keychains and snowstorms.

Just back from a busy weekend of promoting the DVD release of Night Is Day series one (and the tie-in comic) at Collector-mania whilst laughing at the man trying to sell an uncut copy of the Dutch DVD of Burial Ground for £45.

Big hugs to everyone that purchased a copy and apologies in advance for the blatant use of the various celebs there to endorse my work.

Enjoy!

banned on the run.

“Unlike other recent torture-themed horror works, such as the Saw and Hostel series, Grotesque features minimal narrative or character development and presents the audience with little more than an unrelenting and escalating scenario of humiliation, brutality and sadism. The chief pleasure on offer seems to be in the spectacle of sadism (including sexual sadism) for its own sake. Rejecting a work outright is a serious matter and the board considered whether the issue could be dealt with through cuts. However, given the unacceptable content featured throughout cutting the work is not a viable option in this case and the work is therefore refused a classification.” - BBFC director David Cooke.


I really have to question the mental well-being of anyone who makes or watches these movies. - Tokyojesusfist, Beyondhollywood website.

Gurotesuku (AKA Grotesque, 2009)
Dir: Kôji Shiraishi.
Cast: Hiroaki Kawatsure, Tsugumi Nagasawa and Shigeo Ôsako.

A young couple (AV star Tsugumi, last seen as the scary lizard arsed lady in Tokyo Gore Police and Hiroaki from OneChanbara and the classic Carved: The Slit-Mouthed Woman) are returning home after a first date when a scary moonfaced mentalist (rubber faced Shigeo from Funuke, Show Me Some Love looking like Takeshi Kitano's more troubled younger brother) wallops the pair over the head with a mallet, chucks them in the back of his van and drives them to his secret lair.

The bemused and battered couple awake to find themselves shackled in a basement and with no forthcoming explanation (as yet) at the mercy of their captor who, dispensing with pleasantries begins to torture, abuse and ultimately mutilate the (up until now) happy couple for the remainder of the films short running time.

"Just a trim madam?"

Luckily the scenes of endless violence, classical music, cream cakes and people wetting themselves are punctuated by flashbacks revealing how the couple met (which is a relief) and before long their crazy captor has opened up to the poor pair and explained why he's being so bad.

It appears that he can only experience sexual stimulation when watching people fight to survive, yup the indomitable human spirit turns him on.

It's a pity then that he's never discovered any Robert Holmes penned Doctor Who stories as he'd probably just have stayed in wanking himself silly as Sir Tom of Baker gives a variety of rousing speeches to various groups of humans under siege rather than kidnapping strangers from underpasses.

"Eye hen!"

With this confession, Mr. demento has a proposition for the couple; if they have enough spirit to make him cum in his pants whilst sticking pins in them or chainsawing various body parts he'll let them go.

If not they'll both die (very slowly and very, very painfully) in his cellar.

"Steven!"

I have no idea where to start when trying to sum up the experience that is Grotesque, whilst certainly not an enjoyable way to spend the evening it is definitely an unforgettable one.

None too surprisingly tho', it's not the characterless 'spectacle of (sexual) sadism' that the BBFC have accused it of being but is in fact, a startling and somewhat moving tale of true, uncorruptable love overcoming adversity and the evils of modern society.

Bandwagon jumping protectors of all we hold dear, alongside various newspapers have gleefully reported stories on how the film revels in a cesspool of misogynistic sexual violence, completely missing the fact that the mad as a lorry Shigeo is determined that neither victim should be favoured, splitting his time equally between both.

Which in this day and age is actually quite polite.

But whilst those who've seen it (and are intelligent enough to see past the violence on show, make a note of this Mr. Cooke and see me after class) can refute the charges of misogyny leveled at the film,they can't deny the fact that Grotesque is possibly the most nihilistic film about love to ever grace the screen, making it's closest relatives, David Lynch's Wild At Heart and Blue Velvet, appear positively anemic in comparison.

To our American cousins, not matter what Fox News
says our National Health Service is nothing like this.

And with a running time of a mere 73 minutes, Grotesque is the last word in cinematic shock, a bizarre and genuinely unnerving film dragged from the so-called 'torture porn' ghetto by it's impressive casting, simple premise and director Kôji Shiraishi's brave decision to make the viewer experience (in unflinching detail) every bit of pain, confusion and humiliation suffered by the unfortunate couple.

Watching for the first time is disorientating, with Shigeo's sick scheme as much of a mystery to us as it is to the people involved but we can only watch in horror, unable to interfere as we slowly become more and more involved in Shigeo's life and the fate of his victims as Shiraishi holds a mirror up to todays news and media's handling of violence in the real world.

Obviously due to Antichrist (bloody hell, I'm obsessed) being released uncut in the UK, the dear old BBFC had to be seen as protecting us from other (less arty) vile movies lest anyone complained about being able to see Charlotte Gainsbourg performing a circumcision on herself in 70mm Dolby surround at the local cineplex and, unfortunately Grotesque just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Ironically just like the movies loved up couple.

But ain't that always the way?

people you fancy but shouldn't (part the 13).

Dot Matrix from Reboot.....

Admit it, you would too.

Feel free to make lewd comments about ugrading her software, plugging her USB port etc.

I know I have.

weans world.

Ah dear old Blighty, land of warm beer, tea, toast and cricket.

And, once upon a time, a place that gave the world some pretty decent horror movies.

Well not any more it seems.

Ladies (I'm assuming at least one reads this) and gentlemen, prepare yourselves for one of the most annoyingly banal (and oh so slightly offensive - but more on that later) films ever made.

I give you....

The Children (2008).
Dir: Tom Shankland.
Cast: Eva Birthistle, Eva Sayer, Jake Hathaway, Jeremy Sheffield, Raffiella Brooks, Stephen Campbell Moore, William Howes, Rachel Shelley and Hannah Tointon.

Where? for lunch?

Smug middle class couple Elaine (square jawed Brit teevee stalwart Birthistle) , her pube bearded rat-like hubbie Jonah (Moore from Ashes To Ashes) and their (fresh out of stage school) children have just arrived at the huge country house owned by Elaine's even more (if that were possible) smug and middle class sister, the spiral permed baggy cardied Chloe (The 'L' Word's Shelley) and her instantly punchable brother-in-law Robbie (chisel of face and flaxen of hair ex Holby City star Sheffield) in order to celebrate New Year together.

But even as they unpack their luggage you can feel the tension in the air between the couples, from Elaine and Jonah obvious resent at not being as annoyingly self centred (or kickable) as Chloe and Robbie, to Elaine's oldest daughter, the Emo-lite Casey (Eve Myles alike Tointon, from the nations favourite Hollyoaks) bitching about having to be there in the first place, slagging off her wee sister Miranda (demon spawn Sayer from Eastenders) and blatantly (and slightly embarrassingly) flirting with 'uncle' Robbie you can tell it's going to be a long weekend.

But surely nothing else could happen to make things any worse could it?

Casey: Niece and easy does it.

Enter Elaine's Autistic son Paulie (Howes) who has no sooner gotten out of the car before he's vomiting melted cheese over the lawn and scaring Chloe's daughter Leah (Brooks) by sitting upright in his bed whilst staring into the middle distance and constantly banging a xylophone.

Because, as we all know that's what Autistic kids do obviously.

I must just point out (jusy in case director Shankland is even now foaming at the mouth as he types a reply) that nowhere in the script is Paulie actually referred to as Autistic, but there's quite a subtle (I'm being ironic) scene when he's brushing his teeth where Chloe asks Elaine if she's "received that article about the MMR jags I sent you?".

The one about AIDS being a gay plague must of gotten lost in the post.

In her defence (well, we all know she'll be dead soon anyway - if we're lucky) Chloe's one of those loud and annoying parents that are far too rich to work and boast about home tutoring their kids, lest they pick up any nasty germs off the commoners. "They're like sponges at this age," she declares, tho' from the looks Robbie has been giving Casey I reckon he's thinking about that phrase in a whole other light.

Dirty old sod.

Elaine, trying to keep everyone happy reckons it's just travel sickness and starts to tank into the wine and fags like nobodies business. The kids are sent to bed and nice uncle Robbie takes Casey into the woods to show her the best place to get a signal om her mobile phone.

Anyone hoping for a wee bit of bare arsed sleazy old man and schoolie goth action at this point will be sorely disappointed seeing as he actually is just showing her the best place to get a signal.

Damn.

"I knew I shouldn't have shampooed
the dog whilst pregnant!"

It comes a no surprise to find that it isn't car-sickness that's affecting Paulie at all but a vomit/airbourne/utter bollocks Autism virus (obviously) that quickly spreads from child to child with alarming speed.

Soon Chloe's kids Leah and Nicky (the freaky Hathaway, who looks for all the world like a dwarf Robin Askwith) are sitting at the dinner table copying Paulie's every move whilst Miranda goes crazy apeshit and slashes Jonah's arm with a bread knife.

Pity it wasn't his throat.

Between the kids screaming, Paulie's xylophone tinkling, Elaine discovering that Casey has a (admittedly tasteful) tattoo of an abortion on her tummy and Jonah whimpering about his sore arm Chloe decides to skip dessert and sends Robbie and the children out to play so she can lord it over her sister.

Keeping his head down, Jonah takes the still nutty Miranda up to her room to calm her with a wee bit of Mandarin (the language not the fruit).

"Cor blimey! if I'm caught with me
trousers down again the boss'll kill me!"

Just as you're about to give up hope of anything remotely interesting happening the killing finally start.

And from there on in it's the same middle class bleating and whining as in the first half of the movie but now with sporadic bursts of violence as the children (hey! that's the films title! clever eh?) embark on an anarchistic Autistic killer rampage....

Will any of the adults survive?

And, if we're honest, does anyone (except the directors mum) really give a fuck?

If anyone in this movie
deserves a mooth shite-in...

Where do you start with a film as painfully awful, criminally lazy and downright annoying as The Children?

Well, you can begin with Shankland's press junket quote about how, although a horror film at heart it deals with 'the sort of problems that affect every family' if you want a laugh.

Yup, most families I know are mainly worried about investing in Chinese medicines whilst smoking hash in their giant greenhouses in the grounds of their huge mansions.

Oh and the ones I do know affected by Autism (well, the intelligent ones) would hit the roof if any started on about the old MMR lie, especially if it were a sibling or someone close.

Reviewers that have mentioned the films use of Autism has pointed out (as I did myself earlier) that it's never expressly stated that Paulie is indeed on the Spectrum and it shouldn't matter if he is or not.

If that's the case then why bother at all? Wouldn't it be better to just have him Neuro Typical rather than a sketchy, Daily Mail caricature of someone with ASD?

Rant over and back to the film in general.

Watch out watch out John Leslie's about!

The biggest problem tho' is beneath the God awful plotting, piss poor acting and choppy editing there appears to be a not too bad idea for a movie desperately trying to claw it's way out. The photography is top notch, making the best of the cold harshness of the winter landscapes and the minimalist score is perfect.

Just a pity the rest of it is so arse clenchingly abysmal, showing once and for all that the glory days of Frightmare, The Wicker Man and their ilk are far behind us. Hopefully one day we'll be able to produce a British horror movie to make us proud once more (cos let's be honest, we can't keep relying on Neil Marshall to keep the torch burning, we'll end up working him to death before he's 50).

But whilst shite like this is getting greenlit I doubt it somehow, I'm surprised that Pete Walker isn't spinning in his grave.

And he's not even dead.

But if he does kick the bucket over the next few months we all know who to blame.

even more classic moments from comicdom.

Nuff said.

i don't (french) fancy yours much.

Those of you familiar with the sights and sounds of old Glasgae toon (that's Scotland, in England near to Buckingham Palace and Europe for our American readers) might have heard of a place called 'The Barras'.

If not, try to imagine a market stall version of Mos Eisley selling everything from knocked off pork to car doors and you're a third of the way there.

Whilst out shopping for spare body parts last week I came across a bearded old woman selling clothes pegs, country and western CD's and old VHS tapes.

Not being able to resist varicose veined vixens I just had to take a quick peek at her ample wares, so imagine my surprise when I found this:


Yup, a copy of tit-tastic La Revanche Des Mortes Vivantes on dusty old VHS and for only £1.

Needless to say I had to buy it, unfortunately it also means I have to rewatch it and share my thoughts with you.

And possibly show my distinct lack of French.

Apologies in advance.

Revenge of The Living Dead Girls (AKA La Revanche Des Mortes Vivantes. 1986)
Dir: Pierre B. Reinhard
Cast: Véronique Catanzaro, Kathryn Charly, Sylvie Novak, Anthea Wyler, Laurence Mercier, Patrick Guillemin, Gábor Rassov and Christina Schmidt (not Christian Schmidt from Neighbours).

The time: the late seventies by the look of things, the place: a rainy, overcast road somewhere in the arse end of France, a blonde bimbette hitchhiker (wearing the cross country regulation outfit of stiletto heels, fishnets, suspenders and fur coat) is picked up by a pube haired man in a big jumper driving a milk van.

So far, so foreign porn like.

Pretending that she's sprained her stick-like ankle getting into his cab she persuades the driver to carry her to a deserted barn where our hitch hiking whore slowly lifts her skirt to see if driver Dan can see any bruises.

Whilst all this is going on a mysterious biker arrives and pours a bottle of Fairy Liquid into the milk.

Tho' God only knows why.

The action, meanwhile cuts to a hideously decorated kitchen where and old lady is chatting to a transparent lingeried young girl who's busily glugging milk from a bottle like a bairn clamped onto it's mothers breast.

Within seconds of finishing the bottle she keels over.

Dead.

Liquid in mah milk!

This mysterious death is swiftly followed by a shockingly bespectacled, larged hipped bird in a pub and another girl who is so plain as to make her instantly forgettable.

It seems that a trio of bad men (and a bad lady) were blackmailing somebody rich (I don't know/care who) regarding the toxic waste that their lemonade mines were producing but when the scheme started to unravel and given the choice of dumping the waste in a bin or pouring into the local milk supply, one of them bizarrely chose the latter.

If that wasn't enough excitement for you it now seems the very same chemical waste that killed the girls has turned them into spud faced, massive bushed (yet completely normal bodied) zombies out for revenge (hence the title) plus a wee bit of four way zombie girl on girl action along the way!

"laugh now!"

I'm assuming the plot makes a bit more sense if you speak French, but frankly I'm too embarrassed to give it to any of my French friends to find out.

But as we all know, it takes more than gratuitous sex and mindless violence to make a great movie (well, most of the time) and frankly no number of lesbian zombies, penis munching, vagina/sword interfaces (at the moment of orgasm no less, well it is French) and scary plasticine undead babies can save this film from being complete and utter tedium from start to finish.

Yup, 'director' (and I use this term under duress) Reinhard (the man behind such classics as 'Outrages transsexuels des petites filles violées et sodomisées', 'Fantaisies anales' and 'La perverse châtelaine dans l'écurie du sexe' amongst others) manages the impossible by taking a plot involving nude zombie girls shagging people to death and turning it into one of the most boring film ever made.

How your mum could afford all those
holidays she took you on as a kid.

It even makes the directors cut of Oliver Stone's Alexander seem a good proposition for a Friday night (OK, well maybe not that bad).

Featuring as it does, the most unnattractive bunch of freaks and misfits since Joe D'Amato stopped making horror porn hybrids, piss poor effects, a camera and lighting crew that appear to have been blinded with sharp sticks minutes before production began and the clumsiest editing ever committed to celluloid and all of this still can't elevate Revenge of The Living Dead Girls to anything other than the motion picture equivalent of weeping arse sores.

And you can trust me when I say I know a thing or two about those.

The sexiest women in Cradley
Heath strip for your pleasure!

But is there anything about this film to recommend to fans of zombie nonsense (or even fans of Unshaved European girls?), well the aforementioned undead lesbian orgy between a prostitute (don't be too harsh, that's someones mum and she had bills to pay) and the three female zombies is unique enough to have you reaching for the remote with your free hand to rewatch it at least once and the fact that the zombies have a habit of ringing folks doorbells to gain entrance into their houses rather than just sneak in does have a certain polite charm to it but other than that it's to be avoided at all costs.

No doubt tho' that there'll be some pasty skinned, expensive shirted and novelty bearded behemian type sitting in a cinema bar somewhere loudly pointing out that La Revanche Des Mortes Vivantes is a serious study of perversion and the breakdown of common values in society, it's refusal to adhere to the shackles of linear storytelling prefering to confront the audience head on with visualisations of mankinds darkest thoughts puts it on par with Lars Von Treer's Antichrist and how the uneducated movie goer will miss these subtleties, concentrating on the sex and breasts instead.

No idea where I was going with that but it's late here and I felt like I should get it off my chest.

But in a totally non nude lesbian zombie way of course.

moonshed.

Moon Zero Two (1969).
Dir: Roy Ward Baker.
Cast: James Olson, Catherina Von Schell (AKA Catherine Schell), Amber Dean Smith, Simone Silvera, Warren Mitchell, Adrienne Corri, Ori Levy, Neil McCallum, Dudley Foster and Bernard Bresslaw.

The year is 2021 and man has visited Mars (it was shut) and colonized the moon. Regular shuttle flights bring prospectors from Mother Earth all hoping to lay claim to the moon's mineral riches.

At the arse end of space type jobs are the hardworking crew of space tug Moon Zero Two, sexy comb-overed, ex-astronaut William Kemp (seventies scifi regular Olson) and his porn mustachioed co-pilot, Karminski (Levy from Entebbe: Operation Thunderbolt ) who earn an honest crust salvaging space junk.

Tash, brash and a butchers shop window yesterday.

Landing at the originally named Moon City after picking up a satellite constructed entirely from egg boxes, Kemp comes across an old space captain pal (and useful fountain of exposition) from his space hero days who, after pointing out that Bill is the best pilot ever, offers him a job as a passenger pilot for the Corporation.

Being a cool rebel dude, Kemp flatly refuses the offer, saying he's happy as an intergalactic Steptoe (or Sanford for our American friends) and heads off for a shower, giving his pal enough time to bump into the rich, powerful (and patently evil) J.J. Hubbard (Alf Garnett himself, Mitchell) and his sexy entourage.

But more from them later.

With a running time of only 100 minutes and having a lot to fit in, Bill's shower is interupted by the arrival of the shapely (and frighteningly torpedo breasted) Miss Clementine Taplin (uber sexy and doe eyed Schell, better known as Space:1999's Maya) who's turned up on the moon looking for her brother Wally (tho' why she thinks she'll find him between Bill's manly buttocks is anyone's guess).

Schell: I would. Twice.

Bill isn't too interested in Clementine's dilemma but realizing that she's the best looking (and least whorish) of all the girls on the moon decides to give her not only the grand tour of the city but also takes time out to explain every detail regarding mining on the far side of the Moon before suddenly dumping her outside a space boutique.

This is because he has a previous engagement with his girlfriend (well, I say girlfriend but she's about seventy), United Nations Bureau of Investigation Agent Liz Murphy (A Clockwork Orange's Corri) who's dead angry because she's spent the last two hours hanging about in her pants waiting for a shag and is now late for work.

It's for this reason (possibly) she threatens to ground his ship.

Being a real man Bill deals with this rejection by heading off to get pissed but is interrupted by a big butch bastard with a bowl haircut named Harry (Carry on God and former Ice Warrior Bresslaw), who insists on taking Bill to see Mr Hubbard.

But not up the casino.

It seems that Hubbard needs an experienced pilot to divert an asteroid (composed entirely of the ceramic crystalline form of corundum aluminium oxide - sapphire to me and you) so it'll crash on the far side of the Moon.

As you would really.

Tho' this would be breaking about ten very serious space laws, Hubbard sweetens the deal by offering Bill a brand new spaceship.

A big silver one with fins and everything, like on the poster.

Hel-mets.

The next day, accompanied big Harry and the weasley Whitsun (Foster) Bill takes off for the asteroid in order to set up the three engines that will alter it's orbit and send it crashing into the moon.

The only problem is that because he got the engines from the pound shop, Kemp has to stay on the asteroid to fire them manually (well, hit them with a hammer) then jumping off the big lump of rock before it starts moving too fast.

This is called 'the science' and may come in useful later.

When Bill returns to Moon City he heads straight to the bar, finding a very worried (yet still incredibly sexy) Clementine drinking alone with neither hide nor hair of her brother.

Grateful of a sympathetic ear (and a shiny head to look at) she explains that nobody has seen her brother for several months and unless he can register his recent mineral claim within the next forty eight hours he'll lose everything.

Batting her luscious eyelashes Clementine asks if Bill fancies taking her where the sun don't shine (the dark side of the moon, not up the shitter) to find out what's happened.

Bill, obviously delighted at the prospect of taking Clementine over the craters agrees, however Harry has different ideas and a (very slow) fight ensues in which the bars gravity is turned off and everyone walks around pretending they have porridge legs.

"I wouldn't want that zooming up my arse".

Quickly leaving the scene of the crime, Bill and Clementine arrive at the local moon cash and carry, Farside Five and realizing the cost of the optical effects needed to fly the ship to Wally's land, decide to hire a moon taxi instead.

After a long and uninteresting journey punctuated by even more back story, the duo arrive at Wally's mining site, only to find his shed empty and his lunar digger covered in cobwebs.

Oh and his corpse standing behind a rock ready to fall on the next person who touches it.

What originally appears to be a simple case of bad luck takes a sinister turn when three garishly clad hitmen turn up and try to kill Bill and Clementine, forcing Bill to unload his own weapon into their faces before stealing Wally's digger and quickly heading back to the shops.

Unfortunately the fan is broken meaning that Clementine has to strip down to her undies for a bit.

Arriving safely back at Farside Five (and now fully clothed), our heroes find a still grumpy Liz waiting to arrest them for taking part in the crap fight earlier.

Bill quickly explains that Wally Taplin has been murdered - by death - before forcing the tubby base supervisor into confessing that it was him what done it.

"Fuck me! a wasp!"

Just as the fat man starts to sing who should turn up but Hubbard ready to fill the rest of the cast in on the full story behind the asteroid job.

But not before he shoots moaning faced Liz (no loss there then) and threatens to fill Clementine's face with hot lead.

Bastard.

It transpires that the asteroid's final destination is slap bang in the middle of Wally Taplin's mining site, Hubbard paid to have him killed so that he can grab the claim for himself and be even richer.

His maniacal laughter is still filling the air as Moon Zero Two blasts off toward the asteroid ready to set the knock off engines for it's final journey to the moon's surface.

In a matter of minutes they've reached their destination, giving Hubbard another excuse to gloat whilst Bill fiddles about with some wires (and sweats a fair bit).

Karminski and Clementine, meanwhile, are struggling bravely to regain control of the ship.

This involves making it lurch a wee bit before shooting a couple of folk and staring worriedly at Bill who, remembering the trouble with the engine earlier, shouts "Look out behind you! Swans!" before slamming it with a wrench really hard and finally leapfrogging over Hubbard and Witsun leaving them hurtling towards the moons surface.

Sorted.

Heading back home and with his girlfriend dead, Bill's only option is to ask Clementine for some sex.

And the cash for a new spaceship.

"Sorry, I farted".

Riding on the coat tails of 2001: A Space Odyssey, Hammer Films one and only foray into the world of the space western features the two things that would elevate Kubrick's movie to classic status.

Namely a sexy lady in space undies and a crudely animated title sequence featuring two badly draw ball headed astronauts fighting over whose flag should be up on the moon.

I mean, imagine how much less pofaced Stan's film would be if the entire 'Dawn of Man' scene had been hand drawn by under fives.

And been given a swinging 60's beat.

Am I allowed to say sheer genius?

"Shite-ski in mah mooth-ski comrade!"

No big black Stickle Bricks, dodgy drug fueled trips and deep comments on mans place in the universe for this movie, just a good old fashioned jewel heist jazzed up with brightly coloured rubber spacewear, go go dancing, a variety curvy hipped 60's vixens in multicoloured wigs and a collection of oh-so slightly miscast British comedy stars in semi-serious roles.

Oh, and I'm not too sure if I've already mentioned it, Catherine Schell in a skimpy bra and pants.

And if nothing else, director Baker should be applauded for having the audacity to even consider attempting to make a huge space epic on a typical Hammer shoestring budget and, despite it's 60's paraphernalia and almost fetishistic use of plastic shiny thigh boots, at least trying to use a little bit of 'the science' in regard to the space travel bits.

Catherine Schell: Smooth milky thighs
you could quite happily ski down.

Brighter than Outland, sexier than Alien and considerably shorter than Star Trek: The Motion Picture, Moon Zero Two deserves to be seen by a much wider audience than it has till now, cos no doubt poor James Olsen wouldn't say no to the cash.

any old iron(y)?

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.

"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, the local blacksmith and calm man, Takse (Ri) 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.

"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.

"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 whilst sewing, accidentally cuts herself one day 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 it is.

"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 mold covered gimp suit.

a small child in a knobbly gimp suit yesterday.

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

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.

"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.

"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....

"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 the great leader himself (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 realised 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 monster movies.

Pulgasari walks that fine line between entertainment and historical drama in much the same way that Schindler's List did and although not as funny as Spielberg's opus it's a darn sight more entertaining making it a must see for anyone interested in 'the politics' or comedy hats.

bat and ball games.

coffin (eyed) joe.

Been a wee bit quiet around the Arena of late, due in part to preparing the podlings to attend Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters and trying to get in touch with the UN (not related I hasten to add).

On the movie front I've just purchased the rather scrummy Anchor Bay Coffin Joe Collection alongside the newest chapter in the ongoing saga Embodiment of Evil.

So what better excuse to revisit the wacky world of the mental Mr. Marins starting with...

À Meia-Noite Levarei Sua Alma (AKA At Midnight I'll Take Your Soul. 1964)
Dir: Jose Mojica-Marins.
Cast: Jose Mojica-Marins, Nivaldo Lima, Valéria Vasquez, Magda Mei and Genesiso de Carvalho.

"What do I care if it's Holy Friday or Devil's Friday?
I'll get what I want and no Bible thumper
will stop me! I'll eat meat today
even if it's human flesh!"

Pube bearded, turnip nosed and dirty nailed Noddy Holder-alike Zé Do Caixão (AKA Coffin Joe, played with ungodly relish by writer/director Marins) runs the funeral parlor in what looks (and smells) like a small town just outside Cradley Heath somewhere in the West Midlands.

When not burying the dead Zé spends his time terrorizing the local children, sticking fireworks up tramps arses, eating meat on Holy days, annoying the old folk with his vehemently anti-religious views and shouting "Wankers!" at the local nursery kids.

If that wasn't enough to keep him busy he also takes time out to abuse and mutilate anyone who disagrees with him.

At home his loving (and permanently shot to fuck) wife Lenita (Vasquez) spends her days cooking, cleaning and ironing Zé's capes in the hope of calming her husbands slightly over the top anti-social habits.

Unfortunately for her, Zé is actively searching for a replacement after discovering that Lenita is incapable of conceiving a child (or as Zé kindly puts it "You're a barren old crone!") and thinks he may have found her in the form of his best mate Antonio's (the horse faced Lima) shapely missis Terezinha (the square headed yet surprisingly ample of arse and pointed of breast Mei).

Being the smooth devil we all know and love, Zé attempts to stick it in her after kindly offering to walk her home one evening only to be hastily rebuffed by Terezinha and told to go home to his wife.

Taking this advice to heart (but obviously not too well) Zé heads back to his house to eat some more meat before gagging Lenita, tying her to the bed and dropping a highly poisonous spider onto her boobs which promptly bites her.

He is, indeed a very bad man.

Coffin Joe, up the casino, 1964...."Yesch!"

The local police, unable to find the spider (or even one that vaguely matches its description) and assuming that poor Lenita must have gagged and bound herself (think David Carradine's death pics but with a spottier arse) let Zé go with a warning to not swear at any more toddlers.

Desperate to cheer his best pal up, Antonio invites Zé along to visit a local fortune telling (and no doubt peg selling) gypsy whom the happy couple are going to see to find the best day to get married on. Zé jumps at the chance (how else can a mad as a lorry mentalist spend his time now he's murdered his missis?) and accompanies the lovebirds on a scenic walk thru' the woods, laughing and joking as they go.

Arriving at her caravan and after giving her their spare change for the 'baby' (a loaf of bread wrapped in a blanket - can you tell I grew up around Pikey folk?) the gypsy reveals that pair will never marry and that death looms on the horizon.

Zé, obviously angered at the thought of someone else saying things to offend folk, calls the gypsy a filthy fraud, telling Antonio and Terezinha that all this supernatural stuff is bollocks.

The gypsy woman is having none of this, warning Zé not to mock the strange power of the supernatural, lest he ends up cursed himself.

Like something that crazy could happen.

After saying goodnight to Terezinha, Antonio invites Zé back to his groovy bachelor pad for a nightcap and a quick game of Ludo before bed and whilst slowly supping Baby Cham and eating Pringles Antonio admits that he really didn't believe the old gypsy and that he feels that Terezinha and himself will have a long and happy life together.

Awww, he is such a sweet guy I reckon I'd marry him myself.

Not one to let a prophecy go unfulfilled (add to that the fact that he's not killed anyone for about twenty minutes) and worried that he's not going to be asked to be the best man, Zé decides to bludgeon his best friend to death before dumping his still warm corpse in the local lake.

"At Midnight I'll Take Your Soul...but at quarter
to I'll be shite-ing in your hairy mooth!"

Not too surprisingly the police once again let Zé go without charge, reckoning the blood on his shirt, muddy knees and damp trousers are obviously circumstantial, so our frighteningly finger nailed fiend skips off to Terezinha's house in order to celebrate his freedom.

Knowing a fair bit about 'the women' Zé pops into the local pet shop on the way to purchase a cute little canary for Terezinha as a love offering (tho' by the size of her backside in that ill fitting skirt he'd have been better off buying her a cake or six) and, being all girly she accepts it with a smile and invites Zé in for a glass of weak lemon drink and a biscuit.

Unfortunately, he mistakes this act of kindness as a cue to start touching up poor Terezinha in the most inappropriate of ways before administering a particularly violent beating and finally sticking it in her.

As if to prove his patent bastardness Zé crushes the canary to death at the point of orgasm.

Just like your dad does.

Really, just ask your sister.

Your mum.

Cowering in the corner of her by now trashed and semen stained living room, Terezinha viciously curses Zé, promising to commit suicide that very night and return as a ghost to possess his very soul.

And when will this happen?

At midnight I guess.

True to her word, Terezinha is found by the binmen the next day hanging in her closet, the note at her side saying she just couldn't live without her dear Antonio.

To his (and our) surprise, Zé (or his curse) doesn't get a mention in the note and the crushed canary is nowhere to be found, meaning that once again he gets away scott free to continue his bird baiting reign of terror.

Or so he thinks.

You see one of the townsfolk (the local doctor to be precise) has noticed that Zé either knows all the victims or has been seen in their houses around the time of the deaths, but before he can voice his concerns Zé brutally murders him too.

Luckily he draws the line at sticking it in the doctor as well tho'.

Amy Winehouse and Jade Goody team
up in an attempt at the
Christmas number one...Monsta!

Time goes by and Zé has all but forgotten about Terezinha's curse and has been busying himself with his usual mix of abuse and mutilations. As the world famous Day of the Dead approaches (the festival not the George A. Romero movie) Zé is passing the time wandering thru' the local graveyard admiring his handiwork when he comes across (settle down) a foxy young thing named Marta and decides on the spot that she's his perfect woman.

Zé, in gentlemanly mode for a change, offers to walk Marta home only to have the old gypsy woman jump out of the bushes and start threatening him with talk of evil spirits and Terezinha's curse, warning him that the Devil is near and he's going to take Zé's soul come midnight (told you).

Zé gives the gypsy a swift kick and quickly heads off with Marta, leaving her at the front door without even trying to touch her up.

Yup, looks like the gypsy has actually scared the unshakable Zé.

Hurrying back home Zé is confronted by a series of ghostly apparitions intent on making him fill his trousers and learn the true meaning of fear, causing the normally unflappable Zé to scream like a wee girl and runs away in the direction of the mausoleum where Antonio and Terezinha are laid to rest......

"Suck my lozenge".

Where do you start when describing a movie as famous as At Midnight I'll Take Your Soul, the first film from the twisted mind of Brazilian screenwriter, director and genuine cultural icon José Mojica Marins?

Back in the dim and distant 80's (in the UK at least) Marins and his alter ego Coffin Joe were more widely known to horror fans thru' a variety of articles and (if you had a teevee in your room as a teen) late night documentaries on Channel 4 than for the actual movies themselves (don't forget, you still can't purchase Blood Feast uncut over here), a bizarrely comical figure in a top hat always shown sitting next to a bemused Christopher Lee at French horror festivals.

All we knew was that he made very gruesome films (it must be true, the articles said so), dressed like a cross between a member of Slade and British broadcasting god Dave Lee Travis, annoyed the Catholic church a fair bit and enjoyed popping frogs between ladies breasts.

It's obvious to anyone reading that such a combination made a quest to discover more (and see one of his films) the number one priority.

After getting a girlfriend who won't dump you during Big Trouble in Little China ("This is shit...it's me or this!" - no contest really) obviously.

"Do you require any scissors sharpening?"

Finally however, in deepest darkest 1987, one of my art lecturers overheard a whispered discussion about the great man before joining us at the refectory table and uttering the immortal phrase "I've got some of his stuff on VHS, fancy borrowing it?"

I could have kissed her.

Tho' I decided to wait until the Christmas party to do that.

Rewatching it more than twenty years later (and on shiny disc this time) it's amazing to see how well the film holds up (and in many ways surpases) most modern lo-fi fayre being surprisingly strong in it's nightmarishly nilhistic atmosphere and with a story to match.

It's stylishly spooky with dozens of stand out sequences and effects that show how much can be done with a little flair and a lot of imagination (and a few bottles of Gin too). This is made all the more impressive when you realize that most (if not all) of the actors were friends of the director and that Marins handled the majority of the films technical and effects jobs himself.

He's like a hairer, slightly kinkier Orson Welles but obviously without something as shite as Fake on his CV.

Marins work is guerrilla film making at it's most extreme, putting modern day art bolloks like Antichrist to shame and showing it to be the souless shockarama that only exists to give snub-nosed middle classes something to chat about at dinner parties that it really is.

And even tho' he's now over 170 years old he could very probably take Euromonkey Lars Von Trier in a fight.

wrong.

...In so many ways.

when cosplay goes bad (part 6).

Enjoy!

(but don't forget the tissues).

can u dig it?

The Burrowers (2008).
Dir: J.T. Petty
Cast: William Mapother, Doug Hutchison, Sean Patrick Thomas, Laura Leighton, Karl Geary, Clancy Brown, Alexander Skarsgard, Stan Burd, Robert Richard and Galen Hutchison.

It's 1879, somewhere on the dusty plains of Dakota (that's in America for our European - and probably quite a few of our American - readers) nice but dim Irish immigrant Coffey (Mimic: Sentinel star Geary, a dead cert to play Cassidy in the Preacher movie I reckon) is skipping merrily toward the Stewart family homestead after finally building up enough courage to ask for their young, flaxen haired daughter Maryanne's hand (and the rest of her obviously) in marriage (and hoping her tough as nails dad will agree).


Expecting to see his beloved running thru' the wheat fields to meet him, he's surprised (to say the least) to find a destroyed and blood soaked cabin, the family gutted (literally) yet no sign of his missis to be.

As is the way with these cowboy types, the local tribe of badboy Injuns are automatically blamed for this vile case of white woman rustling and a rescue party, led by the smarmy Parcher (cousin of Scientology stooge Tom Cruise and star of Lost, Mapother) alongside his lady friends teenage son Dobie (Hutchison) and grizzled nice man John Clay (professional everyman and Santa-alike Brown) is hastily dispatched to find Maryanne before the wicked red skins do anything rude to her.

"Do you think they'll eat her whole?"
"No, I've heard they spit that bit out".
(This 'joke' only really works if you say it
out loud. Sorry).

Heading off into the brownly barren territories our motley crew soon come across the mad as a lorryful of spanners Cavalry officer Henry Victor (X-Files very own Victor Tooms himself Hutchinson) and his band of brothers, who happily drop everything to join in a wee bit of native bashing, starting with the first one that they find.

Yup, this Victor fella's a bad man and no mistaking.

And a rather sweaty one too.

When slicing his feet, cutting bits of him off and name calling fails to draw a confession from the poor guy, Parcher decides to offer him a nice cup of coffee and ask him nicely if he knows the whereabouts of the missing woman.

The Indian brave still denies having nothing to do with the abductions but begins to rant about a group of strange burrowers whom the Indians (especially the mentalist Ute tribe) have encountered years before.

Spoiling for a wee massacre, Victor assumes that these 'burrowers' must be an evil tribe and begins to prepare his lynching equipment and furiously sharpening his knives.

Parcher on the other hand isn't so sure, you see he's knows about stuff so reckons that if the Ute know anything at all it's probably best to go see them.

But not before an evening of manly chat, strong coffee, filter-less fags and much pissing in bushes.

It's during the night that things start to get a bit strange.

Soldiers keep falling into holes, there's a strange whistling in the air and a load of weird mini-crop circles with tunnels in the middle keep appearing from nowhere.

If that wasn't enough, when daybreak finally comes a few of Victors men appear to have run off during the night.

Or could something more sinister be afoot?

Frankly bored by Vile Vic's bonkers macho posturing (and no doubt disgusted by his stale man smell) Parcher and co. (now joined by disgruntled army chef Walnut Callaghan - Thomas from Teevee's The District) decide to go it alone.

Parcher's official Princess Diana novelty
table was always a big hit at parties.

As our merry band cautiously set off toward Ute territory, they rather unexpectedly find an abandoned wagon and stopping to see if there are any crisps and pop in the back stumble (quite literally) across a half buried (and three quarter dead) young girl in a bush.

Which is unusual (if not a little unnerving) for everyone involved.

Wanting to be the returning hero himself (and obviously not wanting to upset his missis), Parcher orders young Dobie to take the wagon to the nearest outpost whilst the real men continue on the quest.

Heading further and further in hostile territory, the group have to deal with not only random violent attacks from unfriendly locals resulting in a sudden and unexpected death, but the knowledge that the mysterious burrowers may be something more than just a mysterious native tribe but marginally less than human...

Fancy a Coffey?

As a native Squaw found nursing her dying husband after encountering the Burrowers explains to Coffey when he asks why they've never encountered these things before, she replies "...You white men killed all the buffalo.....so now they have to feed on something else.”

Visibly shaken by this revelation but more determined that ever to find his true love, Coffey heads even deeper into the unknown....

"Aye hen".

After bursting onto the scene with one of the best debuts ever in the sublime Soft for Digging, JT Petty kind of fell off the radar somewhat, only resurfacing with the (fairly decent for straight to dvd) Mimic 3 and a dozen video games to his credit.

Luckily for us he hit back in recent (well, I say recent) months with the double whammy of S&man and The Burrowers, cementing his talent as one of the most thoughtful and lyrical directors working in the genre today.

Playing out like a stripped bare version of The Searchers as re-imagined by Joe R Lansdale, The Burrowers uses it's low budget to it's advantage, high on dialogue and characterization and builds uncomfortably toward it's climax like a slow moving dark behemoth whose shadow casts ominously across it's characters from the very moment they decide to discover the truth behind poor hapless Maryanne's disappearance, rewarding the viewer with an almost Brothers Grimm style climax in one of the best low budget horrors of the past ten years.

Oh and if that wasn't enough it does indeed have monsters in it!

What's not to love?

Pity then that Lion's Gate have chosen to unceremoniously dump it straight to DVD in the states, meaning we'll be lucky to find a copy for sale anywhere over here.

Bastards.

the gore the merrier.

Catching up on dozens of draft reviews here so stick with me as I unblock my B movie back passage.

It may get a wee bit messy.

Anyways, you've prolly all seen this gem by now but for those who haven't I'll not give too much away.

For a change.

Tōkyō Zankoku Keisatsu (AKA Tokyo Gore Police, 2008)
Dir: Yoshihiro Nishimura.
Cast: Eihi Shiina, Itsuji Itao, Yukihide Benny, Ikuko Sawada, Jiji Bū, Tak Sakaguchi, Keisuke Horibe, Shun Sugata and Cherry Kirishima.

Welcome to Tokyo of the near future where the police force has been privatized, turning your average copper into a Samurai style armoured-clad killing machine more interested in wholesale slaughter (and bizarre facial expressions) than old-styled policing.

Dixon of Dock Green it ain't.

If that wasn't scary enough the city streets are teeming with bizarre 'engineers', mad as spanners mutant killers who can grow bio-morphic weapons (and huge cocks) when attacked.

Such an unusual enemy needs a special kind of police officer (clad in tiny skirts, knee high boots and suspenders in some cases) to battle them, specially trained in the art of butchering big burley beast things.

The best of the bunch is the doll like Ruka (the yumsome Shiina from Takashi Miike’s Audition), sexy as hell (in a kinda mad bird way) with a dark, tragic past, a penchant for self harm and a love of sword fighting.

Plus she looks great in a kimono.

The perfect girl if I'm honest.

Meow.

Being so successful at her job has made Ruka quite a few enemies, the most dangerous of which is the notorious Key Man ( Itao from The Great Yokai War and Death Note: The Last Name), the loopy scientist actually responsible for the creation of the engineers in the first place (accidentally I must add, you know how it is with these science types) who is intent on infecting the general population (well, ponytailed schoolgirl hookers and pube haired Yakuza types mainly) by inserting a fleshy 'key' into their arms.

Which is nice and kinda make sense of his name too.

As the Key Man’s reign of terror continues unabated, Ruka’s investigation's lead her to realize that her past and that of the Key Man are inexorably linked by a distant tragedy.

Oh, and lots of yucky bodily fluids obviously.

Your mum, sister and gran earlier today.

What can you say about TGP that hasn't been said a million times before (and in Japanese, natch)?

FX God Yoshihiro (Machine Girl, Meatball Machine) Nishimura certainly delivers the icky sticky goods when it comes to sick and twisted fun, whether your tastes lie with giant machine gun penises, living femi-chairs that rain gallons of piss over rapt audiences, schoolgirl mutants with acid spraying breasts or half (sexy) laydee/half crocodile women there's something for the whole family here.

But luckily for us, Nishimura manages to hold the whole thing together with some semblance of a plot.

And a very entertaining one to boot.

So wrong, yet strangely so very, very right.

Bit best of all are the random infoblips squeezed in between the heartbreaking storyline and copius nude scenes; fast, furious and funny as fuck fake adverts ranging from right wing police propaganda to ads for designer self harm knives and the best sword for committing hara kari.

Try to imagine, if you will, a well made Robocop or a wavy Davy Cronenberg film with a budget of twenty quid and a sense of humour to match and you're halfway there.

And at the centre of it all is the utterly yummylicious Eihi Shiina, all long legs, waif-like looks and carrying a big sword, spouting stilted videogame dialogue whilst fighting a quadraplegic bondage monster in a gimp mask.

What's not to love?

july stiffs.

Another month, another member of the Are You Being Served cast dead and no doubt another round of death threats from Mr. 'Evil Dead' for mentioning it.

Sad bastard.

Yup, the gorgeously bewigged and pussytastic Mrs. Slocombe herself, Mollie Sugden died last month as did the wallet stealing, pug nosed star of Argento's Cat O' Nine Tails Karl Malden.

Wendy Richard and Mollie Sudgen:
Fuck you and your death threats!

Malden: caller.

Behind the camera we lost the creator of Bless This House, Love Thy Neighbour and Mind Your Language (amongst other stuff), comedy writing God Vince Powell, animator and inspiration for Takashi Murakami's Superflat art movement, Yoshinori (Galaxy Express 999) Kanada and John Gerald Christopher Ryan, British animator and cartoonist, best known for creating Captain Pugwash.

"You killed mah son!"


(drawing) boards of Kanada.

Pugwash.

We also said goodbye to lead singer with the Dolly Dots, Maria Petronella 'Ria' Brieffies, big underpanted Doctor Who guest star Harry Towb and, most sadly, the 'sweater/escalator' zombie from Romero's Dawn of The Dead Clayton Hill.

Ria: gone kid.


Towb: massive pants.

More next month.