Aquaman Made Me Wet

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The actor Jason Momoa is so good looking that he could be the the star of one of those pretentious men's fragrance adverts, and yet at the same time he also manages to look like an actual tramp. I can genuinely picture him eating a cat out of a fucking bin, but I also imagine that he'd smell fucking incredible whilst doing it. In his new film Aquaman we're introduced to him as he rescues a submarine from a band of pirates whilst topless. But why is he topless? The filmmakers must know that it's frowned upon for the audience to openly masterbate in the cinema so what are they hoping to achieve? They've also given him some weird yellow contact lenses that are meant to show that he can talk to the fish or something. Or maybe they're like built in bio-goggles? To be honest I don't know what was going on with his eyes but they were way too sinister. He's kind of like a goat in that the evil in his eyes is way out of proportion with everything else on the rest of his head. Observations like this were also distracting me for the first twenty-minutes of the film and so might be the reason that I was never entirely sure what was going on with the story. Also I spent the entire opening act in confused self-reflection when some water splashed on Aquaman's stupidly handsome hobo face during a fight and I accidentally came in my pants.

Taking The Rocky Path

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I saw a thing on Twitter the other day in which somebody asked, “What is the best bad movie that you love?” to which somebody else answered with Rocky 4, and I thought 'well, fuck the rest as that is the actual answer'. Rocky 4 is a piece of shit movie in which the franchise started snorting pure uncut 80's culture to the point that it lost its grip on reality. There are some poignant moments in it such as the death of Apollo Creed, which obviously plays into the new movie Creed 2. The rest of us however, can only really remember it for its montages. There's a montage of Stallone running up a mountain, carrying logs, and pulling sledges. At one point there's even a montage of all the other fucking montages from the previous movies. In all cases, he strains his face to resemble a kicked-in ballsack with a pair of mismatched googly-eyes stuck on it. Let's not forget the bit either in which the film pretty much stops to show us a ten minute James Brown concert for no reason whatsoever. Oh, and there's a robot butler in that one too because there was presumably too much cocaine knocking about when the script was being written. Rocky 4 is a crap movie but I'll be fucked if I don't admit that it's fun to watch.

A Private Little War

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Outlaw King tells the story of legendary Robert the Bruce with the film beginning as he agrees to be England's little bitch. Apparently, the film is set in 1304, but as I saw peasants living in mud and the English trying desperately not to lose control of Scotland, I naturally assumed that it was set post-Brexit. A few years later, Robert notices how dissatisfied the Scottish seem to be with the slaughter of their hero William Wallace being something that particularly irks them. Although if he thought that they were pissed off with their national hero being killed and chopped into pieces then I look forward to him seeing their reaction to the future casting of Mel Gibson. From here Robert decides to fight back by being crowned the King of Scotland and rounding up a small rabble of bearded monsters that we call 'Scottish people'. I can't say I'm a historian and you could honestly write everything that I know about Scottish history onto a mouse's cock. Though from what I can gather, this film takes so many liberties with the facts that a game of Chinese whispers in a tourette's clinic would prove more reliable.

Like Dragging An Alpaca Through Mud

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When Johnny Depp isn't fucking his life up, he occasionally stars in movies such as the recent Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes Of Grindelwald. In it, he plays a man who intends to ascend to power by appealing to the prejudice of the right-wing fucknuggets who believe his lies about inequality. With his silly blonde hair and racist rhetoric, I'm sure it's also obvious which big titted and shit-spewing President he reminds us all of too. Although due to his eyes being two different colours, it was a snooty fucking alpaca that I took out for a walk that jumped to mind for me. The alpaca's name was Kosmos and I was hoping that he'd be my friend as I lead him around a field but sadly that four-legged fuck thought he was better than me. With each step of our stroll, my hatred for him began to increase as his cold indifference towards me become offensively apparent. At one point I tried to feed him a carrot and he looked so offended by my attempt to bond with him that you'd think I was pissing right into his face. Anyway, like Donald Trump, that alpaca was a fucking prick and that's why I think that Johnny Depp's evil wizard Grindelwald was the baddie.

Is This The Real Life, Is This Just Fantasy?

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Bohemian Rhapsody tells the story of the band Queen with a particular focus on its lead singer Freddie Mercury. Having seen his smile, I also recommend that you see the film on the biggest screen possible as nothing less will be able to fit his fucking teeth on.. let alone his ego. The film charts the band's journey from their humble beginnings and goes all the way to their epic Live Aid performance in which it's implied that they single-handedly solved world hunger. Other than a brief stint in which Freddie leaves the band to pursue an ill-founded solo career, the group seems to conquer the planet with relative ease, which is even more impressive when you consider that most of their songs are total shit. I'm not a huge fan of Queen because I prefer it when music isn't overly-long, shallow, and self-indulgent drivel, which is a shame here because that's how I feel about films too. Despite having so much dirt that it could have dealt with, Bohemian Rhapsody instead opted to get down on its knees and give Mercury a two hour blow-job, with the movie glorifying the band as blatantly as Triumph Of The Will did the fucking Nazis. Not that I'm saying that Queen are as bad as the Nazis, obviously. Although to clarify.. nor am I saying that this film is even remotely as well made as their Triumph Of The Will.

I Dare You To Stay Awake During This Film

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The 'truth' option of the game 'Truth or Dare' is only ever to find out something rude about a person or to discover what they really think about you. In which case I'll save you some time by admitting that I definitely did do that thing and no I can't fucking stand you. Obviously I'm not going to pick 'dare' because I really don't want to know which of my friends is going to use the game as an excuse to have me show them my cock. Last time I was forced to play, a friend of mine was dared to give me a back massage which seemed a bit unfair. It wasn't me being dared to do anything so why do I have to be a part of this? On the flip side I was quite in need of a massage so I figured I'd protest enough to show I wasn't up for it but not so much that it didn't actually not happen. No harm in a free massage after all is there? Well, I didn't think so either, until my friend accidentally got an erection whilst doing it. I mean.. what the fuck. Even at one of those dodgy massage places it's meant to be the client that ends up getting off and not the prick that works there. Anyway the long and short of it is that I do hate the game but at the very least I suppose it's not quite as fucking boring as the film Truth Or Dare.

Death Has Returned To This Little Town

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I love the director John Carpenter as much as little fat kids love to eat at McDonald's and as much as McDonald's loves to get rich off their slow descent into a life of diabetes. His original 1978 Halloween was essentially the very first slasher film if you were to ignore 1974's Black Christmas and his scores cause me to feel an emotion that my fellow humans have assured me is called happiness. When it was announced that another Halloween film was being made, I couldn't really have given less of shit. All of the sequels had been pretty fucking bad up until that point and I would rather stick my head in the fucking oven than sit through Rob Zombie's pointless fucking remakes. However, when it was then announced that it'd be from the director of Pineapple Express and written by the comedy actor Danny McBride, I became a little curious. Kind of like when you go to a show in Amsterdam and you see all of the props that a performer is about to insert into themselves. I was confused as to what they might be aiming to achieve and I was scared that I wouldn't like whatever might eventually hit the big screen in front of me. But I was also kind of intrigued and a little excited to see what might happen anyway.

Hitting Brock Bottom

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In the comic books, Venom is an alien symbiote that first attaches itself to Spider-Man before he manages to simply shake it off like it's a bit of bird shit. Like a jilted lover, the symbiote then makes its way over to Eddie Brock, one of Peter Parker's less friendly colleagues, so that the two can get all up in each other and make his life as miserable as they can. Sadly, this Venom movie has a different origin story for the black goo that disappointingly doesn't involve an alien life form and an embittered journalist deciding to hate-fuck each other to upset a super-hero. The symbiote does still crash onto our planet but this time he couldn't find Spider-Man or even dare utter his fucking name because of a rights issue that literally nobody in the world seems to understand. Is this film part of the Marvel Cinematic Universe because Spider-Man now seems to be and isn't Venom one of his most famous enemies? Sony seems to think it is, with producer Amy Pascal essentially implying as much in an interview with Marvel honcho Kevin Feige. Except to confuse the issue slightly is the fact that as she said this, Feige just happened to be demonstrating the universal facial expression for “I don't fucking think so”.

Fortune Favours The Dumb

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It took me so many attempts to get my drivers licence that, had I failed my final test, then I was genuinely prepared to claim the instructor had touched me on my 'no no parts' to blackmail them into passing me. I know that sounds terrible but they were failing me over such pedantic reasons that I started to suspect they were only doing it to fund their fucking Christmas party. As a consolation, I was told that the smarter a person is, the harder they find driving because people with a brain tend to overthink a situation instead of responding naturally. “Great”, I thought, “the world favours the morons once again”. First we weren't allowed free Pogs in our packets of crisps because some knobhead chocked to death on one and now I'm paying almost a hundred fucking quid a go because I signalled before checking my twatting mirror. Well, that was ten years ago, and although to be fair it has subsequently turned out that I am just a bit of a shit driver, it seems that the world is still looking after the idiots. This was meant to be the year that writer director Alex Garland had Annihilation, the follow up to his amazing directorial debut Ex Machina, released in cinemas only to find that idea shat all over by the kingdom of the fucking dumb at the last minute.

A Dog Eat Dog World

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The day that I got my dog she ran around the house as though her tail was on fire before finally jumping up onto my Dad's lap to say 'hello'. He'd been reluctant to get her in the first place and so I feel that this was her way of setting things straight and assuring him that everything would be alright. She sat upright, made eye contact, they had their moment, and then she bit him right on the tit. What a good dog. I couldn't love her more! In fact, doesn't everybody love dogs? Even Hitler loved his dog and by all accounts he's gone down in history as quite the rotter. Director Wes Anderson's latest is the stop-motion movie Isle Of Dogs which some astute film-goers have cleverly noted sounds a little like 'I love dogs'. Kind of like nosh it sounds a bit like no shit I guess. Set in Japan in the not too distant future, the film tells of a prejudiced leader that banishes all dogs to a nearby island after they all catch a canine flue. Sadly this island is also where they dump all their rubbish because otherwise I'm pretty sure that they could have made a fucking fortune with the tourist industry. People pay to eat their lunches in cat cafes already and so who wouldn't pay to holiday on an island of dogs? I'd much rather go for a nature walk whilst surrounded by man's best friend than try to enjoy the soup of the day as one cat wretches up a fur ball and another proudly licks its fucking arse.

How To Catch A Predator

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In 1987, a crack team of steroid-addled super men were slaughtered by a vagina-faced space-Rastafarian as they fucked about on a jungle mission. Thirty-one years later however it seems that director Shane Black has managed to find something even more terrifying than that first film's monster for his sequel The Predator. Sure the first movie's beastie was scary, with its towering height, mouth pincers, and shoulder cannons... but this film stars Jake Busey. JAKE FUCKING BUSEY for fuck's sake! Have you seen him in The Frighteners and Contact? He's literally a thing of nightmares. He's got the kind of creepy face and intense stare that should only ever be seen peering out of a haunted mirror in an old German fairytale. But he's worse because he's also a real man that walks our actual planet in real life! Sure he's only in this movie for a few minutes in the beginning but that's honestly enough to put the shits up me. I can understand a creature that's from another planet existing, but imagine something that started life in the ball-sack of Gary Busey. You'd be freaked out if you found a sentient creature living up Nick Nolte's arse or between Meatloaf's tit-folds, so why do we just accept a man that made his journey to Earth via Gary Busey's dick?!

Bad Habits Die Hard

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Set in 1952, The Nun begins in Vatican City with the resident priests having received some terrifying news. Although.. I went to Vatican City last year for a holiday and I can tell you that the only terrifying thing about that place is how much the bastards will charge you to let you in. Rather than being an upcoming police investigation into centuries of child abuse however, the priests are actually worried about a Romanian nun that has committed suicide. Suspecting that something sinister might be at play, they decide to recruit a humourless Bruce Campbell look-a-like to go to her monastery and discover the cause of her actions. I guess they assume that it's more likely that she was attempting to escape a demon than this simply being what happens when you ban people from fapping. In this particular case they also happen to be right with The Nun being the latest instalment in the shared universe of The Conjuring movies. If you liked The Sound Of Music but wondered if there was a film about nuns that you could watch that would be half as long but twice as fucking boring then this is the one for you!

Mutey And The Beast

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The Shape Of Water really does bring new meaning to the phrase 'sleeping with the fishes'. I hate to sound bitter but it is a massive slap in the face when even a fucking swamp-monster manages to pull with more ease than I do. Set in 1962, the film tells the story of a mute person working as a cleaner played by Sally Hawkins as she finds an aquatic-man-thing locked up in the secret Government building she's working at. Over the course of the movie the two form a bond and ultimately fall in love.. which really rubs dirt into the wound of my own parents' divorce. My Mum and Dad couldn't find anything in common after twenty years of marriage and yet here a fishman manages to form a connection with a woman simply because she sneaks him the odd snack whilst at work. Of course I'm all for office romances but it's unusual for one of the happy couple to have fucking gills. All of this is of course going on behind the back of Michael Shannon's head of security who simply wants to cut the creature up because, despite his claims that he wants to learn from it, he really just fucking hates it. Usually you might imagine he'd encourage his colleagues to take their work home with them, but he does seem somewhat less impressed when that work is a fish-monster, and what they want to do is to shove it up themselves. I can appreciate it might be tricky for Hawkins' mute cleaner to find a boyfriend, but perhaps she should try Tinder before literally taking the advice of 'hopping onto Plenty Of Fish'.

A Load Of Old Pooh

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The film begins with Christopher Robin telling his best-friend Winnie The Pooh that he'll be leaving to go to boarding school and that their time together has come to an end. Christopher Robin is clearly a fucking snake and it was from that point on that I refused to trust him. He doesn't tell his childhood chum that they'll be separated but he'll be back as soon as he can be. And nor does he seem particularly upset that he has to tell the innocent bear that their relationship is about to end. Nope. He just calmly sits him down, looks him in the eye and says “We're done”, with all the emotion of a fucking serial killer. From here we're given a snapshot of Robin's life and the hardships that he has to endure as he grows up. These trials range from a bad time at boarding school to the terrors he had to suffer whilst fighting in the war. The film doesn't talk much about how good a soldier he was although I'm guessing he was a shit one due to his complete lack of fucking loyalty with Pooh bear. 

Bigmouth Strikes Again

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Wes Anderson's vastly underrated The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou tells the story of an oceanographer that intends to hunt a rare shark after it had previously eaten his friend. When he finds it, his plan is to kill it, although he's not quite sure how yet.. “maybe dynamite”. When asked what the scientific purpose of killing the shark might be, Zissou thinks for a second and then deadpans his response, “revenge”. Jason Statham's latest film The Meg is pretty much that exact same movie but rather than having the genius stylings of Wes Anderson and the comedy God Bill Murray, it has The Stath and a massive fuck-off Shark. Did you see the film Spy in which Statham played an exaggerated version of his on-screen persona? Well in that he's constantly exaggerating about all of the mad shit that he's supposedly done and it wouldn't be out of the question for him to have claimed that he'd kicked a pre-historic shark in the fucking teeth. In which case I'd say that The Meg is actually a remake of The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou but if the script had been re-written by The Stath's character from Spy. 

This Charming Ant-Man

There was obviously a huge plot-hole with the first Ant-Man movie in that Scott Lang actually fought the villain rather than shrinking down, climbing up his anus, and then returning to normal size. I suggested this to my friend recently who claimed that he probably didn't do that because it wouldn't have been very “family-friendly”. But fuck being family-friendly when there's a bad guy threatening people. The world is literally at stake so just crack on and blow that arse-hole up! Not that I could tell you what the bad guy was trying to do now that I think about it. It's been a while since I watched the first movie and all I can remember about him is that he was called The Yellowjacket which admittedly makes him sound like he simply directs traffic in a car park. In which case he can definitely get fucked because I hate those people too. I did really enjoy the first Ant-Man though, and along with Brokeback Mountain it's probably my favourite film in which I spent the duration hoping for a character to experience a back-passage explosion. 

Tom Cruise Has A Death Wish

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The word “Fallout” has been very carefully chosen in the title of the latest Mission: Impossible – Fallout. For some it will reference the major threat that Ethan Hunt faces during his current assignment which involves three nuclear weapons and the inevitable fallout from their radiation. On a deeper level it also references the personal cost of each mission to Hunt himself and the effects that his life's purpose will have on his friends and family. Most excitingly of all though, I think it references the fact that Tom Cruise likes to fall out of shit all the time. I mean sure he tends to hang from things a little more than he falls but Mission: Impossible – Hang Out probably sounds a little too casual for an action movie. The first film began this trend of him falling when he dangled from a ventilation shaft and at one point fell a little closer to the floor than he'd hoped to go. By the fourth instalment things had escalated to the point that he was now falling from the tallest building in the world. He still had a rope attached to him but that clearly still takes balls as I can't even look vertically down from my bedroom window without my arse falling out.

Watch The Hallow Now Please

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The Hallow is the debut feature from director Corin Hardy and tells the story of a young family; Adam, Claire, and baby Finn, as they move to Ireland and into a house near an ancient forest. I can only presume that the estate agent selling them that creepy fucking place got a bonus that week. I mean the house literally has bars on the outside of the windows to protect anyone that might be living inside. I know tensions can be a little high between the English and Irish but I'd be a bit weary of anywhere in which I needed fucking bars to stay safe. Not that I blame the locals of course. I literally only know English people and I want to hurl things at us all the fucking time too. “Not to worry”, the couple think as they rip down the metal from their windows, “at least we can go for a walk in this terrifying fucking forest”. Whilst out strolling in it, Adam, a conservationist, notices an unusual and slimy substance on several of the trees. Obviously this is suspicious because creepily there doesn't seem to be the usual accompanying beer and cheap porn in the bushes near by. He returns home to inspect his findings and looking under a microscope he finds something even more terrifying than the expected massive solitary jizz with a shamrock in its mouth.

The Fantastic Five

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Fourteen years after The Incredibles hit theatres we finally get the wittily titled Incredibles 2. Each member of the family has a different super-power whilst the franchise as a whole displays the amazing skill of having not being sued by Marvel for ripping of the Fantastic Four. Mr Incredible is super-strong, his son and daughter are super-fast and posses the power of invisibility. Meanwhile Elastigirl, the family matriarch, has the kind of power that makes her super flexible and therefore able to easily achieve the kind of positions that we men would usually have to have a rib removed to achieve. As her name suggests her body also appears to be made of elastic with her limbs and torso able to stretch much further than my patience when at the cinema with a bunch of screaming fucking brats. At this point in the story, all superheroes have been made illegal because, at the end of the day, I guess they're just a bunch of fucking do-gooders with too much time on their hands and a latex fetish. In which case it's even more admirable of Elastigirl that, when forced to give up her job as a hero she chose to live a quite domestic life, when she could be making a fucking fortune in Amsterdam.

I mention Elastigirl more than the other members of her family because this sequel is very much belonging to her. Despite the decade and a half gap since the original film was released, this second part to the franchise only takes place a mere minute or two after we left off. For live-action, this would of course be impossible due to an actors insistence on ageing as humans do, or attempting to dodge the aging process by turning into whatever the fuck Mickey Rourke is. However one of the little joys of the film is in how it starts with the gang still facing off against that mole-man villain that's also a rip-off of a Fantastic Four villain. The family quickly decide to deal with him only to find themselves in even more trouble due to the destruction that the ensuing battle ends up causing to the city. Although if I was a member of that family I'd simply show them the end of Man Of Steel in which Superman leaves Metropolis in such a state that you could filter it through a fucking sieve and tell them to count their lucky fucking stars. As such, Elastigirl finds herself being picked up by an influential brother and sister who claim that they can change the super-hero image around and have her profession re-legalised by winning public favour. All she has to do is a few missions that will show her in a more positive light. Although the way the world seems to be going right now, she could save herself the bother by just mentioning some “shithole countries”, locking a few kids up at the border, and then watching her fuckwit followers grow by the day. 

Throwing a small spanner in her works however is the arrival of a new super-villain known as the Screenslaver who essentially acts like an evil Derren Brown and dresses like Tom Hardy's Bane in a gimp-suit. I won't give too much away here except to say that any twists revolving this character are about as obvious as a mans cock in a pair of speedos and you've have to be pretty dense not to see them coming. At the same time as all of this, Mr Incredible is forced to stay at home with the children and seems to be having such a miserable time with it that I began to understand why wrestlers go mad and kill their families. Originally oblivious to his baby Jack-Jack's super-powers, we watch and laugh as he struggles to keep track of the infant as it reveals more and more of its gifts. There's at least one particularly hilarious sequence in which the father attempts to control his baby as it fights a racoon that really does hammer home how much Louise Woodward over-reacted when all hers did was cry a bit too much. If there's any criticism of the stuff with Mr Incredible it's that, although the funniest part of the movie, his section has almost nothing to do with the main story at all. Where Elastigirl is really pushing the narrative forward we simply seem to cut back to the rest of her family whenever it's time to lighten things up with a funny scene. If a perfect film is like a clock with everything ticking over then this is like a sundial in which you're allowed to tug one out every twenty minutes. Both essentially get the job done it's just one is a little messier. 

If we take for granted that everything else about the movie was pretty great, from the animation to the action, then I'd like to point out that one of the things that I enjoyed about it was its message. Screenslaver's power is that he can hypnotise you to do his bidding but only if you stare at a monitor which is something that we obviously all do these days. Whether it be the television, your phone, or a computer, I'm at the point now where I consider reality my loading screen and I can't wait to get back to staring at my precious pixels. As such I suppose the villain of the movie is a subtle warning about the powers of manipulation that these screens can have on you which, in an online world of Russian bots, is something remarkably current. Just look at adverts alone which can have a remarkable effect on our behaviour and you might see this film as a cautionary tale of giving in to the demands of the screen. Essentially the film used trailers to get you to come and stare at it on the big screen and then gave you a lecture about having given in to these demands. Although watching Elastigirl discovering the source of the villains power and seeing her run about manically attempting to stop people staring at the monitors, I was reminded of my own Mum during my childhood. Except with Elastigirl I understood that it was to the benefit of everybody's health to turn the televisions and computers off and she wasn't just being a fucking kill joy. 

The other thing that the film does pretty brilliantly is take a look at the correlation between legality and morality. Is something bad simply because it's illegal? And is breaking the law justified if it's an unjust law in the first place? As I take a drag from an outlawed but ultimately relaxing substance, I have to admit that I'm not sure where I stand on this. But it's also interesting to see a family film deal with a subject so interesting, when only a mere few weeks after the James Corden-voiced Peter Rabbit made us ponder how far we can kick a fucking rabbit. It was also interesting to see Elastigirl justify her own hypocrisy of believing the law to be absolute and then setting about breaking that law in order to have it changed. Essentially she has to be a superhero to prove that being a superhero is a good thing in order for the law prohibiting super-heroics to be abolished. I guess she's of a similar mind to the members of MI6 inCasino Royale who only give out a licence to kill to agents like Bond once he's proven that he can kill at least two people first. Incredibles 2 doesn't delve as hugely into this issue as perhaps I would have liked it to, but it's still a pretty lofty and impressive subject for it to touch on. Toy Story is obviously a great movie but the only real idea that it has is that you should have your action figures facing away from you when you want to knock one out... unless you're a perv. 

So overall I'd say that this sequel is a completely worthy follow-up to the original movie, if never quite being as brilliant as it. If the first movie was Kurt Russell then this one is his son Wyatt in that they look the same, are both great, but I've spent longer loving the original to be able to consider them equal. If you want a film that you can take everybody to see and don't mind the widespread sexual harassment and deeply worrying misogyny from the studio behind it then Incredibles 2 is the film for you. I have no idea if they'll make a sequel to this movie but if they do I'll certainly be first in line to watch it. And then I'll be boarding up the fucking doors when I get in because I hate children and it pisses me off that I have to endure their noise just because I want to see a film in which they're the target audience. At two hours long I suppose this movie might test the youngest of children's patients but it's also rated PG. Which means if you're taking your very young child to see this movie then you're probably a terrible parent anyway and so may as well go one fucking further and show them it on a double feature with The fucking First Purge.Thanks for reading, motherfuckers, and see you next time.

Don't Look Back In Anger

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From the title, The First Purge, you could be forgiven for assuming that this movie might be a gritty drama about a young girl that discovers the joys of ramming her fingers down the back of her throat. But in actual fact it is of course the fourth instalment of The Purge series which began as a silly dystopian horror movie but at this point feels only a few weeks away from becoming a genuine national holiday. Within the world of the film, Purge Night is the one night every year in which all crime becomes legal and the American public decide to all go out on a killing spree. So kind of like America now but where the kids don't have to specifically be in school if they want to be shot at. Interestingly, the series has only ever really focused on the night being used for murder which is strange because it's not that killing people is tolerated for that one night but that literally every crime is. I know it makes for a more dramatic movie if everybody wants to murder each other but I honestly think that if Purge Night happened where I live then everybody would just start building a conservatory without planning permission, fly-tipping, and burning unwanted leaves in their stupid fucking gardens. 

Having A Gay Old Time

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I think I was about sixteen when my Mum worked out that I was gay. According to her, the thing that gave me away was the fact that I had a huge picture of a man on my bedroom wall and that I'd spent the last week banging on about another one that I liked. As a result I obviously never had to make the decision to come out as gay to her which would have probably been a huge relief if it wasn't for one small thing.. I'm not fucking gay. The poster on my wall was of Raiders Of The Lost Ark featuring Harrison Ford and the man I was banging on about was Bill Murray having just discovered the films of Wes Anderson. I mean even if I was gay I'd like to think that I'd fancy at least one person below the age of fucking sixty. Love, Simon begins with the main character of Simon informing us that he has a “big ass secret”. “Do you have a big ass secret?” I asked my friend who I'm fully aware is sensitive about the fact that he has a big ass. In the case of Simon, his secret is that he's actually gay but being in his final year of school, he is yet to come out to anybody. My friend took offence because he thought I was making fun of his fat arse which is unfair because really I was simply implying that I think he's gay too.

Standin' On Their Own Two Feet

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The numbering system of the Ocean's films must be really confusing to anybody who hasn't seen them, with the logical assumption being that Ocean's 8 would be a prequel to Ocean's 11. In which case I feel I should warn you now.. Ocean's 8 doesn't involve Sandra Bullock and Cate Blanchett running into a sex-change clinic to alter their identities with George Clooney and Brad Pitt limping out in a dress a few hours later. Although I suppose retconning the original Ocean's movies to reveal the characters were actually a devious gang of transexuals would admittedly show some balls. Literally. Rather, this new film takes place after the previous three but focuses instead on Debbie, the sister of Clooney's original Danny Ocean. Debbie, played by Sandra Bullock, is also a con-artist and thief with the film opening in much the same way as Ocean's 11 did; with her being released from prison. I'm not sure how one family could independently create two con-artists but I'm now also a lot more suspicious of whatever the fuck Clooney and Bullock were really up to at the start of Gravity. And seems as this thieving bullshit apparently runs in the family I think I'll be watching Billy Ocean a lot more closely from now on too.

Clucking Hell

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When I was about eight years old I saw the Grim Reaper standing at the end of my bed as I was trying to sleep. I tried to convince myself that it was just the shadow from my dressing gown hanging off the back of my bedroom door, but as I lay frozen with fear I could see his arms moving back and forth, beckoning me. Obviously I screamed the fucking house down and as soon as there was a convenient ad break in her show, my Mum ran up the stairs to see what was the matter. This happened every night for the next few nights until my Mum eventually decided to solve the problem forever. Clearly her son was having some sort of nervous breakdown and clearly I was in need of some sort of therapist to help with the existential dread that I was so clearly facing. Anyway I was given a night light, told that the Grim Reaper was more interested in my Nan than he was me, and informed that I should stop acting like such a fucking pussy. I can't say I haven't seen death since because I'm pushing thirty now and so I see it every time I walk past a fucking mirror. But I still remember how frightened I was as I lay there not knowing what the shadowy figure wanted with me. The irony being that having discovered quite how much of a pain in the arse life can be, there are nights now in which I wake up and find myself annoyed not to find the hooded prick waiting for me.

From Capitalist To Naturalist

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John Hammond, the creator of the original Jurassic Park, was a fucking moron. He brings the dinosaurs back to life and decides that the best thing to do with them is to stick them in a theme park? Who thinks like that?! That's like being the first person to meet a martian and deciding that the best thing to do is to stick it in a lap dancing club and charge people to watch it jiggle its massive space tits. After spending a fortune on this park he then decides to try and run it with about five people after sending his own grandchildren out on a test-run. To make matters worse he has a big fat fucker in charge of security that he actively seems to hate and who seems dissatisfied with his work load and pay. Hammond literally may as well have handed his staff pictures of himself going nuts deep in the dinosaurs' egg-pooping-holes because it's seemingly obvious that he wants to be blackmailed and this way'll be safer for everyone else. Had all of this somehow worked out and the Park opened though, it seems that the dopey fucker had also built the thing on an active fucking volcano. I presume the exploding island that he bought must have been slightly cheaper than the other options of a nuclear testing site and an ancient Native American burial ground. Sadly for all involved, the creator of Jurassic World saw every dumb thing that Hammond did and thought, “Fuck it.. I reckon he was just unlucky”.

The Sound Of Silence

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I put a lot of thought into exactly when I'd go and see John Krasinski's A Quiet Place because people are noisy and I fucking hate them all. Horror movies are the worst type of film to see at the cinema because the posters for them might as well just read “All pricks are welcome”. Teenagers go in crowds to see them to show how brave they are to each other, accidentally get scared, and so to avoid seeming silly begin to openly mock the film to their gaggle of piss-giggling chums. My theory was that I'd likely be stuck with the largest number of fuckheads in an evening screen, with Friday and Saturday night especially being the cinema-equivalent of a bell-end's Mecca. As such I decided to go on a Sunday afternoon because who the fuck wants to spend that day relaxing to a sodding monster film? There are two types of 'Sunday people' with half the population spending it hungover and the other half praising God. Either way I figured I was safe. You can imagine my horror therefore when I opened the door to the screen and saw half of the fucking country sat and waiting for the film to start. I know I shouldn't think it when I go the cinema but I really did wish I'd brought a fucking axe with me.

It's Got It Where It Counts

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The Rolling Stones once sang that 'you can't always get what you want' which I learned when I stood on, then slipped off the edge of the bath, cracked my cock on the sink, and ended up in hospital whilst playing 'Tarzan' as an eight year old. That same year I did quite well in my SATs which are a set of school exams that don't really count towards anything at all. Kind of like a degree but cheaper. As a result my Granddad gave me five quid which I was excited to spend on a toy of Han Solo. I'd just seen Star Wars for the first time during its 1997 re-release and my brain was still reeling from the experience. I'm almost fucking thirty now and based on the Millennium Falcon that I have hanging from my bedroom ceiling, I'd say that I probably never quite recovered. You'd think therefore that I'd be excited by the prospect of a Han Solo prequel, but I wasn't. I didn't want it. Why would I want a Han Solo film without Harrison Ford? And isn't the original trilogy essentially his origin story as we watch him go from scoundrel to hero? Luckily the film was to be helmed by Lord and Miller who have made a career out of bad ideas. 21 Jump Street sounded shit and who the fuck is going to enjoy a movie based on Lego? I didn't want a Han Solo film but with these two in charge, the very fact that it felt like a bad idea made it perfect for them. You can't always get what you want though and just as the idea sounded exciting, the pair were fired over 'creative differences'. On the bright side my cock did recover after I whacked it on the sink. Just in case you were still wondering about that.

This Franchise Is Bad For My Health

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Near the time when the first Deadpool movie came out I got ill to the point that I thought I was going to die. It was only a cold, but I get ill so infrequently that when some twatty bug is strong enough to get past my immune system, I can only conclude that it's probably cancer and my brain is going to start leaking out of my nose. Obviously I got better, and furthermore I remained in perfect health until the first trailer for Deadpool 2 came out ..when suddenly I found myself enduring a bad case of the shits.. or as I assumed at the time.. arsehole cancer. I started to notice the pattern and worry that perhaps I was allergic to Deadpool movies. The first film has really grown on me over the years and so I'd be disappointed if I was unable to enjoy its sequel simply because its existence might cause bits of my body to drop off. I hadn't been ill since the trailer but sure as shit the week that the film hit the cinema my throat began to hurt and I've developed white spots at the back of my mouth. Google says it's probably just a viral infection and that I shouldn't worry, but I know in my heart of heart that it's probably the throat AIDs. By the time I got to the cinema to watch the movie I was hoping to be able to enjoy it, but you can imagine my worry. If the build up to Deadpool 2 was enough to do this to me then what the fuck would happen during the actual screening? I don't want to seem like a hypochondriac.. but I was fully prepared to either catch the plague or somehow find one of those weird amazon-fish things living up my dick.

The Rock Spanks His Monkey

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Although it pains me to say I was sadly at the funeral of my best friends' new born daughter the other week. During the speeches about her life it was genuinely mentioned that one of the experiences that had been lost was the chance for me to sit with her and explain exactly why The Rock is the greatest human of all time... And obviously this annoyed me. “Hang on” I thought, “why would I have to be the person to explain this? Does this mean that not everybody here actually fucking thinks it too?” It seemed an inappropriate time and place to bring this query up afterwards but it also seemed a little inappropriate that some people might not love The fucking Rock as much as I do and so I had to say something. I mean, seriously?! In the way that he raises those eyebrows whilst playing everything with his tongue firmly in his cheek it's like he's a cross between Roger Moore and the Incredible fucking Hulk. Just look at his entrance into Fast Five in which he stomps into the series with the confidence that the British Empire used to have whilst stomping around the world, casually claiming countries as their own. As Dominic Toretto and his merry band of morons were too busy stealing cars, it seems that they weren't quite quick enough to spot The Rock and his charm were stealing their own fucking franchise.

Marvel Gets Its Stones Out

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If you visit Amsterdam, there's a sex museum that most people go to in which there are replicas of two giant cocks that you can sit between and have your photo taken. Like one of those giant cocks, the mad titan Thanos is a huge scary bastard with a big purple head who looks like he wants to fuck everything. Although in his case I obviously mean that in a destructive way, such as the time that U2 fucked our iTunes collection by having their latest shit album automatically pollute our phones with their unwanted twangly bollocks. For those who have been living under a rock then Thanos is the villain in Marvel's latest Avengers: Infinity War and who we've been warned has been coming for quite some time now. Which is another similarity to a giant cock I suppose. Although if you're not completely up to speed on the multi-franchise team-up, then good luck on following whatever the shit is going on in this movie because it doesn't really do much to help bring you in. At one point Peter Parker is sat on his school bus when he spots an alien invasion in the distance. Quick as a flash he web-slings the window open in order to escape and head over to it. If you didn't know he was Spider-Man, then you're essentially watching a young man fling his stringy 'substance' at a window, which is something you can't even get away with at an Amsterdam sex museum.

Black Heroes Matter

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Saying that there are too many superhero movies is a bit like claiming to be a “stable genius” in that the only realistic response to both should be to ask, “what the fuck are you talking about?” Both Thor: Ragnarok and Justice League are technically 'superhero' movies but do they have any real similarities? The former was like getting stoned and watching Masters Of The Universe through a kaleidoscope whereas the latter was like stumbling over in the dark and getting dog shit in your eyes... except in that case you kind of hoped you'd go blind. Black Panther is the latest film to be released within the Marvel Cinematic Universe and again it couldn't be more different from what's come before. I guess when people think of 'superhero' movies they think of a super-powered nobody putting on a mask to protect their identity before going out to fight crime. And I suppose Black Panther does wear a mask to fight things. But so do Mexican wrestlers and nobody seems to include them despite how many dwarves they defeat. Rather than tackling crime though, Black Panther is actually about a newly coronated king as he attempts to protect the throne of his advanced albeit isolated African nation from an outsider that's understandably bitter about colonisation and the treatment of his race. To dismiss that as 'just another superhero movie' would be like indiscriminately breathing in carbon monoxide on the grounds of “fuck it.. it's all just gas”.

When Netflix Treated Us To A Dump

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The Cloverfield Paradox reminds me of a present I got a few years ago for Christmas. Ripping the wrapping paper apart with eager anticipation I was forced to fake a smile when I discovered that the only thing that my Dad had got me was a fucking cheap plastic dinner tray. “Oh that's useful”, said my stepmum, “we didn't have a dinner tray but now we can use that one”. So not only did I have a shit present but it wasn't even a shit fucking present for me. Anyway, we all knew that a new Cloverfield movie was coming but I'm not sure that many people knew we'd be getting it quite as soon as we did. Expecting a cinematic release at some point in the year, it was actually announced during the Superbowl that the film would be available to watch on Netflix as soon as the game was over. As a fan of the first movie and an even bigger fan of 10 Cloverfield Lane, I felt the excitement hit me like I'd been head butted in the stomach by an angry dwarf. It literally did feel like Christmas day all over again but better because I wasn't in anyway obligated to see my family. Loading up my friend's Netflix account like the fucking leech that I am, I selected the movie and began to watch it. I appreciate that like it was a gift that was given to me out of the blue. But like the time I got the dinner tray for Christmas, I can't help but feel like what I really got was a slap in the fucking face.

Lifting Your Spirits

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Pixar's Coco tells the story of a Mexican family that have been dramatically let down by a musician, which is something that I'm sure we can all relate to. Especially if you're also a Morrissey fan and are finding it increasingly difficult to defend the mad-bastard comments that he keeps making. Here however they're simply hurt by a family member that picked up his guitar and fucked off to pursue his musical ambitions instead of staying to be with them. As a result the family has banned all forms of music from being enjoyed within their vicinity, which includes stifling Miguel, the youngest member of their family, and his dreams of playing guitar. All of this seems a bit harsh to me. Everybody gets fucked by something at some point but at no point did my great-grandmother ever ban me from being impregnated by a sailor with the clap. Despite this, Miguel still sneaks into the loft when everybody is asleep in order to practice guitar against his families wishes. Again.. what young boy hasn't hidden himself away during the night so that he can strum his instrument? Eventually his family discover his secret and in a moment of pure rage his grandmother grabs his guitar and smashes it against the floor. I actually got really angry at this bit. Miserable old knobhead. Miguel should have smashed something that she loves to teach her a lesson. Her fucking fragile bitch hips for example..

Oldman Does As He Must

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In many ways the problem with Gary Oldman's Winston Churchill make-up is how good it is. Because most of the time you stare amazed at how spot-on it looks, and then he takes his glasses off and you're distracted by the fact that Churchill is wearing Gary Oldman's fucking eyes. Obviously it'd be impossible to get the likeness completely perfect, but this film comes so close that whenever a minute imperfection appears you're distracted for a split second and reminded that it's all a performance. It's kind of like having a friend that's a reformed drug addict over for lunch and having the best time ever with them, but, despite how much you know they've changed their circumstances and who they are, if they were to even look at the medicine cabinet you'd get a momentary flash of them squirting Germaline into their gums and then burning the house down to hide your murdered corpse. As the hunched and bulldog-like Prime Minister paces through the shadows, you could be easily forgiven for thinking we were directly looking back through time at the real man. But then he'll lean too far forwards, his prosthetic jowls will hang slightly oddly and briefly you'll be expecting him to burst into song like Dame Edna's Goblin King from The fucking Hobbit.

It's Chaos... Be Kind

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The best sign I ever saw simply said, “I fucked Jackie Smith on these steps and up the arse. What a slag”. Well, it wasn't so much of a sign as it was a bit of graffiti scrawled on a wall in Birkenhead but I think we got the message. If you ever meet a girl called Jackie Smith then buy her a drink because apparently she's fucking cool! In Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri Frances McDormand's grieving mother has a similar idea on how to spread her message... except rather than being a scrawled and misogynistic review of some post-bummed tart, McDormand is fucked off with the local police for failing to solve the case of her raped and murdered daughter. To quote director Martin McDonagh's brothers film Calvary, “That's certainly a startling opening”. Apparently the French title for this film translates back into English as The Billboards Of Wrath which is clearly a better title than what it ended up being. Not least of all because I keep accidentally referring to this film as The Three Burials Of Melquiades Estrada which is a slightly forgotten Tommy Lee Jones western from about ten years ago. Not to go on about Martin McDonagh's director brother however but perhaps another fitting title for this movie might have been his War On Everyone because in this film and presumably like Jackie Smith, Frances McDormand's character does not give a fuck about who she shits on to have her way.

Freaks And Geeks

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“Do you want to go and watch that new Hugh Jackman thing?” I asked my mate. “The musical?” he responded, “Hell yeah I want to see that.. but where will we see it?” This question threw me slightly because we literally only ever go to the same cinema. “Err where do you think?” I asked. “Well..” he responded with slight irritation, “It's a musical isn't it so how the fuck am I supposed to know?” “It's still a film though” I stated whilst still confused. “Oh” he said with an obvious realisation that I was about to take the piss out of him. “Did you think it was a live show?” I asked whilst knowing full well that he had. “Well ..yeah” he answered sheepishly “But it's an easy mistake to make isn't it?!” ...“You thought that Hugh Jackman was doing a live musical show around here.. in the arse-end of nowhere.. and not only was I asking if you were interested the day before but that tickets would still be available for us to just rock up with zero notice?” “Yes” he snapped whilst now on the defence. “Well, I'm sorry to disappoint” I said remembering that he was the same person that once thought a double cheese-burger meant that he'd get a single burger with double cheese on top. “Do you still want to come?” I checked. “Yeah” he said, “But can you do me a favour? When you write about this film in your blog can you not tell people that it was me who thought I'd be seeing Hugh Jackman live?” “That's not a problem, Kris” I promised, “Nobody will ever know it was you”.

They've Got Fun And Games

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Jumanji is an average film that people remember as being better than it was because nostalgia is a drug and we all love Robin Williams. That original movie involved playing a magical board-game in which animals spawned out of it and caused mass devastation on the real world. Although I'd argue that it still wasn't quite as destructive as the average game of Monopoly can be. We once played a game in which - I swear to God - one friend attempted to avoid going bankrupt by offering fucking blow-jobs around. Considering the popularity of the original film, it's odd that it's taken over twenty years for a sequel to come out and I have no idea why that might have been? Maybe Robin Williams was reluctant to return? Or maybe there was a sequel in 2005 called Zathura: A Space Adventure and everybody forgot it instantly? I guess we'll never know. To keep things fresh, this sequel decides to do things a little differently to the original. Rather than being about a board-game releasing a load of animals into our world, it's about a video-game that sucks people into its world. Just to write that again so you can take it in without shitting your pants.. this is a sequel that dares to do something new. Thank God it wasn't a Star Wars movie or people would be pressing rape charges against it for ruining their childhood about now.