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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The Film Is A Saddening Bore

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John Carter is the greatest film that has ever been made ever and I will die to defend it. Not really. Obviously. It's a massive piece of shit, but it was fun to write a sentence that no sane human being had ever written before. What a novelty it felt to do something so original. I only hope that the makers of this fucking God awful movie get to experience that one day themselves. What is John Carter about though? From its title we can guess that it's likely about a person called John Carter, but what else? That's hardly an exciting sounding name, is it? Maybe it's about a bank manager that gasses himself to death in his own car after walking past a mirror and seeing how fucking dull his life is? Can you think of any other movie titles that are just the main characters name but that isn't part of a pre-existing franchise? Because off the top of my head, I can only think of Jerry Maguire, Donnie Brasco and Vera Drake. Is that what John Carter is about? Is he a sports agent that goes undercover with the mob to perform illegal back-alley abortions? Because if not I've just found a really easy new way of coming up with new stories? What about Carrie, Domino, and Alfie? In which case John Carter could be about a telekinetic bounty-hunter whose womanising ways end after a trip to an.. oh.. to an illegal back-alley abortionist. Hmm. Well, I can tell you right now that John Carter does not involve the subject of abortion in the slightest. Although if I could kill it with a coat-hanger and then wash it down the drain then I absolutely would. 

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This Film Is Dog Shit

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Netflix's The Wrong Missy begins with David Spade being mocked by Missy, the blind date that he's agreed to meet up with because he doesn't drink alcohol. Well, I don't drink alcohol either, although by the end of this fucking God-awful piece of shit movie I'd have been fully prepared to shoot heroin straight into my fucking dick if there was a chance that it would help me to forget. Nobody wants to make a bad film but this one is so fucking shitty that I honestly can't imagine that anybody involved had much intention of making a good one either. Lauren Lapkus plays the title character of The Wrong Missy and manages to give such an offensively irritating performance that you start to wonder if the actress might not actually be from our fucking planet. Surely a genuine member of our own species couldn't have such little insight into what it is to be a human that this would be the best they could come up with? Imagine Simple Jack crossed with a rapist that's been given amphetamines after being kicked in the head by a fucking horse and you're close to the horror show of her performance as Missy. If Lauren Lapkus is an alien then what she does here should be considered a declaration of war to which I suggest preemptively nuking every single planet within our fucking solar-system in response. David Spade's character is equally disturbed by her character and so decides to try and escape from his date by sneaking out of the bathroom window. Despite what we mere mortals might think when looking at this tiny gremlin of a man, this film treats David Spade as an actual living adonis for which the fairer sex can do all but resist. Throughout the entirety of The Wrong Missy, women continue to hurl themselves at him vagina first as I sat at home spraying vomit all up the fucking walls. 

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Why Mute Deserves A Chance

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Mute begins with a young boy involving himself in an accident that leaves his throat ripped open and with his Amish parents refusing his treatment as a result of their religious beliefs. Seems pretty reasonable to me. I don't have children because they make too much noise and so if I could find a way of having one shut the fuck up whilst being able to pin the guilt onto God then I'd probably go for it too. The boy had his throat ripped open by a speedboat which caused many critics to joke about how few times that they've seen an Amish person on a speedboat for this to happen. Now firstly I would point out that it doesn't seem to be Amish people driving the boat.. or piloting it ..or captaining it ...or whatever it is that you do to control one of those things. If anybody knows the verb for being an aquatic-leisure-twat then let me know. But it seems that some randomers have accidentality ran the kid over as he was swimming. I know that these people have pretty strict rules regarding modern technology but unless critics are confusing the Amish with the Wicked Witch of the West then it seems fairly plausible that they might at least occasionally go near fucking water. Secondly, and even if I'm wrong about this and it was Amish people in charge of the boat, then are you seriously telling me that you've never seen this before? You've had the internet all this time and you've still not gotten around to typing in every possible combination of words before the word “porn”. Because I guarantee that always yields results and if you don't think that there is any Amish speedboat porn out there then you are living an embarrassing lie. 

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Bring On The End Times

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I don't know about you but once we get over the shock of having to eat each others face-meat to survive, I think the apocalypse will be pretty good fun. Just imagine the disappointment of all those fundamentalist Christians who thought they'd ascend to Heaven only to find themselves still stuck down here and forced to shit into a hole like the rest of us. What an absolute laugh that'll be. We could taunt them the way they've been taunting gay people for thousands of years. “Come on now God boy, shit in a ditch because Jesus didn't love you”. Also, fuck society. It's a piece of shit anyway. The only way that most of us are getting the deposit to buy a property is by selling off our kidneys and then renting out our arse-holes to some rich sugar daddy who insists on calling us “little piggy” in case using our real names humanises us too much for him. But with society gone and us all scrabbling around in the same old dirt it'd no longer matter which class you were born into or what cunty connections you made at your snobby piece of shit private school. All that would matter is the size of the rock in your hand, how hungry you are, and how much you like the person that's between you and that delicious looking rat. I also think it'd be nice to have a bit of structure in my life. Right now I'm sort of treading water having spent the last directionless decade achieving an impressive sweet fuck all. I like the idea of knowing that as long as I'm not being splayed open and feasted upon by a rabid hillbilly gang of cannibals by the end of each day then I might close to experiencing a sense of achievement for once. 

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Not Worth Cancelling The Apocalypse For

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Pacific Rim: Uprising begins with director Guillermo Del Toro being strapped into a metal cage above a fiery pit by a creepy (and racially problematic) Temple Of Doom-style Thuggee Priest. Not literally of course, although that at least would have been a momentary detour from the two hours of mind-numbing predictability that we actually got. Del Toro directed the original 2013 Pacific Rim which has only become an increasingly better movie on the extensive re-viewings that I've given it. His was a film of colour and majesty that had both hidden depth and a message of unity that our shitty species has so far failed to understand. Every frame of Pacific Rim was laced with Del Toro's passion for art, whether it be his love of classic paintings, old Jerry Anderson shows, or simply the sub-genre of seeing huge monsters being twatted in the face by giant robots. For various reasons, he failed to sign on to this sequel having instead decided to win an Oscar for his latest fish-fucking masterpiece The Shape Of Water. Quite right too as for me, Del Toro is an artistic genius that we've been blessed to live at the same time as. His films will one day be remembered in the same way that we remember Hitchcock's or Kubrick's and if I was a director I'd want to follow in his footsteps as keenly as I'd want to be pegged by a psychopath with a cactus for a strap-on. Del Toro's heart went into his Pacific Rim film and as this sequel began I saw that Thuggee Priest rip it out and set it on fire as though showing it off to Indiana Jones, a screaming woman, and a small Asian stereotype. 

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Cage Fighting With The Cosmos

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During one of the earlier scenes in director Richard Stanley's latest film Color Out Of Space, Nicholas Cage decides to milk one of his many alpaca's before drinking it straight down before it has chance to cool. Did you hear that? Nicholas Cage squeezes milk out of an alpaca's tits before instantly guzzling it down to enjoy its freshness. Nicholas Cage. An Alpaca's tits. He drinks its milk. I think it was at that point that I decided that this might be one of my new favourite films of all time. What was cinema even invented for if not to see Nicholas Cage fondling a random animal's nipples before necking back whatever liquid he manages to get out of it? How can art ever top this? What are they going to do next? Will they make a sequel in which he wanks off a pig? According to Cage's character, alpacas are “the animals of the future”, and although he never explains his reasoning for this, my belief in his performance is such that I've now got ten on order. Will I milk them as Cage does here? Of course I fucking will. Will I name one after him when they arrive? Why the Hell wouldn't I? What's the point in having a pet alpaca if you can't then offer guests a glass of milk squeezed fresh from Nicholas Cage's hanging nipples? Color Out Of Space is the kind of movie that delivers exactly what it says on the tin and not only does it not disappoint but as with Cage's own ability to over-act, it goes above and beyond. What a fucking film. 

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Some Very White-Knuckle Action

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If Eve was made from a piece of Adam's rib then I'd suggest that Chris Hemsworth was grown from a sliver of God's own cock. Have you seen Chris Hemsworth? Has he been here since the dawn of time? Because he looks like the archetypal alpha-human that the rest of us mere mutants might have once spawned from. I see him as that first completely pure wolf to walk out of the forest before being bred with increasingly inferior creatures until you've ended up with us.. his Shih Tzu descendants. We're the bastard mongrels of his original super-being and I feel fucking sick about myself. As an atheist I find the Garden Of Eden to be quite a farfetched story but if I'd not seen Chris Hemsworth with my own eyes then I'd probably say the same about him. There might not be any treacherous snake involved here but have you seen Hemsworth's arms? In his new action film Extraction, they're so fat and veiny that they looked like a close-up of a porn stars dick. After years of being exposed to unnecessarily misogynistic online pornography, my brain had been conditioned to expect him to shout, “choke on this, you bitch”, every time he'd punch somebody in the face. I don't know where the filmmakers took inspiration from for these fight scenes but they reminded me of a blooper reel from fucking Deep Throat. At one point in this film, he jumps off a cliff and lands straight into the sea which I can only assume was a special effect for fear of the ensuing tsunami being an extinction-level event that would devastate our entire fucking planet had it been done for real. 

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One Wedding And Not Enough Funerals

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Love Wedding Repeat begins with a montage of Rome which is great because I went on holiday there once and I love being reminded of my trip. The film shows the cafe where my friend accidentally spent his entire holiday budget on one lunch, the hotel in which my friend intentionally exposed himself to me after he'd somehow twisted his testicles around within the sack, and the Vatican which is where my friend and I decided to visit to see where all of the paedophiles go to hide. What a beautiful city. Eventually, we focus in on our hero of the film, Sam Claflin, as he struggles to tell his sister's friend Olivia Munn that he fancies her. Or at least I think that's what he was trying to do. It's kind of hard to tell because Claflin's teeth are so fucking white that I began to get a little distracted... Why are they so white? What is he trying to hide by keeping them so insanely clean? Because he's looking at Olivia Munn here like he actually wants to start biting big chunks of meat out of her fucking face. He's really starting to get quite a wrinkly forehead too for someone so young. I watched this film in Ultra Hi-Def 4K which is really not the kindest option for the people on screen. I'm sure Claflin's head is no wrinklier than anybody else's but with the picture as good as it was he looked like Mr Wharf from fucking Star Trek. I think Claflin might actually be going bald too. I'm not a betting man but I'm seriously tempted to put money on him looking like a massive fucking thumb after a particularly long bath within the next five years. I don't mean to body shame him but his character is so lacking in any personality that there really was fuck all else to judge him on.

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It's Amateur Hour On Netflix

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At the start of the week, I had to have my dog of fourteen and a half years put to sleep and yet watching Mark Of The Devil was probably the worst thing I've experienced over the last few days. Not really. Obviously. But you get my point. The dog thing was like having my heart ripped out whereas watching this film was more like I was being lightly kicked in the head for a bit. I'd spotted the film on Netflix and so figured I'd give it a whirl but despite only having a running time of about 80minutes I swear to God that it must have been on for about five fucking days. By the time that the film was finally over, I'd grown facial hair, lost weight, and reality was now tinged with this surreal dream-like edge that didn't feel real. Admittedly most of that was probably down to the dog situation but there's no denying that getting through Mark Of The Devil was like being stranded on a desert island with only rocks to lick and suicide to contemplate for entertainment. The film itself is about a group of people getting possessed by a.. thing? That's about as much as I can tell you because the whole film was so painfully tedious that my concentration began to lapse and I was forced to retreat to that safe-room in my Mind Palace. It was as though I was a fucking torture victim. I swear that Terry Waite would have found himself with more to think about as he spent five years chained to a fucking radiator than I did whilst watching this piece of shit film.

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Save Me Some Food You Selfish Bastards

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Look, I'm not saying that Netflix has intentionally started this coronavirus bullshit but it is all beginning to look a little suspicious. What better way to get us all watching their service by having us put under house arrest for fear of catching bat-AIDS? Not only that but they've just released a new film called The Platform that is so perfectly timed for right now that I reckon they probably fucked that flying rat themselves. The Platform is a Spanish language horror film about a man, Goreng, who wakes up to find himself trapped on a grotty random floor of a grotty random tower block. Unlike the rest of us who would only find ourselves in this environment if we decided to dabble in being a crack-head for a little while, Goreng is actually imprisoned here. There is a hole in both the floor and the ceiling of his room by which a table full of food is able to magically glide down once a day for him to eat from. The only catch is that the higher up the tower you are then the more food you'll have to choose from. Those nearer the bottom of the tower are obviously therefore only able to scavenge the scraps that they might have been left with. Any of this sounding familiar yet? Because right now I'm stuck in a small building in 'lockdown' with only the food I could find after you fucking bastards had grabbed everything off the fucking shop shelves first. The only difference between what's happening to Goreng and what's happening to us is that Goreng doesn't get offered a seven day free trial of PornHub's admittedly quite exciting-sounding premium service. 

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The Last Blockbuster We Ever Made

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Fisting a donkey, fucking a monkey, or sucking off a badger? I keep asking myself what must be in the photographs that Vin Diesel has of the movie producer that he keeps blackmailing for work. Because I refuse to believe that he actually gets hired for his acting ability alone. Have you seen any of his movies? The Fast And Furious franchise literally only works because he seems to be the only person involved in it that doesn't realise how fucking stupid it is. I don't dislike him but I think that we all know that he is a po-face figure of absolute ridicule. In which case it must be his good looks that people keep casting him for.. right? ...Are you kidding me? He looks like a camel fucked a potato and then nine months later a baby made of shoe-leather fell out. When I look at him I see a gingerbread man wrapped up in recently-waxed bollock skin. Sure he has a deep voice but he sounds like a butch woman that's been smoking seventy a day since the early Fifties. I agree that his best role is in Guardians Of The Galaxy but that's only because he's playing a tree monster called Groot and he'd already spent his entire career giving wooden performances anyway. I'd probably sound like him if my voice was booming out of from a charisma-free husk too and listening to him speak is like being shouted at by a haunted cupboard door. About forty-five minutes into his latest film Bloodshot, he takes off his jacket to reveal that he's also wearing a white vest. As usual. My theory is that filmmakers actually keep hiring the vest and he just comes fucking free with it.

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From One Extreme To The Other

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Author and columnist A.A. Gill once claimed that he'd shot a baboon to death because he wanted to know what it'd be like to kill an actual human being. That seems reasonable. We all try things out on an animal before going all the way with a human, don't we? By that logic, I presume Gill also tried to fuck a baboon before losing his virginity to an actual human too. Perhaps if Gill had really wanted to kill a person then instead of murdering an innocent baboon he should have just put the gun in his own mouth and blown his piece of shit brains all over the fucking walls instead. Blumhouse Productions' new movie The Hunt features a new riff on the 1924 Richard Connell story The Most Dangerous Game in which a group of sociopaths decide to kidnap and hunt down a gang of what they consider to be society's “deplorables”. Except due to a super-clever twist, it would be Gill on the run here as this new film features a group of liberal elites deciding to hunt down a group of right-wing shitheads instead. How subversive is that? My God. The left-wing lunatics are the ones going after the pro-gun right? That's such a special idea. I can only presume the writers of The Hunt typed this script by slapping their dicks back down onto the keyboard after spaffing off over their own unprecedented level of genius. 

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Another Drop Kick To The Heart

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Pixar films are great because you can take a first date to see one and if they're not in floods of tears by the end then you know they're likely to be a fucking sociopath and you're in danger. Not that I go on many dates, of course. The only chance I have to meet people is through Tinder and recently I've been left swiping on everyone like a motherfucker because I've started getting off on the idea of being the one that rejects them for a fucking change. So even though Pixar's latest Onward is quite clearly a children's film, I ended up going to see it alone. Which is fine. I'm aware that in a row of parent, child, parent, child, parent, child, me, that I must look like a nonce. But I also don't want people disturbing me when I'm at the cinema and so I'm quite happy to have children be told not to go near “the bad man”. Still. I probably shouldn't be getting my dick out even if it is just to maintain that illusion. I went into this movie pretty blind having avoided all trailers and reviews and so I wasn't sure what it was going to be about. As it turns out it's a fantasy film that takes place in a world that's relatably our own but where magic is treated as being part of the mundane. Imagine The Lord Of The Rings but if the Hobbits were stopping every few miles to brag about how many steps that their fucking Fitbits were up to. Or the Narnia movies if Edmond had to ram his fingers down his throat because he'd eaten too much Turkish Delight and his Instagram followers were commenting that he was becoming a fat prick.

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Why You Should All Take A Look At The Invisible Man

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Set in the 1880's, Fanny By Gaslight might be a classic film about a manipulative partner but it's also terrible advice on where to put your genitals when you're feeling a little chilly. Especially in the 1880s. If porn has taught me anything about history... and I suspect it has... it's that the further back in time you go the more pubic hair a person seems to have. Sticking your fanny by the gaslight back in the 1800s might have caused the hair to go up in flames as though it was made of dry fucking kindling. People think that women shave their pubes now because of the media's creepy fetishisation of extreme youth but the reality is that it's just basic health and safety really. In an alternate reality, the word 'gaslighting' might refer to when a woman's inflamed pubic region accidentally sets the whole neighbourhood on fire after a badly timed fanny fart. But in our world, it's the term we use to describe the act of causing somebody to doubt their own sanity. Presuming they're not insane to begin with, of course. It's not gaslighting to tell The Plainfield Ghoul, Ed Gein, that he's a fucking lunatic for making lampshades out of human fucking face skin. Although you do have to admire his skills as an arts and crafter there. But gaslighting is when a guy does mad shit like secretly hiding his girlfriend's dildo in the freezer to make her think she's going nuts. I imagine it's probably even more confusing for her if she didn't own a dildo in the first place. I wonder how many guys have had to start gaslighting their girlfriend through embarrassment after she just happened to find his dildo? Food for thought I guess.

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Runnin' With The Blue Devil

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I was on my way home from a friends house one night when I spotted a hedgehog just chilling in the middle of the road like an absolute dickhead. I decided to move him because I was already quite close to my house and I knew that if I left him and then found him dead the next day I'd feel way too guilty about having not done something. Oh, don't worry, I'm aware that I'm a fucking angel. As I approached the little guy I could see that he was stood on top of something.. and I could hear this weird noise that sounded a lot like something being repeatedly crunched coming from it. I picked him up and as I did I discovered something horrific. I wasn't rescuing any old hedgehog, I was rescuing the Jeffery fucking Dahmer of hedgehogs. When I picked him up it turned out that the thing he was stood on was actually another dead hedgehog and the crunching was the sound of him fucking eating it. Not only that but he was enjoying his meal so fucking much that he refused to let it go. When I lifted him the other partly-eaten hedgehog came up with him and was dangling by its intestines from his fucking mouth. I didn't know what to do so I panicked and ran with him. I decided to put him in my garden so that he wouldn't go back to the road but as I did a car drove past and saw me. I can't imagine what they must have thought as they saw me legging it down the road with a blooded hedgehog in my hand and another dangling by its guts from his fucking mouth. But I imagine they felt as disgusted and upset as the internet did when they first laid eyes on the original design of the title character in the Sonic The fucking Hedgehog movie.

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A Life Changing Hit From A Bong

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If you can watch the film Okja and still eat meat by the time the credits roll then as far as I'm concerned you're a fucking sociopath. I'd been considering vegetarianism for some time before seeing this movie but I'd been somewhat put off by the fact that I didn't like eating things that weren't meat and I fucking loved eating the things that were. If I were to order a pizza then when asked what toppings I'd like for it I'd ask for so much meat that it was almost easier for me to just sing “Old MacDonald Had A Farm” down the fucking phone. Of course, I felt guilty about it. To quote this film, “I'm an animal lover. Everybody knows that about me!” But my God they taste so good, don't they? It helps that we often give the food different names too I think. I'm not eating a cute little piggy but a delicious cooked sausage that I can imagine somebody must have plucked harmlessly from the sausage tree. I was going to say I'd like to imagine myself eating from the sausage bush but that just sounds as though I like a man with a lot of pubes and I'm desperate to suck his cock. Of course, I knew that sausages came from pigs but even the adverts on television made the animals look happy for me to eat them. Beef adverts make it seem as though the meat is a gift from the cows and I'd be hurting their poor little moo-moo feelings if I chose not to accept it. Look, I love giving gifts as much as the next person but if it involves me being shot in the head, hung from meat hooks, splayed open, and then shoved into a fucking burning hot oven then I might just get you a fucking gift voucher instead if you don't fucking mind. 

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I'd Really Love To Be Alone Without All The Ache And Pain

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The Lighthouse tells the story of two Lighthouse keepers being trapped together on their small island in the late 19th Century. It stars Willem Dafoe as the old hand and Robert Pattinson as the new boy there to be told what to do. It's also batshit fucking insane. In an interview, Willem Dafoe said that the film is about what happens when two men are stuck together in a giant cock-shaped building and allowed to go mad. So to say that it's a look at what happens when masculinity is allowed to fester would be an understatement. But imagine The Shining if there are fewer rooms to hide in and both people are Jack Nicholson and you're not too far off what this film is like. I fully understand the situation too by the way. My mate and I had to wait in the house for a delivery from the post-man once and the insanity and boredom had started to get to us straight away. “How long do you think we'd have to be locked in a room with each other before we went mad and started fucking?” I asked my friend. “Hmm”, he pondered, “I'd say at least a couple of days”. A couple of days? I was thinking more about how many years?! We were two men voluntarily sitting in a building that has television and wi-fi and yet my friend was still only one day away from offering up his arse-hole for fucking rations.

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We're All Horrible But At Least I Know It Now

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Hello neighbour, I'm glad we're online neighbours you and I. You come knocking at my little blog's door and I'll always let you in so that you can read some of my most recent and special thoughts. Of course, if this was real life I'd spit in your face and tell you to fuck off you piece of shit. I hate you. You're a cunt. I don't think I'm a bad person, but I realise having seen Tom Hanks' latest film A Beautiful Day In The Neighbourhood that I'm probably not a good one either. The film tells the real-life story of a journalist who was tasked with interviewing the children's TV host Mr Rogers. Over here in the UK, I don't think we're too aware of Mr Rogers, but by all accounts the Americans fucking love him. I was trying to think about who our equivalent might be and I really struggled. He's a TV presenter that has a special relationship with his younger audience and who is admired for all of the positivity that he's brought into the world. Who is our version of that? Because right now I'm thinking Jimmy Savile. In the film, the journalist is asked to write a puff-piece on Mr Rogers that might explain why he's considered such a hero. I guess it'd be trickier to write that about Savile now that he's turned out to be one of the most notorious fucking child molesters of all time. Mr Rogers was apparently a genuinely lovely human whereas I once read an interview in which Savile retrospectively seemed to imply that he'd spent a week fucking the corpse of his dead Mum as she lay decomposing in his flat.

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A Truffle Pig Hunting For Clichés

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Before the new Bad Boys For Life, I'd never seen a single film in the Bad Boys franchise. Mostly because they sound like the title of a series of gay pornos and they're directed by Michael Bay. God, I can't stand Michael Bay's movies. If I had to pick I'd rather watch a gay porno over a Michael Bay movie. At least the gay porno would be less gratuitous and I'd actually be surprised if it went on for a further ten minutes after the final explosion. This new Bad Boys movie has a new directing team behind it though and so I felt it'd be okay to go and see it without my usual collection of pendants and protective charms. But then about half an hour into the movie, Michael Bay actually shows up for a cameo like Jason Voorhees springing out of the fucking lake to drown that girl at the end of Friday The 13th. “Why is nobody booing and hissing at the screen” I wondered of my fellow moviegoers, “Do they not know who he is?”. Truly the Devil walks amongst us. Not that he directed this movie don't forget. I can't remember the names of the two guys at the helm this time, but it doesn't matter. The film looks like an advert for an expensive watch that you'd expect to find on the wrist of a sexual predator that thinks he's in Entourage. I didn't hate it though. The movie I mean. Not the sexual predator. Or the expensive watch that I made up. 

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The Pink Feather Of History

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Imagine a world in which we could be conscripted into war. Horrible, isn't it? I get the hump when my phone has the balls to tell me that it considers itself to be “sufficiently charged” and so you can imagine how I'd feel about being ordered to plunge a knife into a German's throat. I'm not even against violence either, to be honest with you. I'm not going to kill for any nationalistic bullshit but if I'm at the cinema and a group of kids start taking selfies then my first basic urge is to run along their row with a fucking chainsaw. But war? Like actual war? Fuck that. Especially now that we have social media. Back in the day, we'd join up because we believed in king and country and all of that bollocks. But Twitter is like the masked magician where the magic of politics is concerned. Whether it's sawing a woman in half or starting a war, I guess things just seem less special when you've seen what goes on behind the scenes. The Second World War is taught to death in our schools but I don't remember the first world war coming up that much. Wikipedia's opening gambit on how that war started is, “the causes of World War 1 remain controversial”, and even the BBC's revision page begins with, “historians disagree about what caused the First World War”. If it happened these days I reckon it'd be pretty simple to find out the cause. Just wait for any two world leaders to change their relationship status to, “it's complicated” and then simply DM them, “u ok hun?”, whilst stocking up on fucking tinned food. 

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A Lock Stock From The Boomer Generation

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Cunt, cunt, cunt, yadah, yadah, yadah, and then something offensive about a minority. That's pretty much a perfect summary of mockney berk Guy Ritchie's latest offering of cinematic cobblers. I should tell you what happens in The Gentlemen but then I'm not sure there'd be much left of the film for you to enjoy. Which is assuming there was anything there in the first place? Or maybe I'm being too harsh. It's a Guy Ritchie movie and so there's always a cool soundtrack. There might not be much worth seeing here but like a blind person that's developed an increased sense of hearing, Ritchie usually provides something fun for the old King Lears. That's rhyming slang for ears, by the way. Obviously. Rhyming slang has always seemed pretty pointless to me because all it does is change the keyword of the sentence with a usually more random and dumb one that sounds so close to the original that you could probably still guess it. Saying 'custard and jelly' instead of 'telly' doesn't make you sound cool and if you intend to use it as a code then I'm guessing we won't be needing Alan Turing any time fucking soon. It's also just like how Guy Ritchie's gangster films are all essentially rhyming slang for The Long Good Friday. They're the same thing but with a few details slightly tweaked in the presumed hope that it might not be noticed by the more easily baffled amongst us. Does “Dog and Bone” mean telephone? Nah guv. Course it doesn't, now you carry on and mind your business. Is there a shot involving a characters fate in The Gentlemen that's a direct rip-off of the superior The Long Good Friday's iconic conclusion? Err... just you watch it you daffy or I'll fucking spanner you right in your fucking mug, okay?!

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