criminalising kinkiness (part 2).

Not often I get to have a good old rant on here (well not about anything of importance) but I couldn't let the governments new digital economy bill pass without at least a few words.

Which is a shame but hey ho.

Readers with long memories (and glass dolls) will no doubt remember my previous moans aboutthe likes of Christopher Tookey and barmy Julian Brazier (there's more but frankly I really can't be arsed trawling thru' the links to find them) as well as the infamous ambulance chaser and buggerer of beefcake Keith Vaz regarding their thoughts that 'Explicit and extreme video games and films are fueling a tide of violence in Britain' from a few years ago and their ongoing attempts to ban anything and everything that they don't like.

Vernon: Your dad's cum face.

Obviously - thanks no doubt to my fantastic journalistic skills) - their puritanical pursuits came to naught  and we all got to live happily ever after, that is until professional witch-woman and part-time internet voyeur Theresa May came to power and decided that it was up to the government to decide what kind of sexy stuff we can enjoy.

Being more of a mindless violence than a kinky sex fan (look I have Aspergers I'm going to side with the less sticky pursuit - I hate mess) I gave the matter no thought, knowing that is that Zombie(s) Lake could in no way be construed as a sexual fetish, until that is a friend (yes I have one) pointed out that under the new legislation those occasional YouTube videos I post of me dancing provocatively whilst wearing a Howard Vernon mask could be seen as too kinky and therefore illegal.

It was at this point that my pervy pal delivered the killer blow.

Ooooer.

It seems that part of the bill is aimed at regulating things like menstrual blood, urination and 'mooth shite-ing'.

I'll let that sink in for a minute.

Yup, this blog will be well and truly screwed.

Hopefully then they'll remember to stick to the bizarre “four-finger rule” when they do it.

And what is this rule? I hear my overseas readers cry.

It's a part of the bill which limits the number of digits that can be inserted into an orifice for sexual stimulation.

No really.

We have food banks, a rise in racist attacks on the street and a country in post-Brexit turmoil and this is the most important thing our government can think about?

We are indeed drifting into an arena of the unwell.

Theresa May: Haunted beachfront cave.

For more information follow the link here, it's for The Guardian which may be a wee bit left-leaning but as a plus point the type is quite large and they don't use too many big words.

Which for readers here is a Godsend.

Talking of random film-based sex acts regular readers may have noticed that The Arena has been a wee bit obsessed with sexy seventies superstar Robin Askwith of late, culminating in me finally getting round to obtaining his classic 'Confessions' series on shiny StevieDee allowing my to confine my bulky VHS collection to the bin.

Imagine my surprise then when on going to watch them I realized I'd actually acquired the slightly inferior Barry (Mind Your Language) Evans 'Adventures' set by mistake.

Never mind I thought, It'd be a pity not to share....

Adventures of a Taxi Driver (1976)
Dir: Stanley Long.
Star: Barry Evans, Judy Geeson, Adrienne Posta, Robert Lindsay, Liz Fraser, Diana Dors, Anna Bergman, Stephen Lewis, Ian Lavender, Henry McGee, Stephen Riddle, Brian Wilde, David Auker, Angela Scoular and Beatrice Shaw.

The place: London, the time: the really unfashionable bit of the seventies where greasy haired, bowl cutted Joe North (Evans) - a busty burd obsessed (not a busty burd himself, obviously) taxi driver - spends his time using his cab as an impromptu shag palace to get away from his mundane everyday existence, from ditzy dollies to frustrated, saggy boobed bored housewives, every woman he meets seem to fall for his lost little boy charms.

And pleasant smelling cock obviously.

We first experience his uncanny (some would say ungodly) luck first hand when one of his passengers asks to be dropped off on a bridge so she can jump off.

She's heartbroken, the poor lamb.

Being a nice guy Joe convinces her not to toss herself off but to allow him to drive her home.

Probably after leaving the meter running and charging her extra tho' - you know what cabbies are like.

Upon arrival she surprisingly takes off all her clothes and jumps on our crap Casanova.

Suffice to say that just as they're about to get down and get with it (luckily for the viewer not before we've seen Evan's pale, shriveled penis), her boyfriend turns up unexpectedly leaving Joe no choice but to climb out of the window and leg it to his cab stark bollock naked.

Blimey.

He needn't have bother tho', turns out that this blokes missis is a raving nymphomaniac and uses the old suicide trick to pick up fellas all time.

Hi-fucking-larious I'm sure you'll agree.

"Oh no! It's John Leslie!"

The good thing is that all this sex is that it helps take Joe's mind of his hellish home life, dominated as he is by his moaning (but not in that way) peroxide headed mother (Dors....who wouldn't want to be dominated by her?...well not now obviously) and arguing constantly with his spotty teenage brother whilst trying to find an excuse to escape his clingy, marriage obsessed girlfriend Carol (the ball-faced, bewigged Posta, who also performs the films theme song 'Cruising Casanova').

It's not too much of a surprise then to find poor Joe finds at breaking point so he decides to move in with his best mate Tom (Lindsay).

Cue even more oh so amusing sexual shenanigans.

"Excuse me, you've shut my cock in the door".

Over the next forty five minutes we're treated (in much the same way as you treat syphilis) to a veritable comedic tsunami of sexual hi-jinks featuring faceless seventies totty and a hilarious escapade with Joe's pet python named....wait for it.....Monty.

Oh.

My.

Aching.

Sides.

"Is that a snake in your pocket or is it just
that your cock is particularly scaly and flexible?"

If this wasn't enough to get your pulse racing, down on her luck former Bond girl (and pube haired temptress) Angela Scoular gets her kit of in possibly the film’s most amusing moment (and that's not saying much) when her geeky accountant husband, who has unexpectedly come home early, surprisingly fails to notice that Joe is lying underneath his wife in a soapy bath.

Scoular: pube haired but still lustable.

Add to this the wonderful Judy (Inseminoid) Geeson playing a stripper (who scarily keeps her clothes on throughout), the comedy gem of Joe mistakenly picking up a transvestite and the bizarre last third of the film which forgoes any shagging to concentrate on Joe getting involved in a jewelery heist gone wrong and you have a movie to challenge Nativity 3: Dude Where's My Donkey? in the charm stakes.

Yes, it really is that good.

Watch out! it's Leslie Grantham.

So what else is there to say about this movie?

Well, Stanley Long's direction is, um, well it's in focus and he makes sure the camera doesn't wander off at the boring bits, whilst the 'script' co-written by Suzanne (Groupie Girl) Mercer from an idea by Long is simplistic at best, clichéd and predictable at worst.

Cast wise, the late (almost great) Barry Evans is fresh faced and agreeably cocky enough to worm his way into the audiences affections whilst Robert (Citizen Smith) Lindsay and Judy Geeson give sterling support as his best pal and best pals missis respectively.

The film also boasts a plethora of cameo's from some British comedy legends including Diana Dors, Liz (the one that wasn't in The Cocteau Twins) Fraser, Ian (Dads Army) Lavender, Stephen (On The Buses) Lewis and Brian (Last of The Summer Wine) Wilde.

Liz Fraser: The one that doesn't get
her tits out in British smut movies.
Pity.

Being kind tho' the films tiny (£130,000) budget is put to good use shooting in and around London (that's in England, Europe for any Americans reading) mostly without official permits which gives it a grittier edge than it's more famous Confessions cousins.

It's just a pity the film as a whole doesn't live up to it's guerrilla origins.

Worth a look if you like smut of a not too rude kind.

Or have a thing for huge seventies pants.

Which as I said earlier, the way it's going may soon be illegal.

time and relative.....

...dimensions in sound.

Celebrate 53 years of the children's hero that adults adore with a 2 hour adventure in sound!

Download here.

tree-mendous.

Just got sent this in reply to my review of the frankly fantastic Freddie Francis classic Tales That Witness Madness.

If you haven't seen it/read it do so now otherwise you'll just get scared.

No, really.

According to an interview in Closer magazine (other incest and death filled lifestyle magazines are available), man-handed, Evil Dead fan (possibly) Emma McCabe admitted that - just like Michael Jayston in the aforementioned movie - she's in love with a tree.


It seems that after a series of failed relationships with dozens of unsuitable guys who just wouldn't leaf her alone, she decided to branch out and fell in love with a tree in her local park called Tim.

I shit you not.

Or should that be knot?

Tim the tree yesterday just before he gave Emma a fucking good rooting.

“My feelings are genuine. I’ve had boyfriends, but never connected with anyone like Tim,” The 31 year old mentalist mumbled as she attempted fellatio on a pine cone before continuing “I’m in love and would like to get married. I look at other trees, but don’t touch — I wouldn’t cheat on Tim...unless it was with a particularly sexy cactus, I mean just imagine all the pricks.”

“He fulfills my emotional and sexual needs. I orgasm by rubbing against the bark naked,” Emma admitted as she playfully fondled a nearby pile of dog shit encrusted leaves “I love the feeling of skin-on-bark contact, which gives me a more pleasurable pain sensation, and the feel of his leaves against my skin makes me tingle. I have sex with him every week — it’s the best I’ve ever had!” 

 

"Leaf me alone!"

Apparently not realizing that the entire country is currently taking the piss out of her Emma went on to say that she sees Tim four times a week where they "just talk" and that she plans to marry him.

Surprisingly her family think that she's fruitloops and refuse to talk about it.

I phoned a scientist-type mate of mine (yes I do have friends) who said that he reckons that Emma may suffer from dendrophilia, a condition in which a person is sexually attracted to or aroused by trees.

Well either that or she's strapped for cash and decided to make up a story in order to get paid 250 quid that she can then blow on cheap drink and kebabs.

Either way you have to admire her style.

If not her massively ball-like face.

Normal service will be resumed as soon as.

people you fancy but shouldn't (part 64).

For Mr Stu (this is becoming a habit), the lovely Scottish TV presenter and antiques and art expert Natasha Raskin.

don of the drumpf.

A quick thought for you all.

I don't know if it's a lack of sleep coupled with an excess of Romero this weekend but it's struck me how much DOTD mirrors the recent US elections (you may have heard something about them on the news).

Are you sitting comfortably?

Then I'll begin.

Peter is obviously Barack Obama - a sexy, strong and cool black dude with fantastic leadership skills and a dark velvety voice, Fran is Hilary - yup she's a wee bit of a pain in the arse for most of the movie but you know she'd be your safest bet for survival, Steven is Bill Clinton - thinks he's the big man but soon falls into line behind his missis when things go bad and Roger is Trump, strange combover, tiny hands and mad as fuck who when things go south relies on Peter for support and understanding. 

The even build a wall to keep the outsiders out (and it is a beautiful wall albeit one made of cardboard). 

The trucks fortifying the Mall are obviously symbols of American big business holding up the economy of the shops and a desire to keep everything in the mall away from trade tariffs etc which in turn causes all the shops to close except for the lucky elite.

None of this works tho' and they are soon over run by bikers (one with a droopy mustache and another in a sombrero - need I say more?) that by the films end returns everything to the status quo.

And the zombies? 

Who do they represent? 

Well they're probably just there to keep the kids entertained.

Normal service will be resumed as soon as.

hard days shite.

Day of The Dead (2008).
Dir: Steve Miner.
Cast: Nick Cannon, Mena Suvari, Christa Campbell, Michael Welch, AnnaLynne McCord, Stark Sands, Matt Rippy, Ian McNeice, Robert Rais, Linda Marlowe and Ving Rhames.

Somewhere in sunny Colorado, a group of hot 'n' horny (but none nude) 'teens' are making out in an abandoned warehouse but when one of them develops a nosebleed and snotters a big red bogie on his dates chest they all decide to go home.

Annoyed at having her cleavage messed up, the slutty/punky one decides to walk home thru' the woods alone.


Yes, it's that clichéd.


Meanwhile bald badass mofo Captain Nick Rhodes (Rhames, undisputed king of the Romero remake) and his tiny second in command Sarah (Mena "My illustrious career" Suvari) are trying to stop folk leaving town, Rhodes by shouting "Halt mutha fuckah" at everyone and Sarah by smiling wetly and pointing them in the direction of the hospital.

You see, it appears that a scary nosebleed virus has hit and the army are trying to contain it by putting up roadblocks, dishing out tissues and telling everyone to sit with their heads tilted back.

Peow! Peow!

Wise crackin' Private Salazar (Cannon) is drafted in to help his army buds  - and from his performance, put back the quality of well written black characters by about 30 years - as is Private Bud Crane (Sands) a veggie geek with a crush on Sarah.

Turns out tho' that Sarah is more concerned about her ailing mum than helping folk get medical assistance so she decides to commandeer a jeep (with Bud along for the ride and a for a wee bit of character building chat) to head home and get her to the hospital.

On arrival she finds her big chinned brother Trevor (Welch) making out on the sofa with the interestingly haired (yet pointed faced) Nina (90210 star McCord). Yup that's right, they were two of those 'teens' at the films beginning (will the location of the deserted warehouse become important later?) and to top it all it seems that brother and sis have 'issues', which involves the pair huffing and tutting for five minutes whilst their mum coughs a lot in the upstairs bedroom.
Bud suggests that they should maybe deal with their anger issues later (right now it's the issues with this utterly shite script that need dealing with) and bundles everyone into the Jeep for the trip to the outpatients where they find an even grumpier Rhodes (and scarily an even more jive-talking Salazar) stomping about and cussing at the mob of ill people slumped in their seats holding hankies up to their noses.

AnnaLynne McCord's reaction to reading the script.

Without warning (and in an embarrassing frenzy of shite CGI and squelching noises) the nosebleed victims suddenly stop breathing, very quickly obtain joke show quality Halloween masks and transmute into zombies!

But not just any old zombies oh no, these beasts can 'run' really fast (thanks to cranking up the camera speed-a trick not seen since The Keystone Cops), drive cars, shoot guns and hang off the ceiling (in what looks like a tribute to the old Spectrum game Manic Miner if the FX are anything to go by) plus if that's not enough they even dissolve into crappy CG dust when killed!

We are so lucky to have this film aren't we?

Obviously it's all gets a wee bit fraught in the hospital what with all the zombies, Rhodes shouting "Mutha fuckah" at everyone (and everything), Sarah looking confused (as if Mena is thinking how the hell did I go from American Beauty to this) whilst Salazar does that hip-hop hand thing a lot and Bud just looks on in a daze (at least he doesn't have a career to ruin) so it's quite lucky when the mysterious Dr. Johnny Logan (Rippy - the other Captain Jack in Torchwood and a man I recognized as having once chatted to me about Pee Wee Herman when he was a member of The Reduced Shakespeare Company) promptly appears from nowhere and tells everyone to barricade themselves into a cupboard.

Unfortunately whilst frantically making space by throwing out all the boxes of Tip-Ex and the like Rhodes is overcome by a horde of the undead and bitten.



To death.

RRRRRRRRANGERS!

In a plot twist that I didn't see coming (a bit like your mum) the cupboard has a hole in the back that somehow leads to the cellar.

A cellar that bizarrely enough has windows.

Bravo set designer.

Catching her breath (but not a quick look at the reviews) Sarah remembers that Rhodes still has the car keys, so volunteers to lead everyone back into the cupboard in order to retrieve them. 

Unfortunately Rhodes re-animates and bites Bud whilst in the confusion Logan steals a car and leaves them to it.

Don't worry too much tho' as luckily our hapless band - after a rather lackluster fight against the cast of Michael Jackson's Thriller video - manage escape in Rhodes Jeep.

Meanwhile Trev and Nina (remember them? - no me neither) have also escaped from the hospital and are currently dodging zombies, cars, good taste and the like whilst looking for a place to hide.

Tho' whether it's from the zombies or from their families after making this shite we're never told.

As luck would have it portly town DJ Paul Morley (Doctor Who star McNeice) is still broadcasting and being a nice man, lets them into the studio - on the condition that they're not zombies of course -  where they also find the shot to fuck Mr and Mrs. Leitner (Rais and the lovely Campbell,  star of 2001 Maniacs and Kraken amongst others) who seem to spend most of their time gazing longingly at each other whilst Mrs. L sits coughing on the sofa whilst shouting "It's not the virus it's my allergies!"


Hmmmm....

Laugh and indeed now.

As chaos and bad editing rage all around them, Sarah, Salazar and Bud drive to the nearest gun shop to get 'tooled up' (as I think the youngsters say) before thinking of a way to escape from town.

And hopefully their contracts.

Actually this film was enough to convince me.

 

Heading back to the car Sarah is hit by a double-whammy of a surprise.

Firstly she hears her brother broadcasting (well begging and whining like a small girl) for help from the radio station and then turns round to see that Bud has become a zombie.

It's a bit of good luck then that he was vegetarian when he was alive (see? it was important) because he's refusing to eat his pals and is content to sitting in the back of the Jeep making doe eyes at Sarah.

Aaaaahhh.....sweet.

Come to think of it tho' there's hardly enough meat on Mena Suvari to make it worth his while.

Must be the vegan diet.

Anyway, they rescue Trev and Nina (but not before Mrs. Leitner has gone loco and eaten her hubbie and Paul) and head towards the town border because it's a scientific fact that man made viruses can't cross city council lines. 

The plan gets thrown to the wind tho' when a zombie headbutts the windscreen causing them to hit a tree.

There only hope of refuge now? the old abandoned building from the movies beginning.


See? 

They don't just throw this crap together.

As it happens it turns out to be an old missile silo cum secret research lab - every town should have one - headed up by the enigmatic Logan who, it appears has been experimenting with a way of shutting down enemy combatants nervous systems (he should show them this shite, that'd work) but alas has accidentally made zombies instead.

The bad man.

"You chase me now!"

Will our brave band escape or will the zombies take over the world?

Honestly I really didn't care.

I mean c'mon, if everyone involved can't be arsed giving two fucks why should I?

The only intriguing thing about this whole mess (well I say intriguing but to be honest it's bloody disturbing) is why Steve Miner and his cronies would think that taking the title and character names from Romero's original and then bolting them onto a poverty row remake of Nightmare City would be a good idea seeing as, unfortunately it's nowhere near as entertaining as that Umberto Lenzi classic.

But then again how could it be?

Let's be real here for a moment, that movie was so shockingly inept it crossed that blurry line into genius whereas Day of the Dead is quite frankly the movie equivalent of weeping anal warts.

Photoshop.

Yup, it really is that bad.

And the DVD cover is shit too.

top trump.

Well after my lovely tweet from Mike Pence* regarding his fave movie (yup, I ask the questions that no-one else dares) I reckoned I'd throw caution to the wind and ask the same of good old Donald J. Trump.

To be honest I wasn't expecting a reply (he's been busy) so imagine my surprise when I discovered that I was the first person he tweeted after the election results.**

Not only that tho' but a letter arrived this morning explaining his reasons behind his choice.***

I am truly blessed.

Frankly I'm speechless.

I mean who's next?
















*Probably.

**Maybe.

***Ditto.

fiddy pence.

Seeing as no-one seems to read this blog I'm gonna attempt to broaden the readership by expanding into more sensible stuff like - ahem -politics and the like, so to that end I tweeted Mike Pence to ask what his favourite movie was.

Anyway you can imagine my surprise when he actually replied*.

Really.

Dr. Frankenstein's Castle of Freaks (AKA Frankenstein's Castle, Frankenstein's Castle of Freaks, Monsters of Frankenstein, Terror Castle, The House of Freaks, 1974).
Dir: Robert H Oliver or Dick Randall take your pick I don't really care.
Cast: Rossano Brazzi, Loren Ewing, Edmund Purdom, Simonetta Vitelli and her playful puppies, Christiane Rucker, Eric Mann, Luciano Pigozzi, Michael Dunn and Mr. Boris Lugosi as Ook.

Terror stalks the castle when the secret of life falls into the wrong hands.

Somewhere in deepest, darkest Europe a bunch of inbred local yokel types in dirty vests and baseball hats (we call them Neds, you call them Republicans) have decided, with it being a Sunday and all, to spend the afternoon stoning a topless, manbreasted Neanderthal named Pedro (Ewing from Venus in Furs) to death.

No reason is given for this frankly loutish behavior other that they must be a wee bit bored.

Either that or the fact that his straggly beard makes him look a wee bit foreign.

Which is fair enough then.

Luckily for our hapless brute, who should come a-riding past but the one and only Count Steve Frankenstein (Brazzi from such classics as South Pacific and The Italian Job obviously getting stung by his ex wife for a new swimming pool) who has other plans for the big man.

Yup you guessed it, the 'mad' scientist reckons this towering titan would make a great starting point for his latest experiment.

An experiment into the world of urban dance beats.


Probably.

"Mary Doll! whit's fae dinnah?"

However nothing ever goes smoothly for our favourite nutty professor as while he's performing (very complicated) surgery to transform his new plaything from a big beast into a fairly passable - and typical - Glaswegian (complete with 'heid' bandage) who should turn up out of the blue but his sensible shoed and bouncy breasted daughter Mary (Vitelli, ask your granddad), her hunky fiancé Eric (Mann the director of Manhunter and The Keep, possibly) and their dirty blonde and even dirtier pillowed anthropologist 'friend', Krista (Rucker best know by teevee fans for her long running role in Kottan Ermittelt) all intent on enjoying a holiday at Mary's old man's pad.


And his expense obviously.

"Now why don't you and your
little friend get wet n' naked for a wee bit o' mooth shite-in before dinner?"

Playing the good host, Frankenstein wines and dines his guests, regaling them with funny science stories whilst secretly sending out his freakish posse (including Genz the necrophiliac ginger porn dwarf fantastically played by Dunn) to steal more corpses for his experiment to recreate the entire rosta of BBC Scotlands' early 90's comedy talent in order to battle the evil independence movement.

And by the looks of it he already appears to have Rab C Nesbitt.

"Whit?"

During one such midnight foray, the dim witted Hans (Pigozzi from Yor) forgets to clean away Genz' tiny footprints and, rather than admit his mistake, puts the blame on the little fella, causing the Count to banish him from his castle (of Freaks) until he finds out - and I quote - "What the Hell is going on with these short people!"

And all without even letting him have his supper first.

Genz, understandably annoyed by this (well, it was kippers on the menu) swears the wrath of the little people on the Count and begins to plot his revenge.

Sitting on a mushroom and seething away whilst planning more and more convoluted ways of gaining revenge our tiny pal is vaguely surprised (tho' he may just be squinting to read the cue-cards - when yet another Neanderthal, this one named Ook (Lugosi AKA The Beast in Heat himself, Sal Boris ) pops out from behind a hedge close to the European/Mexican border on the look out for some top tottie to fiddle with.

Or at the very least for a pretty mooth to shite in.

Obviously after selling her drugs and stealing her job that is.

C'mon we all know what these Neanderthals are like.

"It's awight wee Jimmy, ah
checked the beanstalk".

Anyway, whilst all this particularly un-PC stuff is going on, Krista and Mary have discovered a soothing hot spring in the caves below the castle and have decided the best thing to do would be to get naked and begin frolicking in a sexy manner at the first opportunity.

Obviously this adds nothing to the plot but it does mean you get quality dialogue like:

"This dress was designed to get out of quickly!"

and scenes like this:

and this:

Which is nice.

Tissues dispensed with it's back to the plot.

Genz sneaks back into the castle (disguised as a small doll, tiny second amender or a gnome no doubt) and frees a very angry Pedro who after sneaking a look in a mirror is devastated to find that he wasn't made to look like Wee Burnie.

To avoid confusion with our American readers I mean this guy, not this one.

Sorted?

Good, now we can continue.

Pedro then proceeds to smash the castle up and chase everyone whilst going "Gggrrraaaaahhhh" a lot.

We feel his pain.

Ook, meanwhile is slowly wandering through the dark tunnels below the castle looking for a quick shag, which is quite lucky then that he almost immediately comes across a naked, glistening (and very bouncy) Krista preparing for a soak.

Ook's leering grin, straining groin and outstretched hands say it all.

More tissues ahoy.

Just as you think that things couldn't get any worse the locals - who are still bored - have decided to organize another dads n' lads stoning and reckon that Frankenstein should be next on the list.

Wandering about the forest they soon come across poor Pedro (even tho' he looks completely different with his head bandaged and wearing a string vest) and give chase, following him into the caves where he hides behind a rock pretending to be a deplorable.

OK then a cat.

Surprisingly this ploy seems to work and the angry militia quickly head further into the caves giving Pedro the chance to make a break for freedom.

As he's about to head back to the border our brutish buddy spies poor Krista, covered in egg, sweat and semen (and on whom he has a wee bit of a schoolboy crush), being manhandled and arse whacked by the drooling Ook.

Will Pedro risk his own life to save this beautiful embodiment of liberty and chastity?

Will the mad locals ever tire of lynching random folk?

And does anyone reading really care?

Rucker: bacony passage.

From the legendary director/producer/dwarf fetishist Dick Randall (the man who brought us Weng Weng's For Y'ur Height Only, Supersonic Man and Don't Open Till Christmas amongst other classics), Frankenstein's Castle of Freaks' appears to be the bizarre lovechild of the no-budget, lo-fi drive-in movies of the mid 60's and the studio bound Euro-exploitationers of the the early 70's, lurching as it does between Hammeresque horror and bouncy boob fun.

This schizophrenic approach coupled with a general sense of unevenness and a totally threadbare plot is made even more enjoyable when the action and horror is repeatedly hijacked by scenes of Christiane Rucker's ample arse and Simonetta Vitelli's glorious breasts.

"Laugh now!"

Quite rightly most of the rude stuff is instigated by the movies true star, the pixie like perv that is Michael Dunn. Whether he's pinching a dead woman's nipples or giving Ook a quick lesson in seduction using a kidnapped farm girl as an unwilling volunteer, Dunn's portrayal of the pube bearded, tiny-handed hunchbacked mini-molester is a riot of over the top twitches and snarls coupled with an overpowering sense of sexual deviancy.

It's like an even more pocket sized mini-Trump is scooting around in your living room wearing your dad's pants.

Plus he has that wibbly wobbly run that's so endearing.

Frankly fantastic Friday night film fodder, plus as an added incentive to trawl thru' the bargain bins is that the UK DVD release on Something Weird Video was double boxed with the Victor Buono classic The Mad Butcher (AKA Meat is Meat).

But that was about 8 years ago so good luck finding it now.

Tho' if you ask him nicely Pence may get it re-released (this time on shiny BluRay).







*Probably.