Spring Is The Bush Porn That It's Okay To Love

Have you ever heard of bush porn? Because as far as I'm concerned directors Justin Benson and Aaron Moorhead's film Spring is essentially the movie equivalent of bush porn. I have no clue why this was the case but before the internet was a thing it was quite common to find discarded porno mags within random bushes in the park. Well, like that bush porn from my early teenage years, I have no idea how I discovered the film Spring but I am 100% glad that I ended up coming across it. Interestingly enough I wasn't entirely sure how to describe this movie because I don't want to give away some of its surprises but Wikipedia has it listed as being a romantic body horror. If you can think of a more fitting term to describe some of the fucking grot that I saw when discovering some bush porn than 'romantic body horror' then I'll be impressed. For me, Spring is kind of like Call Me By Your Name in that it's about two people falling in love in a foreign country except that Spring has a surprise that's even grosser than that movie's 'eating the jizzy peach' scene.

What Is The Chance Of Success?

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Whether it be The Scorpion King from The Mummy franchise or a bit of dog shit from a bike tyre, spin-offs are not always very enjoyable. Rather than being a cash-in however, Rogue One: A Star Wars Story is like a kid on the last day of school. You're still attending class and therefore have to abide by the bulk of the usual rules but so long as you don't do something too stupid like reveal the teacher's blatant alcoholism or out the caretaker as a nonce, then you're mostly left to do what you want. Well, in that vein, Rogue One is still very much a part of the Star Wars universe, but one that's not shackled to every single one of the tropes of the main episodes. So gone are the old familiars of an opening text crawl, the Jedi, and incest, only to be replaced by a much more gritty, much more self-contained story of blowing up.. well.. the Death Star. I guess some things never change and although we might not be so bound to the intergalactic episode of The Jeremy Kyle Show that is the Skywalker family, you can never have too many films in which a rag-tag gang of survivors must fight to destroy cinema's most devastating disco-ball.

Godz and Monsters

I really wish I could think of a better metaphor for this film than the one I'm about to describe but I can't so bollocks to it. Apologies in advance... So, you know what's fun? Fucking. Ugh God, way too crude... Oh well. There's surely no denying that hiding your modesty inside somebody else’s modesty is good fun for all involved- oh and, for the record, I'm completely open to any offers right now. That last bit is irrelevant to the point that I'm building towards but you know... In my on-going efforts to get some, it can't hurt. I can't imagine that there's anything a girl loves more than a desperate geek! Ugh... Why do I even fucking bother. Anyway, so we live in a world in which every second of every day somebody is using some form of advertising to trick us into giving them some money. Considering everybody likes sex, it seems that the marketing goons have decided that the best way to do this is by bombarding us with sexual imagery and having us in a constant state of horniness. This is fine for adults but obviously kids are exposed to it all too, meaning that thanks to a barrage of provocative slogans and pictures of unobtainable titties, the concept of shagging is made to seem like the most important thing in the world... Until you actually do it. Now don't get me wrong, the first time I convinced somebody to take pity on me was great.. but that's all sex is. It's great. It's not magical or the be-all-and-end-all or even particularly life changing. It's just really good fun. And that, in a nutshell, is the problem with Godzilla.