They Deserved Justice

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Despite my better judgement I was actually looking forward to Batman V Superman, and so you can imagine how silly I felt when it turned out to be a shit-spackled slab of cinematic dross. You can probably also imagine how silly I felt when, after having seen it, I again found myself getting excited for its Justice League sequel. Had I already forgotten about Jessie Eisenberg's performance as Lex Luthor which was more annoying than a wart on the gooch? Surely I could remember the 'Martha, Martha, Martha!' scene which made less sense than Donald Trump's pubic knots? Well, despite all of this, I had a small lump in my heart that Superman would no doubt claim as 'hope'. On retrospect it was probably just mounded cholesterol because, in the words of the great George W Bush, “Fool me once, shame on.. shame on you. Fool me... You can't get fooled again!” Without trying to mince my words, I am unhappy to report that Justice League is load of total wank.

Life Is Unbearable

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I remember playing in a park when I was a child, when a friend casually dropped her pants and took a shit on the ground. I don't know what game she thought we were playing but it made finding her during 'hide and seek' a hell of a lot easier. Her public dumping seemed odd at the time, except since then the rest of the world seems to have turned to shit too, and so what the hell difference does one extra turd make? At one point during Paddington 2, Julie Walters' character declares that “all actors are evil”... She only says that too because she saw an actor trying to steal something. Wait until she gets backstage with Kevin Spacey; then she'll see what they're really capable of. As I write this now, the comedian Louis C.K. has just had to issue an apology for forcing women to watch him wank off, because the entertainment industry apparently only hires rapists, perverts, or Piers fucking Morgan. Over here in Britain, we're shooting ourselves in the cock with a little project called Brexit that allowed xenophobes to pretend that they actually have a deep and complex understanding of the economy. Oh and let's not forget the game show host in the White House that's attempting to start a nuclear war over Twitter to compensate for the fact that the only thing lower than his I.Q. is his droopy old-man balls.

A Pleasant Enough Ride

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Murder On The Orient Express tells the story of a large moustache as it's forced to participate in a murder investigation by its detective owner. Hercule Poirot is everybody's favourite Belgian detective after Tintin's dog, with this film telling the story of his inability to travel from one point to another without tripping over another corpse. Even when the fucker is off duty he manages to find himself in the company of a murder victim and for some reason the police never seem to even suspect that he might be the killer. I mean, even the simple villagers only believed the boy who cried wolf a couple of times... Poirot, it seems, could literally be unloading his balls onto a corpse and the police seemingly wouldn't even question him. Anyway, the story begins here when Poirot boards a train in which a sinister chap played by Johnny Depp is murdered. Although considering that we now live in a post-Weinstein world, the story could almost have skipped the murder altogether and simply had him try to work out which of the A-List cast wasn't a sexual predator. As Poirot prowls the train he claims to be the worlds greatest detective and yet this is a case that seems to stump him. I don't mean to brag but it doesn't take the worlds greatest detective to solve the case of the dead Johnny Depp. Just check who might still be the beneficiary of his life insurance and then point the fucking train in the direction of Amber Heard's house.

Gerard Butler's Best Film Yet?!

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Geostorm begins with a sub-Sarah Connor-esque voice-over in which we're told that we should have been nicer to the planet before it began fucking us over with the weather. But who cares? I live in England. We've been getting fucked by the weather since time began! In fact the more extreme the weather gets, the happier we secretly are, with a good moan being one our favourite things to do after making a cup of tea and indulging in some casual racism. Anyway don't worry about all that global warming shite because Gerard Butler has designed a satellite-thing that floats around in space and can manipulate the weather in order to prevent any potential disasters. And let's face it.. if Gerard Butler can solve the problem then any old prick with at least a couple of opposable thumbs and a rough grasp of how to walk upright will probably be able to manage it. The problem is that things have started to go wrong with the satellite due to the sinister interference of somebody intending to fuck the weather up and wreak cheap CGI destruction on the planet. Butler has therefore been sent up to solve the mystery before things get worse, which is despite the much bigger mystery at the centre of this movie of... how the fuck does the 'actor' Gerard Butler still get work?