Wednesday, December 23, 2009

tis the season....

Saturday, December 12, 2009


More Eurotrash graphic fun, this time it's kiddies comic craziness Depredador (Predator) from sunny Spain.

Beats Arnie wrestling a vagina faced alien any day.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

charity begins at home.

Dropped the podlings at school and nursery and was out perusing the local charity shops when I found these beauties for a quid each.


Tuesday, December 8, 2009

people you fancy but shouldn't (part 15).

Top funny woman Jenny Eclair. I'm sorry but I would, you would, we all would.


Three times on a Wednesday.

animal tragic.

Rolled in around 2 AM last Saturday after spending the evening dressed as the 10th Doctor (photo's to follow if requested) to celebrate my rapidly approaching descent into middle age and being either:
A. too drunk


B. too tired

to turn over the teevee I was lucky enough to catch this gem on the Horror Channel.

Did I say lucky?

Dr. Moreau's House of Pain (2004).
Dir: Charles (mighty, fallen) Band.
Cast: John Patrick Jordan, Jessica Lancaster, Peter Donald Badalamenti II, Lorielle New, Ling Aum, B.J. Smith, Debra Mayer, Laura Ushijima and Jacob Witkin.

“My surgical skills might have been a bit sharper
if you hadn’t have cracked my skull open.”

Square faced second rate pugilist Eric (Jordan, soon to be seen in Porky's: The College Years) is sitting in an old convertible outside a sleazy nightclub, desperately trying to find his brother Roy, who's disappeared at some point.

The film isn't that specific as to say where or when, I have a feeling it might not be that important.

Along for the ride are the harsh faced ace girl reporter Mary Ann (the poor man's Debi Mazar, Mayer from that horror opus Decadent Evil Dead and Eric's girlfriend Judith (Lancaster, who's bound to have been in some other stuff, not counting that video she did for her 'uncle' to pay the rent back in her student days).

Or was it the other way around?

It seems that Roy spent most of his nights here watching one stripper in particular and Eric is determined to find out why.

Or at the very least get to crack one off in a private booth.

Entering the club and taking a stage-side seat, Eric uses his not inconsiderable charm in an attempt to pump the barkeep for information concerning his missing bro'. All he gets tho' is "Your bruvva pure fancies the next stripper by the way....she's dead young and shapely...oh and it's four quid for the Babycham".

So, who is this beauty that every man seems to fall madly in love with at first sight?

Enter the illustrious Alliana (and from the look of her resume you wont be the first), a skinnier scarier poor man's Faye Dunaway writhing around like an epileptic on crack whilst attempting to give a 'seductive' glance towards Eric but only succeeding in looking like she's mid stroke.

But not that kind.

An arse in parsley yesterday.

After sitting thru' the entire rosta of acts (including a magician and chicken shaver) Eric sneakily follows Alliana out to her car only to be accosted by an evil gangster type, Jeff Badman who also has a big girly crush on our stripping pal (must be slim pickings around there).

Feeling particularly manly and after delivering a swift kick to Eric's nuts Jeff attempts to force himself on Alliana only to have her snarl like a wolf and put her fist thru' his head.

Eric, shocked and maybe a wee bit aroused by this grabs the women folk and runs back to his car, following Alliana back to an old, crumbling asylum on the outskirts of town.

Unfortunately for the film makers the town is in Romania where this was shot not Hollywood as we're meant to believe.

Mary Ann kindly fills them (and us) in with the history of the place, from the mad mentalists that stayed there to the rumours of satanic parties held in the cellar.

Which is nice.

Having served her purpose as Ms. exposition, Mary Ann is promptly grabbed by a big hairy, cat faced man-beast before being dragged kicking and screaming into the darkness.

Rum, sodomy and the lash.

Meanwhile back at the plot Alliana has taken delivery of the gangsters body to one Dr. Moreau (the homeless yet still leathery of balls Sean Connery lookalike and recovering alcoholic Witkin from Showgirls), who ably assisted by his two favourite 'manimals' the aforementioned kitty masked Peewee (Smith) and a whiny voiced dwarf in a pig costume named Gallagher (Badalamenti II: Electric Boogaloo - but no Simon McCorkindale alas) are on the lookout for spare body parts to help accelerate the transition of his genetically altered manimals to full human status.

As one does.

Unfortunately for all involved, Jeff Badman had a shocking dose of the clap when he died rendering his organs useless so it's a good thing that Alliana's been followed by the hunky Eric and co. isn't it?

I mean, there's no way they'd have any STD's and the like.

Well, except Jessica Lancaster obviously, I felt unclean just looking at her if I'm honest.

Up the casino for coppers? Yesch!

In between all this furry back biting and faintly embarrassing animal acting it transpires that poor old Moreau’s not actually in charge of this so called house of pain and it's the manimals (all three of them) that are pulling the strings, each with their own convoluted agenda.

Firstly Alliana, who it turns out is actually a humanised leopard, wants a young studly mate, Peewee (half mountain lion, half carpet) wants to break stuff and cheeky little Gallagher is constantly horny and just wants somewhere to put his teeny tiny cock.

So who's got there eye on Eric and who's got there eye on Judith do you think?

Your mum, having a stroke.

If that wasn't enough to keep you interested there's also a shady Chinaman named Pak Mon (Aum) drunkenly stumbling around the asylum whilst carrying a big stick in one hand and a huge oven chip on his shoulder.

You see, he was once Moreau’s assistant back in the 'Island of' days when Moreau (for a laugh obviously) experimented on Pak's young daughter Gorgona (Ushijima, bless you), leaving her stuck with half a fish-face and a mouldy oven glove for a hand.

Back in the basement (and seemingly unconcerned by Mary Ann's disappearance) Eric and Judith continue to wander around aimlessly until they're captured by a still horny Gallagher and an incredibly frustrated Peewee; it seems he accidentally crushed Mary Ann's ribcage whilst trying to unbutton her blouse, meaning the poor lovelorn sod has taken to sulkily carrying her bloodied corpse around on his shoulder whimpering like a small girl.

Realising that there haven't been any gratuitous tit shots for about twenty minutes, Alliana takes Eric back to her boudoir for a bout of sweaty naked cat sex, which comes across about as erotically as watching your Gran shagging one of your school chums.

All I could think of was how much Alliana looked as if she could do with a pie.

Oh, and how I'd never tire of kicking Eric in the face.

I'm sorry, it was one of those days.

Jade Goody: From beyond the gravy.

Whilst Eric heads back to his cage and Alliana lies purring whilst wriggling around in the damp patch Pak and Moreau are enjoying their weekly debate about the ethics of biosynthesis (or some other bollocks leaving that wee tinker Gallagher attempting to woo Judith with a bowl of soup and an offer of an escape route.

All she has to do is stand in the corner and do a little striptease whilst the pig-faced one enjoys a crafty Barclays and she's home free.

Judith, after much deliberation accepts his offer and slowly shows her big black pants.

Admit it, you've done much worse when you've not had your taxi fair, I know I have.

Her leopard super sense tingling added to the noticeable waft of damp yeast eminating from Judith's cage sends Alliana into a shag frenzy (what? again?) and, stopping only to dress up as a whores Christmas tree she chases after Eric for (sloppy) seconds leaving poor Judith, stripped to her suspender belt and with her newly paid for breasts hanging limply like rocks in a rucksack at the mercy of Gallagher.

It seems that our porcine pal has changed the deal and is already tearing at his trousers with his stinky trotters in anticipation of this little piggy squealing all the way home....

And if this indignity wasn't enough for poor Judith, it appears that Pak has persuaded Moreau (by hitting him repeatedly over the head with a wine bottle) to use her body to repair the damage done to his daughter.

But alas not get rid of the smell of fishpaste that follows her around.

Will Eric have enough energy left to rescue Judith?

Will we actually get to see the oft promised girl on pig action rather than it keep cutting back to two old men arguing?

Will Alliana ever put some clothes on?

I'm not telling, I mean I sat thru' the whole fucking travesty so you can too.

"Shite in mah mooth now you porky bastard!"

Ah Charles Band, boyhood hero to any self respecting cult film fan growing up in the eighties. Amongst the many classics he brought us were lo-budget gems like Trancers, Robot Jocks and Laserblast (my first CB movie, show way back in '78 as a double bill with The Muppet Movie) and his production company gave us From Beyond and Re-Animator to name just a few.

Which makes it all the more tragic that he's been reduced to churning out hideously average shite like this.

An unofficial (you're kidding me) sequel to the HG Wells classic novel with a budget that can only stretch to three Halloween masks and one actual actor in the cast, House of Pain is hellishly performed by it's minuscule cast of never-beens and wannadies, horribly lit in bright primary colours (imagine a hyper-active child remaking Suspiria and you're a third of the way there) with actors so uniformly unattractive that you begin to start fancying the poor sod in the fish mask by the movies end, just because the quick glimpse you get of her right breast shows that it's the only non-augmented, natural thing in the film.

Fuck, even the brick lined cellar is plastic.

"Laugh now!"

But (and there's always a big but - just not on any of the emaciated female cast) it turns into a wee bit of a car crash, you just can't turn away or turn off.

Or maybe that was just the amount of cheap sherry I'd necked previously.

I'm just glad it's over if I'm honest.

Monday, December 7, 2009

lady ga ga.

Dreams do come true!

After accidentally sitting thru' Species III recently then bemoaning the fact that I hadn't yet seen Species IV you'll never guess what turned up on teevee t'other night.

God bless you ITV 2!

Species: The Awakening (AKA Species IV. 2007).
Dir: Nick Lyon.
Cast: Ben Cross, Roger Cudney, Helena Mattsson, Dominic Keating and Marlene Favela.

Unrated? unnecessary more like.

Tefal headed
, blonde poppet Miranda (Mattsson, soon to be seen in Iron Man 2) is your normal everyday swotty student. Orphaned when her parents died in a bad smash she lives with her horse faced, doting uncle Tom Hollinder (Cross whose ex-wives must have been begging for extra cash that month), a professor of clever things at the local university.

Miranda it seems is getting very excited for not only are they moving to The England (that's in Europe near France for our American friends) in the summer but she's got a hot date with the gorgeous Ted Sexington that very night!

Nervously combing her hair forward to hide her massive brow, Tom looks on proudly (but not perversely, well not yet) at his niece as she takes those first faltering steps into adulthood.

Aw, sweet.

Align Centre
Ben Cross? I'd be fucking raging.

But this is a Species movie so it comes as no surprise when Tom wakes the next morning to find Miranda's room empty.

Where could she be?

Well, it seems that she's turned up stark bollock naked in a park, unconscious and covered in big green veins a wee bit like a lump of milky white smooth cheese.

Luckily a passing jogger (a blink and miss it cameo from the fantastic Gregg Lucas, who you may remember as the catering assistant on the Vin Diesel epic Pitch Black) finds poor Miranda and carries her to the local hospital.

At least I hope it's local cos her head must weigh about the same as a really big melon.

Fearing the worst (and anxious to get the plot moving) Uncle Tom (no, not this one) rushes to the very same hospital to see if she's there.

Whilst he sweatily drives across town it seems that Miranda has gone all green, gooey and bullet nippled, running round the wards and butchering anyone she comes across in a flurry of cheap CGI carnage.

Which is nice, if a little unexpected this early into the movie.


Tom arrives just in time to find a sweaty Miranda, her ample arse pointing skyward lying face down in the ladies toilet. Quickly injecting her with what looks like washing up liquid he scoops her into his arms, pops her in the back of the car and drives away towards Mexico.

Where it's cheaper to film shite like this obviously.

Waking up on the back seat and confused as to why she's covered in egg, semen and blood Miranda, looking for all the world like a freshly molested kitten demands her uncle tell her what the hell's going on.

With a sharp intake of breath and wearing a face of pure fizz, Tom explains to Miranda that she isn't really his niece and that she is, in fact the last of the three alien/human embryos created all the way back in the original Species.

To be honest this could all be utter tosh because all I remember from the first film is the alien having a wet dream about Michael Madsen (haven't we all?) and the aforementioned actor wandering about with a shitty wee gun whilst sweating like a cornered rapist.

Ben farted and it smelled of egg.

As if suffering from plot point diarrhoea Tom goes on to admit that he sneaks into her room at night to inject her with his 'special serum' to keep her alien half under control but that recently it appears not to be working that well.

No shit.

Anyway, it's not all bad because Tom's old workmate, a piss stained jolly old Oirishman named Forbes (Keating from Enterprise and 80's shit-com Desmonds), may have the answers to whatever it is that's wrong.

Or something.

"Tongue oot mah mooth!"

It's not long before our duo arrive in Mexico and, after booking into a grubby hotel, Tom puts Miranda to bed and heads out into town to look for his old pal. Realising that nothing of any consequence has happened for about 10 minutes a fairly foxy if milky eyed nun (the cheesily cheerful Favela) jumps off a building and lands directly in front of Tom before licking her lips in a provocative manner and pointing her breasts in his general direction.

Tom, a little surprised by these turn of events legs it back to his hotel with the nun (whose name is Azura by the way) giving chase and, after an irritating subplot about her, an old Texan man with horses teeth and a mutant cabbie (not as amusing as it sounds I'm afraid) our hero finally tracks Forbes down to his warehouse lovenest where we're introduced to the greasy little fella as he's gyrating away under Azura whilst shouting "Oh begorah!" a lot.

Inside John Leslie's mind....again.

Finishing his sexy business and wiping his cock on a tea towel, Forbes gives Miranda a thorough once over, discovering that she urgently needs a blood transfusion from a human lady to curb her alien-ness.

Yup, makes perfect scientific sense to me.

Forbes suggests they go kidnap a woman and perform the operation right now.

After a fair amount of macho posturing and heated argument Tom gives in and heads off to the local discotheque in order to find a donor.

Dancing like your dad at a wedding and drinking sherry by the bucketful, Tom quickly pulls a pure local stunner but having about as much luck on first dates as Phil Spector does It isn’t long before she has him pinned to a wall with his trousers down and threatening to shove a steak knife up his arse.

Luckily Azura comes to the rescue, knocking the woman unconscious and carrying her back to the car ready for her to feel Forbes little prick.

Of his needle that is.

Forbes and Tom (sweatily) complete the transfusion and just like in the other Species movies, Miranda cocoons herself into a giant wet leathery testicle, waiting to be reborn.

flopping suggestively out of the heaving ballsack and covered in slime, Miranda strides confidently over to Tom and Forbes, her shoddily moulded alien cheese nipples glistening in the moonlight and demands some of the sex.

Beware the stare of Subo!

Tom flatly refuses to oblige and Forbes, not wanting to upset Azura says no too, leaving Miranda to quickly fondle Azura's breasts (wahey!) before storming grumpily off into the night for an evening of shagging and murder....

Will they find Miranda before it's too late?

Too late for what I'm not sure.

Will she and Azura go head to head in a rubber suited slimy alien lesbian shagfest?

Or will mankind be destroyed by an ever increasing army of extra terrestrial shag whores?

Admit it, even a quick titfuck would kill you.

I hate to admit it but Species: The Awakening is by far the best chapter in this whole sorry saga, gone is the cod seriousness that blighted part one and the rather unpleasant air of misogyny that permeated the second film is no more and by ignoring the continuity wankfest that was part three The Awakening comes across as more of a relaunch than a bona fide sequel, dragging the ultimately 'B' movie premise (sexy aliens want to shag and kill you!) kicking and screaming from A list land to the silicon enhanced, dirty back alleys of direct to DVD Avenue.

Right where it should be.

Everything about the film is a constant; the acting from everyone involved is uniformly bad as are the effects, fake breasts and even faker accents but in context you'd be disappointed were it otherwise. Obviously it never reaches the dizzy heights of such scifi/horror hybrids as the fantastic Contamination or even Xtro, if you have a wee boy in the family (or living nearby or even that you chat to online whilst pretending to be a 14 year old girl) this is the perfect introduction to the genre we call 'shite-fi'.

Hats of to director Lyon (who, according to that bastion of truth the IMDB, enjoys painting, sculpting, writing, music, theatre, photography, philosophy and even performance art) and the fact that he's not half the tortured artist or cinematic genius he thinks he is.

Can I just add tho', before I sign off, that although I appear to have made out that this film is in fact not too bad and, gulp, fairly enjoyable it is at the end of the week a pile of utter shite.

Phew, glad that's sorted.