Monday, November 23, 2015

who says necromance is dead?

Seeing as it's almost Christmas I thought I'd try something a wee bitty different and share a few romantic movies with you just for those nights when it's you and a loved one alone.

Providing she's not got school the next day that is.

Sextette (1978).
Dir: Ken Hughes.
Cast: Mae West, Timothy Dalton, Tony Curtis, Ringo Starr, Alice Cooper, Regis Philbin, Keith Moon, George Raft, George Hamilton and Dom DeLuise....Yes, it's THAT good.

Marriage is like a book. The whole story takes place between the covers.

Mummified screen superstar Marlo Manners (golden age cum bucket West) and her latest husband
Sir Michael Barrington (Rassilon himself, Sir Timothy of Dalton) are spending their wedding night in a swanky London hotel. 

The couple, expecting a few relaxing days (and nights) of top shag action are surprised - well Dalton is I mean West's faced just kinda lolls there like a botched burns victims - to find themselves caught in an international incident that could have serious ramifications for the whole world.

And to good taste.

"Aye son....touch mah titties!"

In a bizarre case of movie coincidences, who should be in the next room but Marlo's ex-hubbie, the Russian diplomat
Alexei (ex Persuader! Curtis) busy taking part in an important UN peace conference.

The problem is that he's refusing to sign anything unless he can spend one last night with his ex wife.

Obviously he just can't get the thought of her ample (and varicose veined) arse out of his head.

But let's be honest, who could?

And if that wasn't confusing (or clichéd) enough yet another ex hubbie, the film director Laslo (Ringo Starr) wants to film her in a 'romantic' scene for his new movie.

It's enough to make a whore vomit.

Tony Curtis: the mark of cinematic quality.

Sir Michael feels he should be chivalrous and defend his (very) old ladies honour. 

Unluckily for him a misunderstanding about the use of the word 'gay' means the evil gutter press have branded him a homosexualist.




Just when you thought that matters - or ludicrous plotting - couldn't get any worse, Marlo's taped memoirs (dishing the dirt on everyone she's ever shagged) have gone missing and her back from the dead, gangster ex-husband, the evil Dan The Fish (comedy God DeLuise) is determined to have them.

"Just close your eyes
and think of Roger Moore".

In a bizarre twist of fate (of which David Lynch would be proud) the cassette ends up first in a cake being delivered to Curtis, then in a dog before finally ending up in the US track and field team's private gym.

Luckily Marlo is visiting the hunky athletes and, in a scene more painful than
circumcision with a rusty tin lid , starts fondling the young bucks before making a slew of lewd suggestions as to where she'd like them to put it.

This frankly terrifying act of sexual harassment is thankfully cut short when she notices the cassette bounce off a trampoline and thru' the roof.

Tho' how she can see anything thru' her melted plastic face is beyond me.

"Five fingers, never touched the sides!"

By this point Sir Michael
is behaving like Barrymore at a pool party, barely able to control the raging erection in his monogrammed silk undies, the sexual tension he feels at not yet being able to consummate the marriage liable to burst at any moment covering anyone standing close in gooey thick Welsh joy-jism.

Which if I'm honest I wouldn't say no to.

His sexual frustration isn't helped by his wife tho', who's taken to wandering around their room in a baby doll nightie so tiny that you can see her nipples swinging freely just below the hem.

So being a true Brit, plus not fancying being caught hunched over the bed in the company of mother fist and her five young daughters (but most likely because there are no old peoples homes near) Sir Michael decides to find the tape himself.

Using his almost Bond-like detecting skills he actually manages to find the pesky cassette before dodgy Dan and his Mafia mo-fo's and finally discovers the reason as to why it's so important.

Would you believe that in her old age poor Marlo can't remember if she divorced Dan or not. 

Only by listening to her frankly sordid past in full Dolby surround can Dan and the mob determine if she now has two husbands.

If you think that sounds harmless just imagine your gran talking dirty to you as you try to polish one off.


"Smell my finger!"

Thinking about it (the plot that is not your gran) I still can't figure out why this is so important.

Anyway, back to the movie and just when you think it can't get any worse (or that West may get all naked and dirty with Dalton) the tape ends up in the United Nations conference hall along with the bad guys, the new hubbie, Alice Cooper,
Laslo, Regis Philbin and practically every other wannabe, has-been and celebrity junkie after money for a quick fix that you can name. 

Just check the cast list.

And for some unfathomable reason the delegates want to hear it all.

Well it beats trying to stop acts of genocide and backing illegal invasions doesn't it? 

The poor guy on the right says it all.

Will the conference be a success or will the contents of the tape plunge everyone into World War 3 meaning that Damnation Alley really happened? 

Will the newly weds ever get to have 'the sex'?

Will West keep her teeth in as Dalton slowly eases his rock solid member into her lipstick covered mouth, his pendulous testicles slowly and rhythmically slapping against the fine hairs on her chin?

Or will he, at the moment of climax plead with his new bride to allow him to cover her unblinking corpse-like visage in his off-white man-muck but then without waiting for a reply, violently fire his seed over Marlo's unflinching face, the sperm glistening like early morning dew on some haunted death mask?

And will Dalton's career survive if he does?

The answer to the last one is yes by the way.

"So you think you'll be able to find the car keys?"

From Ken Hughes, the director behind Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, the Rachel Ward slasher Night School and the Berlin bits in the unofficial Bond movie Casino Royale, comes this star-packed musical comedy, conceived with the idea of relaunching Mae (by this point older than Methuselah) West's career as a sex goddess and glamour queen.

And you have to admit that whatever else is wrong with this movie (and there's a lot) it shows that West could still deliver a kinky quip and a sexual innuendo with the best of them.

Which would be fine if at this point in her career she wasn't an 85 year old leathery necked, tucked and stapled white wigged living corpse.

Imagine if some young guy asked your Gran "How do you like it in London?" and she answered, "I like it anywhere!" whilst stroking herself only wearing a see thru' nightie.

It's just so wrong (unless your Gran happens to be Diana Rigg), almost as if someone travelled back in time to make a star studded role reversed musical version of 
Jörg Buttgereit's Nekromantik ten years early.

And make it even more disturbing.

Heath Ledger's audition for the new James Bond didn't go quite according to plan.

Remarkably it becomes an even scarier proposition as soon as you realise that every single male cast member is meant to fancy the - scaffolded to fuck - arse off West, this knowledge added to the sight of Bond to be Timothy Dalton exclaiming that upon arrival at the hotel (Marlo) won't be wearing many clothes over the next few days still gives me nightmares. 

This is the man that pulled Ornella Muti in Flash Gordon for Christ sake.

Begrudgingly (well it is nearly Christmas) I will admit that there are a few good bits (and a couple of dangling leathery bits in West's case)
including Dalton crooning Love will Keep Us Together to West and a really freaky Jimmy Carter pedo-alike belting out You've got the cutest little baby face to a visibly nipple aroused Marlo, add to that the final revelation that Sir Michael is, in fact a spy ("Just like your James Bond!") and you can't help but let out a giggle.

Or at the very least a little bit of white wee wee.

Camper than Udo Kier in an immaculately clean SS uniform running barefoot thru' a forest of cock, the film does have one final surprise, an ending that rivals Carrie and Rosemary's Baby in the terror stakes.

Yep, I'm talking about the final shot of a scantily clad Ms. West writhing in bed next to a topless Timothy Dalton whilst moaning "Oooohhhhhhhhhhhhh, the British are COMING!"

What more can I say?

View at your peril.

Thursday, November 12, 2015

people you fancy but shouldn't (part 55).

MasterChef's mistress of mouth watering munchies Monica Galetti.
Nuff said.

Tuesday, November 10, 2015

blobby sands.

Decided to give this a whirl t'other night cos I love Blood Beach so much.

Oh yeah and I have a thing for Hayden Christensen's moving speech about sand being 'coarse and irritating' in Attack Of The Clones.

In fact it's my favourite scene in any Star Wars film and packs a real emotional wallop.

The Sand (2015).
Dir: Isaac Gabaeff.
Cast: Brooke Butler, Cleo Berry, Cynthia Murell, Dean Geyer, Meagan Holder, Mitchel Musso, Hector David Jr., Nikki Leigh, Etalvia Cashin and Jamie Kennedy.

"I don't like sand. It's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere."

It's spring break time and, as is the way of such things a large group of fit, tanned twenty-somethings are 'partying down' on a beach to generic dancey-trance bollocks.

The boys (well the hot ones) flex and show their muscles whilst actress cum model Nikki Leigh (being the only cast member with six - at least - Playboy photo shoots behind her) - in a pitch perfect portrayal of beach babe Marsha - gets her tits out.

Whilst all this drunken debauchery is going down partners in crime (but not by the look of one of their waistbands partners in cakes) Vance (David Jr.) and man mountain Gilbert (Berry) stroll into the party zone with what looks like a massive green, gooey testicle that they've come across (which would explain the slime) further up the beach.

Undeterred by such strange sights the party continues but not until all the guests have put their phones in a bag in case anyone gets filmed doing anything foolish.

Hopefully a monster wont attack them or something similar cos that means that they wont be able to call for help.

But what are the chances?

Do you remember chalk hearts melting on a playground wall. ... By the way didn't I break your heart? ... Kaylee is it too late to say I'm sorry?

Anyway, as the sun rises on a new day copper-bottomed cutie Kaylee (Butler who will be our heroine for the next ninety minutes) and mousey Mitch (Musso channelling a nervous dormouse) awaken to find themselves cuddled up in the lifeguard station, whilst Kaylee's on/off boyfriend Jonah (Geyer) is happily snoozing in his car alongside the sultry Chanda (Holder, daughter of Slade singer Noddy), the aforementioned Vance and his girlfriend Ronnie (the scarily pillowed yet always watchable Murell from How I Met Your Mother).

Got that?

Good because these are the folk we're meant to be rooting for during the film.

Seriously it's like the bland leading the bland.

Luckily the director has decided to add a wee bit of colour to the proceedings by not only having Vance's portly pal Gilbert trapped in a barrel but persuading Nikki to keep her top off whilst lying on a table.

So we're all winners if I'm honest.

Well except the other party goers obviously because they've all disappeared leaving behind a collection of sleeping bags, used condoms and beer cans.

Whilst shouting to each other from their various locales and being dazzled by the sun glistening on Marsha's admittedly stunning thighs, Kaylee is surprised to see a (children's clockwork) seagull first getting stuck to, then sucked under the sand by forces unseen.

Or at least forces unseen till the CGI is added later.

But there are more important things afoot like who stole Marsha's bikini top?

And how much longer will the director justify shooting so many teasing glimpses of her rosy nipples?

Not too long it seems as our bouncy babe, bored with the feeling rough, hard wood rubbing against her pert arse steps off the table only to find herself stuck to the sand in much the same way as the unfortunate bird.

Vance, coming over all heroic (but obviously thinking of coming elsewhere) jumps out of the car in order to help Marsha - and hopefully cop a feel - but he too ends up stuck to the sinister sand.

Their friends can only watch and emote (badly) as the pair disappear beneath the beach in an onslaught of low quality CG.

Nikki Leigh - Rosy nipples not shown.

Whilst all this snot-nosed screaming is going down Mitch - being the geeky type - is much more interested in the fact that the giant bollock that was dragged to the party earlier appears to have cracked open (or 'hatched' if you will) and quickly concludes that whatever was inside must have burrowed under the sand and killed all their pals.

And it looks like it's still there and ready for seconds.

Following Mitch's lead - and remembering that she's the heroine - Kaylee uses a packet of recently thawed hot-dogs to garner how big the creature actually is.

No, really.

Realising that it's only really the size of an average garden, Jonah reckons that he can use a couple of his surfboards to makes a bridge to reach the table that Marsha was sleeping on, giving him access to her discarded handbag but more importantly a chance to put on her make-up and hopefully confuse the creature enough to allow him to run for help.

Or something.

Unfortunately the creature gets wise to his plan and sneakily moves one of the boards causing Jonah to slip and giving the beast an opportunity to slash his buff, hairless chest causing major chafing and a nasty rash.


It's not a total loss tho' as Jonah soon notices that the creature appears to be keeping away from the fire-pit and this, coupled with it's inability to smoke fags seems to indicate that it fears 'the fire'.

How original....I wonder if the book of matches Kaylee pocketed earlier may come in useful at some point?

After what seems like an eternity of fuck all happening, Ronnie and Chanda remember that the phones are actually in the boot (or trunk as our American cousins call them) of the car and decide to make a half-arsed and ill- thought thru' attempt to retrieve them.

Unfortunately this results in very little suspense but does culminate in Ronnie getting her fingers stuck in the boot door meaning we get loads of shots straight down her bikini top as she writhes around in agony.

Which is actually quite pleasant and vaguely erotic if I'm honest.

"Are you looking at my bra?"

But the fun and games are soon are soon brought to a standstill (or a sandstill if you will) by the arrival of Alex, the friendly neighbourhood beach patrol guard (king of the comedy japesters Kennedy appearing for beer money) who assumes that the group are on drugs and proceeds to take the piss out of them as the friends look on confused as to why the sand hasn't eaten him yet.

Maybe the creature is a fan of  Malibu's Most Wanted?

I mean someone has to be.

Kaylee soon realises it's because he has a shit, stick-on hang on I mean it's because he's wearing shoes (but come on admit it, my reason is as plausible) but none of this matters as in a fit of pique Alex drops his keys and when he attempts to pick them up, ends up stuck too.

Using his trusty pepper spray he temporarily confuses the creature and attempts to drag his arm free of the sand only to find an ill-matched CGI stump pulsing and ejaculating thick red paint in its place, the shock of which causes him to fall backwards into the sand and straight to his death.

Luckily Kaylee manages to grab his pepper spray in the ensuing carnage so it's not all bad.

Except for Alex obviously.

And anyone hoping that the visual effects would be the movies saving grace.

Mitch, now feeling kinda wired and realising that if he saves everyone he's bound to get at least a sympathy shag decides to attempt to reach Alex's truck by putting on a pair of flip-flops, spraying his feet with the pepper spray before wrapping them up in towels and making a run for it.

Which as plans go isn't too bad if I'm honest.

It's a pity then that his balance is so shite that he falls over a banister and falls into the sand on his first attempt to catch a towel thrown by Chandra.

And it's not even her fault for throwing like a girl.

Suffice to say Mitch dies in possibly the most clumsy use of computer effects I've ever had the misfortune to sit thru'.

Truly horrific just not in the way the director intended.


"Shite in mah mooth!"

Kaylee, realising that the sooner she does something the sooner it'll all be over, decides to take charge and gets Chanda to construct a makeshift bridge out of the broken pieces of banister left lying around in order to reach Jonah and make up with him.

Or something.

But first there's the small matter of Ronnie's fingers to deal with.

Oh yes and the fact that Gilbert has started to melt into the bin and his oozing wounds have alerted the beast to his presence.

It's all go isn't it?

Will Kaylee, Chanda and Ronnie make it off the beach alive?

Will Gilbert spend the rest of his life trapped in a trashcan eking out money as an Oscar The Grouch impersonator at kids parties?

Will Jonah recover from his wounds?

Will you make it to the movies end without losing the will to live or at the very least bladder control?

And will you ever again pray that Jeffrey Bloom was in the directors chair?

The illustration of the monster on the poster is actually more impressive than the one in the film Fact.

Wild haired production designer cum director Isaac Gabaeff's (bless you) creature feature has all the ingredients of a killer 'B' movie, it's unfortunate then that it squanders everything with a meandering plot, a total lack of engaging characters and a distinct lack of any tension whatsoever.

What it does have is a group of attractive twenty-somethings in very few clothes talking at each other for ninety minutes whilst a cluster of badly rendered worms attempt to make you think that they're in the same scenes as everyone else.

Oh yes and a fat, obnoxious 'comedy' black man stuck in a barrel due to his enormous girth and swearing a lot.

And a totally unnecessary and overlong cameo by Jamie Kennedy that does nothing but prove the fact that Gabaeff alongside writers Alex Greenfield (the writer behind WWE Smackdown! - go figure) and Ben Powell had no idea as to whether they were making a comedy or a straight up horror before deciding to make neither and just hope that the sheer amount of bouncy young breasts on show would suffice.

Cynthia Murell, up the casino, Blackpool, 1998.....YESCH.

Which is a shame if I'm honest because The Sand has all the elements of a fairly scary movie and with a better script and a lot less lazy CGI could have been a late night classic in the making.

As it is it's just there.

And it's a shame because the genuinely great female trio of Butler, Berry and - especially - Murell deserve better.

As do we.

I'd file it under 'must try harder' but honestly it'd be more apt to have it under  'try'.

Or just bury it on the beach and forget about it.

Wednesday, November 4, 2015

gimme sum sugar baby....

Every opening to The Apprentice ever:

We're here at 10 Downing Street today, I’m sure you know who lives here. Now David Cameron is known for many things, but mostly people know him for his love of shitting on the poor and fucking pigs mouths.

So today we're tasking you to create a new mouth/penis accessories item.

Now the men's team this year is quite surprisingly not as shit as usual so to make sure the viewing figures stay up we're adding some of the women to the team to create a bit of drama but just in case some of the men aren't deterred by this change, I’m throwing them the most sensible one into the women's team so I can watch them get shouted at even though they'll be the only one with any rational ideas.

off you go.

Did I ever tell you how I made my first million before the age of 12 by punting my arse out of the back of a wheelbarrow?

Thursday, October 29, 2015

pretty? vacant.

Was out shopping today when I saw this in my local Fopp for £3.

Unfortunately I already own it.

And mine cost me £15.

But that was about 10 years ago.

Interesting eh?

Amazonia: The Catherine Miles Story (AKA Cannibal Holocaust 2: The Catherine Miles Story, Captive Women VII: White Slave, Forest Slave, White Slave. 1985)
Dir: Mario Gariazzo.
Cast: Elvire Audray, Will Gonzales, Dick Campbell, Dick Marshall, Alma Vernon,
Grace Williams, Sara Fleszer, Mark Cannon, James Boyle, Peter Robyns, Jessica Bridges, Stephanie Walters, Neal Berger, Deborah Savage and what looks like Jill Gascoine and Alfred Molina.

But probably isn't.

The local nosed, thin-lipped and vacant eyed bimbette Catherine Miles (Audray, star of the sword and sorcery classic The Iron Master and the wobbly thigh obsessed Klaus Kinski epic Vampire in Venice) has journeyed to Brazil from her posh boarding school in London (England near Europe) in order to spend the summer holidays with her wealthy (yet spookily dubbed) plantation-owner parents.

As a special treat to celebrate her eighteenth birthday, her parents decide to take her on a scenic river tour on their luxury houseboat (tho' her aunt and uncle must stink of piss seeing as they've been forced to follow in a canoe).

Lounging in the sun and enjoying the stock footage all around her, Catherine is reminded of her happy childhood growing up in the jungle, unaware of the tragedy about to befall her family as, without so much as a scary musical cue the houseboat is engulfed in a hail of poison darts fired from a native raiding party led by the sexily haired Brian Umukai (Gonzales, taking a break from running really quickly in those slightly racist Warner Brothers cartoons).


Not too surprisingly her poor parents are killed in the crossfire and Catherine is incapacitated by a potent paralysing frog-venom covered spear.

And no, I didn't see that coming.

Audray: She'll have no trouble here.

Lying incapacitated on the deck and slowly weeing herself, she can only watch in mild discomfort as a band of arse flashing Indio warriors board the houseboat and proceed to cut off her parents heads before clumsily lifting her up and carrying off to their camp.

Her aunt and uncle (husband and wife team Gascoine and Molina) however appeared to have been spared this horror by obviously being far too stinking for the tribe to attack.

Or were they?

Catherine, awake at this point and tied to a pole like a stringy pale turkey is clumsily dropped in front of a hut belonging to one Geoff Ungowa.

It seems that this Geoff fella is the tribal leader and he's decided to award Catherine to Tony the richest man in the village as a big pink, wobbly arsed gift.

A big pink, wobbly arsed gift with a fucking shocking perm.

Big Tony is obviously excited by the myriad of possibilities open to him now he has a lady of his own and can hardly contain himself, as he jumps up and down with what looks like a mouldy carrot sticking out of his loincloth at a right angle whilst dribbling uncontrollably.

His passions are soon cooled down tho' when he discovers that sweet lil' Catherine is still a virgin.

It appears that the tribe have rule that states that a woman with an intact hymen can't be touched.

Yup, they have a special 'Hyman Go!' machine that they use on ladies during a big ceremony every second Thursday of every third month.

No, I am not making this shit up.

Tony's luck goes from bad to worse tho' as by the time it comes round to Catherine's shot on the big machine he's being challenged for her hand (and the rest of her obviously) by the aforementioned Umukai.

The pair get down to a bit of slightly homo-erotic wrestling before Umukai beats the rich boy to a pulp.

"I still cannae see mah car keys hen!"

You see, it seems that dear old Umukai has had a huge girlie crush on Catherine from the moment he first set eyes on her as she lay paralysed on the deck of her parents’ boat.

Which would be OK if he hadn't have been beheading her mum at the time.

But who said the path of true love was a smooth one?

Trying to win her round, and to get her used to the jungle lifestyle he enlists the help of his sister Janice (Fleszer, probably) who as luck would have it spent her younger years living with a group of English speaking missionaries so has a mastery of Catherine's native tongue to rival your average Glaswegian.

In return for all this girly chat about pop music and nights spent painting each others nails, Catherine repays her new friend by teaching her basic first aid (she must of been a Brownie I guess), which comes in mighty lucky when the tribe's top hunter, Barnaby breaks his leg.

Re-setting it for him (whilst mopping his brow in a concerned manner) is enough to convince King Geoff that Catherine is in fact a powerful white witch, which helps no end with her being accepted as a member of the tribe.

"I thought Vic Morrow would be taller".

With the passing of time (and bad dad gas), Catherine begins to see that Umukai really does love her (I know it's vomit inducing but I didn't write it) and eventually they learn enough of each other’s tongues (and language, snigger) to communicate.

With each other that is not with insects like Jennifer Connelly in Phenomena.

During one of their late night chats Umukai reveals a secret so devastating that it turns Catherines world upside down.

It appears that Umukai's tribe didn't start the attack on her parents boat, only joining in later because they were bored, and that the real culprits were DI Maggie Forbes from The Gentle Touch and Doctor Octopus.

Catherine is shocked by this revelation (well, I say shocked but it's more a look of mild apathy if I'm honest) and refuses to believe Umukai.

It's only when Catherine remembers that she overheard her dad telling her dear mum that his will gives her aunt and uncle total control of the plantation (and all their cash) in the event that both her parents die plus the fact that aunt and uncle had lost everything they had due to a string of Hollywood flops that everything seems to slot into place.

Jill Gascoine's attempts to stop Alfred Molina
wanking in bed had maybe gone a wee bit too far.

Catherine decides that a dose of rampant raging revenge is on the cards and luckily, her months of living with a group of head hunting cannibal savages have given her the skills and determination she needs to see it thru'....

Mario Gariazzo's slow burning everyday tale of love, severed heads and revenge against a jungle back drop is unfortunately better know for being flogged to unsuspecting German punters as Cannibal Holocaust 2 (a film to which it's completely unrelated) than for anything else, which is a shame really because underneath the interminably po-faced courtroom framing device featuring a recently returned Catherine on trial for her aunt and uncles murder, the stilted acting, wooden dialogue and copious amount of man-ass on show there's a not too bad movie desperately trying to claw it's way out.

I'm not saying it's a good movie however, far from it but compared to director Gariazzo's other work (The Brother from Space? The Sexorcist? Very Close Encounters of the 4th Kind anyone?) that you realise that the last 90 minutes could have been a lot harder to sit thru'.


But for all it's wobbly bits, violence and (naive) attempts at showing 'the white man' as being even more savage than the great unwashed tribal folk, Amazonia: The Catherine Miles Story never amounts to anything more than an obscure entry in the (by this time) bloated tummy of the cannibal genre.

Saying that, it's way more enjoyable than Castaway (tho' Tom Hanks does have much perter breasts than Elvire Audray) and has a nicer collection of arses than 120 days of Sodom.

Plus it pisses over The Green Inferno.

So it's a winner by default then really.

people you fancy but shouldn't (part 54).

It's almost Halloween so it has to be Mavis Dracula from Hotel Transylvania.

Nuff said.



Cassidy is in charge of the teevee tonight so currently watching Monsters Inc. (again) and it got me wondering, how does reproduction work in their world? 
Are the monsters all like dogs (same species but different genes), which allows them to interbreed?

That seems unlikely given the huge physiological differences seen between them. 
Look at the head of the company, the 8 legged spider monster Henry J. Waternoose III vs Mike.

This leads me onto my next point. 
How are stable population sizes maintained if there are only a few breeding pairs for each type of monster? 
What sort of evolutionary situations would have had to be seen for such a large variety of equally intelligent monsters to develop?

Or am I just being a very, very sad and lonely man?
Sully and Boo reunited in a little seen deleted sequence. Possibly