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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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?!

Welcome To The Jungle

As I write this right now, we're at that time of year in Britain when the sun decides to briefly pop out. It's not fun though. I hate it! We only get about four days of summer a year and by day two I'm massively pissed off by it. I can deal with the cold by just putting on more layers but when it's hot, we're fucked! What am I meant to do to cool down? Ideally I'd be walking around with my balls out, ice-packs strapped to my head and my cock windmilling around as I attempt to create any form of breeze. What did you do on your one week of summer? Did you take the kids to the zoo? Or maybe lie out in your garden and read the latest piece of shit book that all the thick people have been raving about? Well fuck that because I had better plans. I stayed in doors, I closed the curtains and I forced my hungover friend to watch Rambo with me as he lay half dead on the sofa. Bring on the fucking rain, I say. Bring on the fucking misery.