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.

Marvel Shows Off Its Ego

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Guardians Of The Galaxy Volume 2 has quite probably the greatest opening ten minutes of any Marvel movie yet. Beginning on Earth in a flashback sequence set in the 1980's, we see a young Kurt Russell enjoying a day out with who we know to be the mother of Chris Pratt's Peter Quill. "Hang on!", I hear you say, "As cool as Kurt Russell is, I'm pretty sure that even he has aged slightly over the last thirty years!" Well, as was the case with Downey Jr. in Civil War, Marvel seem to have access to the most cutting edge technology and have de-aged him to the point of absolute believability. I can only assume that this technology is known as "a fucking time-machine" because, trust me, it's fucking crazy how good it is. I'm one of those people who spent their teenage years shunting nights out looking for pubs that might serve my underage self in favour of nights in watching old John Carpenter movies. My younger self was what you might call 'a cool motherfucker'. As a result, the image of a younger Kurt Russell is something that I've spent so many hours staring at that it's pretty much burnt onto my fucking retina, with what we see here matching it perfectly.

The Ones On Who You Can Depend?

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For me, my true family are my friends. These are the people that I spend my time with by choice and not just because it's our dribbling Grandpa's last wish before he does us all a favour and kicks the bucket. Friends might be there when you're in trouble, but the real sign of closeness comes when a computer game causes you to engage in verbal abuse and nobody really cares. I had one friend tell me that he hoped that I'd die in real life and I told another to take his ugly tits and fuck right off. There was this one time when I accidentally went running down a sand dune at about two o'clock in the morning and, due to a combination of drink and gravity, I got carried away. Within seconds I was practically vertical and travelling at about two hundred miles an hour before the obvious happened and I began to fly. Tripping, I found myself hurtling headfirst into the darkness, using only my face to soften the fall and then sliding down the remainder of the way on my chest... What a knobhead! At the top of the dune were my friends who were clearly worried for my life. As I lay still at the bottom, I could hear two things from them... the first was their calls to make sure I was okay or at the very least still alive. The second was their attempts to breathe inbetween the mad fits of hysterical laughter having just witnessed my pretty decent impression of a sack of shit.