Tuesday, November 29, 2011

redundant pitches part one.

Been unboxing some odds and (dirty) sods from the wacky world of illustration here, so for your enjoyment a sure fire hit I tried to pitch to Fleetway at the tender age of 17.

Juan Dog: The adventures of a Mexican dog-boy art student cum detective.

Surprisingly they rejected it.

people you fancy but shouldn't part 35.

The Young Apprentice's answer to Mary Harron, Ms. Zara Brownless.





*To be honest it was a hard choice between Ms. Brownless and the fiery redhead Lizzie Magee but the Tron style white dress swung it.

Monday, November 28, 2011

frame game.

Sneaky peek at the background panels for the new 'Rosemary' cover.

Excited yet?

Full cover will be revealed soon!

Friday, November 25, 2011

rat scabies.

Rats: Notte Di Terrore (AKA Blood Kill, Les Rats de Manhattan, Rats: Night of Terror 1984)
Director: Bruno Mattei
Starring: Richard Raymond, Alex McBride, Richard Cross,
Moune Duvivier, Henry Luciani, Cristoph Bretner, Ann-Gisel Glass and the fantastic Geretta Geretta.

It is the year is 225 A.B. (the A.B. stands for  either after the bomb or absolute bollocks, take yer pick.) and the world as we know it has gone forever.

Nuclear war has decimated our beloved planet Earth.

Well, a bit of it just outside Rome.

But luckily humanity survived by retreating underground to wait out the ecological crisis that undoubtedly followed. 

Tho' we wont get to see that because it'd be way too expensive.

Unfortunately an argument over whose turn it was to wash up causes a major split amongst the survivors, forcing a small band tp return to the planet's surface to live as 'scavengers', roaming the barren wasteland like a community centre panto version of Mad Max, searching for food, fuel, Fairy liquid  (those dishes wont do themselves) and - from the look of them - an 80's Top Shop's to stock up on legwarmers, day-glo eyeshadow and zippered, rising sun t-shirts.

The others must have just stayed inside watching reruns of Jeremy Kyle or something. 

Kurt: queer as folk.

One particular group of these junior road warriors led by the bouffanted, bleached and bearded Kurt (stuntman turned actor Raymond looking like an aborted Gibb brother) stumble across an abandoned town (although how you can stumble across a town escapes me) and, after a quick nosey about the immediate area, being careful not to stray too far off the backlot, immediately enter what looks like a cheap Eurohostel to look for food and water.

What they find inside is beyond their wildest dreams tho'; boxes of fresh food, some porn, boxes of tissues, a big water purifier in the basement and a hydroponic nursery.

Shelter, food, fresh water  and top shelf wanking material - everything they need to survive.

Cue a few scenes of slightly uncomfortable food-porn that includes a scruffy middle aged beardie man pouring sugar into his mouth and eyes exclaiming "Sugar!" and Kurt munching a bag of flour shouting "Yum! flour!" before emptying the rest of the bag over the exquisite Chocolate (horror goddess and all round superstar Geretta Geretta).

A scene worth rewatching just to admire possibly the worlds greatest genre actress (and part-time Amazon) in action.

Jenny Spoon, the token anorexic of the group, bored with watching her pals play hide the sausage (literally) notices that a freshly laundered bed in the corner of the hi-tech dining room is mysteriously moving and heads over to investigate.

Tho' I'd be more concerned with why someone would pop a bed in their dining room if I'm honest.

Slowly easing her way toward the bed with her dirty, shaking skeletal fingers stretched out like someone's Nan attempting a birthday hand job, she's surprised to find that beneath the clean, and soft Postman Pat blankets lies a putrefying corpse.

With dozens of rats gnawing at the bones!

Billie Piper, up the casino, 1998...yesch!

Now, just put yourself in their shoes for a second...what do you think is the most terrifying thing about this scenario? 

The half chewed body in the bed or the fact that it appears that the rats must of attacked this man as he slept, then pulled the covers up and made the bed in an attempt to play an hilarious Jeremy Beadle style prank on the next people to turn up?

Ignoring all of this tho' and deciding just to chalk it up to experience, our motley crew decide to explore the buildings computer room to see if the internet is still working giving them a chance to download some cheerleader porn before bed.

It's great to know that even after a nuclear holocaust that peoples priorities are still right.

Anyway, before settling down for a good nights kip (not a night of terror- with rats - we hope)  the criminally camp technology egghead Vic Video (Il capo dei capi's Gianni Franco AKA Richard Cross) lives up to his moniker by finding the buildings light switches.

After first accidentally starting an 'eliminate intruders' program obviously.

And with that the group settle down to bed.

As the air is filled with the dulcet sounds of snores and farts, ball headed bad boy Barry Lucifer (
star of the hit teevee series Cas de divorce's Bretner) and his scarily googly eyed girlfriend Lilith (Duvivier), overcome with passion start having 'the sex' in a cosy double sleeping bag in the corner.

And they say romance is dead.

Luckily for all the folk trying to get a good nights kip (and for us if I'm honest) the zip in the bag sticks before Lucifer (as he so romantically puts it) can "blast off baby!" leaving the horny devil to stomp off to the bar to drown his sorrows.

And no doubt choke his chicken.

"Is it in yet?"

Coming across (not literally mind) Video, Jeff and Spoon getting slowly drunk on Meths in the corner, Lucifer opens his heart to his pals who promptly take the absolute piss out of him for getting stuck in a bag (the sleeping variety not Lilith) causing him to stomp off leaving his buddies crying with tears of laughter and shame and his lanky lady alone in the aforementioned broken zipped bag.
That she can't get out of....remember this, it may be important later.

Stumbling about with a bottle of cheap booze and a Pot Noodle shouting "You're my best mate" at various tables, Lucifer fails to notice the army of red eyed rats slowly approaching him whilst  Lilith, drifting into sleep in another room is oblivious to the single rat (obviously the only one not terrified by her teeth) slowly gnawing its way into her sleeping bag.
A sleeping bag that will soon become her tomb.

Of death.

Funnel or tunnel?

Lucifer meanwhile is still boozing away and shouting at random objects when he comically falls down an open manhole whilst trying to avoid a banana skin and as he tries in vain to hoist himself up is suddenly jumped on by hundreds of hungry rats intent on stealing his wallet.

Kurt and company startled awake by cries of "Aaarrrghhh! rats!" are even more surprised to find Lilith lying stiff as a board in her sleeping bag.

Surmising that Lucifer must have strangled her at the height of passion our merry mentalists decide to find him and hopefully the truth regarding lanky Lil's death.

But as they're about to leave, Lilith's body begins to convulse and shake (pretty much like my Auntie when she had a stroke, just not as arousing) as a rat suddenly emerges from her mouth!

"Maybe it wasn't Lucifer after all" Chocolate guesses.

No shit.

Rat in mah shitey wee mooth!

Finding all this rodent based carnage a bit much to deal with this early in the morning, the gang decide to head for the bikes and get the hell out of Dodge (as they say) only to find that the rats have scoffed all the tires.

This leaves Kurt in a difficult position.

Do they:

A. Leave/carry the bikes and run away from town and from the killer rats?

B. Go back into the (killer rat infested) building, board themselves in (with the rats) and wait till morning to leave (when the rats are asleep obviously)?

Yup they decide to leg it out of town.

No not really, they actually go back inside and hurriedly board up every window.

Save the one the rats will no doubt attack thru' later of course. 

One by one the gang are outsmarted by the rats, the older Chuck Norris/George Eastman alike is attacked in the hydroponics (painful), one gets a few wee bites and has a flamethrower taken to him (which is a bit extreme really) and blonde bombshell and former Italian Playboy  Playmate of the month (September 1978) Cindy Leadbetter gets nibbled on whilst standing at that unsealed window (doh) and goes a wee bit potty.

Diane: Nice flat stomach, face of f*ckness.

As if the night (of terror) couldn't get any worse, sweaty pudding headed chubster Duke (Erotic Games star Luciani) has decided that he wants to take control of what's left of the gang, pushing his chest out and scowling "I could do that better! You Smell!" etc. in Kurt's general direction at the most inopportune of moments. 


This testosterone fuelled angriness and general unpleasant behavior culminates in him kidnapping permanently slack jawed Myrna (Ann-Gisel Glass, now a major French TV star who surprisingly doesn't actually list this movie on her agents website and denies all knowledge of it if you send her the DVD to get signed) before threating to steal the groups one remaining vehicle. 

It wont come as too much of a surprise to anyone watching that the car in question is full of rats so Duke calmly decides to clear them out by dropping a hand grenade on them.

Fair enough it kills all the rats but unfortunately also kills himself and Myrna instantly. 

If not sooner,  proving his leadership skills weren't up to much after all.

Whilst all this drama is going down, Diane has decided to wander off in a sulk after catching sight of the woeful make up job she has and after screaming "I wont let you eat me!" (which raised a snigger here at least) slashes her wrists.

She's not really thought this thru' tho' as no doubt the rats will probably still gobble her up anyway, it's not like they're fussy eaters.

It's about now that Kurt's manly visage begins to slip as he disintegrates into a blubbing mess, shooting randomly at Diane's body ("She was covered in those beasts!") before sobbing like a big girl. 

Now it's down to Chocolate, a bald man whose name escapes me and Video to save the day.

Frankly I reckon they're screwed.

"I can see your house from here Peter!"

Unluckily for Kurt (but lucky for the poor sods having to carry him) he gets squashed by a large cardboard door within a few minutes of his great emoting scene.

If that wasn't embarrassing enough tho' it's only the wee baldy man who can be bothered to even try and rescue him, meaning the pair get eaten by rats whilst lying in a sweaty, shit covered mess.

Faced with so much carnage, Chocolate (still looking gorgeous by the way) and the bubble permed Video decide the best course of action is to run away screaming before hiding inside a few handy boxes.

But these rats are smart enough not to be confused by such a cunning disguise and licking their ickle thin lips edge closer and closer to our desperate duo.

Chocolate has heard rumours that they'll eat her whole but Video is pretty sure that they'll spit that bit out.

Suddenly as if by magic a group of strange bio-suited figures appear from the sewers and by using what appears to be Baby Bio sprays manage to kill the all rats.


But who are these mysterious strangers? 

Are they friend or foe? 

Are they even human?

Or could they possibly be giant rat people in yellow jumpsuits?

I'll let you guess, all I'm saying is that it's great that Kevin the Gerbil's career continued after ITV cancelled Rat on The Road.

 Spoiler warning: this picture may
give clues to the films shock ending.

It takes a special kind of person to even consider mixing such diverse influences as Mad Max, The Muppet Movie and Willard, let alone to actually go ahead and make such an entertaining movie out of them.
And for this reason we must praise the late lamented genius that was Bruno Mattei. 
I mean what can you possibly say about such a heady brew of action, gore, leather trousers, beards and nudity seamlessly mixed with stunning effects (the rat army is a hand drawn conveyor belt with dozens of dogs squeaky mouse toys glued to it) helped along by  top notch dialogue and topped off with a frankly fantastically farty Eurohorror synth score?
Plus it features the magnificent Geretta Geretta (in case you'd forgotten) decked out in cool combat gear and cradling a huge gun.
C'mon, what's not to love?
They should teach Mattei in film school.
But then they'd have to point out that his Jaws 'homage' Cruel Jaws was shite tho'.

Swings and roundabouts really.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

happy birthday to who.

 "Let me get this straight. A thing that looks like a police box, standing in a junkyard, it can move anywhere in time and space?" 
...and so it began.
Happy 48 years!

Monday, November 21, 2011

veg head.

Just got emailed this.



Sunday, November 13, 2011

school daze.

Sorry about the lack of recent updates, been actually working and frighteningly enough been watching some semi-decent films.

Oh and Conan.

But to keep you amused here's some of the podlings school work.


Tuesday, November 1, 2011

bugger lugs.

The Human Centipede 2: Full Sequence (2011).
Dir: Tom Six.
Cast: Laurence R. Harvey, Ashlynn Yennie, Vivien Bridson, Maddi Black, Bill Hutchens and a shit load of folk from the Islington job centre.

"Great blow job but I'd rather be fucking that retards arse".

Baw headed sweaty London manchild Martin Lomax (Harvey) when not spending his time working as a car park attendant in Tooting enjoys nothing more than sitting in his booth masturbating furiously to a copy of The Human Centipede, the pleasures of his clammy little palms relieving much of the tension he suffers as a result of being buggered on a daily basis by his jailbird dad as a child (tut all you want but he does have a really peachy arse for a fat bloke), having to live with his abusive mum Fanny (the skeletal yet scarily sexy Bridson, just imagine Super Gran portrayed as a foul mouthed aged stripper) and the constant hard core dance tunes being played by his large, gay upstairs neighbour.

Add to his troubles a habit of poohing the bed, a weirdy-beardy psychiatrist  (Hutchens) who's more interested in sucking his cock than soothing his pain and a pair of nipples like hairy plates and you can see that poor Martin is one of life’s losers.

He probably even reads this blog.

Nah, he's not that sad.

"I love you....could it be magic?"

Anyway, back to the plot where Martin has decided that it might be a good idea to try and make a human centipede of his own using the various folk who use the parking garage as his test subjects.

Cue an hour of head smashing, knee-capping and baby bothering violence intercut with scenes of our bald pal getting felt up by the doc, his mum shouting at him and the aforementioned gay neighbour destroying the Lomax family dinner table.

Despite all these inconveniences tho' Martin bravely struggles on, even going as far as phoning the actors from the first film in an attempt to lure them to London for a 'special show'.

And surprisingly one of them, the pointy of face yet smooth of thighed Ashlynn Yennie, actually turns up.

Posh and Becks: the Vimto years.

But before our beautiful Hollywood starlet can become the main attraction in Martin's scientific wonder there's still the small matter of killing his mum to deal with.

I mean come on, she did rip up his Human Centipede scrapbook and tell him he stank of shit.

With mum out of the way, Ashlynn tied up in a warehouse alongside all his other 'volunteers' and the noisy neighbour in the back of his van Martin is finally ready to make medical history.

"Shite in...well someone elses mooth I guess".

With only the Eye Spy Book of Medical Facts to help, Martin gathers a veritable potpourri of kitchen utensils, DIY tools and assorted household junk to aid the construction of his medical marvel; a human centipede consisting of 12 hastilly sketched stereotypical clichéd characters.

He's got something to put in you.

Finally after an hour and a quarter of some of the most bizarrely delivered dialogue and arse-clenchingly experimental acting-styles ever committed to celluloid it's time for a wee bit of hammer based tooth removing, mucky mouth slicing and rectum ripping fun, shot entirely in glorious black and white and backed with the dulcet tones of mental Martins girly giggles.

Using a handy staple gun to attach each of his victims face to the person in fronts arse, Martin chooses Yennie to be the acceptable face of this new and improved human centipede, partly so her make-up wont be ruined by the constant mooth shite-ing but mainly because she's by far the most attractive member of the cast.

After much prodding, poking and pissing Martin, clad in a labcoat and with his obvious erection barely kept under control in his shit stained underpants, can finally marvel at his creation as it stumbles around the room making gurgling and farting noises.

But something - and it's not the self respect on the part of anyone involved surprisingly - is missing.

Yup, you've guessed it; no-one has started shite-ing in each others mooths yet.

"Laugh now!"

But not to worry because Martin has come prepared.

And no doubt in his pants.

You see, right after feeding Ashlynn some tasty tomato soup and tinned peaches, Martin quickly forces a family sized bottle of quick acting laxative down her pretty tanned throat, causing each member of the centipede to violently evacuated their bowels into the mooth of the person behind them.

The length of the chain also gives our medical mentalist time to wrap his throbbing member in barbed wire, run to the end of the centipede and violently rape the last person in lines filth covered arse thru' a sea of ever flowing shit.

As you would in that situation.

As is always the way with these things, everything is going swimmingly (shittingly?) until one of the centipede parts spoils everyone’s fun by choking to death leaving Martin in tears and a tarpaulin covered pregnant woman, whom he thought was dead, time to suddenly regain consciousness and run screaming to Martins minivan.

With Martin distracted the centipede breaks into two and attempts to escape whilst our poor, misguided mad man stands confused not sure whether to chase the mum to be or regain control of his creation.

As the situation escalates from nutty to fruit loops a tiny bit of poo drops from Martins bottom.

Will our hero calm the centipede?

Will our escapee accidentally crush her newborn baby whilst trying to find reverse in a strange motor?

Will anyone live to tell the tale?

And if so, how are they gonna explain it to my nan?

Hopefully it wont turn out to be just a dream...

Or will it?

I ignored the first Human Centipede for a variety of reasons, one being that there was no chance of it actually living up to the premise and another being that for some bizarre reason director Six hadn't cast Udo Kier in the Dr. Heiter role but mainly because if anyone was going to make a movie full of mooth shite-ing madness and mentalist German doctors it really should have been me.

Anyways, jealousy aside I didn't Tom Six did, it caused a wee bit of controversy before released before finally opening to a loud "Wuh?" and much viewer apathy.

Because frankly we only get upset by fox hunting bans and people lighting upg in non-smoking areas in the UK.

Dunkirk spirit and all that.

But that wasn't enough to stop our cowboy hatted pal from unleashing a sequel onto an unsuspecting world and upsetting the mighty BBFC in the process who regarded the film as being "sexually violent" as well as possibly being in breach of the Obscene Publications Act.

Demanding 32 cuts (totalling 2 minutes and 37 seconds) before granting it a certificate the film is is finally with us and despite losing some references to sandpaper aided masturbation, forced mooth shite-ing and newborn baby crushing the movie still manages to be the funniest, most hellzaboppin' comedy I've seen since Cannon and Ball's one and only big screen outing The Boys in Blue.

"Rock on Tommy! There's mooth shite-in about!"

It's almost as if director Six has somehow channelled the journalistic genius of the great Charlie Brooker (or locked him in a cellar) into purposely writing a movie that's aimed fairly and squarely at readers of the Daily Mail* and no-one else, just to watch their collective heads explode as they try to comprehend it.

I mean, where do you begin when summing up such genius?

The acting, as mentioned before is excruciating to watch but perfectly pitched, giving a spot on portrayal of the kind of performances usually seen in this type of movie.

Special mention has to be given to the neighbour who's delivery of lines like "I'll play my fahkin music as loud as I like you fahkin retard!" are so stiltedly delivered, his walk so laboured as to give his scenes an almost cinéma vérité feel seldom seen in the modern horror genre.

Every shot, every action, every scene of the film is so recognisable and so clichéd that to see them de-constructed then presented back to us in such a perfectly re-rendered way is mind blowing in it's simplicity.

Never has the idea of the metanarrative been so successfully used before now in an attempt to actually fuse the audience members (as it were) into the story telling technique. Our knowledge and appreciation of the differences between good and bad cinema have never been so fully utilised by a director before, making us as much a part of the story as Martin or even the mooth shite-in.

Jean-François Lyotard would be wanking himself silly in his grave at the thought of it.

If he still had a cock obviously.

But is that so surprising for a wonderfully metaphorical work such as this?

I think not.

Unfortunately it seems that precious few of the folk who'd actually appreciate all this meta-textual bollocks have been arsed going to see it.

And rather than come out and agree with me, Tom Six seems to be staying silent.

I mean at this rate the whole point is gonna be lost and I'm going to end up looking like an arse who's been duped into reading way too much into something that in reality has very little cultural or cinematic worth other than to shock.

And don't you just hate it when that happens?

Lyotard: Clever clogs. And French.

*For those of you outside the UK the Daily Mail is a British 'news' paper written exclusively by, and for ex-Nazi's and their families. Famously pro-Hitler during the 40's, latter day classic cuts include advocating abortions for babies with Autism,  describing Stephen Gately's death as a little sleazy due to him being gay and that every crime and benefit fraud in the country is committed by 'Johnny Foreigner', who even tho' has been welcomed into our country with open arms refuses blankly to turn his skin white.

And that's just articles by Jan Moir.