Who’s Strangling The Cat?

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So I just used up eight of my nine lives attempting to endure what felt like the four-day running time of Cats and I'm honestly still not sure what in the living blue fuck it was all about. This movie is our generation's Vietnam in that there will be people living with the haunting horrors of what they've seen for decades to come. This movie is what I imagine you'd hallucinate as you die in a gutter having drunk nothing but cats piss for an entire month. There are just so many questions that the viewer is left asking but the most important one is simply, 'why?' Why do the cats in this film look like they do? It's like the Thundercats decided to join an amateur dramatic society instead of going to the fucking gym. When was this film set? Because I would guess that it's some time after the apocalypse when all that's left of our species are the children of the cats that we had sex with to pass the time. I was once in a cubical in the toilets in a pub and as I opened the door to leave, my eye-line was directly on target to spot on old man's dick as he took a piss at a urinal. I hadn't known he was there or I'd have been at least a little more prepared to avert my eyes but the result was that his chubby little potato dick ended up burnt onto my retinas forever. Previously I'd have told you that was probably the worst thing I'd ever seen in my life but the hellscape that is Cats has probably just taken the crown from his stinky-looking and distinctly vegetable-shaped cock-head. 

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Anger Leads To Hate

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You all remember Rose from the previous Star Wars movie right? She was the character that taught one of our main heroes why kindness is so important and why love is more powerful than hate. She was endearingly played by the actress Kelly Marie Tran who then went on to receive so much racist abuse for having appeared in the movie that she had to delete all of her social media accounts to get away from it. Well, you cunts will be happy to know that she's barely in this new movie. You won. Every online prick that derided The Last Jedi for daring to be original, to dodge cliché, and to be fresh, has gotten their own fucking way. And don't give me any of that shit about you being fans and that you simply knew better than the previous writer and director because you can absolutely get fucked on that one. I've been obsessed with Star Wars since I was seven years old and I'll hands down challenge any of you motherfuckers to a Star Wars-off without even breaking a fucking sweat. I live, breathe, and sleep Star Wars to the point that I accidentally had my very first wank whilst I was lying in bed as a kid and using my dick as a joystick to fly my imaginary X-Wing on what turned out to be a particularly turbulent assault on the Death Star. What an explosive ending that turned out to be. Do you know the master-cheat to the N64's Star Wars: Podracer? Because not only do I still remember it, RRTANGENTABACUS, but I have that shit constantly repeating in my head like I'm being hounded by a dyslexic force ghost with fucking Tourette's. 

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This Film Could Reshape Your World View

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Does anybody know what fucking number movie Jumanji: The Next Level is? I'd been calling it the third one because there were clearly two that came before it but then somebody in work was referring to it as the second because they were too young to have remembered the Robin Williams one from the '90s. Fucking young people. Maybe they were right though, with these more recent ones counting as reboots because that first film had people fucking about with a board-game but now the characters seem to be going into a video-game instead. Plus if we're including the Robin Williams original as still being part of the continuity then technically we're also including that film's forgotten sequel Zathura: A Space Adventure aren't we? So that means that Jumanji: The Next Level is the second instalment if there's been a reboot, the third if there's not been a reboot, and the fourth if there's not been a reboot and we're counting Zathura. And why the fuck wouldn't you count Zathura at this point? I suppose this new one could technically be the third too if we were ignoring the very first Jumanji but still counting Zathura but I'm disregarding that as that would clearly be fucking madness. Anyway, I know the meaning of life now. I figured it out whilst watching this new Jumanji movie, in fact. Since I now know all that there is to know about the nature of our very existence, I need the little questions about which number in the franchise this new film is to keep my mind active. You want to know about the meaning of our place in the world too? Then go and watch this film, I guess!

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A Total Eclipse Of The Heart

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We live in a weird time in which it seems that quite a lot of movie icons are having children that look suspiciously like clones of them. Have you seen Danny DeVito's daughter Lucy? I know this doesn't make any sense, but imagine if Danny DeVito was an attractive young woman and that's pretty much exactly what she looks like. If the internet ever went down and all I had for a power wank was the poster for Batman Returns then thanks to having seen her I reckon I could probably manage. Perhaps the most famous right now though is Scott Eastwood who has spent most of his career being cast as various white boys with the word 'jock' in their character description. He's okay but if his father hadn't made history with a cowboy hat and a cracked scowl then I'm not sure that young Scott would have even managed to crack the film industry as an out of focus extra in a low budget porno. Although if he did then I bet it'd be a porno called A Fistful Of Cock. If somebody had told me that he was a cheap 1960's Clint Eastwood action figure that had been possessed by the soul of Paul Walker then I'd probably believe them. But right now I've just seen a film called Midnight Sun which features Patrick Schwarzenegger, the clone son of Arnold Schwarzenegger and I was excited to see quite how far the apple had fallen from the old Austrian Oaktree. I'm not entirely sure who Patrick Schwarzenegger's mother is, if you're interested, although at this point I suspect that Arnie would probably have to fucking Google it too.

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It's What It Is

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I squeezed a blob of mayonnaise onto my chips the other day and ended up sinking into a full-blown existential crisis. What the fuck is the point of being alive I wondered? At the most basic level, it's to pass on my genetics by having children, right? But if that bottle of mayonnaise had cost me a couple of quid, then each small blob is worth a fraction of that overall price. Obviously. But to pay for that bottle I'd had to go to work where I'd exchanged a percentage of my very limited time on this planet for the life-coupons that we call money. The mayonnaise may have only cost two pounds but that cash was a representation of the life that I'd given up to acquire it. Each blob that went onto my chips suddenly felt like a manifestation of all that I am, have been, and ever will be. Is that too dramatic a claim? Because that mayonnaise was a condiment that I'd apparently decided was more important to my very existence than literally anything else that I could have done with the time that it had cost me. So maybe the point of life is for me to shoot a couple of kids out of my dick. But whether you're having a child or buying a bottle of mayonnaise it seems that you're only going to end up squirting your fucking life away regardless.

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Frozen 2 The Bone

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Frozen 2 is The Empire Strikes Back of this franchise in that it's a little darker than the first instalment and because I'm becoming increasingly confident that the central siblings are probably fucking each other. Wasn't there a bit in the first movie where the Snow Queen Elsa essentially came out as gay during a flamboyantly diva-ish musical number? I hope I'm not making that up because I have almost zero intention of going back to check it out. Well, in this movie it seems that she's in some sort of sexy-fun-time relationship with her sister which is pretty incredible of Disney. It's about time that they had a gay couple at the heart of one of their films although it's pretty ballsy of them to then have them so closely related. If it were me I'd have started with a couple of kissing cousins to test the waters but Disney seems to have muff-dived straight in with a sister-on-sister lez-off. I mean, not really, obviously. But there's quite a lot of focus on Elsa and her sister Anna's love for each other and that's just generally not something that you see in a movie outside of the porn industry. So you can see why I got confused? Maybe Frozen 2 is how all pornos would go if the pushy plumber failed to turn up and the two sisters were able to just go on an adventure instead?

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Falling Into The Booby Trap

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A few weeks before the new Tomb Raider film came out, the Jennifer Lawrence fronted Red Sparrow was also released which caused people to wonder if this might be a renaissance period for female-led franchise films. Does anybody even remember Red Sparrow anymore though? Did that end with somebody getting their skin ripped off by a cheese grater or am I just confusing it with the time I tried to make a pizza whilst stoned? Either way, it wasn't exactly successful and so Tomb Raider was left alone in carrying the burden of being an action movie that didn't focus exclusively on a white male actor who was probably called fucking Chris or something. Not only that but they decided to set themselves something of a challenge by making a movie that was also based on a video-game. For anybody that's never seen the Super Mario Brothers or Street Fighter films, this is generally about as good an idea as sticking your dick into an electrical socket to power the toaster that you're about to shove up your arse. Whether you play games or not however, the odds are that you'll know the name Lara Croft with her having achieved a somewhat iconic status already and having already previously featured in two earlier Tomb Raider movies. If not then she's basically a gun-toting archaeologist that teenagers used to secretly tug one out to in the '90s.

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A Girl In Love

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Weddings are a funny old thing when you think about them. On the off chance that your loved one ever finds out that you're a shitty person then a marriage is just the contract that will make it harder for them to fucking leave. It's exactly the same as taking a hostage, but if you'd decided to play the long game instead of doing the honest thing of simply bursting out of a van and throwing a sack over their fucking head. Ready Or Not is the latest film to deal with a marriage that goes instantly wrong when the bride's wedding night turns out to be a little more hardcore than she'd anticipated. For most people, this would probably involve finding out that your partner has a big old swinging cock where you'd previously hoped to find an undrawn set of beef curtains. Ugh. That was a horrible sentence to write. But in the case of Ready Or Not, the bride finds herself running around a large mansion whilst her new husband's family attempt to kill her with axes, crossbows, and shotguns. Still. It could be worse. During medieval times it was a Scottish tradition for the bride and groom to have sex right after the vows as both of their entire families would stand around and watch them. If I have to endure an embarrassing scenario in which my family witness how I deal with a 'gaping axe wound', I'd probably prefer being fucking murdered, if I'm honest.

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Shine Bright Like A Diamond

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Doctor Sleep follows the adult Danny Torrance as he’s haunted by the childhood trauma of what happened to him at the Overlook hotel. Big deal. We all stayed in shitty hotels as a child and we don’t all bang on about it. Have you ever been to Pontins in Prestatyn? Jesus Christ. If my Dad had chased me around that place with an axe then I’d have probably run towards him and just headbutted the fucking thing. Did Danny’s Dad have a drink problem? Everyone’s Dad has a drink problem! My Dad once got so drunk that he passed out and smashed his head on the toilet on the way down. That wasn’t even from my childhood. That was last fucking Sunday. I knew he’d gone the toilet but when I heard the sound of the fall I didn’t know if he’d had a stroke or was struggling with a really mighty turd. Oh, and did a scary lady try to strangle young Danny when he was staying in the hotel too? He survived didn’t he?! And she was naked. This took place decades before the internet was in every household and we could just access images of tits whenever we wanted. Sure she was an old haggard lady but what was the alternative? A copy of Readers Wives? I found a copy of that in the bushes once and I honestly think I’d prefer to have been choked out by the fucking granny.

This Franchise Absolutely Will Not Stop, Ever, Until You Are Dead

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The Terminator franchise has always seemed a little far-fetched to me. It’s not that I don’t believe that the robots will one day rise up and destroy us, because I’m 100% behind that idea. Only this week did I meet my friend on the train and discover that he had no eye-brows because of a robot, in fact. Apparently he’d been shaving them down when the electric razor had developed a life of its own and decided to take them off completely. The rise of the machines starts now. Imagine what a robot could do with a gun if a simple razor was able to turn my friends head into a giant fucking thumb. My issue with that first film is actually that I just don’t believe in the mission of humanity's saviour, John Connor. Could a soldier lead the resistance and bring down the robots? Maybe. But would he be prepared to send his mate on a mission through time with the primary goal of hooking him up with his Mum? No. And even if he did then that’s not a future that I’d want to live in. Be shot dead by robots or rebuild society in the image of a man whose main agenda was to get his own Mum laid? I think I’ll take being shot in the fucking head if you don’t mind. 

Double Tap Or Double Crap?

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Today I went to the cinema to see Zombieland: Double Tap and I got absolutely fucked by one of my many enemies. You all have casual enemies right? He's this big fucking gonk that checks your tickets before you're allowed into the screening and he's such a fucking jobsworth about it. I have one of those cards that means I can see as many movies as I like and not only does he make me show it to him every single time but he then spends about ten seconds checking my fucking face against it too. This would be fine but I visit so often that I see this prick more than I see my own fucking Mum. It's insulting that he doesn't just recognise me. When he says, “can I see your card?”, I hear “my God your face is fucking bland”. My friend and I swapped cards once and the guy got so confused when checking our faces that I thought he was going to give himself fucking whiplash checking them. Today he was at the counter instead and so I decided to order a cup of tea off him. I think that's what I ordered anyway because what he then gave me looked like a warmed up cup of milk that had been left out in the fucking rain. Had I not seen him make the monstrosity then I'd have assumed that he'd milked the cow directly into the cup and then ran around the other side to catch its fucking tears. It was like he'd only ever heard of how to make a cup of tea in a dream and as the kettle boiled, the memory faded and he'd decided to fucking wing it anyway. Had he wanted to check my face today then he'd have seen me pondering exactly how shite a cup of tea has to be before it becomes a fucking police matter. I don't mean to waffle on about this but if I ever happen to remember this day at all then it won't be because of Zombieland: Double Tap.

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A Couple Of Guys Who Were Up To No Good

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I was talking to a friend in work the other day about the new film Gemini Man when they asked me, “if you had a clone would...”, to which I replied “fuck him? I don't think I'd leave the house we'd be fucking so often”. I'm not gay but if you're having sex with your actual self then I presume that technically just counts as a more advanced form of masturbation, right? “I'd have to hope that the other me is more prepared to be the taker though”, I added. “Well.. he'd be as willing to be the taker as you are considering that you're the same person”, my friend said. This was true and so I played the whole thing out in my head. My clone and I would definitely be okay with tugging each other off to start with and I think that once we'd broken that boundary we'd probably move on to blow-jobs. I honestly can't say that I ever want a dick in my mouth but if it's basically my dick and my clone is willing to do the same to me then I guess it works out? Once we've gone this far though I suspect we'd be at the point of no return and within the week we'd just be bumming each other none stop to the point of starvation. 

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Why So Serious?

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I went to a stand-up club the other day in which people who weren't famous were allowed to jump on stage and try out their new material. One such character was a young man with blacked-out eyes, a beating stick, and a hand-puppet. He said that his name was Lynda. I remember this because he opened with a three-minute song in which the only lyrics were “Lynda's coming out to play” repeated over and over again. He then used the hand-puppet as an excuse to sexually assault one of the men on the front row. If I'm honest it was probably the most terrifying few minutes of my entire fucking life. Not a bad night out though. In many ways, this entire experience is sort of what I think the new Joker film was going for. Both Lynda and the Joker film involve a mentally ill person expressing themselves through comedy as the audience sits on the edge of its seat and watches a psychological fucking breakdown take place. I suppose that the difference is that nobody is suggesting that Lynda might be worthy of any future awards and I'd also be pretty surprised if anybody cited her as an influence in their upcoming fucking shooting spree. 

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Making Rambo Crap Again

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In First Blood, Sylvester Stallone gave us one of cinema’s most relatable characters with John Rambo. He was an aimless man who decided that he was feeling a bit peckish. When denied a sandwich by a town’s local authorities, he understandably went berserk and fucking battered them all. If I'm in work and lunch is delayed by as much as five minutes then I start to think about dousing the place in petrol and burning it to the fucking ground. Obviously I didn't fight in Vietnam the way Rambo did although I did once engage in some pretty heavy haggling in a Turkish market. I guess it's probably not the same thing though. He came back with PTSD whereas all I managed to bag was a pretty nifty fez. And look, I know it's easy to make fun of how Stallone might talk but we really shouldn't joke about it. Stallone's mumbling is a result of an actual accident in which he was pulled into this world during his birth with so much force that he was left permanently damaged. This is understandable too when you remember that his mother is Jackie Stallone. If my first experience of life involved a journey through her vagina then I reckon I'd probably end up being yanked out by the fucking face too. But First Blood ends with his broken ex-Green Beret in tears and screaming about the horrors that he endured as a result of that war and it's genuinely heartbreaking. Well.. I assume that's what he was getting upset about, anyway. Obviously I couldn't understand a fucking word of it. 

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Slumdogs And Millionaires

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Things didn't bode well for this new film version of Downton Abbey when I found myself sat next to a little old lady that had wandered to the cinema to watch the thing alone. “Don't mind me”, she said before cracking open a massive fucking bottle, “but I can hardly watch Downton without a Prosecco”. I've never seen a single fucking second of the show but it seems that even its fans need to get themselves fucking ratted to sit through it. I didn't even think it looked that good to begin with, so I figured that I'd need something stronger than a Prosecco to get me through it. I've never done cocaine in my life and I have no clue if it makes films more watchable but as the granny to my left proceeded to get herself twatted it seemed like now might be a good time to find out. Alas, the trailers had already finished at this point and I live such a sheltered life that unless Al Pacino had walked in with his Scarface costume then I wouldn't know what the fuck a drug dealer looked like. As the film went on and I found myself bored to fucking tedium I concluded that I was now faced with two options. I could remain sober and risk the film being so dull that my mental health might never quite recover or I could make a fucking move on the old lady and attempt to get pissed off the alcoholic fumes of her Prosecco-laced breath. 

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What's Going Down In The Town With The Clown?

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The first It film made more money than a coin-operated vagina and, as such, the sequel was greenlit about as fast as I reckon that coin-operated vagina would likely need cleaning. I'm sure that you saw that first film but in case you've forgotten, it was basically about a gang of young friends that explored the sewers before each attempting to batter an old clown to death with a fucking stick. I guess the clown kind of deserved it though because beyond anything else he was a clown, and the only people to dress like that are either serial killers or out to start a fight with fucking Batman. Like Simply Red's Mick Hucknall, Pennywise the Dancing Clown is a pale ginger freak that seems designed to haunt the nightmares of anybody that encounters him. Unlike Mick Hucknall however, Pennywise isn't satisfied by only murdering a person's ears, preferring instead to terrify them to their very core before eating them and feeding on their fear. Although if you can think of anything more terrifying than being forced to listen to a Simply Red playlist then you obviously have a more horrific imagination than I do. 

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Expectations Have Fallen

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Before I saw Angel Has Fallen there was an advert on the radio which claimed that “it's the best of the Fallen trilogy” and “it's the film that's causing critics to go wild”. Now that first boast is the total definition of 'damning with faint praise' considering that the first two instalments of the Fallen trilogy were actual dog shit. The script for the first movie was so bad that lead star Gerard Butler's mates were apparently texting him in lines for it whilst the second movie managed to lower that bar even further by adding a little racism into the mix. Both movies were an irony and joke-free remake of Team America but in which the main characters were somehow even more convincing as dummies. I'm aware that technically the puppets in Team America were marionettes rather than dummies and that nobody has used the word dummy as an insult since about 1950. But in the words of Gerard Butler's Mike Banning, 'let's have a game of fuck off... you go first'. Saying that Angel Has Fallen is the best of the trilogy is like going to a restaurant and having the head chef claim that your food has less shit in it than an unflushed toilet. Technically that's true of a meal with no shit in it but it certainly makes it sound like he's pinched at least a little something off into it. In terms of the second boast, saying that the film is “causing critics to go wild”, is also interestingly worded. If critics loved it then wouldn't the advert just say, “the film that's loved by critics”? Because when I picture people going wild I don't imagine them to be having fun. I imagine them running down the street with their balls out after they've bitten a tramp in the face and are being shot at by the fucking police.

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The Monster Book Of Monsters

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Did you see the remake of The Evil Dead? Do you know what I'd do if I found a book that was wrapped in human skin and tied shut with a piece of barbed wire? I'd throw it in the fucking bin. I read some porn that I found in the bushes as a kid once and that was fucking bad enough. Well.. I didn't read it but I was still frightened by what I saw. There are so many horror movies though in which the main characters find a clearly horrific piece of reading material and then start flicking through it like they've picked up the latest fucking Jack Reacher. I don't mean to sound too shitty but if you're hoping to pick up the latest best-seller for your book club then it's probably not going to be the one that you found in the bowels of a cursed fucking pyramid is it? The latest film to feature this as a plot device is the Guillermo Del Toro produced Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark in which a group of teenaged kids find a book that's written in blood and decide to take it home with them. Why would you do that? If I'm going to put myself at risk of catching AIDs then I can think of more fun ways of doing it than attempting a bit of light fucking reading. 

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The Sharon Situation

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Do you remember when Harry Potter was forced to put his face into Dumbledore's bowl of jizz in order to relive old memories? I think it was the film in which the old wizard had been wanking so hard that his hand had turned black and it looked like it was about to drop off. I literally dread to think what his dick must have looked like by that point. Well Once Upon A Time... In Hollywood is exactly like being waterboarded by that spaff bucket and being forced to remember Los Angeles in 1969. In fact the world is so brilliantly created that I genuinely found it to be a more believable place than some of the Butlins Holiday camps I've been to. The film focuses on three different characters who weave in and out of each others' stories despite the fact that fuck all seems to happen for the bulk of the running time. DiCaprio's Rick Dalton is a washed up TV actor that's trying to break into films before his sense of failure becomes too overpowering and he's forced to top himself. I guess suicide was how failed actors coped before reality tv was invented. Brad Pitt's Cliff Booth is Dalton's best-friend and stunt-double who makes money during his downtime by acting as his partners handyman. The kind of handyman who fixes broken shit around the house, though and not the kind that's forced to tug you off whenever you need it. Although you get the feeling that they're only ever one drink away from that. Finally there's also Sharon Tate who simply seems to float about the movie like an angelic moth that's constantly being drawn to the bright lights of the big screen. 

 

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A Disappointing Shaft?

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So I watched a Shaft film for the first time ever the other night. As in, the blaxploitation franchise, obviously. That's not just what I call pornos. If that was the case then I'd have to say that I'd spent my teenage years attempting to find the limit of how many shaft films that a single brain could take. I suppose that I should clarify further too that I didn't actually watch Shaft, the 1971 film featuring Richard Roundtree as Shaft, or even Shaft the 2000 film featuring Samuel L Jackson as Shaft. But rather I watched Shaft the 2019 film with Richard Roundtree, Samuel L Jackson and some young dweeb called Jessie Usher as Shaft, Shaft, and just one more Shaft. Essentially this film works on the same principle of a gangbang in that it assumes that the more Shafts there are, the more fun things will be. Roundtree is the oldest Shaft and father to Jackson's Shaft II, who in turn is the father of Usher's Shaft Jr. I also guess that the characters of Shaft are about as imaginative at naming their children as the filmmakers are with this franchise. There are only five Shaft films with three of them being called Shaft. Where's the fun in that? Has anybody even told them that the shaft is also what we call the bit of a dick that isn't the tip? It'd be ironic if not because I spent this movie hating these characters so much that where I was supposed to see three Shafts I could only really see three bellends.

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Better Than Shakespeare?

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The trailer to Fast & Furious: Hobbs & Shaw played at the cinema the other day and I heard a couple of teenaged boys exclaim that “these films have gotten too stupid now”. “Err.. no. Actually, you've gotten too stupid now, you fucking little dweebs” is what I screamed back at them with the power of my mind. This franchise started as a flat-out rip-off of Point Break but in which Keanu Reeves and Patrick Swayze had been replaced by a couple of bargain-basement understudies. It wasn't until the fifth instalment in which The Rock arrived to kick the doors off the franchise that it finally evolved from something tediously dull and into something enjoyably so. The stupider the films became and the more stubbornly oblivious Vin Diesel remained to the fact that he was now in a comedy, the better they seemed to get. In the way that a shark can smell a drop of blood in a mile of ocean however, it was only a matter of time until the scent of this dumb action comedy would attract the attention of Jason Statham. He entered the series by murdering one of the key members of the lead gang before being locked up in a maximum-security prison for attempting to kill the rest of them. But it's all good because they're all cool now.

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Living In A Box

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The Girl With All The Gifts might sound like the title of a high-class porno but it's actually a dystopian-set horror film that revolves around the metaphor of Schrödinger's cat. Not another one of them I hear you say?! If a cat is locked in a box with a can of poison that may or may not go off at a random point, is the cat alive or dead? Like the shit song Living In A Box, by the shit band Living In A Box, I reckon that actually having to live in a box would also be pretty shit and so expect an angry cat no matter what. This is also true of zombies when you make them live in a box apparently, although I'm not sure of their opinion on the band or song. The film takes place in a future Britain in which a fungal infection has gotten into the brains of most of the adult population and turned them into what the surviving characters refer to as the 'hungries'. From that nickname alone I think I might have an ex-girlfriend that may have had that brain-fungus. I can say that of course because although we might no longer be friends anymore, she was also a crazy bitch and can go fuck herself. However, the reality of this brain-fungus thing isn't actually too far from what the film suggests. Sure, a mushroom in your skull that can control your behaviour might sound as farfetched as being bitten by a rage infected monkey, but there is actually a fungus in our actual world that does latch onto the host's brain and will essentially turn them into a zombie. So far it's only known to work with ants and shit but for the sake of safety I'm still going to board up my windows and doors after stocking up on tinned goods and buying a fucking anteater.

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Putting Its Behind In Its Past

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Was Scar called Scar before or after he first got his scar? Because if he got his scar first then that seems pretty shitty to make it his nickname. A scar is a form of disfigurement, right? That'd be like calling some poor deformed soul Burnie after they'd had their skin melted off in a horrific fire. Do you think that person is going to want to be your friend after you've made the worst moment of their life a cute little nickname? I know that Hitler's actions can never be justified but if he'd spent his life being called One Bollock by literally every single person he knew then you'd at least understand his bitterness a little bit better. Or did they call him Scar before he had the scar because that seems just as bad doesn't it? Who looks down at a newborn baby and decides to name them after a skin blemish? Especially after his brother Mufasa had already received such a cool name by comparison. Imagine having two children and naming one little baby Brad and the other little baby Cock-wart. Which of those two do you think might grow up to be a little bit anti-social? It's imposing a self-fulfilling prophecy onto somebody from birth and then blaming them when they didn't turn out entirely perfect. If you named your newborn baby Tubby McThickshit then I don't think that you'd have that much of a right to wonder why they grew up to be a fat fucking idiot. I'm not trying to make excuses for Scar, it's simply that I've just seen Disney's latest remake of The Lion King and, because it's so completely lacking in any fucking originality at all, it gave me time to think about things.

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What A Massive Cult

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When it comes to the dating game, I think it's always best to go for somebody that's good looking. You can fake a nice personality but, conveniently, looks are only ever skin deep. The hottie will stab you in the heart too, but after however many years it takes to get over them.. at least you'll always have the wank fodder to remember them by. Hereditary director Ari Aster's latest film Midsommar might seem like it's going to be a complete rip-off of The Wicker Man which might be because in many ways that's exactly what the fuck it is. In fact, the only thing that it didn't have was Christopher Lee dressed up like a mad aunty at a party as she dances about in an attempt to hide the menopause. However, if there's one thing that does separate this from that 1973 cult classic it's that its director is calling it a break-up movie. Of course, it still has horror elements to it because what break-up isn't completely fucking horrific? I tried to break-up with somebody once and the night genuinely ended up with us in hospital after she'd cracked her head on the corner of a table after forcing herself pass out. That was also the night that I decided that personalities can't be trusted and to only go for hotties. I've been single since. If The Wicker Man is to go by though it seems that the average cultist is even more hardcore and jaded than I am. We both prefer people to be hot but in their case, it's because they've locked them inside a big wooden structure and set them the fuck on fire.

 
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Boners, Stepdads, and Fake News

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Oh it's hard when you're a teenager, isn't it?! Your dick, I mean. Not so much these days but back then there was no bigger thorn in my side than the boner in my pants. Just fucking constant. In fact, I honestly don't know how people haven't figured out that Spider-Man is a teenage boy based on how tight is costume is and how often he must get those occasionally random boners. He could be hanging upside down on a lamppost just minding his own business and suddenly.. oop random boner time. I mean he'd have definitely got one in the last movie when Vulture was trying to choke him to death wouldn't he? And if you ask me, it shows a complete lack of initiative on his part too that he didn't just whip it out and start thrashing away. Best case scenario is that your enemy gets so freaked out that they let you go, worst case is that you simply go out with a smile. In Spider-Man: Far From Home, Peter decides to follow his dick to Europe where he intends to woo MJ, his school crush. In fact, it's a school trip that he's going on and so you can imagine that his biggest enemy will be whichever teacher has given up their free time to take the children away. Here's a clue - it's probably a pedo one. But the reality is that there's a bunch of crazy shit going down with some elemental giant things that he has to sort out. Of course, he has to do this without giving his secret identity away which is going to be even more difficult when he's got his entire class keeping tabs on him and MJ constantly reminding him that it's boner time.

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So Danny And I Made A Film Together

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When Danny Boyle and I were making his latest film Yesterday, I mentioned to him that he was my favourite director of all time. Huh, what? Oh, I hadn't told you that Danny and I made this film together? Oh right, okay, err in which case I spent a day on set with the D-Meister as he directed me in his latest film. That's pretty cool, right? What a brag. Not only has Danny Boyle also directed Leonardo DiCaprio, Michael Fassbender, and Ewan McGregor but now he can tell people that he's also worked with me. Admittedly I was an extra and his direction was, "instead of standing right here by me, why don't you go and stand over there instead", but it counts. Anyway, so when I was chatting to him at his hotel afterwards after I'd waited four hours for him to leave the set, chased him to his car, and forced a taxi-driver at gunpoint to follow where he went, I told him that he was my favourite director of all time. He said "thanks", as though he hears it all the time and as though I was only saying it to kiss his arse because he was right there. But in my case, he really is my favourite director. Trainspotting is my all-time favourite film, I swear that 28 Days Later reinvented the horror genre, and I will fight to the fucking death with anybody that is dismissive of The Beach. But the bit in that film in which DiCaprio hallucinates that he's in a computer game is a bit shit? What the fuck did you just say? Right, you, me, tooled up, by the bins, right fucking now!

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Things Were The Way They Should Be

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Like going for a massage and finding yourself being tugged off before you leave, the end of Toy Story 3 was absolutely perfect. So why the fuck would anybody make a Toy Story 4? The trilogy had concluded with Woody and the toys accepting that their life with Andy was over as they watched him drive off into the distance. Where could you possibly go next? Does Andy come home as a paedophile, grab his old toys back, and use them to lure in the local children? Meanwhile in this scenario, his toys would have to decide whether or not they can reveal their true consciousness to intervene, whilst also coming to terms with the fact that the child they loved has grown up to be a monster? Because that's the only logical way that I can think of Toy Story 4 having anything interesting or new to say. Each of the three films have so far told the exact same story in that they're about one or more toys getting lost and having to find their way home. Meanwhile, there's an extra layer of existential subtext in there in which the franchise spoon feeds you the bullshit lessons of life. The first movie taught us that we're not unique or special, the second that we will be abandoned by the people that we love, and the third that finally, we will die. But if we remember that quote from pretentious wall painter Banksy, “you die twice. One time when you stop breathing and a second time, a bit later on, when somebody says your name for the last time”. This might present itself as being nothing more than a children's film but with Toy Story 4 it seems that it's time for Woody to experience his second fucking death.

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