Monday, November 28, 2016

don't cry for me argentina.

So, when does trash transcend its boundaries to become art? and can 'art' become so misplaced that it becomes mere trash?

More importantly, are the two interchangeable?

Fucked if I know, I was only asking because between bonkers Brexit and terrifying Trump the world seems to be slowly but surely collapsing in on itself in an ever growing malaise of rancid racism and jingoistic flag waving like an ecstasy-fueled last night of the proms conducted by the putrefying corpse of Hunter S Thompson's dog.


Well done world.


 So to alleviate the feelings of dark despair I thought I'd give this gem a rewatch....


Sadomaster (2005).
Dir: Germán Magariños and Fernando Giangiacomo
Cast: Ezequiel Hansen, Leandro De la Torre, Francisco Pérez Laguna, Mariano Salas and Fernando Giangiacomo.

Asses and Nazi's.....pity there's
no dwarf action too.



The time: Now!

The place: Sunny Argentina!

Which it has to be said is being destroyed from within by a particularly nasty bout of ultra-violence.

And rickets.

Nasty Nazi gangs are roaming the streets, setting fire to tramps, pooing behind bins and molesting (leathery) old ladies and only senator Mauricio Beccar Varela (Laguna...like it matters) is man enough to tackle this onslaught of badness by implementing a zero tolerance of naughtiness campaign.

Right on.

Unfortunately for the people of Argentina Varela leads a double life, by day he's a man of the people - kinda like a slightly less swarthy South American Nigel Farage - but as the sun sets he reveals his true self.

Yup he is, in fact actually the evil ring leader of the Nazi gang responsible for the violence.

Hang on, that's basically just Nigel Farage isn't it?


"Are you my mummy?"



As the weeks go by the violence gets ever worse and after a particularly nasty night which starts with a defenseless Rabbi is beaten to death by a group of One Direction wannabes and culminates with a leather clad pervert urinating on babies it looks like the city is doomed.

What will it take for someone to take a stand against these rotters?

Surprisingly the answer to that question is actually quite simple.

All it takes is the brutal, drawn out torture - and rape obviously - of a chubby, topless man with learning difficulties.

All in glorious close-up.

Lucky, lucky us.

The mutilated body is later discovered by a pissed up homeless man walking down the street who, feeling peckish proceeds to help himself to the poor victims spleen.

They're full of vitamin C apparently.


Photobucket
Not a still from the film
(to be honest there are precious few I can show)
but a photo of some Pikey kids dogging school
(possibly to actually go dogging - who knows? )
and giving the vickies to the camera.



But as our stinky chum cheekily chews his makeshift lunch a spooky pentagram appears flashing onscreen and the ghost of the dead chubby (as in dead and chubby, tho' he is actually dead chubby too) man appears from nowhere screaming “Kill them! Kill them! Kill them!”

Reckoning that becoming a black clad vigilante is probably a better career choice that rummaging thru' the bins, the homeless guy fashions himself a homemade gimp outfit and christens himself the Sadomaster before beginning a brutal series of revenge attacks against the gangs and the corrupt politicians.

Just like Bernie Sanders didn't.

Photobucket
A still from the aborted The Famous
Five/Frank Castle team-up.



Our hero - knowing he lacks a certain something in the hero stakes decides to make up for his stinky fish breath, stringy beard, lack of super powers and the fact that he rides a really crap moped by being not only hard as nails but mad as a lorry with it.

It's not too surprising them to find out that the Sadomaster soon has the evil Nazi's on the run.

But things are probably going to get a lot worse (acting and plotwise) before they get better...

I say probably because by this point I gave up and went to bed.

I mean there comes a point when you have to ask yourself is it really worth sitting up late at night feverishly scribbling notes on a film only myself - and possibly Keith Vaz - will ever see as a fat, sweaty Argentinian non-actor grinning like a loon has a huge rubber cock forced into his mouth in the background?

The final decision was made for me tho' when I caught sight of that old friend Porno Holocaust hiding under a pile of recently purchased Poundland DVD's on my desk.

I mean who wants to watch such mindless and inept shaky cam rubbish as Sadomaster when you know that only a few feet away Mark Shanon's warty scrotum is awaiting your attention in all it's remastered wide screen glory?

Even tho' I only watched it again a few weeks back.

Yes, Sadomaster is that bad.

Your nan on the phone yesterday.

Costing less than a McDonalds happy meal (and managing to be far less appetizing) this lo-fi revenge flick from the aptly titled Gorevision Films is the kind of movie that the self proclaimed art crowd will muse over for years to come whilst your connoisseur of cult films (and no doubt all you fine readers here) will (hopefully) see it for the tragically un-hip Mad Foxes rip-off that it really is.

Without that films charm, wit and big-bushed bath bonking obviously.

Photobucket
Gore, breasts, mouth-rape, evil Nazi's
and political commentary....



Photobucket
...or Mark Shannon's warty balls...
YOU decide!


Unfortunately Sadomaster was a big enough hit in Argentina to allow Magariños and Giangiacomo to continue making 'the films', following up this classic with the little seen Un Cazador de Zombis.

Which scarily is even worse than this.

Tho' at least it has someone famous in it.

OK it has a cameo from Troma's Lloyd Kaufman.

And then?

Yup.....they made Sadomaster 2.

As well as such titles as - I kid you not - Poltergays 5: los lobos desnudos de las, They Call Him One Eye Faggot and the hilariously sounding Scanners: Dopplegayners.

Oh.

My.

Sides.

Yet it's me that gets the death threats.

Be seeing you.

Saturday, November 26, 2016

brownie points.

Been trying to decide what action movie to watch this eve which has turned into a wee bit of an excited Saturday night discussion here at Castle Unwell as to which film is actually the best action movie ever.
 
I reckon The Last Boy Scout whereas Mrs Lamont says Con Air.

After much frenetic chat and threats of violence my mind was finally change after She reminded me that Con Air has the wonderful Trisha Yearwood warbling How Do I Live? on the soundtrack whereas Boyscout only has that old bloke from Dirty Dancing shouting about football.

It's all been for nought tho' as young Master Cassidy has just strolled in with his mums  uncut DVD of the HK guns 'n' girls actioner Naked Killer, taking me back to the heady pre-internet days of trying to purchase a copy for her.

I know, I'm such a romantic.

I mean, the amount of times I'd thought I'd ordered this classic from some dodgy ad in the back of a magazine when, in fact I'd just spent a small fortune on Naked Killer 2 went beyond a joke, especially when you know that Naked Killer 2 isn't even a 'proper' sequel, It's actually the fantastically exploitatively monikered Raped by an Angel (the first in a 'hit' series, natch) retitled to cash in on NK stars Chingmy Yau and Simon Yam appearing on screen together again.


Photobucket
Does exactly what it says on the box.


But first, for those of you unfamiliar with this classic romantic thriller (and if you haven't seen it then honestly, I'm shocked) the plot of the original NK goes something like this.

But first the obligatory cast list and the like:

Naked Killer (Chinese: 赤裸羔羊, 1992).
Dir: Clarence Fok Yiu-leung.
Cast:  Chingmy Yau, Simon Yam, Carrie Ng, Madoka Sugawara, Wai Yiu and
Ken Lo.


But not Ken Loach obviously.

Raven haired and slender of thigh Kitty (Yau) is a quite frankly scary lady with a neat hobby of punishing bad men that cheat on their girlfriends.

Tinam (Simon Yam) on the other hand is a nice guy cop who unfortunately shot and killed his brother (by accident of course) and is now impotent.

Plus he has a habit of vomiting uncontrollably whenever he holds a gun.

How's your luck?

Photobucket
A naked killer showering yesterday.



Their paths messily cross when Kitty is caught (very) red handed after repeatedly stabbing her friends boyfriend in the genitals after finding out he's been unfaithful.

Ouch.

Tinam attempts to arrest her but ends up just throwing up his lunch and shaking a bit.

Trying to figure out a way out of her predicament - and therefore stay out of jail - Kitty does what any woman in her position would do and decides to head to the police station to seduce Tinam in the hope that the sight of her nice flat tummy, shiny mane and luscious thighs will stop him dobbing her in to his superiors.

She's a sly one.

Being a typical man our hero cop has no idea that she's leading him on a just sits drooling.

Which is a nice change from sitting vomiting I guess.

Meanwhile back in the family orientated sub plot, Kitty's father's marriage to his new (whorish) wife is being rocked by her countless affairs.

Oh yes and he's a wee bit upset that she appears to favour wearing  tiny arse revealing belts instead of skirts.

It all comes to a head one evening when he arrives home to find her writhing around, legs akimbo with a Yakuza boss named Bee (Ken Lo).

In the ensuing argument, Kitty's dad falls down the stairs, bumping his head and dying.

Ouch.

Again.

Photobucket
"I love you....could it be vomit?"


Understandably annoyed at this turn of events, she storms into Bee's office and proceeds to off not only him but all his burly bodyguards and the majority of his secretarial staff (including the poor tea boy and the girl that fills the photocopier) before taking a foxy older lady hostage during the course of her dramatic escape.


By a bizarre stroke of luck, it turns out that the woman is, in fact the notorious assassin Sister Cindy (Hong Kong's very own Barbara Windsor, Wai Yiu) who suddenly begins joining in the carnage even going as far as taking out a couple of their pursuers herself.

Escaping unscathed and seeing that Kitty has the potential to become a top lady assassin herself, Cindy offers to train her in the mystic art of kicking arse using a mental, half starved pedophile she just happens to have chained up in her cellar as a makeshift punch bag .

And I thought our walk-in cupboard was bad with the amount of comics stored in there.


Photobucket
It's Glasgow's Miss Masonic Lodge 1984.

Via the magic of sweaty slo-mo montage scenes we see Kitty go from scary penis stabbing mentalist to highly trained penis stabbing assassin before finally bettering her teacher.

The time is right for her first mission alongside Sister Cindy.

A mission to 'take out' a Yakuza bad man in an orgy of soft rock music, slinky thigh action and squirty blood.

None too happy with this, the surviving Yakuza put a price on Kitty's head (and stunning thighs and pneumatic chest too probably) and the evil lesbian murderess Princess (the tiny headed yet frighteningly breasted Carrie Ng), a former protégé of Sister Cindy alongside her market stall fashion victim Japanese lover Baby (moonfaced cutey Madoka Sugawara) take the job.

Photobucket
"I can see your house from here Peter".



Tinam meanwhile has decide to use this murder as an excuse to actually find Kitty - he likes to take things slowly, bless - whom he discovers is disguised as a foxy air hostess named Vivian Shang.

This subplot is a wee bit complicated to explain here so e-mail me if you want details.

Bombarded with questions from our cool cop Kitty plays it cool and convinces him that he's mistaken her for someone else (obviously he was too busy staring at her arse to remember her face) but decides to carry on flirting with him anyway, giving Sister Cindy ample time to murder everyone else who can connect Kitty to Vivian Shang.


Photobucket
"Push harder or I'll never fit in this suitcase".



Kitty and Tinam finally have their much anticipated soft focus shag before tearfully realizing that a cop and a killer - even a naked one - will have a slightly difficult time holding down a stable relationship.

Awwww.

Being a sweetie, Sister Cindy suggests that Kitty leave the assassin business and settle down with her beau and live happily ever after, which would be OK if Princess, who if you remember is out to kill Kitty, hadn't become madly obsessed her, which has led to scenes of sweaty rough sex with Baby featuring orgasmic machine gun fire, opera gloves and much fiddling about with each others panties in loving close-up.

Can I just add that this technique has never ever worked for me.

Photobucket
Vicious lips, milky eye.


With at least 30 minutes left till the movies climax the deadly duo decide to first kill Sister Cindy, hoping that will bring an enraged Kitty to them but the old bird puts up a good fight before ultimately being killed by the luscious poisoned lips (coated in an evil lipstick that is fatal when mixed with booze - obvious eh?) of Princess.

Photobucket
"Lesbe friends...."
"homo we wont!"


Kitty is still nowhere to be found tho' (she's busy hiding under the duvet hoping everything will blow over like you would in this situation) which annoys Princess to a point where she starts screaming whilst randomly shooting stuff.

For what seems like a day.

Luckily for us, just when you think your ears can't take anymore of Princesses wailing - tho' I will admit the scenes where she violently spanks Baby's wobbly arse are pretty good - our heroine re-appears with an interesting proposition....

Kitty, it seems is willing to let bygones be bygones if Princess will become her business (and bedroom) partner.

Thinking the deal over for about three minutes (giving her a chance to oogle Kitty's unspanked backside) before hurriedly shouting "Yes please!" and leaping on her for a bit of black clad assassin on assassin action.

Princess, however is too caught up in the incredibly gratuitous (but admittedly sexy) lesbian lust frenzy to realize that Kitty is also wearing poisoned lippy!

Whilst locked in an erotic embrace, our (completely vomit free) lovelorn police-type hero Tinam bursts in thru' a window and proceeds to mow down all of Princess's hench-people (in slo-mo of course) before turning his gun on Baby and legging it back to Sister Cindy's pad with Kitty.

Photobucket
"Milk in mah mooth!" (well, I hope it's milk).


An understandably furious Princess follows the lethal lovers as the poison starts to take effect arriving to find a deliriously dishy Kitty shouting abuse at her from the living room.

Unfortunately Kitty too is dying ans Tinam, devastated by the thought of losing his one true love throws back his head screaming loudly before firing his gun at the gas oven causing the house (and them) to explode in a blaze of colour and inappropriate end music.

Photobucket
Madoka Sugawara: Lego hair.


As you can probably tell from the above synopsis, NK is an utter hoot from start to finish, a film so over the top it's possible to get vertigo just by looking at the DVD sleeve for too long which makes the fact that Raped by an Angel was released as Naked Killer 2 even more of a travesty.

Whereas NK features a stunning mix of romance, extreme violence, slinky ladies mixed with scenes of women snorting coke from sweaty muscled mens arses, fantastically choreographed lesbian sex scenes and enough gunplay to keep even Charlton Heston happy (if he were still alive that is), Angel removes all these elements (except Chingmy Yau's wonderous thighs) and replaces them with, well nothing really.

Photobucket
"Look! it's Jimmy Krankie's hat!"



The plot (for want of a better word) is paper thin to say the least, centering as it does around sweaty, rat like bad boy perv Chuck Chi-shing (played to perfection by the ickle fin legged Mark Cheng) who has an unhealthy obsession with a hot model Yau Yuk-nam (Yau).

Photobucket
Can any movie live up to this poster?


As part of his plan to get - very - close to Ms. Yuk-nam, he moves in next door to her toothsome, jiggly of breast yet harsh of fringe pal Chu Kit-Man (Ng Suet-Man, who no doubt does whatever a Suet-Man can) playing the nice but dim neighbour before drugging and molesting her.

Twice.

Whilst all this misogynist stuff is going on (in loving close up I may add) Yau Yuk-nam has started dating the lovable triad guy with a heart Tso Tat Wah (Yam, sexy as ever) but the romance is cut short by a mix of tragedy and legal action (as part of the storyline, not from bored viewers) leading to a blood, sweat, egg (and semen) stained, incredibly tasteless climactic showdown between a half naked Yau, a sexily shirted Yam and the dirty Cheng.


Photobucket
Cheng: He has five pounds.


Saying that tho' you kinda know what to expect from a movie with a title like Raped By an Angel, it's not like you're just going to idly pick it up of the shelves in a Teresa May sort of way, pop it on one Sunday afternoon the be surprised if you find it offensive are you?

At least I hope not.

All I can say is if you're looking to waste a few hours with a mix of gratuitous nudity, sleazy sex, Chingmy Yau's just stepped out of the salon hair and a bit of argy bargy then forget this shite and buy Naked Killer instead.

Or you call always give your mums pal a call.

You know the one.


Photobucket
No need or every need?


But if you find that you can't resist viewing a movie with such an offensive title then you could do worse than checking out the surprisingly entertaining sequel Raped By An Angel 2: The Uniform Fan.

This time round we enter the world of a perverted dentist (the scarily Tony Blair like Joe Tak-Chung Ma) who has a slightly worrying thing for girls in uniform.

More worrying than most of us that is.

Up until now he's managed with dirty films and almost constant masturbation but it's getting to the point where not even this can alleviate his warped desires and soon enough he's a-raping and a-murdering traffic wardens in seedy back alleys just for kicks.

As you can tell he's a very bad man indeed.

Photobucket
Just in case you missed it first time round
(do you realize how long it
took
me to scan these shots?)



If this wasn't enough he's also start to fantasize about buxom highschool girl Jenny (infamously wobbly bummed and white ankle sock wearing Cat III star Chung Chun) who's booked into his surgery for a wee filling.

But not the kind he has on offer obviously.

Photobucket
Chun: loose crown,
Hello Kitty undies and

unsightly plaque not shown.


As soon as she enters the surgery he starts sweating like, well a rapist obviously and can only be calmed down when his put upon nurse raises her uniform and offers to let him fill her instead.

No really.

But alas this isn't enough so the dirty dentist cooks up an incredibly convoluted plan to get Jenny (and her pals) drunk (and drugged) at his house in order to have his wicked way with her.

And what is he planning for an encore?

Well he's decided that after completing the dirty deed he's going to wank off her unconscious boyfriend into a condom before placing his prone, trouserless body between Jenny's chubby thighs.

See? told you it was unnecessarily complicated.



Check the socks: The great Diane Pang
from a totally different yet
still
exploitative movie yesterday.


Surprisingly (yeah right) the plan goes awry, leaving Jenny hospitalized with concussion and a sore arse much to the chagrin of her policewoman sister Po Wan Yu (Athena Chu, the star of the classic Shaolin Kung Fu Kids), who, as luck would have it has just been demoted from overcoat wearing detective to cutesy uniformed PC.

Can you guess what happens next?

Photobucket
Athena Chu's farted and it's an eggy one.


Yup, she becomes the new object of the dentists affections as the movie careers toward an explosive climax featuring Po Wan Yu's mad granny, poisoned coffee, castration and a far too skimpy Brownie uniform.

Much was made on the films release in Hong Kong of Chung Chun’s “incredibly sexy performance” which in the harsh light of day consists of endless shots of her bending over showing her big white undies, chewing pencils and lying prone in a dentists chair whilst being slowly unbuttoned by a sweaty man.

Not all at the same time I hasten to add.

Luckily the movies saving grace is Athena Chu dressed in the aforementioned Brownie uniform pretending to be drunk whilst flashing her undies and giggling.

And her reason for wearing the outfit?

Turns out she's a Brown Owl for the local pack.

There's not much else I can say really.

Don't have nightmares.


Friday, November 25, 2016

turkey twister.

It's Friday night and I've been without heating for 24 hours thanks to my new boiler being faulty so thought I'd better watch something to get my temperature rising.

Delirium: Photos Of Gioia (1987).
Dir: Lamberto Bava.
Cast: Serena Grandi, Daria Nicolodi, Vanni Corbellini, Karl Zinny, Lino Salemme, Sabrina Salerno, David Brandon, Capucine and George 'The Body' Eastman.


''a woman's anger can be very bad''





Terrifyingly breasted Former model cum part-time porn princess Gioia (Grandi, the big faced star of such quality movies as Anthropophagous: The Beast, Angelina: Lady of the Night and Frivolous Lola), has finally hit the big time with the publication of her cutting edge 'fashion' magazine, the aptly titled Pussycat.

To celebrate, our dirty pillowed darling has hired her hunky photographer brother Tony (Corbellini whom you may recognize from his star turn as Gualtiero Di San Casciano in the fantastic TeeVee miniseries Black Arrow....or maybe not) and his camp as pants assistant, Roberto (Brandon from, um, Beyond Dark) to re-imagine some of the risqué images that made her world famous (well they helped your dad thru' some lonely times) but this time using a hot new lady-model.


Your mum last Saturday night.




Everything goes swimmingly (and I must admit, quite sexily in a kinda eighties way) and the shoot wraps without a hitch, unfortunately, shortly after leaving Gioia's villa little miss model (we'll call her Babs) is brutally (and not to mention bloodily) slain with a rusty pitch fork.

Ouch.

Luckily (for the police, not the model, obviously) this wicked act is witnessed by Gioia's wheelchair bound young neighbour - and part time stalker - Mark (Zinny, long faced star of Bava's Demons and Graveyard Disturbance) thru his telescope that he just happens to have had trained on the swimming pool all day.

Dirty wee sod.


Yes it is Sabrina - you know the one that sang 'Boys -Summertime Love' and the Stock, Aitken and Waterman classic 'All Of Me' - being touched up by mummies in case you were wondering.

Being a nice guy he immediately phones Gioia -rather than the police- with the news.

Tho' it's a surprise that he can find the telephone under the pile of crusty tissues in his room if I'm honest.

Unfortunately our busty babe, thinking it's just another of Mark's pervy phone calls (he doesn't get out much) hangs up on him.

Thinking nothing more of the situation Gioia goes back to work preparing the next big issue (of Pussycat magazine, not the paper that the homeless sell) and trying to contact Babs to offer her another job (this time advertising the cut price undies for the Aldi catalogue no doubt).

With her phone ringing out constantly and no-one having seen her for weeks, Gioia assumes that poor old Babs is on holiday, but this idea is cruelly shattered when not only does her body turns up behind some bins but also an envelope arrives at the 'Pussycat' office containing photographs of the murdered model posed in front of a huge blow up piccie of our Gioia.

"Eye hen!"



From then on it's murder after murder as more and more models on the Pussycat books start turning up dead (and in poses that'd make a whore - or your mum - blush) meaning it's up to police inspector Corsi Manlove (Salemme, another refugee from Graveyard Disturbance and latterly a star of The Passion of the Christ) to find this mammary minded mentalist behind the deaths before it's too late.

Too late for what I have no idea, but you have to admit it sounds good.

Corsi is convinced that the killer must be harboring a grudge against Gioia (no shit) and is probably someone very close to her.

Figuratively speaking that is, I mean not actually standing behind her or something.

But who?

Could it be mustachioed man-breasted Alex? (genre god Eastman in a small but perfectly formed cameo that involves him having soapy sex with Grandi in a bathtub) or is it kooky Evelyn? (the ever wonderful Nicolodi, obviously slumming it to pay for Asia's new ballet shoes or something).

Possibly not.

So how about Roberto who's been seen cruising around the streets at night looking for a nice bit of manarse (and we all know that homosexuality equals evilness) or is it Mark, driven insane by the constant night time visits by Mother Fist and her five beautiful young daughters?

And don't forget Gioia's bitchy lesbian publishing rival Flora (Capucine from Fellini's Satyricon) who's trying to get her bony old lady fingers into both Gioia's magazine and her silky undies.

Or is it someone else?

But let's be honest here, do we really care?

Manly.




Once seen, never forgotten (and bit like when you catch your parents having sex) Lamberto Bava's Delirium plays out like some bastard beast-child that sprung from the (sweaty yet gloriously smooth and tanned) loins of Jackie Collins after a particularly heaving drink and drugs session with Joe D'Amato's pet dog.

Whose name I believe was Pascal.

Originally conceived as a star vehicle for one time 'sexiest woman in Italy' Serena Grandi (at that point more famous for her 39D boobs than any of her acting roles), Delirium was written to showcase her fantastic acting range as well as her pendulous breasts and peachy arse, therefore mixing emotional, heart felt drama with a bit of soft core nudity.

Oh yes and lots and lots of blood.

But it's not all killings, cod-psychobabble and boobs tho' as the film has a pretty unique ace up its wizard-like sleeve.

Namely the fact that the killer (due to some freaky medical condition that is never explained) sees all his victims as tho' they have huge comedy paper mache carnival heads.

No, really.

Yup, for no other reason than the joke shop next door to the studio was having a closing down sale the murderer sees one of his soon to be victims with a giant cyclops face (and a nasty seventies bun hairstyle a wee bit like your gran) and, in a scene that will live in cinema as a perfect example of celluloid genius long after you and I have passed on, sees another as having a big furry bee head.

Oh and scarily pointed breasts.

But I have a feeling those are real.

I don't know what's freakier,
the big bee head or the Snoopy shaped breast.



But it's these scenes of bloodletting, bizarro bonces and bouncing breasts that are the films saving grace, because if it wasn't for them breaking the arse numbing tedium of the movie every five minutes you'd have to concentrate on what passes as the plot.

"I'm sorry I have my womans period!"




If, however you manage to make it to the movies end then you'll be happy to know that it climaxes (oooerrr) with a dribbling man cutting off Grandi's flimsy garments whilst pervily whispering ''I want to see you in the nude, one last time''.

And after the amount of times she's flashed her (slightly soiled) wares during the proceeding ninety minutes the promise of no more nudity seems like a godsend.

One to keep you entertained on those cold, winter nights.

Or if your gran is coming to visit

Thursday, November 24, 2016

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.

Photobucket



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.

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"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.

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"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.

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"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.

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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.


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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.

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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.


Wednesday, November 23, 2016

time and relative.....

...dimensions in sound.



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

dalek-table.

It's 23rd November and what better way to celebrate the birthday of THE greatest TeeVee show of all time than revisiting this classic spin-off.

Enjoy.

Unless you're one of the few folk who read this review back in 2007 in which case enjoy again.

Abducted By The Daleks (AKA Abducted by The Daloids, 2005)
Dir: Don Skaro.
Cast: Eliza Borecka, Sonja Karina, Linda Black, Maria Vaslova and The Daleks.


Who buys this shite?...oh yes, me.





It's a cold wet night in November and a banged up and rusty Ford Fiesta is trundling down a deserted country lane.


Tho' to be honest it's not as banged up or used looking as the occupants.

And what of those occupants?

Please welcome our  'young' (well, younger than your nan) leads, a freaky foursome of plastic of tit and very harsh of face Eastern European women heading home after a hard days work letting Soho media types spunk in their hair for coppers.

Tragedy  strikes tho' when they run over an extraterrestrial being who - to all intents and purposes was out for a stroll and minding his own business - smudging their lipstick and totaling the motor in the process.

So far so Torchwood.

If that wasn't enough to put a downer on the evening (the crash I mean not comparing the whole thing to everyone's favourite Who spin-off) it turns out that the woods our crack whore heroines have found themselves in are said to be the hunting ground of a particularly mental murderer type bloke and ex member of The Streets, the amusingly monikered 'Serial Skinner'.


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At least in this light you
can't see how harsh they look.



Being girls, they decide that the best course of action would be to abandon the relative safety of the car and wander around in the darkened woods and look for help.


Or a way back home to Poland if they're lucky.

Whilst skulking about in the bushes (armed with a handy torch) one of our foxy foursome trips over some roots, twisting her ankle and loses her clothes in the process.

But things are about to turn sinister tho' for watching the scene from space are the dreaded Daleks, bubbling lumps of hate trapped inside ponded polycarbide war machines and determined to exterminate all inferior life forms.

Using a Trans-Mat beam (cunningly disguised as a mid eighties Top of the Pops effect) they transport the injured woman aboard their spacecraft. 


Spookily she doesn't seem to notice as she continues to crouch down and rub her ankle whilst the Daleks glide menacingly round her.



Ignore the nudity just check the neck on the red Dalek!


It appears that the Daleks are kidnapping humans to examine and study in preparation for an invasion of Earth.

Again.

Which, if I'm honest is quite lucky seeing as it means that Who fans - sorry 'enthusiasts' - can make it a semi-official prequel to The Dalek Invasion of Earth and therefore not worry about whether it's 'canon' or not and just enjoy furiously masturbating over the home-made casings on show.


Anyway, back to the plot and the three other ladies are still in the woods arguing about whether to look for their missing friend or strip naked and rub each other in a slightly unnatural and incredibly wooden manner. 

Decisions, decisions.

Luckily one of the girls (the least chiseled one) volunteers to look for their pal, meaning the other pair can happily indulge in the uncomfortable (for them and us) stroking of each others harsh, cold bodies.

See? everyone's a winner in this film.

Fortunately (for us) these sexy shenanigans are cut short when they too are trans-matted aboard the Dalek ship ready to be experimented on.

These experiments by the way appear to consist of sticking two of the ladies to the wall with tin foil and cardboard straps whilst a Dalek aimlessly fires balls of yellowy melted cheese at their shoes.


The other captive just lies on a decorating table wiggling her arse.

And grunting like a pig.



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Too. Much. Acting.


Just as you're contemplating slashing your wrists the last lady is brought aboard, but lo and behold it transpires that she's really an evil spandex clad alien in league with the Daleks!

Be honest you didn't see that coming.



Beats Rodney Bewes I guess.




Having had enough of their shoes being abused (and possibly getting a sore back from the table) our fearless heroines escape from the torture lab in a blaze of strobe lights, fog and shitey laser effects, only to be gunned down by their evil captors.

One survives (umm...the blonde one) and manages to reverse the T-Mat, returning (naked apart from her hideous shoes) to the woods where she is quickly captured by Albert Steptoe (probably but let's be honest do you really care?)who just happens to be hunting the 'Serial Skinner'.

Albert decides to use her as bait, tying her to a tree and hiding in a bush and waiting - but not alas wanking -) for the Skinner to pounce.



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A serial (based) Skinner yesterday.


Bound and gagged (yay! no more of that gruff accent) she can only watch on in horror as the Skinner kills old man Steptoe (which is more than we can seeing as it happens off screen) and advance menacingly towards her.



To her - and our - horror she realizes that the infamous Skinner is an evil alien.


And I have to be honest, the creature's reveal is one of the few moments of terror in the whole production, decked out as it is in a red shell suit, sporting what looks like a cheap pound shop turtles mask and armed with a tiny wee pen knife.


I was shaking like a shaky thing as he prepared to skin the girl by drawing on her breasts in lipstick.

For what seems like twenty minutes.

Did I say terrifying?.


Sorry I meant to say utter shite.


Don't worry tho' because just as he goes to put it in her, the Skinner gets beamed aboard the Dalek spaceship 'by mistake' (either that or they fancied a bit of cock for a change) leaving the lady trussed up like a turkey and covered in lippy tied against a tree.

Fade to black, it's a couple of days later and the (still naked and surprisingly even harsher looking) survivor is telling her tale of woe to a couple of nonchalant policemen.


Interestingly one of which looks like Kevin Smith but with a greater acting range. 

This is in no way important, it's just that I felt like sharing.

Sorry.

They dismiss her story as utter bollocks but announce that someone has arrived at the station to collect her......

The poor woman looks on in terror as the room is filled with cries of EXTERMINATE!


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Davros farted...and it's an eggy one.



It appears that some 'critics' have been a tad unkind to this film, so I'd like to say that Don Skaro (possibly not the directors real name) has crafted a sinister yet sexy tale of alien abduction that belies it's low budget, soft core roots. 


The performances from the first time cast are top notch, the effects are a wonder to behold and the shocking ending will burn itself onto your memory and haunt you for years to come.

Yes, I'd love to say those things if any of them were true but unfortunately the film is utter shite from start to finish.


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Kevin Smith, Mark Kermode and Jo Whiley
discuss environmental issues yesterday.


But saying that,  if you're a fan of bottle bleached, middle aged and stony faced illegally imported European women battling 'the strange robot people from BBC TV's Doctor Who' whilst standing in a hastily tin foiled garage tho' then this is the film for you.

From dizzying shots of the girls buttock skirting hemlines and horrendous market whore shoes to a fantastically half arsed lesbian scene (with visibly giggling ladies) via the bizarro Dalek S & M torture chamber - complete with stolen Star Trek sound effects - the film hits the 'wrong wrong wrong' button so many times it's a wonder it didn't drop off from overuse.


It's wrong on so many levels and not just because none of the casings match.

Fair play to the producers tho' who were confident enough that people would purchase this quality product just because it has the Daleks and some pale arsed, silicon enhanced grannies cavorting around in the woods naked in it.

And purchase they did.


This was possibly helped by the outrage shown by that quality newspaper The Sun when it's headline screamed:
 
"BEEB bosses have gone ballistic after discovering the Daleks are starring in a porn flick!"

I'd pop the link up but the story has since been deleted so you'll have to take my word for it. 


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Mum, Dad I'm sorry.


 
We should also give them credit too for actually featuring the Daleks and not some amusingly named vaguely Dalek shaped villain (ala the Alicia Rhodes starrer Dr. Loo and the Phaleks), seeing as most Doctor Who based porn movies (of which there are a few, trust me) appear to think that calling the lead characters time machine the 'TURDIS' is worthy of a Talbot Rothwell 'Carry On' script and enough to keep folk happy.

But compared to a certain Pertwee story that features only three of those infamous meanies, a blonde that flashes her pants at every opportunity and unconvincing green aliens,  Abducted By The Daleks is slightly more enjoyable than Day of The Daleks and has a better plot.


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Yes, that's THE Karla Romana!


Saying that tho' the Adult Channel's very own Doctor Who based porn show from a few years back (cleverly entitled 'Doctor Screw', must have taken hours that one) is a work of utter genius compared to this, a must get a special mention for actually basing a few of it's instalments on actual episodes, for example in a riff of the Paul Cornell classic 'Father's Day', The Doctor travels back in time to 1969 so he can shag his companion Holly's 'swinger' mother. 

Beth Willis' secret shame.



It loses points tho' for having the tagline 'Shagging his way through time' and having a lead actor (Mark Sloan) with a really crap beard and hair.



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Haircut.


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Doctor Screw Sucking a lemon yesterday.



But it really doesn't matter what I say, if you're a Doctor Who completest you'll have purchased all of these anyway


Probably more likely two copies of each; one for best and one for weekends.

I only bought it for review purposes and then only to give as a birthday present when I'd finished.