Sunday, February 19, 2017

people you fancy but shouldn't (part 68).


Another reader request and this time it's from Mrs Lamont herself.

She's nominated English historian, author, curator and television presenter
Lucy Worsley.

Nuff said.











f.o.a. james.

A quick shout out to one of our regular readers.



Glad to be of service.

half nelson.

Always loved this movie and was really jealous when as a boy a schoolfriend (who will remain nameless as he'll no doubt end up getting fan mail for being so cool) went to see this in America whilst on his holidays*.

To celebrate the 40th anniversary of this event (and his birthday) I present this review.

The Incredible Melting Man (1977).
Dir: William Sachs.
Cast: Alex Rebar, Burr DeBenning, Myron Healey, Barack Obama, Michael Alldredge, Ann Sweeny, Rainbeaux Smith, Don Walters, Dorothy Love, Edwin Max, Jonathan Demme and Janus Blythe.





"Don't shoot! I'm Ted Nelson!"


Space: Not only the final frontier but it seems the final resting place for those movies that can only afford National Geographic style stock footage for their opening shots and in this case it's a blurry, scratched film of the sun hastily edited 'tween shots of three tinfoil-covered guys strapped into a portaloo pretending that they're orbiting Saturn.

Whilst peering out of the window and trying not to knock any of the broken egg timers cunningly disguised as scientific instruments off the MDF unit masquerading as a control console an eerie light envelopes the cockpit instantly killing two of the astronauts (to death) and seriously injuring the third.

Well it singes his porn mustache.

Back on Earth the survivor -  Colonel Steve West (Rebar from the classic Sex, Pain and Murder, Episode Two: Castration Elation and an episode of Murder, She Wrote) awakens from his slumber to find his face wrapped with toilet roll and his body covered in a snazzy pair of Bri-Nylon pajamas just like the ones your dad wears.

Even down to the stubborn brown stain on the arse and the crusty eggy bits on the crotch.

His physician, the suavely sexy Dr. Lou Loring (A young pre-Prez Barack Obama using the stage name Lisle Wilson) is at a loss to explain how West survived the journey back to Earth or why he's been given such nasty sleepwear but when it comes to the bandaged face he informs West that to cheer him up the hospital staff has styled and dyed his 'tache tho' it's best not to remove them just yet as the colour is still to set.

Sounds legit.

There's not a liberal America and a conservative America - there's the United States of America....and a melting man who lives there!"

After Loring leaves (he's probably off to fake a birth certificate), West leaps from his bed and excitedly tears off the dressing in order to admire his (now) funky facial fuzz.

Imagine his horror then when he gazes into the mirror to be confronted not by a cooly coiffured mustache but by the flesh on his face - and hands - melting away like a caramac bar left on a radiator.

Slightly riled by this turn of events West begins to smash up his room only stopping when a portly nurse (Inch from the directors classic Vietnam tale There Is No 13) arrives to take his temperature.

Having a thermometer shoved up his arse is the final straw for our spaced-out pal and West suddenly turns violent, chasing the nurse - in bouncy breasted slo-mo - down a corridor before chowing down on her ample thighs and escaping into the nearby woods.

"Shite in mah mooth!"


 Only being experienced in dealing with bunions and broken bones Loring calls on his scientist pal - and friend of West - Dr. Theodore "Ted" Nelson (Trash TeeVee stalwart DeBenning) for help.

Arriving at the scene in a snazzy tracksuit and armed with a handy Geiger counter, the pair soon come across (well she was fairly hot for a fat bird) the nurse's radiation wracked body and after much stroking of chins (as well as wiping their cocks on the remains of her uniform) the pair surmise that West must some how be melting due to the radioactive properties of Saturn and needs to consume human flesh to slow the process.

Which is a pretty good deduction from just looking at a chubby chicks gash.

As in the bite mark obviously.

Wanting to keep the operation low key (which is lucky seeing as the production doesn't seem to be able to afford a couple of lab coats let alone a troop of marines) Nelson contacts General Michael 'Scratch' Perry (Healey - best known as Arch Quinton in 'V'), an air force bigwig who was involved in the Saturn mission but now spends his time scoffing sandwiches at his desk.

With fuck all else to do other than slowly eat his way into oblivion Perry offers to help the search and flies out to meet Nelson.

"It's CCCCCHHHHHRRRIIISSSTTTMMMAAASSSS!!!"


Whilst we're waiting for our heroes to get their arses into gear West is busying himself causing all manner of trouble for the local populace, firstly beheading a local fisherman before turning his attentions to a group of buck-toothed pre-teens playing hide and seek.

Unfortunately the kids escape unharmed.

Realizing that the film is lacking some skin (obviously the fact that it's also lacking any good actors and a halfway decent plot isn't that important) we're suddenly introduced to the 'lovely' - if a wee bit undernourished wannabe fashion model Mavis (Ex-member of The Runaways and B movie babe Cheryl "Rainbeaux" Smith) and her sleazy photographer pal Clive (legendary porn producer/ director Walters) who is desperate to get Mavis to flash her boobs for his camera.

Anyone here aware of Smith's career wont be too surprised to find that this happens quite quickly but as she - feebly - attempts to fight of Clive's creepy advances our bony elbowed blonde trips over the fisherman's severed hand denying them (and us) any chance of some harshly lit loving.

We should be thankful for small mercies.

Steffi Graf, up the casino, Blackpool, 1985.....YESCH!


Armed with his handy Nelson Geiger counter and dressed in a fetching scoop-necked polyester jumper Nelson wanders the woods aimlessly pointing his high tech device at things in the hope of persuading himself that the paycheck is worth the effort but his intellectual musings are cut short when he finds West's ear stuck to a tree branch.

Meanwhile back at the other plot we're entertained by a 15 minute segment featuring FX god Rick Baker's fake fisherman head (I'm assuming it's fake) floating down a stream before falling down a waterfall and bursting like a melon whilst a crappy Bontempi score jauntily plays in the background.

With the film almost at the halfway point the director realizes that he has to get things moving so Perry finally arrives at the main plot, accompanying Nelson to the crime scene where the fisherman's body was found.

Hoping to avoid telling anyone about the mad, melty maniac stomping about the woods our dynamic duo desperately try to convince the peachy arsed Sheriff Blake Severn (Alldredge from everything you've ever seen including The Entity, Scarface and Iron Eagle. See how many others you can find.) that it was wolves what done it but he suspects that Nelson is lying.

Torn between telling the truth or continuing with his frankly shite lies Nelson heads home to berate his pregnant, straw haired wife Judy (M.A.S.H's Nurse Carrie Donovan herself Sweeny - no me neither) for not buying any cream crackers.

No really.

His hopes of a nice cheeseboard feast dashed Nelson's evening goes from bad to worse when Judy informs him that her whorish mother Helen (Love from Caged Heat and your Granddad's darkest dreams) and her 'boyfriend' Harold (Max who once guest starred on the radio drama Nightbeat with Frank Lovejoy fact fans) are coming over for dinner and the promise of a foursome.

Luckily on their way the pair are cruelly murdered by West.

Which may sound a wee bit harsh but anything that puts paid to their frankly arse destroying 'comedy' car antics is a blessing.

The Ronko Wankotron 2000 proved a hit with Jessica Tandy.


Off out looking for whores to murder Blake soon discovers the couples abandoned car and half-chewed bodies, quickly calling Nelson to come and identify them.

Poking about in Helen's innards Nelson quickly surmises that West is somehow getting stronger the more his body melts.

"Then he is surely an incredible melting man" Blake doesn't exclaim.

Back at Nelson's house, Judy has gone to bed leaving an - ever - peckish Perry to raid the fridge giving the director ample opportunity to share a horrendous amount of close-ups of the fat faced fucker greasily stuffing his face with chicken wings and pork sausages as congealed lumps of fat and gristle collect in the corners of his toilet-like mouth.

Beautiful.
His gluttonous gastronomic gobblings are cut short tho' when West turns up unexpectedly and brutally slays Perry before stealing a bag of frozen peas and disappearing into the night.
Realizing that (an incredible melting) man cannot live on frozen peas alone, West breaks into the nearby home of newlyweds Terry and June  (director Demme and owner of the world's peachiest arse and smoothest of smooth thighs Blythe from The Hills Have Eyes and Eaten Alive) in the hope of finding some potatoes and maybe a small portion of fish.

Or a little bit of chicken in a box.

"Put it in me!"


Unfortunately West's search for scran is disturbed by the couple returning home and our space-fairing freak responds in the only way he knows how - by bludgeoning Terry to death this a tube of Pringles before menacing poor June thru' a broken kitchen door.

June is made of sterner stuff than her hubbie tho' and viciously slices West's arm off with a kitchen knife before sliding sexily around he goo covered lino and phoning Blake for help.

Thank you Ms Blythe for bringing some much needed eroticism to the proceedings.

Following the ever stronger radioactive trail left by West the pair soon arrive at the local power plant to find West on the roof trying to build a makeshift hammock out of the electrical cables.

All that killing must be hard work.

Nelson and Blake soon realize that if West harnesses the plant's electrical power he will become invincible.

Will our heroes defeat the sticky space slasher?

And will the director cut back to Janus Blythe who by this point is (hopefully) taking a long, lingering shower to clean all that fake blood and goo from her smooth, lily white skin?





From William Sachs - Manuel in Fawlty Towers (probably) and the man who gave us Galaxina and Spooky House (but not alas the man who gave your mum VD - that was your uncle George) comes a movie that takes all the best bits of  The Night of the Living Dead, First Man into Space and The Quatermass Xperiment (amongst others) and mixes them into a threadbare 50's throwback thriller of inane dialogue, poverty row production values, one note performances and a tone that veers wildly from exploitation shocker to TeeVee sitcom farce like a drunken man trying to find his way home after a particularly heavy drinking session.

And that's just how it makes the audience feel. 
Bizarrely enough Sachs original screenplay was written as a parody of a typical sci-fi horror shocker but producer Samuel W. Gelfman - allegedly - cut most of the comedic elements before adding more scenes of gore and gruesomeness (thanks to a young Rick Baker) during editing claiming that a 'straight horror film' would make more cash.

On viewing you have to ask that if this is the movie with the comedy completely removed then what the fuck did they deem to funny to keep?

I mean the whole endeavor comes across like some sub-Crackerjack version of Torchwood.

Which actually means exactly like a normal episode if you think about it. 

If only Saddam had thought to wave the white flag rather than snort it maybe ISIS wouldn't exist.

The scariest thing about it tho' was the fact that the film actually became a massive commercial hit - thanks mainly to Baker's aforementioned makeup effects tho' critics unanimously derided it for being utter shite.

To a modern cinema-going audience this may seem true but let's be honest here - given the choice I'd rather spend 90 minutes in the company of creepy Colonel Steve than with the fucking whiny wee shite in the Babadook.

The perfect Friday night film and screaming out for a midnight showing alongside Contamination.

Which may sound like damning with faint praise but heyho.

So any brave cinema's up for it?

Answers to the normal email address.














































*Tho' there's a chance he may have been lying - tho' not as much as Andrew Colley who told us all he'd seen Return of The Jedi in America and that during the film's climax Darth Vader gained robot wings and chased Luke  around the still under construction Death Star interior whilst it was revealed that Boba Fett was Han Solo's evil twin brother.


Friday, February 17, 2017

mental maggots.

After weeks of drawing crafty clones, festival guests and gasmask clad killers it's time to relax with a good movie.

Or a couple of shit ones.

I'm still stuck in a classic (well I say classic) sci-fright phase at the moment but fancied something a wee bit different to the norm.

Maybe even a bit of large rubber maggot on girl action.

Well, that must mean it's time to take a trip to the...

Galaxy of Terror (AKA Mindwarp: An Infinity of Terrors, Planet of Horrors. 1981)
Dir: Bruce D. Clark.
Cast: Edward Albert, Erin Moran, Taaffe O'Connell, Robert Englund, Ray Walston, Bernard Behrens, Zalman King, Grace Zabriskie and hissing Sid Haig.

"I live and die by the crystals".


Across the vastness of deep space lies the desolate, storm-lashed (and somewhat soundstage like) planet Morganthus, where the sole survivor of an off screen (and therefore cheap) spaceship crash is fighting a losing battle against an unseen (and therefore very cheap) alien force.

As well as battling the worst home haircut this side of Dario Argento.

And I know which is scarier.

No surprises when I tell you that it's the haircut that wins.

Back at space headquarters (alright then, the portacabin round the back of the studios that Roger Corman uses to store his porn) the jolly crew of the good ship Quest are ordered to mount a rescue mission at the behest of the mysterious 'Planet Master', a strange old man in a second hand suit with a red lightbulb for a head who appears to spend his day playing a table-top version of Pong.

Welcome to the future, eighties style.

Leading the mission is the Planet Master's bezzie mate, the piss-stained and gin soaked soon to be retired Bobby Ilvar (Behrens, the voice of Obi Wan Kenobi in the Star Wars radio series) who, alongside his mismatched team that includes bewigged mentalist Captain Trantor (Twin Peaks hottie Zabriskie), the scarred lone survivor of a previous secret mission; the Tom Selleck alike Cabren (Albert from Power Rangers: Time Force) and the bottle rocket, wooden legged second-in-command Billy Baelon (soft core porn master and former Jesus, King), are charged with locating any survivors as well as looking for some vague and secret stuff whilst they're at it.

I tried not to think too much about the plot seeing as no-one involved seemed to be bothered.

"I can see your house from here Peter".


Also aboard is Cabren's ex squeeze, the harsh-faced psi-sensitive (whatever that means) Alluma (Happy Days' Joanie Cunningham, Moran, who's frankly seen better days - and much better gear before now), chief cook and bottle washer Melvin Kore (My Favourite Martian Walston), and the pube bearded, mightily manbreasted hardman Hilary Quuhod (genre stalwart Haig), master of the deadly Perspex boomerangs.

There are a few other folk aboard too but frankly it'd be easier all round if you just imagine a couple of pieces of hardboard decked out in sub standard bri-nylon (and nipple revealing) Battlestar Galactica uniforms.

Oh, and Freddy Krueger in a ginger Abraham Lincoln beard.

Engaging warp drive (which is just off Stella Street) The Quest soon arrives at it's destination and the crew begin their search for any survivors.

And the ships supply of chocolate biscuits.

And quite possibly any evidence of an original idea.

Unfortunately they find nothing but a load of leftover sets from Battle Beyond The Stars strewn with litter and a few shop window dummies smeared with jam and hanging from the roof.

Baelon, angered by such a waste of yummy toast topping goodness decides to set fire to everything around him whilst the rest of the crew (including the jittery Johnny Deadsoon) split up and have a wee scout around.

But obviously not in a John Wayne Gacy way.

Tho' that would probably make the whole thing that wee bit more entertaining.

Bored with burning stuff and annoyed by Alluma's constant whining about 'dark energies' Baelon orders everyone back to The Quest for tea and toast, a decision that cheers everyone up except poor Deadsoon, who has to stay behind to find his hat that he's dropped.

Suffice to say that within seconds of the others leaving he's killed by what looks like a big rubber testicle that jumps on his back and squeezes his head till it pops.

"And when I'm anally violated I pull THIS face!"


Realizing one of their number is missing the crew head back across the studio rubbish tip (sorry, alien landscape) to look for him, giving the frighteningly pneumatic Dameia (O'Connell from Caged Fury) an excuse to tell everyone how much she hates maggots and how she'd be loathed to have one swim up her (ample) arse.

Reader take note, this may be important later.

Back on board The Quest everyone sits down for a quick Pot Noodle whilst Dameia and general dogsbody Powell Ranger (Englund with shit facial hair and some ginger pubes glued to his head) perform a fairly shoddy autopsy on their fallen comrade and the body of some bloke they found in a cupboard.

Their findings?

Both men were killed by terror.

A probable galaxy full of it.
A Galaxy (minus the terror) yesterday.


After pudding and a glass of milk our motley band decide to have a better look around the planet, starting with a huge pyramid-like structure they singularly failed to notice earlier (well it was a wee bit foggy) and Ilvar feeling a bit left out splits everyone (with the exception of Trantor who's frankly barking and chef who's busy cooking brine for supper) into two teams.

Their mission: discover stuff.

To make it more exciting Ilvar offers first group to reach the summit the chance of winning a teddy bear.

Buffeted by the harsh winds and spooked by the scary synth sounds Ilvar, Dameia and Cabren are first to clamber up the structure (the others have stopped for a picnic at the bottom), discovering a series of slightly sexual looking holes jutting from the pyramids sides, poor Ilvar, stuck between a moustachioed stud and a strip queen, decides to exert his manliness by abseiling down one of these mysterious openings for a quick poke around.

Unfortunately it's him that gets a poking from a gaggle of rubbery (why thank you!) blood sucking tentacles.

"Laugh now!"

Shrugging their shoulders in a fairly apathetic manner before moving on, Dameia and Cabren have soon met up with a still angry Baelon, a still whiny Alluma and always manboobed Quuhod at the pyramids summit where they find a set of giant plasticine doors that lead deep into the structures bowels.

Leaving Quuhod on guard at the entrance (frankly the stench of all that testosterone and sour man milk must be getting to them by now) the rest of the gang head down toward their destiny.

Which in Erin Moran's case is a lifetime of appearances at a number of supermarket openings, conventions and rehab centres.

Your mums cum face. Trust me, I know.


Back aboard the Quest, Ranger is having a severe case of the sweats and Kore skulks around the kitchen in a mysterious manner whilst Captain Trantor sits in the ships gun turret, dribbling down her jumper and playing space invaders whilst swearing like a pikey on heat.

No change there then.

Bored shitless to a point where he's cleaning his nails with the sacred boomerangs, Quuhod is surprised by a scary "BOO!" noise behind him, causing the poor sod to accidentally chop off his arm.

If that wasn't enough the severed arm takes on a life of its own and proceeds to stab it's previous owner to death with his own weapon.

Which is nice.

Hearing the commotion and upset that her breasts are too large to enable her to squeeze any further into the pyramid, Dameia rushes to Quuhod's aid only to stumble over his by now maggot riddle corpse lying in a pool of blood and piss.

Hang on, did someone say maggots?

"Put it in me!"


As Dameia tiptoes around her dead comrades corpse she (remarkably) fails to notice that one of the maggots has started growing to giant size behind her, only realizing that something's wrong when the beast flops down on top of her like a big inflatable penis and begins to tear her clothes off whilst thrusting and grunting the way that normal maggots don't.

What your girlfriend was up to on
that girls night out last week.


Vainly trying to escape by wriggling her slimy arse and rubbing her gloop covered breasts, Dameia is soon overpowered by the horny horror, breathing her last as the beast pumps her full of it's manky maggot muck.

At this point I have to say that as a twelve year old I was under the impression that this was quite possibly the greatest scene ever committed to celluloid but as I got older and more aware of political correctness and the evils of sexism I began to realize that this wasn't the case.

It's far too short for one thing.

And it's way too dark.

(stringy) shite in mah mooth!


This sex based slaying is only the beginning of the horror tho', as within minutes Trantor has accidentally set fire to her face, the cook has gone AWOL, bow-legged Baelon has been bummed by the bin men and poor old Alluma has been squeezed to death by some rampant, slime covered Hoover attachments leaving a by now shot to fuck Ranger and a fairly concerned Cabren the only survivors.

As the perky pair approach the pyramids inner sanctum, they begin to realize that their might be more to the mysterious planet Morganthus than meets the eye and leaves them wondering....

Where the fuck is the chef?


From the minds of writer/director Bruce Clark, little known designer James Cameron and the genius that is Lord Roger of Corman, Galaxy Of Terror maybe a cheap and nasty knock off with more aliases than a serial adulterer and be more likely to give you crabs than a sleepless night but it's still capable of entertaining you along the way.

Just like your mum in fact.

You can imagine the whole thing being greenlit on the strength of the poster alone and when Clark turned round to Corman and said "Then this huge maggot shags a naked bird to death" you just know it was a done deal.

But then any movie that features aliens, sex, gore and a former member of the Happy Days cast being squeezed to death by household appliances painted green should automatically be pushed thru' for immediate production, imagine how much better the world would be if this were the case.

As an added bonus it's great to sit back and enjoy self proclaimed "King of The World" James Cameron doing what he does best, that is operating a giant rape maggot as opposed to forcing badly plotted overlong remakes of Ferngully on us.

The scenes final moments when the huge quivering beast grunts and thrust one final time over O'Connell's prone form is at once incredibly arousing and mildly disturbing, you can imagine Cameron, teeth gritted and with a semi in his shorts sweating and cursing as he becomes one with the monster costume, imagining himself fucking every last dollar out of the worldwide cinema audience.

Or is that just me?

O'Connell: you would.


As you can probably tell, I secretly love Galaxy Of Terror in the same way as you always have a soft spot for that plump, middle aged housewife you got in touch with via those sleazy 'contact' magazines you purchased as a bet when you were fourteen.

You remember, the one from Edgebaston that made you a man then gave you tea,d biscuits and a cuddle whilst telling you about her disabled husband?

Galaxy Of Terror, scarier than your dad, sleazier than your little sister and a damn sight more fun drunk than both of them.

You need this.

Tuesday, February 14, 2017

maiden japan.

Certain readers have been saying that there's way too much violence on this blog and not enough love and romance.

So dear friends I've taken it upon myself to change all that.

Break out the Champagne and strawberries, dim the lights and snuggle up to a loved one as I give you the perfect Valentines Day movie....

Maid Droid (2009).
Dir: Naoyuki Tomomatsu
Cast: Anri Suzuki, Akiho Yoshizawa, Mari Yamaguchi, a few other folk and introducing Roger the randy robot shag hound.




Welcome to Tokyo of the future where the worlds most successful company Maidlord Development have cornered the market in realistic looking, custom built robot maids and pets for the discerning consumer.

So far so Blade Runner.

But don't forget that this is a Japanese straight to DVD presentation featuring young giggly AV stars so there's bound to be a big bad rapist stalking the street too, chasing short skirted, white panted young girls before tripping them up and shagging them senseless.

All show from his point of view of course.

Which is nice if a little disconcerting if you're watching with your mum.

Meanwhile back at the (other, non-forced sex) plot:

Enter young, basin haired Ueno (I'm begging you to, it might cheer him up), a geeky wee boy whose parents happen to work at Maidlord developing the aforementioned new technology meaning that their poor son is left alone most of the time with only his Transform Pandon toys and a shelf full of tentacle porn DVD's for company.

I think we're meant to feel sorry for him but frankly that situation sounds like heaven to me.


No caption needed.


Anyway, his folks, deducing that they've not been spending enough 'quality time' with the boy (and noticing how many boxes of tissues he's getting thru' in a week) decide to bring home a brand new prototype maid droid -model name: Maria- (played to wooden skittle styled perfection by Mari Yamaguchi, star of the popular At the Mercy of the Darkness: Ayano's Bizarre Delusions and Uncle's Paradise) they've been working on to look after him.

Cue a funny and heartwarming housework montage featuring Maria tripping over the vacuum cleaner lead, burning cakes and getting stuck in the fridge - which I'll admit is fairly amusing and a nice break from all that sexual assualt stuff  earlier - but even this happiness is short lived as it's not long before Ueno’s parents are killed in a bizarre accident involving a dodgy furnace and a giant inflatable Hello Kitty, leaving the teen boy in the guardianship of Maria.

Cliff Richard gave 'pin the santa
beard on the whore' his best shot.




As Ueno grows older (and his hormones kick in) he becomes more and more interested in ladies  - and having sweaty sex with them whilst Maria sits in the corner - but soon comes (and comes to realize) that real girls are all dirty whores only interested in his money.

Oh, and his massive cock based on the silhouette we see during the films only human on human sex scene.

Really, I was so impressed I had to watch it twice.

Luckily I had the remote in my free hand.

Sitting dejected on his bed and wallowing in the damp patch, Ueno quietly contemplates why his relationships never work, wondering if he'll ever meet his soulmate.

Slowly his looks across at Maria and realizes that he actually found true love many years ago.

Yup, he's effectively got the hots for the hoover.

Detective Yuri Akag: Tokyo's
answer to Juliet Bravo.


As they say tho', the path of true love never runs smooth and this relationship is no different.

You see because Maria was an early prototype maid droid her designers decided that there wasn't any point fitting her with genitalia.

Which you can kinda understand, it'd be like your Aquavac having a fanny bolted to the side.

Luckily for both parties, Ueno's love for Maria is pure-hearted and untainted with carnal thoughts meaning he's happy to sit about in the nude giving her a good wash occasionally whilst desperately trying not to look at her gloriously soapy breasts.

Maria however can't help but notice how Ueno spends the rest of the afternoon wandering about with a pillow clutched to his crotch and offers to give him a blow job if he fancies it.

Which he does.

So he's obviously not that pure hearted and sweet, the dirty droid shagging pervert.

Or maybe I'm just jealous.

Talking of droids and shagging that evil rapist is still on the loose in the city and hard boiled, harsh faced Detective Yuri Akagi (ex bikini model and star of Chain Gang Girls Suzuki) suspects that a rogue robot could be responsible.

Heading off to the Maidlord offices in an attempt to get to the bottom of all this forced sex business Akagi is introduced to the head of the company, a 107 year old man who's had his mind transferred into the body of a wizened wooden doll.

Sounds legit.

"You're fired! And by the way, I'm shagging your weans!"



Between chats covering such wide ranging subjects as the futility of being and what constitutes free will we're entertained by a tour of the factories robot building faculties, specifically the area given over to 'testing' the newest wave of Pornbots giving the viewer plenty of opportunity to watch a blonde haired, red panted Japanese girl being probed, poked and pinched in every orifice by two sweaty fat men with porn moustaches wearing horrible checked shirts.

For about a quarter of an hour.

It's like watching your dad and his best pal shagging the papergirl.

Again.

"I still can't find 6 Music!"



As interesting as all this robo-rutting is, Akagi is in the middle of a quite interesting discussion as to why the market is dominated by female pleasure droids and not male ones, reckoning that women are more complex than men when choosing a lover whereas guys just want somewhere to stick their cocks.

Puppet man disagrees informing her that men that enjoy cuddling, romance and girly stuff but just aren't attractive to real women, who because of their shallow personalities, prefer hunky abusive guys that beat them up before forcing themselves on them.

Well I'm glad he's made that clear, not at all a sweeping (and oh so misogynistic) statement guaranteed to raise the hackles of any self respecting feminist watching.

And scarily the script was written by a women.

No really.

"Not even the sonic screwdriver
can get me out of this one!"


Just to prove his point the little old puppet man uses his scary - and until now never mentioned - psychic powers to 'mind shag' Akagi and in a sweaty, grunting scene of schoolboy masturbation heaven manages to cleanse  her mind of such foolish feminist notions giving her the strength to catch the robot rapist.

Which I guess makes it OK then.

Meanwhile Ueno (remember him?) is sitting in his pants gazing lovingly at Maria who, since her batteries have died has been sitting happily in the broom cupboard.

Aw, ain't love sweet?

As it happens, now that he's an old man with terrible penile dysfunction the sex doesn't matter anymore and he's decided that he and Maria should get married.

Don't worry tho' before it can get too soppy we're back with the short of skirt yet long of leg Akagi who's taken to searching the dimly lit dirty backstreet's of Tokyo to finally nail (tho' she's more likely to get nailed if the rest of the film's anything to go by) the rapist.

Without warning (well except for the loud clanking and whirring sound) the sex-beast is finally revealed in all it's mid-eighties sub Doctor Who glory.

You see, Akagi was only half right when she guessed the rapist was a robot, it is in fact a rogue robot dog (complete with a floppy wet tongue and rotating day-glo penis) that has built himself a bigger and stronger body from discarded robot parts.

And the reason for his reign of wanton rape and pantie ripping?

It appears that his (female) owner threw him out when she got bored looking after him and all he really wants to do is make ladies happy in the only way he knows how.

By having sex with them.

Fair enough.

Akagi: fancies a bit of "Ruff!" obviously.



Realizing that the creepy wooden man was right about all woman wanting rough sex, Akagi decides that the only way to curb the dogs randy ways is to slowly strip off her undies and allow him have sex with her before turning the poor pooch off at the point of orgasm.

We really should have more community police like this.

As the moaning gets louder and the sweat stinkier we head back over to Ueno's house, where the old man has finally managed to put Maria's finger in his diamond encrusted ring....

Will Maria agree to the marriage?

Will Akagi end up getting bored and faking it?

And will randy rover really care as long as he's getting his jollies?



A rare, non nude, non dog mounted
Anri Suzuki yesterday.





From the director and writer team that gave us the sublime Stacy – Attack of the Schoolgirl Zombies, Zombie Self-Defense Force and Eat The Schoolgirl, Mr. Naoyuki Tomomatsu and Ms. Chisato Ogawara comes this heartbreaking and sensitive tale exploring the ideology of - both physical and spiritual - love and the inherent misogyny that can occur in some otaku culture via bestiality and forced full colour sex.

Tho' I'm assuming it's more about the aforementioned sex if I'm honest.

Playing out like a sniggering schoolboy softcore version of Electric (wet) Dreams, Maid Droid bravely raises some interesting moral and intellectual questions regarding it's basic premise before quickly ditching them like so many hot Pop Tarts to concentrate on the more pressing issue of entertaining those sad, lonely men that live in their parents garage.


Fair enough.



Which, while I must admit is a good cause in itself it's not one I really want to think about whilst watching a stern Japanese actress getting shagged by a huge cardboard and MDF dog.

Saying that tho', the kids enjoyed it a damn sight more than they did Pinnochio, which is great for me cos it's a helluva lot shorter.

And it doesn't feature a bloody singing cricket.

Family fun all round then I guess.

Sunday, February 12, 2017

turning japanese.

Been mixing some music and visuals for an upcoming Tokyo A Go-Go night here (see? I do have a social life) and Mrs Lamont and myself got talking about the very wonderful Saiko Exciting.

For those of you too young (or too non-resident in the UK) to know what I'm ranting about, Saiko Exciting was a weekly two-hour Saturday & Sunday morning entertainment show from The Sci-Fi Channel focusing on all things Japanese presented by the very wonderful Seera (Sarah Backhouse, later to be seen on the Star Trek movie re-releases as the galaxies sexiest Starfleet Science Officer waxing lyrically on such subjects as V'Ger, Thalaron Radiation and Khan) aided and abetted by Jonathan Clements (no me neither) and with games reviews from Emily Newton-Dunn of Bitz fame.

Mixed between segments on how to order pints of lager in Japanese, uncomfortable  J-Pop pogo-ing and small children screaming were full episodes of Neon Genesis Evengelion and possibly THE greatest anime of all time the sublime Martian Successor Nadesico, a show so brilliant that even just hearing it's theme tune - You Get To Burning performed by Yumi Matsuzawa - was enough to banish any signs of a hangover.

Best of all tho' these shows aired uncut.

So let's take a moment to remember those heady days - by clicking this handy link - but most of all to bathe in the beauteous loveliness of  Sarah Backhouse.

お げんき で!







Friday, February 3, 2017

licence to il.

With the inauguration of Donald J Trump, everyone around the world seems to have forgotten that there were power mad mental haired dictators before he came to power whom we also worried about in regards to human rights or whether they'd go crazy ape bat shit and blow up the world.

If anything Trump is really an amateur  when it comes to tango-tanned tin-pot dictatorships.

I mean he never gave us one of the world's greatest monster movies.

For that we have to thank the late, great Kin Jong-Il.

Comrades, I give you...

Pulgasari (1985).
Dir: Shin Sang-ok, Chong Gon Jo and most probably Kim Jong-Il.
Cast: Chang Son Hui, Ham Gi Sop, Jong-uk Ri, Gwon Ri, Gyong-ae Yu, Brian Blessed (possibly) and Geoff Pulgasari as himself.

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"I can't just sit here and cry all the time!"




The time is somewhere between 918 and 1391 AD (that's the Koryo Dynasty fact fans - who says this blog isn't educational?) and the evil bearded governor of the Korean province of, um, West Bromwich has decreed that all the iron in the area is to be confiscated and used to fashion all manner of pointy, sharp weapons.

Not for fashion weapons tho' that would be silly.

Pretty soon all the men folk are sick and tired of having to live off Pot Noodles and take-aways so decide the time is right to stage a revolution.

Right on!

Takse (Ri), the local blacksmith and calm man wanders around urging everyone to just get on with it and stop complaining but his bowl headed apprentice Inde (someone else) has other ideas and sets him self up as a self styled revolutionary leader.

After a couple of weeks of grumpy disagreements and interminable political rhetoric between the two friends, the governor decides to claim Taske's iron too and, surprise surprise the blacksmith then decides that maybe Inde had the right idea.

Takse's plan is stunning in it's simplicity; he gets up in the middle of the night and stashes all his iron under the bed before telling the governor's men that a legendary beast named Pulgasari (as himself) snuck in and ate it all during the night.

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"Raugh Row!"



The governor, not being a small boy, thinks Takse's story is utter bollocks and promptly throws him in jail along with Inde and his stinky band of angry peasant followers.

Score one for justice and law abiding folk!

Not having any iron spare to make cutlery, microwave ovens or chairs means that the prisoners all end up sitting in their own shite on hard stone floors (probably catching piles) with nothing to eat but beetles, so Takse's two annoyingly twee children, Ami (Hui) and Ana (Ri, the other one listed, it's not like he plays two parts) decide to throw scraps of food to their father through the window of his cell.

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"Ah fell aff mah beanstalk Ian!"


But rather than eat it (or even share it with the others the selfish bastard) Takse fashions the food into a little troll - like doll before dying of (you guessed it) starvation.

So far, so depressing.

Ami, being the favourite child (and having the less amusing haircut of the two) ends up inheriting the doll, carrying it around with her and occasionally chatting to it but one day whilst sewing a revolutionary bedspread accidentally cuts herself dripping blood all over it.

Frankly I'd slit my wrists if I was in her position too but that's neither her nor there because, believe it or not the blood causes the doll comes to life!

Not only that but it starts to eat any scraps of iron lying about!

Could this be the legendary left wing monster and hero of the people Geoff Pulgasari?

Um, yes.

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"Blade in mah mooth!"


Geoff, thanks to a diet of old tin cans and spoons grows bigger and bigger (well big-ish, about the size of an average toddler) everyday and is soon ready for his first mission as an heroic communist kaiju, heading off to save Inde from the executioner's chopping block.

The daring (if not incredibly comically, seeing as the entire scene consists of watching a grown man with a stick on beard wrestle a stiff rubber doll) rescue is a success and Inde and his band of pikey layabouts head off to the mountains to hide.

Back home, Ami and Ana are busy celebrating the fact that a small child in a knobbly gimp suit is going to lead Korea and her people to freedom and how he will save them all from, um bad stuff.

Well, I've heard worse.

Time passes and Geoff is now the size of your average Korean stuntman in a suit and has begun to get those typical big monster kick arse urges, so he persuades the local farmers to start a fight with the kings men offering to help win the battle if he can eat all their swords and amour etc.

Which sounds an OK plan to me.

After a few more battles (well half a dozen folk in fake beards running at each other yelling "Aaaaiiieeehhh!") and a few more metal meals, the Pulgasari grows to a gigantic 100 feet tall.

Yet scarily still looks like a man in a mould covered gimp suit.


"And it's goodnight from me"
"And it's goodnight from him!"


Everything is going swimmingly until Korea's most evilly bearded general (Blessed) offers to take out Geoff and company.

It seems that General Brian has discovered Pulgasari's secret, that our big beast buddy must protect Ami at all costs.

A fact he plans to use to his advantage.

This ingenious plan involves kidnapping Ami whilst she's out collecting water for the rebels then tying her to a pole behind a big wooden shed (disguised as an all the metal you can eat buffet) so that when Pulgasari goes inside he can set fire to the beast.

The fact that our big boned pal is made entirely of metal (as opposed to bits of rotting food as you'd imagine) doesn't seem to worry Brian one bit.

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"I'm fucking your mum!"


Which is probably why he looks more bored than shocked when Pulgasari start glowing white hot and with anyone who goes near him bursting into flames.

Never one to give up, General Blessed moves onto plan two (firing rockets at Geoff) and finally plan three (digging a big hole) but he can only watch in mild apathy as Pulgasari continues his journey toward the kings castle, stopping only to squash the aforementioned monarch under foot.

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"Foot in mah mooth!"


Celebrating their freedom and the birth of a new socialist state the peasants prepare a huge banquet but the festivities are soon put on hold when they realize that poor old Pulgasari just can't just stop eating iron and it's not long before he too is demanding that everyone has to give him all their iron farming and cooking implements too.

Can you see what they've done there?

Luckily for the workers, Ana (being a girl and therefore untrustworthy) has been secretly getting advice from Bernard Majin, AKA Mr. Monster of Terror and he has a plan to defeat Pulgasari once and for all....

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"Pulgasari, up the casino, 1984....Yesch!"



Pulgasari is a film born out of legend and hearsay that is, quite possibly much more entertaining than the movie itself.

Directed (kind of) by famed South Korean director Shin San-Ok after he'd been kidnapped by the Northern regime on the direct orders of leader in waiting and well known monster movie fan Kim Jong-il, the director manage to escape a matter of weeks before it was completed leaving hack for hire Chong Gon Jo to complete it.

All this became immaterial however when the illustrious leader realized that the completed film was utter pants from start to finish and refused to release it.

Which just goes to show that world dictators, whilst being well versed in crushing uprisings and keeping the workers under control, know next to nothing about what makes a great historical monster movie because Pulgasari, in my humble opinion is probably one of the greatest and most heart warming films ever made.

Walking that fine line between entertainment and historical drama, in much the same way as Schindler's List, Pulgasari may not be as rib-ticklingly funny as Spielberg's opus but it's a darn sight more factually accurate and miles more entertaining.

Frankly it's a must see, especially if you have any interest in world affairs, history, big rubber monster and 'the politics'.

Or comedy hats.