud and The Babe drive several miles to the local pub to relax. They stay for about three lines of dialogue then figure that's enough relaxing and drive all the way back to the marshes. I'm not sure they even get a chance to sit down. After the beast's first grisly murder of a local bird watcher the pub landlord proclaims to his customers that it's all the fault of those damn out-of-towners, and that the killings won't stop until the locals do something. Something like kill all the out-of-towners. Fortunately this is 1970s Lincolnshire where that kind of thing wouldn't happen; it's not some backward hick paradise like 1950s Lincolnshire. Just kidding! A torch-bearing farmyard-equipment-wielding mob turns up later to murder the menfolk and rape The Babe. One of the mob is so excited he gets a little confused about the proper order of things, rushing The Stud despite having “already pulled down his zip and exposed himself in eager anticipation.” Protip if you're ever in an angry mob with a penis: wait until you're safely back home before whipping it out.
The story may be bewildering, but the writing is incredible. As in I couldn't believe it. The first paragraph had me laughing out loud at how teeth-gnashingly dramatic it was trying to be. Later we're treated to powerful if nonsensical alliteration like “Slowly the silence came surging softly back.” A section told from the perspective of a flock of birds ends with the earnest statement that “It was apparent that this was no longer the domain of the pinkfoot goose.” Some of the dialogue deserves multiple readings, if only to see if it parses properly on any of them. The Stud's philosophical musing that “Too many people have died as an indirect cause of our excavations” had me nodding sagely before I realised I didn't have the faintest idea what the hell he was talking about. Did he mean consequence rather than cause? Or was he saying like, you know, aren't we all excavating indirectly because of our deaths? Deep, man.
Everyone knows the “B” in B-movies stands for “Bloody hell this is awful.” But a true artist makes something so awful that it wraps all the way around and becomes great again. The Slime Beast certainly does that. In fact once it reaches greatness it still has plenty of bad left over, enough to sink back down to awfulness, and still keep going, completing a second orbit and finally exhausting itself back among the greats. The normal rules don't apply to it. Even Mr Grumble would like it, and he barely likes anything.
--
P.S. No doubt you're sat there saying “To hell with The Slime Beast, is Night of the Crabs as amazing as it sounds?” Well based on the advert at the end of the book, I'm going to guess that yes, yes it is.
Of course, as Jesus said to the Devil, man cannot live by non-fiction alone. So having managed about seven weeks without reading any fiction, what made-up masterpiece did I choose to indulge in? Well obviously there was only one choice: The Slime Beast. I mean, sweet monkey Tuesdays just look at it!
I picked the book up (literally and figuratively) having spied it lying on the ground in the excellent second-hand bookshop in St Nick's Market in Bristol. The title, cover, and £1 price tag pretty much convinced me to buy it, and the blurb, which read like a précis to the world's most hackneyed B-movie, sealed the deal.
But there was more to come. Having got the book home I flicked through the opening pages and discovered more hidden gems. I'm not sure how long the book had been languishing in the shop, but an inventory note left inside the front cover revealed the book had been there since at least 2008. The nearby scribbled out price of 15p suggests it was probably there long before that. I can only assume it had been hidden for most of that time or someone would surely have picked it up.
Next came the list of Guy Smith's other novels, all of which sound like either magnificent monsterporn or parables on venereal diseases.
Next, and still not at the story, came the dedication: To MBS – memories of many wildfowling trips to the Wash. So here's the thing, the blurb mentions some archaeologists searching for King John's treasures in the east coast marshes. Reading this in the bookshop I assumed it meant the east coast of the US. I can only blame a lack of sleep for this, because obviously it meant the east coast of the UK. For one thing King John's lost jewels are not going to be found floating off the US coast. And for another thing I grew up around the marshes of the east coast. But apparently my brain was too tired to connect these dots. Only when I saw Guy Smith mention the Wash explicitly did it all finally click.
With so much excitement before I even reached page one, how could the story possibly hope to compete? Was it as good as the hype in my head had suggested? Well by golly gosh with a cherry on top, fuck yeah it was.
Think of every B-movie trope and cliché you can. This book has them all raised to the power of eleven. The main characters aren't really characters so much as they're walking exposition dumps with the obligatory personality traits demanded by the genre. There's The Stud. (I don't remember the characters' names, despite finishing the book a matter of hours ago. It's that kind of book.) The Stud is a twenty-something archaeologist. Or we're told he is. He spends a few hours digging during the first chapter, doesn't find anything, and is ready to give up and head back to London. Methinks he's in the wrong profession.
Next is The Babe. She's a twenty-year-old college student and would rather be off tanning her “beautifully proportioned body” than digging up jewels in the marshes. Also she's a virgin, which is apparently important. Or rather she's a virgin in chapter one. By chapter two she and The Stud are totes in love and busy skoodilypooping at every opportunity. Been a long day? Time for skoodilypooping! Attacked by a monster? Time for skoodilypooping! Nearly been raped only for the rapist to be horribly killed in front of you? Time for skoodilypooping! Lest you think she's only in the novel for titillation and exploitation you should know this book is from the seventies and her progressive attitudes highlight this. I mean, she tries to get pregnant with The Stud's baby the third day they've known each other (“Give it to me properly, like every woman wants her man!” she says, maybe even with a straight face). But she doesn't think about marriage until the fourth day they've known each other.
Completing the triumvirate is The Professor. He's also an archaeologist, leading this enormous three-person expedition to find King John's crown jewels. You can tell he's a proper scientist because he hates everyone. You can also tell he's batshit insane because just after finding the hibernating eponymous Slime Beast he decides he'll have to straight up murder his colleague The Stud and niece The Babe so he can claim the Beast's mysterious Power for himself. Since the Beast's main superpower seems to be making everyone around it vomit continuously I'm not sure what he's referring to. Oho, no, wait, sorry, I accidentally started thinking logically there for a moment. Won't happen again!
Logic isn't really in abundance anywhere in the story. At one point The Stud and The Babe drive several miles to the local pub to relax. They stay for about three lines of dialogue then figure that's enough relaxing and drive all the way back to the marshes. I'm not sure they even get a chance to sit down. After the beast's first grisly murder of a local bird watcher the pub landlord proclaims to his customers that it's all the fault of those damn out-of-towners, and that the killings won't stop until the locals do something. Something like kill all the out-of-towners. Fortunately this is 1970s Lincolnshire where that kind of thing wouldn't happen; it's not some backward hick paradise like 1950s Lincolnshire. Just kidding! A torch-bearing farmyard-equipment-wielding mob turns up later to murder the menfolk and rape The Babe. One of the mob is so excited he gets a little confused about the proper order of things, rushing The Stud despite having “already pulled down his zip and exposed himself in eager anticipation.” Protip if you're ever in an angry mob with a penis: wait until you're safely back home before whipping it out.
The story may be bewildering, but the writing is incredible. As in I couldn't believe it. The first paragraph had me laughing out loud at how teeth-gnashingly dramatic it was trying to be. Later we're treated to powerful if nonsensical alliteration like “Slowly the silence came surging softly back.” A section told from the perspective of a flock of birds ends with the earnest statement that “It was apparent that this was no longer the domain of the pinkfoot goose.” Some of the dialogue deserves multiple readings, if only to see if it parses properly on any of them. The Stud's philosophical musing that “Too many people have died as an indirect cause of our excavations” had me nodding sagely before I realised I didn't have the faintest idea what the hell he was talking about. Did he mean consequence rather than cause? Or was he saying like, you know, aren't we all excavating indirectly because of our deaths? Deep, man.
Everyone knows the “B” in B-movies stands for “Bloody hell this is awful.” But a true artist makes something so awful that it wraps all the way around and becomes great again. The Slime Beast certainly does that. In fact once it reaches greatness it still has plenty of bad left over, enough to sink back down to awfulness, and still keep going, completing a second orbit and finally exhausting itself back among the greats. The normal rules don't apply to it. Even Mr Grumble would like it, and he barely likes anything.
What? No, Mr Grumble! I was sure that even you would enjoy yourself with this one!
Oh, Mr Grumble! You're such a cad.
--
P.S. No doubt you're sat there saying “To hell with The Slime Beast, is Night of the Crabs as amazing as it sounds?” Well based on the advert at the end of the book, I'm going to guess that yes, yes it is.
March 19, 2014
Eigentlich will der Archäologe Professor Lowson im englischen Marschland mit seiner 20-jährigen Nichte Liz Beck und dem jung-dynamischen Gavin Royle einen Jahrhunderte alten Schatz heben. Doch anstelle der Schatztruhe gräbt das Team ein Reptilienmonster aus, das an den SCHRECKEN VOM AMAZONAS erinnert. Ob Bewohner eines fernen Sternes oder Laune der Natur, wer kann es sagen, aber fortan streift das schleimige Monster nächtens vom Hunger nach (Menschen)Fleisch getrieben auf der Suche nach Leckereien durch das kargen Küstenland und manch Einheimischer fällt seinem Appetit zum Opfer.
Während ein vorbildlicher alter Ganter Verantwortung übernimmt und seinen Gänseschwarm aus dem monsterverseuchten Marschland leitet („The old gander had come to a decision in his own instinctive way. Tomorrow he would take his skein further afield. It was quite apparent that this was no longer the domain of the pinkfoot goose“), erzielen die Teilnehmer unserer Expedition keinen Konsens. Lowson will das Monster finden, fangen und die wissenschaftliche Reputation dafür ernten, während Gavin und Liz schnellstens die Behörden informieren wollen, um weitere Todesopfer zu vermeiden.
THE SLIME BEAST erinnert an Jack Arnolds großartige Kultstreifen, lässt allerdings trotz der genretypischen Zutaten (die Damsel in Distress inklusive Defloration und Beinahe-Vergewaltigung, den Mad Scientist in der Light-Ausführung und den jugendlichen Helden sowie in Nebenrollen Treibsand, Nebel, Flammenwerfer und ein Lynchmob) deren Charme vermissen, was vermutlich auch daran liegt, dass der Roman 20 Jahre zu spät geschrieben wurde, um authentisch trashig zu sein und Guy N. Smith hier einfach nicht immer den richtigen Ton trifft.
Ein geringer Gruselfaktor, wenig Witz und platte Charaktere machen das Slime Beast nicht gerade zu einem Aushängeschild seines Genres, aber es liest sich kurzweilig und Smith hat den Roman nicht unnötig gestreckt (grauenhafter als das Monster selbst ist die Vorstellung, dass bei manch heutigem Autoren der Roman vermutlich 400+ Seiten hätte!), so dass er wie weiland die B-Movies schnell konsumiert ist und Spaß macht.
Während ein vorbildlicher alter Ganter Verantwortung übernimmt und seinen Gänseschwarm aus dem monsterverseuchten Marschland leitet („The old gander had come to a decision in his own instinctive way. Tomorrow he would take his skein further afield. It was quite apparent that this was no longer the domain of the pinkfoot goose“), erzielen die Teilnehmer unserer Expedition keinen Konsens. Lowson will das Monster finden, fangen und die wissenschaftliche Reputation dafür ernten, während Gavin und Liz schnellstens die Behörden informieren wollen, um weitere Todesopfer zu vermeiden.
THE SLIME BEAST erinnert an Jack Arnolds großartige Kultstreifen, lässt allerdings trotz der genretypischen Zutaten (die Damsel in Distress inklusive Defloration und Beinahe-Vergewaltigung, den Mad Scientist in der Light-Ausführung und den jugendlichen Helden sowie in Nebenrollen Treibsand, Nebel, Flammenwerfer und ein Lynchmob) deren Charme vermissen, was vermutlich auch daran liegt, dass der Roman 20 Jahre zu spät geschrieben wurde, um authentisch trashig zu sein und Guy N. Smith hier einfach nicht immer den richtigen Ton trifft.
Ein geringer Gruselfaktor, wenig Witz und platte Charaktere machen das Slime Beast nicht gerade zu einem Aushängeschild seines Genres, aber es liest sich kurzweilig und Smith hat den Roman nicht unnötig gestreckt (grauenhafter als das Monster selbst ist die Vorstellung, dass bei manch heutigem Autoren der Roman vermutlich 400+ Seiten hätte!), so dass er wie weiland die B-Movies schnell konsumiert ist und Spaß macht.
December 29, 2014
Condensed in to 110 pages is a quintessential Guy N Smith novel. From the word go we have a love interest and 'perfectly formed' ladies, fist fights and nutty professors.
Within a few chapters the Beast is up and roaming and tearing people limb from limb. The attacks start off unseen but as we move further into the story we get some wonderfully gruesome descriptions.
The sleaze isn't far away too with sex scenes and perverted lurkers of the Wash.
Some of the characters jump to massive conclusions that seem to be right and you wonder if this is Guy poking a bit of fun. Nothing is to be taken too seriously and although the characters aren't that well developed I didn't need them to be.
A pulp horror breeze that effortlessly entertains.
And just look at that cover.
Ahhh...they don't make them like this anymore.
Within a few chapters the Beast is up and roaming and tearing people limb from limb. The attacks start off unseen but as we move further into the story we get some wonderfully gruesome descriptions.
The sleaze isn't far away too with sex scenes and perverted lurkers of the Wash.
Some of the characters jump to massive conclusions that seem to be right and you wonder if this is Guy poking a bit of fun. Nothing is to be taken too seriously and although the characters aren't that well developed I didn't need them to be.
A pulp horror breeze that effortlessly entertains.
And just look at that cover.
Ahhh...they don't make them like this anymore.
July 28, 2016
Well, that was a fun ride! It is a horror classic from another era, when disco, sex and carelessness ruled the world. It is just what it is - a short tale of a mysterious monster which terrorized British swamps and surrounding village. There is blood, there is gore, there is a secret and... SLIME BEAST itself.
---
„Bestia” Guya N. Smitha uraduje koneserów tych nie do końca poważnych horrorów, w których prześladowcą jest potwór, bestia, tajemnicza kreatura o niecnych zamiarach, gdzie legenda ożywa i wszystko może się zdarzyć. To groza nieco innej epoki, ery disco, szwedów i rozciągliwych golfików, gdzie nawet spowite mgłą bagna nie mogą zepsuć dobrej zabawy.
---
„Bestia” Guya N. Smitha uraduje koneserów tych nie do końca poważnych horrorów, w których prześladowcą jest potwór, bestia, tajemnicza kreatura o niecnych zamiarach, gdzie legenda ożywa i wszystko może się zdarzyć. To groza nieco innej epoki, ery disco, szwedów i rozciągliwych golfików, gdzie nawet spowite mgłą bagna nie mogą zepsuć dobrej zabawy.
July 20, 2018
One of the more famous of Smith's books.
When an archaeological expedition goes deep into the fens looking for King John's Treasure. they find terror instead. Unearthing some kind of swamp beast, the thing comes alive and starts killing people. The ignorant superstitious villagers start to rise up, and the thick headed bobby is in completely over his head.
Like most of the rest of Smith's output, just a little higher quality.
When an archaeological expedition goes deep into the fens looking for King John's Treasure. they find terror instead. Unearthing some kind of swamp beast, the thing comes alive and starts killing people. The ignorant superstitious villagers start to rise up, and the thick headed bobby is in completely over his head.
Like most of the rest of Smith's output, just a little higher quality.
October 14, 2020
The writing is largely abysmal, but you can't really go wrong with a gory story about a monster who just shows up for no reason.
January 14, 2025
no cóż, po prostu błotna bestia
September 6, 2023
Z Wadowic.
November 20, 2016
A nice on from Guy. The Slime Beast moves at a quick pace. 3 people are looking for a treasure and find The Beast. Where he comes from, know one knows. Not even Guy. The sex scenes are hilarious. It's almost like a prudish English matron wrote them. The ending comes fast and quick. Everything about this book screams B-movie. It drips with cheese. I loved it.
September 11, 2017
Oh boy, this little book is all sorts of cheesy, sleazy, campy, trashy and stupid. But somehow I managed to enjoy it... partially. At least the gory parts are quite nice.
I can totally see, that the character Garth Marenghi (from the television series Garth Marenghi's Darkplace) was inspired by Guy N. Smith. Therefore, it gets one extra star.
I can totally see, that the character Garth Marenghi (from the television series Garth Marenghi's Darkplace) was inspired by Guy N. Smith. Therefore, it gets one extra star.
August 27, 2014
Too bad. I was hoping this would be pulpy-trashy fun but it is just plain bad.
March 14, 2018
This was a good bit better than Night of the Crabs, but it’s still not horror for the horror connoisseur. I wish I knew about this stuff when I was about fourteen! I would have loved it then, so I understand its place in time. If you were a teenager when this stuff first came out, I can see how it probably seemed like the greatest thing ever and looked forward to the next one and the next one! But they don’t really hold up very well at an adult reading level and mentality. (But they’re packed with sex, so it’s not really kid stuff either.)
At least this one had a plot and some mystery and suspense (as opposed to Night of the Crabs). But it still reads like the kind of thing a relatively sharp person could make up as they go along while telling it around a campfire.
This author had his place in history, for a certain audience, at a certain time, and I bet it was awesome to have been there and enjoyed it at the time (I was in Pampers). I’m glad I familiarized myself with his work, and I may pick up one of his books occasionally just for kicks, but Guy N. Smith’s work is not really something I’m going to return to in any serious way.
At least this one had a plot and some mystery and suspense (as opposed to Night of the Crabs). But it still reads like the kind of thing a relatively sharp person could make up as they go along while telling it around a campfire.
This author had his place in history, for a certain audience, at a certain time, and I bet it was awesome to have been there and enjoyed it at the time (I was in Pampers). I’m glad I familiarized myself with his work, and I may pick up one of his books occasionally just for kicks, but Guy N. Smith’s work is not really something I’m going to return to in any serious way.
October 15, 2020
Spooktober 2020 Book 16
1.5/5
What Spooktober wouldn’t be complete with a Guy N. Smith novel? He’s pretty much become a staple of this time of the year and there’s always at least one or two books that I end up reading each October.
That being said The Slime Beast does not rate up there amongst his best work. Simply put, the book is quite short and lacks a good story. Unlike Killer Crabs or Bats Out of Hell there’s not much here to really enjoy or find all that appealing.
I will say that it’s a quick, gory read and doesn’t require much of an investment, but the payoff is low and unless you’re an avid Smith fan, this one isn’t really worth the time.
1.5/5
What Spooktober wouldn’t be complete with a Guy N. Smith novel? He’s pretty much become a staple of this time of the year and there’s always at least one or two books that I end up reading each October.
That being said The Slime Beast does not rate up there amongst his best work. Simply put, the book is quite short and lacks a good story. Unlike Killer Crabs or Bats Out of Hell there’s not much here to really enjoy or find all that appealing.
I will say that it’s a quick, gory read and doesn’t require much of an investment, but the payoff is low and unless you’re an avid Smith fan, this one isn’t really worth the time.
December 30, 2025
Although this is on more than one level a terrible book, I gave it three stars because it is full of unintended (I think) laughs. The best one I can remember is that the hero manages to defeat the Slime Beast, which is threatening all of humanity, with (spoiler alert!) a mini-flamethrower normally used to fry garden weeds.
The real bonus for me was learning about the life of Guy N Smith, English pipe smoking champion 2003, gun fancier, writer of over 100 books. His writing included novelization of Disney movies (snow white, sleeping beauty), soft porn, horror and non-fiction gun books. Given this background 'The Slime Beast' is pretty much what you'd expect.
The real bonus for me was learning about the life of Guy N Smith, English pipe smoking champion 2003, gun fancier, writer of over 100 books. His writing included novelization of Disney movies (snow white, sleeping beauty), soft porn, horror and non-fiction gun books. Given this background 'The Slime Beast' is pretty much what you'd expect.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 29, 2025
The awful, perverted writing of a sexually frustrated man.
Hardly any description for anything other than the woman's body, of which is shamelessly objectifying and degrading. Be better.
Less-so "horror story" than "asset to be studied by a psychologist to better understand the author's mental condition, soon to become evidence examined by the legal system before the author's sexual harassment hearing."
Hardly any description for anything other than the woman's body, of which is shamelessly objectifying and degrading. Be better.
Less-so "horror story" than "asset to be studied by a psychologist to better understand the author's mental condition, soon to become evidence examined by the legal system before the author's sexual harassment hearing."
March 15, 2023
Depending on what you want from this novel, your mileage may vary but I liked it because it felt like one of those movies you see on MST3K or SchleFaZ. Treasure Hunters disturb the Slime Beast which hunts them and terrorizes a village. Everybody is annoying and you wish for the Beast to get them. Love it :-)
November 14, 2023
I'm giving this book 3 stars, because at the end of the day it's a bit of fun. It's very short with a paper thin plot, but invokes the fun of old camp B movies I watched as a young boy. The author is very prolific and his other books are written in a similar manner, but I would recommend shutting off your brain and enjoying it for what it is.
December 14, 2024
For a book called The Slime Beast, this book delivers. It's cheesy, the action is over the top, the premise is ridiculous. Very entertaining read, exactly what it needs to be.
Yup until now, I've read the whole Guy Smith Crabs series and Bats out of Hell. This one is one of my top favs from that group.
Yup until now, I've read the whole Guy Smith Crabs series and Bats out of Hell. This one is one of my top favs from that group.
January 8, 2026
What a weird book, I can’t say it was bad, but it also wasn’t great. It didn’t pull you in, on the traditional sense, what pulls you in, is as another commenter said, it feels like a 70’s B-horror movie along the lines of “The Blob” or something. The sex scenes didn’t really add much to the story, all they did was lead me to believe Mr. Guy was a bit of a horn dog. RIP The Slime Beast
July 31, 2023
The best analogy for The Slime Beast would be like an 80s Era Roger Corman movie. It's full of monster action, terrible dialogue, sex, gore, and mad science. Obviously I enjoyed it, but I don't think I can recommend this to anyone in general.
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July 14, 2019Full review: https://supermonsternovels.com/2019/0...
June 1, 2020
Fun read if you want a monster flick that you can finish in less than two hours
August 11, 2021
Great fun and lots of slime.
June 13, 2022
People who rate this brilliant book less than 5 stars are cowards.
June 14, 2022
Predictable. Puerile. Preposterous. I loved it.
October 16, 2023
More sex scenes than slime beast...
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