You Just Scream With Boredom

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The film begins with a media frenzy taking place outside of a building called Fowl Manor. Having never read the books I had no clue what the film Artemis Fowl was going to be about and so just assumed that Fowl Manor was a place where rich people might go to wear strange masks and have sex with each other. It's not. It's where the Fowl family reside apparently. Although Fowl Manor does also sound like it could be an old fashioned euphemism that my Nan might use for the bathroom after she's visited it for a shit. I suppose all of the above could still technically be true to be fair. The film never explicitly mentions that rich people use the place to spaff all over each other but that doesn't mean that they don't and I never really visit my Nan enough to know what she might call the bathroom. I think you have to agree that would be a pretty bold opening for a Disney film though, wouldn't it?! Children sit around excited to see their favourite book adapted to the big screen only for it to open with a gang of rich toffs all fucking each other whilst dressed in dog suits as one confused old lady wanders about having shat all up the bathroom. It wouldn't make any end-of-the-year best lists but you know... I'd watch it. 

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A Pleasant Enough Ride

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