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A Brief Biography of the Pointless Life of Dr. Adolf Steg

Dr. Adolf Dwall Dugong Embolus Curette Steg was born on the 23rd June, 1923, in a soundproof tent made from earwax and nasal hairs at the Aspley Goat Clinic in Paris. His Father (Haroold Ptarmigan Brockhaus Von Steg, 1st Earl of Lovelace, Lord Lieutenant of Hundon) and his Mother (Vicountess Prunella Paffgen Wombwinkle Ethelle McSprague) had never met, but the Dr. was conceived by a delicate mixture of Morse code, telegram and old engravings of Renaissance, Mannerist and Neoclassic sculpture. For the first 3 years of his life the Dr. was kept in a beehive and fed by a lactating monkey called Stan Follicle. The Dr. discovered his illustrative talents in an old tin bath when he was 3 years old and was inflicted with this disease until he was cured in 1997 by Tony Blair (a total fucking cunt and professional cheesy grinned knob end).
Many of his early scribblings form the basis of The World of Dr. Adolf Steg. Amongst his many discoveries, travels and adventures Dr. Steg has taught ants to draw, failed in his attempt at getting a team of wasps to drag St. Paul's Cathedral to the North Pole, created a rare breed of giant Speckled Wood butterflies for Robert Smith of The Cure to fly to the South of France on, created a strain of invisible cats and discovered the meaning of life (but then lost the piece of paper it was written on).
Guided by a team of blind Bedlington Terriers, Dr. Steg created a stunning collection of Comiks that most of the world is lucky not to have seen. The little known Dr. Adolf Steg style of 'POINTLESSNESS' was born and a whole host of  instantly forgettable characters such as Edith Spon, Bill Semple, Henry Newt and The Beetroot Generation was created.
Spurred on by his success in the field of Underground Comiks and graphic misdesign, Dr. Steg created many unique hand-decorated T-Shirts, Shoes, Kitchens, Hats, Tapestries,Castles, Garden Furniture, Motorcycles, Trains, Swimming Pools, Furnaces, Petrol Stations, Towns, Horses, Bridges, Sky Scrapers, Submarines, Space Ships, Planets, Satellites, Solar Systems and his own brand of Marmalade.
Dr. Steg has also had little success in the world of popular music. He has worked with many groups, including the following:
Christopher Wren Invented Contact Lenses;
Bananas Traffic Lights Tarmac and the Maltesers
Milk Rubber Shoes
Cheese Computer Smiles with Semen
No known recordings of any of these groups survive (if you find any please hand them over to the police immediately), but a very rare cassette of The Weasely Tensile Band called Live Comfy Baldness does exist, and will be available on CD very soon.
Dr. Adolf Steg has also produced a short film called The Genetic Disorder of Non Verbalism and the Tuna Bi-Plane Disaster of Pilot Ottourick Oliver Pode, which will also be available to buy on DVD.
Dr. Steg gave up drawing Comiks in 1997, and has spent most of the last ten years in a Mental Institution in the town of Spondon. His only contacts with the outside world have been Andy Paciorek, another genius illustrator and past collaborator, and pStan Batcow (Managing Director of Pumf Records).
The continuing aim of The World of Dr. Adolf Steg is the constant pursuit of pointlessness, spontaneity, stupidity, idiocy, literature, art and laughter all mixed together in a giant cement mixer and smeared onto elephants, dogs and goats in unequal measures.
The Dr. Adolf Steg brand carries on in cyberspace for the foreseeable future. Dr Steg is presently planning to draw only on the computer - four computer pictures are available to buy in the gallery section and more are either underway or being planned.
A collection of short stories written whilst Dr Steg was incarcerated in the Spondon Mental Hospital* is also being produced; a few examples can be found on this page.
Dr Steg can be contacted by mail, e-mail or telephone for a full list of other Comiks, Tins of Fresh Filth, Artwork or Commissions.

* Spondon dates back to Anglo Saxon times. The name Spondon comes from the old English 'Spon' meaning chip, shaving or shingle and 'Dun' meaning hill, translated as a gravely hill. One of Spondon's most famous sons was the cricketing great, George Porter.



The following stories were written by Dr. Adolf Steg and fellow inmate
Dantiel Sperm Monkey at the Spondon Mental Institute, 1998 - 2003.



Louder Daydreams Inch Meat Through Shallow Walls
by Dr. Adolf Steg & Dantiel Sperm Monkey, 2003

Echoes make love in a daydream and green shadows burn like spring in a light bulb. A strange breeze lives in a canal and sores as people die in an aeroplane crash. Space reminds her of a bombed hotel that has lost its faith. Piss glows in the hard shoulder of a laughing hotel. Sick problems inflict evaporated knives into the brains of sleeping motorway babies, and with pink scissors I cut away the crumpled photograph of her brain. A gallery of damp skin reflects pink eyes in robot blue water. The atmosphere around Hitler's forehead reflects itself in meat, his spring footwear still exhumes a scent of damp virus soil. Australian priests burn the alienated atmosphere of morning in a spoonful of gossip. I drift in a secret bomb blown by a mixture of quavering umbrellas and elephants imported from Hollywood. My breakfast smells like a dream of fluid blotchy love. Evaporated hand prints remain in the smell of autumn grass, the scent of burning hair in a cave reminds me of my mother picking sores from an expensive bonfire. A green swastikas sky creates a dramatic shadow over Malibu. Delicate stings sit on a million thought of peace. Bloody thorns covered in dirt reminds me of a summer long ago in which I searched for dead birds in the faded rain. I knew that I would never explain dampness to a dead cat laughing at me through the sunlight. Crispy suicide victims blink as gun children take photographs with meat cameras, depressed girls remove slaughtered poultry from drug casualties who laugh at the victims of celebrity chaos. Racist demands abuse the casualties of a ruthless Jesus, stars demand the stress of suicide celebrity medical death. Global laughter dies in the arms of terrorism, angels partake in 9 inches of . . .
A man who killed his family sits in an American car, he battered his five year old daughter to death last Christmas Day, she was deaf and pregnant, the victim of a bogus rape attack. He remembers painting his toenails in a psychiatric hospital, a poster of holocaust victims ignites as a remote-controlled bomb explodes in the toilet of a fast food restaurant, where men dressed as women. The bomber was unhappy about men using the women's lavatories for transcribing diagrams of moths and formulae into Braille. In rooms where the earth screams distilled shadows locked in eye dreams are dragged from the soft spread of dismantled foetal memories. Giant genetically modified lobsters spit meat pies, filled with radioactive semen, through the air and they explode on impact with decaying asteroids. They collide with Hugh exploding pyramids and skeletal whale bats. The sky burns and clouds explode in chunks of frozen urine. A hail of molten cracks fall apart to reveal an exploding foetus. The soft imploding clotted army of autistic children explode on impact with autistic decay. Pyramids filled with piss and skeletal labyrinths turn into cancerous slugs, equipped with radioactive semen babies, ejaculate under developed genitalia enzymes into helicopters made from dissolving limbs, mongoloid vomit and the withered diseased bodies of pygmy elves. A 15 year old boy was in a critical condition when he admitted raping his 36 year old mother after shoving acidic residue and warm fresh meat up her cunt. He stretched his mobile phone over her foetal skin. He raped her in a field shaped like a cock near Thurlston High School in Ipswich. HIV infected blood dissolved the attempted rape of a special needs youngster in a darkened room 45 miles away. Clotted blood and an earthquake drowned a school girl who was hurled to her death when she began eating her own genitals in a room in Walthamster. Pulling a sledge hammer from a tangled lattice of blood capillaries, Derek begins the surgical procedure in a three room caravan in Fordingbridge, Hampshire, surrounded by the skeletal remains of 10,000 aborted baby rabbits. After drinking a cocktail of cyanide and alcohol, Derek who was said to have had a history of clinical depression in a slot machine. Day turns to night as a heavily scarred negro singer drags a duvet, made from blood soaked aborted goat foetuses, over his withered diseased hairless body, smearing vocal chords from dissected haemophiliacs. Dantiel and I enjoy beef whilst living in a tent made from Smarties and we laugh for a long time.


Sitting Before This Retains Summer Spoons
By Dr Adolf Steg & Dantiel Sperm Monkey, 2003

Strange words lactate in my mind like a building society cheque that refuses to cash. Can you hear my socks yawning like Jesus farting around with his home brew in an old garden shed. I open the fridge to get a beer and a million maggots pour out, each with the twisted face of Michael Douglas horribly mutilated by sulphuric acid. I'm staring at the foetus whilst its mother is dusting prunes. I have no feelings, I wish we were all dead, momentary feelings appear when I feel the urge to kill. When people stick lit matches up a dog's arse, this planet really starts to worry me!
Esther's minge is infected by genital laxatives and swastika cheese. She puts a telepathic overcoat on and places a cloth, suitable for wiping up large pools of blood, a fucking big knife, a container of diseased lung shampoo, a tube of cat skin remover, a children's suicide kit and a packet of vomit crisps into a plastic bag. She washes a cowpat headache pill down with a bottle of dog poison and writes the following words onto a piece of toilet paper - In order to love your disability you must disable your ability to love. This then prolongs the ability to interact with the people you sometimes deflect your anger and frustration off, allowing you to feel free to make time for a part of your life you once forgot, exploring regions you never thought possible with a sort of freedom only gained from low calorie fish fingers and a lower tolerance to small children's socks. Kill the bastards they all talk behind your back, squash your hatred, run free . . . milk life, life is good. In Tehran the U.S. Military posts a statement on its website saying the following - Allow the ape like cyst to regenerate and recirculate into the dark underworld of the heifer's genitals. Hold out a foot  floating on the underside of a 20 year old colostomy bag riddled with fungal infections and harvested weekly by blind hermaphrodites. Count out the days and allow it to feed on the imperfections until it is reunited with a distant echo that had once bounced off its reinforced pelvic bones. A small deformed child plays hopscotch in a musty corner, she coughs up a small amount of blood and smiles as she is repeatedly hit round the ankles with an oversized carp's penis. My eyes have grown soft and dissolve like urine sick in a bath of ancient monkey sperm. The last thing I see is the Death Checklist, written on a piece of urine stained toilet paper, liberally strewn with Esther's burnt pubic hair:

       1. Bones Disintegrating
2. Veins Explode
3. Blood Congeals
4. Tissue Rejection
5. Skin Graft Fails
6. Heart Transplant
7. Liver Failure
8. Lung Collapses
9. Kidney Disease
10. Brain Tumour
11. Blindness
12. Spinal Separation
13. Dislocated Ribs
14. Hip Replacements Sever in 8 Places
15. Any soluble factor of insect in the digestive gland collapses sexual reproduction in the lungs
16. The degeneration of an organ or part of the body by margarine
17. Haemoglobin in the ovum or ovule allows the sperm to penetrate the tissues of the
endocrine layer
18. The mature reproductive cells of female animals is oxidised in the liver of a Portuguese
19. Part of the tissue that makes up the central nervous system dissolves after a hot day
20. An increase in the dry weight of radiation
21. The mid brain indicates that life existed over 3,000 million years ago
22. Organs may be removed when brain death is established
23. The permanent absence of vital functions to the brain

Time doesn't care, before you breathe your last breath we look back and remember nothing. 


A Day in the Life and Death at the Spondon Mental Institution 2001
By Dr Adolf Steg & Dantiel Sperm Monkey, 2003

Upon arriving at the Spondon Mental Institution we notice that the whole building is in the shape of a huge budgie's foot with all the entrances in the shape of a small child's vagina. After prising ourselves through this small opening we were faced with a small room containing 23 hillbillies all playing the banjo, they are all naked with different coloured inks smeared on their genitals. The receptionist looked dirty!!! Some of them were gathered in a circle where they were preparing to sacrifice a small goat they had been keeping as a stress relieving object . . . I believe they used to beat it with tins of paint. Moving into the next room we came across Dr. McEctum, he was busy anally raping his work colleague, Mr. Kippliing, who was full of fleas and moths. He then proceeded to drool and let out some moans before ejaculating on an old woman asleep in an armchair. After drinking a cup of warm blood from a cup fashioned out of foreskins, we make a sharp exit with Mr. Kippliing following close behind. We enter another room and Mr. Kippliing arrives with 2 leather suitcases filled with synthetic Gary Glitter semen, he marks his territory by having a huge piss, his intestines, lower bowel, lungs, heart and kidneys gush out in a river of blood, mucus and torn rectal tissue. An artificial colon is inserted into Mr. Kippliing's windpipe, and a thin milky secretion of the synthetic Gary Glitter semen is emitted through a number of surface anuses grafted onto the surface of his skin. The semen is collected by highly trained ants and wasps, many with superb watercolour techniques, who crawl over every orifice of Mr. Kippliing's hairy body. It is then taken to the artificial womb area where the semen is cross pollinated with Michael Barrymore sweat to create a new and potentially deadly form of light entertainer / singer called Barry Glittermore. Unfortunately the host body is highly unstable, its DNA structure evaporates in a cloud of dust and the blood plasma dissolves, cervical molecules alternate light particles on the surface of the steroid hormones and the brain is reduced to that of a bi-valved reptile state. The Barry Glittermore entity enters the Spondon Institute Massage Parlour naked, his cock is stuck up a 5 year old girls cunt, whilst swinging a chainsaw at peoples limbs, severing them one after the other, the blood sprays like a tidal wave against the velvet wallpaper. The victims fall to the ground, taking their last breaths as they drown in a pool of their own vomit and blood, other people go into shock and piss and shit themselves, falling and smearing it over one another. A pregnant woman catches one of the more severe swings of the chainsaw, splitting her completely in two. The baby falls out and bounces on the floor, cracking open its soft fontanel as its brains spill out, its insides squirted out of every orifice as people clamber around, stamping on it as they try to escape! One woman is straddled by Barry Glittermore and he punches her in the cunt until it starts bruising and bleeds heavily, he then sticks his head up it and starts eating her ovaries, then pulling his head out begins shoving the chainsaw up her pulverised twat and cuts her completely in half, finishing by urinating in her ear and smearing his knobbly tongue over her internal organs. Barry Glittermore stands up to have a wank and a fully formed naked 4 year old boy pops out of the end of his engorged penis, with a strange squirting sound the boy is ejaculated across the room and lands by the doorway, he stands up, blinks and runs quickly away to another part of the Spondon Mental Institute, this is rather foolish as it is a very dangerous area, he rounds a corner and slips on the shiny floor and comes to a stop by a heavy open cell door. Looking up the child sees the gleaming silver mace being swung into the air by the rotting, black, maggot ridden hand of a recently escaped child abuser, who up till now had notched up over 23 serious and violent child abuse killings, using no more than his surgical case of various blades and his preferred weapon . . . the mace! Like a melon the child's head splits open and explodes, with a warm wet release the blood gushes and collides with the walls, splashing up and forming abstract patterns. His left eye is popped clear from the skull and is now lying on the other side of the corridor with bits of brain tissue surrounding it. His jaw is broken completely from his head, sitting flat on a pool of muscle fibres and clotting blood, his teeth still intact showing a recent filling, what good that did the cunt as his heart still pumps out litres of blood onto the highly polished floor, causing steam to rise from the cold floor. We decide to return to our cell and have a nice cup of tea and a game of Mastermind.