bark at the moon.

 

 

So it's the final day of the whole 31 Days of Horror thing, for those who've been reading along I salute you (all 3 of you) and hope you've had as much fun revisiting these classics as I have.

Anyway before this turns into a real film blog let's continue to the number 1 (or 31 if you prefer) spot by revisiting possibly THE second greatest zombie movie of all time* in part because the kids have been getting into horror movies in a big way of late so I wanted to make sure they only watched the best and it's with that in mind that I thought I'd reanimated this review for others who'd never seen it.

And if you are one of those unlucky few, for fucks sake where have you all been?

And by the way if you do (as you should) love this movie as I do, why not express that love by buying one of these fantastic Burial Ground T-shirts available here or even here.

End of plug.

As a curious aside before we begin I thought I'd just add that during one of our many chats regarding this classic long-time reader Mr Paul from The Canada (yes you can) discovered that apparently, (according to this ropey old VHS release anyway), the movie is actually set in Scotland.

Obviously there just happens to be a bunch of Italians and Etruscan Zombie monks kicking about.

But, he goes on to add, if that was the case, I'm pretty sure the most famous line would be "Ma, this rag totally stinks of pish".

Indeed.

Burial Ground: The Nights of Terror (AKA The Nihgts of Terror, Le Notti del Terrore, Die Ruckkehr Der Zombies - 1981)
Dir: Andrea Bianchi.
Cast: Peter Bark, Mariangela Giordano, Karin Well, Anna Valente, Simone Mattioli and Raimondo Barbieri.

"No, don't eat me. I'm your friend!"

Our tale of terror opens in a damp, dark cave - and surprisingly that isn’t a euphemism for Karin Well - where we join Santa's piss stained, fish-bearded and buggery obsessed brother examining some spooky cave drawings.

Obviously excited about this discovery he begins to bang on the walls whilst doing a - fairly erotic in the circumstances - drunk dance which unfortunately for him (but not for us) has awoken the dead that reside in the cave.

Dead that are hungry for human flesh.

And a wee bit of old man arse probably.

"Aye son, mah lottery numbers have

come up! oh no...ahv pished mah sel'."

Thru' the magic of cack handed editing it's suddenly the next morning where a motley band of visitors (three sexy young couples and a pot bellied dwarf  - sorry, small boy, my mistake) have arrived at the house and are looking forward to a weekend break in the country and catching up with their old pal Professor Ayres (the aforementioned bearded Barbieri).

Rocking up at the front door like some nightmare vision in Bri-Nylon our merry band are informed by the (fairly attractive in a kinda pound shop way) maid that the professor is out exploring and may be gone some time so they should make themselves at home.

Which in this case is an excuse for a quick bout of some hot sweaty sex-based shenanigans in the guest bedrooms.

Rushing to their rooms to unpack, undress and start shagging, poor little Michael (the legend that is Peter Bark looking for all the world like the result of an unholy pairing of Kevin Spacey and a warty testicle) is left alone in the downstairs lobby with only his Rubik Cube and Eye-Spy book of European arses for company.

Your mum and dad. Having sex.

In your bed.

After amusing himself for a few minutes playing with the hat stand and creepily chasing the maid, Michael decides to creep in on his mother and her mightily mustachioed lover in order to pick up a few sex tips.

We've all done it.

None too surprisingly the sight of a bowl headed, poppy eyed freak gazing lustfully from behind the sideboard does nothing for her growing passion so she throws a shoe at him screaming "Get out!".

As we will learn later, Michael has a wee thing for his dear mum and doesn't like her hanging around with perm haired, tanned Lothario's, no matter how tight their arses look whilst thrusting up and down on his mummy.

Fair enough.

Insert cock here.

After a morning of gin soaked sexiness and rampant STD's the couples settle down to some top grub whilst discussing the Professor's paper on the magical practices of the ancient Etruscans (ah, you studied that too eh?) before deciding to frolic round the lush gardens.

Michael on the other hand has decided to just sit and stare at his mums breasts.

Saying that tho' if my mums were half as bouncy I'd do the same.

But I digress.

Anyway, just in case you're wondering the frolicking in question mainly consists of sexy photography, breast fondling and general fanny flashing sauciness.

Fun for them maybe, but not for the viewer, unless you find the idea of middle aged Italian couples in nasty 70's fashion dry-humping to a sub Confessions score attractive.

Your maw's takin' the divorce well.

Luckily tho' just when you think the movie is going to descend into a soft core Euro-porn extravaganza, the dead do indeed start to rise from beneath the rosebushes and - remarkably for rotting centuries old Etruscans - manage to cut off any access to the cars, run the really annoying Janet (not the same of from Zombie Lake mind) into a handy bear trap, kill the non mustachioed man with a house brick and trap the shaky, shot to fuck survivors in the house.

And all within about twelve minutes, which isn't bad for a group of shite-covered tramps.

A shite moothed zombie

Etruscan yesterday.

The group are left with a big decision to make....do they:

A. Board up the house, arm themselves, find a safe vantage point (i.e. the attic) and defend it till help comes.

or


B. Argue among themselves, wandering off in a huff occasionally (alone).


Unbelievably Mr. mustache decides it would be best to board the house up! Everyone looks at him, then each other, then back at him (except Michael who's still staring at his mums breasts) and then start arguing.

"Hmmmm....

dirty pillows..."

One of the ladies (who cares which, they're all annoying) strops off and almost instantly gets killed by a knife wielding carnie zombie (unusual but quite nice).

Scarily he's not even the brightest one, I mean these zombies can actually plan attacks, use weapons and climb walls!

This skill is particularly useful when attacking the (still fairly hot) maid whom the undead horde manage to pin thru' an upstairs window and behead with a large scythe, which was unexpected to say the least.

Zombie Flesh Eaters? - Never heard of her.

Whilst all this is going on, Lothario man decides that the best course of action is to let the zombies into the house whilst the survivors hide in the pantry (do houses still have pantries?) sobbing like babies.

Surprisingly all the survivors think this is a great plan, except Michael that is who has an even  better idea.

You see he reckons now would be the best time to try and shag his mum.

Tom Cruise: the high waisted years.

Not knowing anything about shagging mums (well, not my own anyway) I'm quite sure (tho' I could be mistaken) that grabbing her breasts and trying to stick your tongue in her mouth isn't the way to go about it.

Unluckily for Michael this is just the smooth move he uses on her.

Unsurprisingly his mum freaks out a wee bit and throws another shoe at him screaming "Get out!" (it's becoming a habit) and Michael waddles off, only stopping to get bitten by a zombie.

Poor boy.

The survivors are faced with another difficult choice:

A. Run in the direction of the cars and drive away.

or

B. Run past the cars into the woods blindly waving your arms about going "AAAAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!!"

Which choice will they make?

Will they drive to safety or encounter a monastery full of black cloaked zombies?

Will Michael return from the grave to be met by his terrified mother or will she try to breast feed him in the most uncomfortable scene ever filmed?

The answer may be yes to the last one by the way.

Rush out and buy Burial Ground (or The Zombie Dead as the cheapo Vipco release calls it) and find out.

A bloody (not shitey) mooth

earlier today.

Seriously what can I say about Burial Ground that hasn't already been said before?

And sometimes by people that have actually seen it.

I mean let's be honest here, Burial Ground is utter shite from start to finish but for all it's faults (including the abysmal acting, paper thin characters, inept plotting, joke shop zombies, misspelled captions etc.) it's possibly one of the most entertaining films ever made, mostly down to Peter Bark's portrayal of the freaky mummy fixated Michael.

I mean whoever thought a 25 year old pot-bellied dwarf in a wig and nipple high trousers would make a convincing 12 year old deserves a medal for the sheer audacity of suggesting it.

He wanders around the film like some scary clockwork Dario Argento doll, either staring at his mums breasts or just staring into camera.

For what seems like hours at a time.

But his moment of triumph comes in the films closing moments; surrounded by the undead and with no means of escape the zombie Michael is welcomed by his open bloused mum to have some "mother's milk..."

Genius?

Probably not.

Exploitative bad taste?

Quite possibly.

But it does give it the edge over 28 Years Later with it's wannabe, Daily Mail baiting Jimmy Savile Power Rangers mash-up.

Plus Peter Bark's wig is way better.

Caption.

There are some (very snooty) reviewers who actuall blame this film for the death of the Italian zombie genre and to those that do I have only one thing to say.

You're very wrong.

And Zombie 5: Killing Birds.

Hang on, that's two things.

To be honest I really don't have the words to adequately sum up the sheer unadulterated genius that is Burial Ground and to be fair you won't either when you finally brave The Nights of Terror.

Because you know you want to.

Cinematic gold.

*This is the best obviously.

chilly con carnies.

 

Remembering when this beauty came out on DVD from the Arrow films years ago and my vain attempts to blag a copy for review purposes were all for nowt.

As was my attempt to get some new (any) readers.

Anyway, noticed that this review had been looked at a grand total of about 8 times in 8 years so thought I'd rejig and repost it seeing as it appears no-one is actually reading the whole 31 days of horror thing anyway.

And if you are reading it no-one has told me.

Anyway enjoy.

Malatesta's Carnival of Blood (1973).
Dir: Christopher Speeth
Cast: Herve Villechaize, Bill Preston, Daniel Dietrich, William Preston, Lenny Baker, Paul Hostetler, Betsy Henn, Jerome Dempsey, Chris Thomas, Karen Salmansohn and Janine Carazo.

You'll Shriek With Horror! ... As You Watch His Victims Take a Diabolical Roller-Coaster Ride to Bloody Death! - Brexit in a nutshell.

Somewhere and sometime in the evilly dressed early seventies, teen bombsite - sorry bombshell - Vena Norris (Carazo, looking like a chubby Suzi Quatro - which isn't necessarily a bad thing - in her only film role) is busy having her fortune told by the cross-dressing Jewish gypsy Sonia (1977 Tony Award winner Baker in a character combination that's more than likely to get me and this blog cancelled these days) at his stall in the famous Malatesta Carnival (of blood obviously)  whilst her parents, Frank (An Innocent Love's Hostetler, looking for all the world like an even more down at heel - but pre-death obviously - Tobe Hooper) and Noreen (Henn), are being shown around the site by the Mr Barry Blood (teevee stalwart and ex partner of Makepeace, Dempsey), sideshow owner and part-time recluse cum Malatesta’s enigmatic business manager.

"You're my wife now!"

It appears that the Norris family are opening a shooting gallery at the carnival and Vena is naughtily wasting time chatting to mind-bending transvestites rather than doing what she's been asked to - which is be set up the stall - but when she finally decides to get to work wouldn't you know it she gets distracted again, this time by the guy who runs the tunnel of love, a studly young buck named Kit (writer of the fantastic P. Diddy Presents the Bad Boys of Comedy Thomas) who slinks over to 'get to know' our pretty heroine.

Easy tiger.

His smooth moves are rudely interrupted tho' when the Ferris Wheel running Davis clan, complete with harsh faced obnoxious daughter 'Toby' (Salmansohn, latter day Hollywood story consultant and best selling self-help book author) turn up to say hello.

In between Toby's ear piercing whining regarding rubber chickens that is.

Hoping to placate Toby and get rid of mom and dad for a few minutes Kit offers them a free ride on the tunnel of love.

A ride from which none of them return.

In fact all Kit finds are Pa Davis’ shattered and blood stained spectacles.

A lovely firm tummy and milky white thighs you could ski down...and that's just the fella.

That night in the Norris family trailer, Ma and Pa are busy entertaining Mr Blood, whom we discover, was once told by 'doctors' that due to his unusual metabolism he had less than six months to live but thanks to a special diet he's managed not only to defy the Doc's expectations but learn how to look good in a cape.

By good I mean really fucking sinister obviously.

Even later - it's all go isn't it? - Kit and Vena meet up near 'The Ghouls Eye' (which I'm assuming is a ride and not a reference to the carnival cleaners unfortunate ocular problem) for a chat and stuff whilst elsewhere in the deserted carnival two checked shirt wearing drunk types (let's call them Pete and Pete) are stumbling around the empty stalls looking for a ride on the roller-coaster.

Each to their own I guess.

Luckily the ride just happens to be open and Pete jumps at the chance for a shot, unfortunately half way round he's decapitated by some hidden cheese wire  causing the other Pete to start screaming like a baby.

Annoyed at all the noise Mr Blood orders the aforementioned bog eyed cleaner, Sticker (Oldie Olson from Late Night with Conan O'Brien, Preston) to stab him to death with his pointy rubbish collecting stick before carrying the body off to a secret blood siphoning facility hidden beneath the carnival where a number of ashen faced freaks gorge themselves on Pete's still warm flesh.

"Eye son!"

It's round about this point that Vena and Kit begin to suspect that there may be something slightly odd happening at the carnival.

Cue a heady mix of surreal dream sequences, top quality chases and extended scenes of a possibly bra-less Vena jogging thru' a park in slow motion.

Oh yes and a gun obsessed dwarf named Bobo (the late, great Villechaize) spouting all manner of sinister bollocks whilst the grey faced flesh eaters sit about enjoying grainy copies of the best of Universals silent back catalogue.

No, really.

John Carpenter, up the casino, New York, 1997.....YESCH!!

 

 

 

However just when you think you got your head round the whole reality/fantasy/drug induced dream stuff you realise that Vena has indeed been out running all night and yes, she actually isn't wearing a bra but don't worry because just as the movies already stretched view of realism looks like it's going to snap like so much cheap knicker elastic the grey faced flesh eating tramps suddenly attack the Norris' trailer leaving big panted dad to fight them off with a spud gun.

Two puppies fighting in a sack yesterday.

 

Returning to the carnival and oblivious to all that's going on around her Vena is fairly surprised to find poor Kit impaled on a large  paper mache clown causing her to scream apathetically and run off into the carnival catacombs with Sticker in wobbly pursuit.

Meanwhile back at the trailer, Pa Norris has not only vowed revenge on somebody but also decided that the best means of escape would be to blow up the trailer and run away in the confusion.

His wife however isn't convinced.

Cue offscreen explosion and a prolonged chase around the various stalls as more and more of the strange underground cannibal spew forth into the park....

MMMMOOOOOOSSSSHHHHHHIIIIII!!!!

Will the Norris family survive the oncoming cannibal apocalypse?

What hideous plans do Blood and Malatesta have for the perky Vena?

And where will her boyfriend Johnny stay when he arrives the next morning now that the Norris' camper van has burnt down?

Fantastically plotted, linear and expensive are just a few of the words you wouldn't use to describe Christopher Speeth's little seen horror oddity, lost in his spare room for decades and only let loose on an unsuspecting public decades later.

But then that might not be a bad thing when you realise that you'll end up describing it as one of the surrealist and most terrifying movies of all time.

And that's just Bill Preston.

Malatesta's Carnival of Blood is quite possibly one of (if not the) greatest horror movies to come out of the 70's, playing out like a big screen version of the worst acid trip you've ever experienced, it's dream logic and total lack of regard for the rules of cinema (and good taste) will leave you boggle eyed and shaking like a baby on a window ledge with it's heady mix of cannibals, vampires, inflatable sets and little people but the icing on an already sickly sweet cake are the performances from the leads.

Taking the concept of 'non-acting' to new heights, everyone on screen appears to be playing to an unseen audience, almost unaware of the other actors around them.

Genius Mr Speeth, true genius.

Groundbreaking and unique, this is the kind of film this blog lives for.

And so should you.

Beg, borrow, steal or even sell your entire dvd collection to pay* for a copy because you need this.

Badly.

And I need a cold shower.

Gah.












































*Not brand new obviously just go to the big CEX in Renfield Street, they have it in for 2 quid.

burqa and hair (raising).

Day 29 of 31 days of horror and it's a look back at a classic.

Yes, occasionally I do watch good films.

It's a pity then that no fucker ever pays attention when I rave about them.

But not this time.

You've had 18 (!) years to catch up with this so if you haven't seen it already I'm giving you till then end of the week.

Go on, buy it now.

You'll thank me in the morning.

Zibahkhana (AKA Slaughterhouse, Hell's Ground. 2007)
Dir: Omar Ali Khan.
Cast: Kunwar Ali Roshan, Rooshanie Ejaz, Rubya Chaudhry, Haider Raza, Osman Khalid Butt, Najma Malik, Sultan Billa, Salim Meraj and Rehan.

You are on the road to Hell, my children.
On the road to Hell!

Newsflash!

Pakistan's biggest dance festival is about to start and wouldn't you know it, it's gonna be taking place on a school night!

Isn't it always the way?

But if you think that's going to stop our motley band of Islamabad based teens having a wild night of music, mental dancing and muddy boots then you've got another thing coming.

Living, breathing Bratz doll Roxy (big haired bad girl Chaudhry) has it all planned, her buddies are going to sneak away in a colourful van and tell their respective parents that they're studying at each others houses.

What could possibly go wrong?

Accompanying her to the groove-some (as opposed to gruesome) fest are drugged up horror geek Vicky (Roshan), binman's son Simon (the Pakistani Daniel Radcliffe Raza) and the sweetly sexy to a point of almost being librarian-esque (as only good girls can be) Ayesha (Ejaz) alongside designated driver and token older guy OJ (Butt).

So, who's your cash on surviving to the final reel then?

Ejaz: scrumptious.

After a few coffees (and an encounter with some scarily saucy transvestite hookers) our merry band head off toward their dance-tastic destination, stopping only to visit Deewana's world famous tea shop.

What do you mean you've never heard of it?

A sign of spooky things to come occurs when Vicky is convinced that the Bruce Willis vested Deewana is actually the cult actor and star of the utterly fantastic The Living Corpse (AKA Dracula in Pakistan) Rehan, although the creepily hairy backed tea legend angrily denies this.

You see he's more interested in why such good Muslim kids aren't preparing for evening prayer.

Freaked out by all this talk of praying and curses our heroes grab some tea and buns before making their excuses and leaving.

"Spice Girls number one for Christmas? MONSTA!"

Could things get any worse?

Well after all that tea and cake poor Vicky seems to have developed a dodgy tummy and begs his buds to pull over so he can go vomit in a lake (as one would) but even before he's managed to wipe away the shame from the corners of his mouth he's attacked and bitten by a crazed, green skinned tramp.

Who also steals his stash.

Thieving undead bastard.

Simon, being the heroic type, offers to go search for the drugs (and the scary knee biting pikey) whilst Vicky sits huddled in a corner sweating and rubbing his leg in the hope of getting some female attention.

Bless.

Who's sari now?

Don't get too concerned tho' because Simon soon returns with the drugs (and in one piece) and, after a wee bit of shall we shan't we? the gang decide it's probably for the best if they just carry on toward the festival and hope one of the first aiders has a plaster and a junior aspirin for Vicky victim when they get there.

This is actually surprisingly sensible and everything would have turned out fine if OJ hadn't taken a wrong turn when hurriedly leaving Deewana's tea shop.

Wouldn't you know it the gang end up lost.

In the woods.

Surrounded by the living dead.

There's only one course of action left to our heroes and that's to sit in the van and scream like wee girls as the zombies excitedly devour the contents of an abattoir bin next to the road.

Luckily OJ remembers that they're in a van not a shed, and drives away before the zombies can attack, or at the very least scratch the paintwork.

What a guy.

After driving what seems for hours and needing something to break the monotony of Vicky's vomiting and the girls screaming, the - by this point not so - merry band pull over at a big tent in the middle of nowhere in the hope of getting directions to the festival and maybe a few bottles of Lucozade to keep them going.

Have they never seen Bio-Zombie?

Obviously not, nor the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre by the looks of things seeing as they happily offer a lift to a mad as a bag of spanners bearded type named Bill Baley (Meraj, being scarily more like Bill Moseley than Moseley himself) who, after squatting on the floor of the van and demanding water starts shouting "I will drink the blood from your veins!" before pulling a severed head out of his man-bag.

Reacting with a mix of utter pant wetting terror and a wee bit of mild embarrassment the group scream at the horrible hobo for a while before kicking him out the van and running him down like a dog.

Which is a little extreme methinks.

"Laugh now!"

Waiting till the screaming has died down Ayesha suggests that maybe, just maybe they should give the festival a miss a head home.

Roxy (who it must be said has spent about three days troweling on her make-up in preparation for the event) is adamant that the show must go on, only changing her mind when she accidentally sits on the severed head left on the seat by the late lamented Baley.

It seems obvious to me that he only left it there because it too wanted to attend the music fest but had no body to go with.

Sorry.

Like a whippet up a particularly greasy drainpipe Roxy jumps out of the van and legs it into the woods whilst everyone else starts screaming again.

The screaming continues for about ten minutes, with everyone in the van desperately trying to be considerably louder than their pals.

Unfortunately when the screaming finally stops and the merry band almost collapse thru' lack of oxygen no-one has the faintest idea where Roxy has gone.

Ayesha and Simon, being the clean living heroic types give chase.

OJ volunteers to sit in the van with a considerably greener and more zombie-like by the minute Vicky in case they need to make a quick getaway.

What a guy!

"Oooh....who fancies a wee
bit a mooth shite-in?"

Stumbling blindly thru' the woods, our dynamic duo come across a ramshackle house and, hoping to get help bang on the doors whilst, yes, screaming.

After a few minutes of banging and screaming (and reckoning that their day can't get any worse) Simon and Ayesha slowly enter the house hoping to find a nice old lady with a phone that they can use.

It comes as no surprise to us (but a bloody big shock to the two friends) when stomping out of the kitchen comes a giant, burqa-wearing beast of a bloke brandishing a huge spiked ball on a chain.

A wee bit of a chase ensues culminating with poor Simon getting spiked in the face.

And yes, before you say anything I am aware (as is Ayesha, who seems to find this the most shocking thing so far) that men don't usually wear burqa's.

But I for one wouldn't say anything to him about it.

Meow. Twice.

Meanwhile Roxy, all messy hair, smudged make-up and tearful of cheek (but still nowhere near as hot as Ayesha - which I really shouldn't dwell on seeing as Ms. Ejaz reads this blog) has been found by a sweet old lady who lives in a tent just up the road from all the carnage.

And not only that but this old dear has tea and toast!

As a minus point tho' she does have her dead hubbies corpse in a cupboard and pictures of her two sons plastered around the walls.

One of whom seems to enjoy wearing a burqa....

No, it couldn't be...

Could it?

Taller than Freddie, sexier than Jason and
far easier to dress as than either one of them.
Raise your glass for the Burqa Baby!

From the deranged mind of Islamabad Ice cream shop magnate Omar Khan comes what is quite possibly the best lo-fi horror movie of the past 20 years if not the most fun ninety minutes I've spent with a teen killing mentalist for quite some time.

The surprising thing is that, on paper Hell's Ground should be little more than a run of the mill Texas Chainsaw rip off but it's kudos to Khan and his team that it's so much more than that, being at once an incredibly funny pastiche and an honest to goodness homage to the stalk and slash genre he obviously loves so much.

And just when you think it can't get any better cult movie king Rehan turns up.

From the pre-credit sequence onwards you know you're viewing something extra special and it's this love and understanding of the genres conventions that soaks (bloodily) thru' every single frame and every performance on show, the cast are uniformly fantastic, with special mention to the classically creepy Salim Meraj.

Honestly his performance is so convincing you can actually smell the urine and stale sweat thru' the teevee - God help you if you're watching in Blu-Ray.

And I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that the elfin Rooshanie Ejaz could quite possibly have stolen Bruce Campbell's crown (and heart) as the ultimate horror hero had she not retired from movies and gone on to be a science type bigwig.

If nothing else she looks much sexier than the big chinned one when drenched in blood.

Sorry Bruce.

Frankly essential viewing and an essential costume come Halloween.

Still no word of a sequel mind, even tho' I sent the film makers a top notch script featuring Burqa Baby battling an army of ancient Jinns.

Typical.

virgin spring.

Bizarrely most folk are familiar with this due to the trailer of the classic I Drink Your Blood, the film it was paired with on it's release.

As luck would have it tho' a few years back a friend felt the urge to send me a copy so I could finally watch it.

Well I say friend.

And I say sent it.

You can fill in the blanks.

I Eat Your Skin (AKA Zombies, Zombie Bloodbath, Voodoo Blood Bath, Caribbean Adventure. 1964 - released 1970).
Dir: Del Tenney.
Cast: William Joyce, Heather Hewitt, Betty Hyatt Linton, Dan Stapleton, Walter Coy, Robert Stanton, Vanoye Aikens, Matt King, Rebecca Oliver and Don Strawn and his Calypso Band.

"Oh boy. Mister Harris, I read some of your books and I only hope you're more original in person!"

Pulp paperback writer and all round misogynist arse Tom Harris (Joyce - as in the actor most famous for The Young Nurses not Nazi-loving Lord Haw-Haw) is busying himself by the pool at the famous Fontainbleu Hotel (in a comedown from featuring in Goldfinger), reciting chunks of his racy romance novels to an eager bunch of bikini-clad, damp panted housewives whilst simultaneously sticking his tongue in a married women.

Which is nice work if you can get it.

If possibly a wee bit dubious in these more enlightened times.

Fuck it let's be honest he comes across downright rapey.

Anyway as his words get more sexual and his fingers get stickier who should arrive but his literary agent and best bud' - the slightly predatory Duncan 'Donuts' Fairchild (one time only actor and producer Stapleton, channeling Glenn Shaddix with a drink in him whilst modeling Mr Ed's teeth) excitedly announcing that he's booked a private plane to taken them - and Duncan's wife Coral (Circus of The Stars choreographer Linton) - to the spookily named Voodoo Island in order to get ideas for a new book.

Given the choice between a weekend of sun, sand and voodoo-fearing virgins or a fucking good kicking off the (scarily older) husband of the woman he's fondling Tom goes for the former and quickly heads off to the airport pursued by the aforementioned husband who, in an 'hilarious' scene boots his still bikini clad wife up the arse.

Before dragging her back to their room and beating her obviously.

Ah violence against women for comedy effect how we miss you so.

"Oi missis....come back to me room so I can bite you!"

As they fly out to the island there's just enough time for Duncan to fill us in (but not in that way) on some important plot points.

It seems that one of his bridge buddies - Lord Chumbley-Warner - has actually just inherited the island and that the inhabitants are ardent practitioners of the black arts (the name probably gave that away tho'), not only that but the island is also home to every imaginable species of poisonous snake, which is why a reclusive scientist, Dr. Biladeau (Stanton in his only role) lives their in an attempt to come up with a cure for mansplaining using their venom.

But obviously not the Tom Hardy Venom on account of it being even shitter than this.

Which takes a lot.

The thing that really peaks Tom's interest tho' is the fact that the whole of the island’s fishing fleet perished in a recent hurricane leaving its population ratio at five to one in favor of women.

And with that he orders the pilot to put his foot down as he carefully checks his cock for blemishes.

Unfortunately Enrico the pilot forgot to fill the petrol tank before they left and the plane is now dangerously low on fuel, the only option left to the travelers is to let Tom drive because as we all know, sexist arses are much better at landing planes than qualified pilots.

Especially Hispanic ones.

I mean he could be an illegal.

Anyway upon making a perfect beach landing, Tom orders everyone to stay put whilst he goes to look for something - anything - to forcibly stick his engorged member into....I mean look for help so sets off into the jungle soon coming across (not in that way, well not yet) the scientists beautiful blonde daughter Jeannie (former Miss Vermont 1957 and  'Miss America' contestant Hewitt) skinny dipping in a pond.

Why am I not surprised?

Oh yes, there's also a machete-wielding zombie with conjunctivitis spying on her from the bushes but let's be honest here we can kinda guess who she's in more danger from.

Eye son.

Tom bravely waves his cock in the air to get her attention and when this fails he jumps in the water to swim after her only to pop up the other side with her gone and the zombie baring down on him so our hero does what any sexual predator would do when faced with another man with his chopper in his hands and legs it into the trees where he soon bumps into one of the islands few surviving fishermen who fills him in on the whole virgin sacrifice/voodoo/zombie shtick before getting beheaded by the eye man.

Which is nice.

Just as the undead fiend is about to stick it in Tom he's scared away by the arrival of the cast of It Ain't Half Hot Mum in a jeep.

No my mistake, it's actually Lord Chumbley-Warner's pal and island governor type bloke Charles 'Wes' Bentley (ex-Star Trek doctor, McCoy) and his merry band of armed guards.

Less Dad's Army, more dead smarmy.

Yes I know that was shit but if the script writer can't be arsed why should i?

Being a stand-up bloke Bentley takes Tom back to the plane before ordering a group of natives to secure it in the carpark and then inviting everyone back to his villa he shares with Dr. Biladeau - but not in that way - for cake and crisps.

And pop.

Getting changed for dinner Tom is surprised to find the blonde he saw earlier playing the piano in the dining room and decides to sneakily watch her play - from a position where he can look down her top obviously - before sleazily approaching her and introducing himself.

There's something to be said about approaching random girls and rubbing yourself against them whilst plying them with booze seeing as Jeannie seems well up for it and giggles flirtily as Tom refills her glass.

Again and again.

Luckily for us her dad turns up and they all sit down for dinner.

Tho' by the look in Tom's eyes chicken isn't the only white meat on the menu.

Hewitt - pigs in a blanket.

As is the way with dinner parties the chat soon turns to voodoo (again) and Dr.
Billedeau explains that not only is it true that the islanders all practice witchcraft but they also believe that blonde virgins make the best human sacrifices,  Bentley laughs to himself as he lights another fag whilst Jeannie just sits and gazes into Tom's eyes oblivious to the fact that she's the only blonde virgin in the room.

His head full of booze and feeling a pure steamer coming on Tom invites  Jeannie for a moonlight walk in the woods, where it must be said her screams as he forces himself on/in her will be less likely to be heard, and she heartily agrees.

Unfortunately any hope Tom has of sticking it in the doctor's daughter are ruined when the pair are attacked by a group of paper mache faced zombies who attempt to drag Jeannie off into the jungle.

Luckily there's a handy Tiki torch nearby and knowing it to be a symbol of the mainstream misogynistic man movement Tom uses it to beat off the undead horde.

Unlike the undead beating off you'd find here.

Insert cock here.

Returning to the villa,  Jeannie is taken to bed by Coral (look they have to give her something to do other than fawn over Tom behind her hubbies back like your gran over the milkman when she's drunk) whilst Tom and Bentley drink more booze and discuss the evenings events.

As the vodka's flow Bentley begins to realise that the young blonde virgin the tribe want to sacrifice to cure the illness affecting them could in fact be Jeannie so it'd probably be a good idea if they could get her off the island as soon as but Tom has another plan and climbs up the wall to her bedroom in order to have sex with her and therefore save her life.

What a stand up guy.

And before you ask the answer is no, Jeannie doesn't have a say in the matter.

Tho' why would she?

She's just a girl.

"Hello I'm the blind man!"

But even before Tom's cock is dry the local tribe and their mysterious leader are plotting to kidnap Jeannie and stick something all together more dangerous - and far less noxious smelling in her....

Will Tom and his pals save the day?

What is Dr. Biladeau really up to in his secret lab?

Why the fuck is Coral actually there?

And most importantly why does Dan Stapleton have the shapeliest figure in the whole movie?

Seriously when he comes out in his body hugging teeny tiny shorts you'll be stunned at how smooth and long his legs are.

Whilst his craptastic monster romp The Horror of Party Beach was picked up for distribution even before the film was dry director/producer/binman Del Tenney's I Eat Your Skin was left languishing on the shelf for years before being dragged kicking and screaming onto the screens in a double bill with the frankly fantastic Lynn Lowry starrer I Drink Your Blood.

And it's really not difficult to realise why.

Everything about the production screams poverty row - from the am dram shouty non-acting of the cast to the threadbare special effects that consist of zombies with wet tissue paper glued to their faces and an massive island explosion consisting of a paper mache mountain set fire to in a bath via a Caribbean tribe descended from slaves that is made up of 95% white extras and direction that can only be described as leisurely it's a film that defies both logic and sensibility, transcending 'so bad it's good' to become just bad.

Luckily (for it) it's so screamingly misogynistic as to blank everything else but that fact from your mind as you watch it.

Nothing else seems to matter the longer William Joyce is on screen, from his casual arse-slapping to random drink-spiking it's like watching a walking talking ball of horny testosterone filled woman hating rage dominating the screen, seriously as soon as the movie finished I actually went online to check if Joyce had ever been arrested for crimes against women in the years after the movie as so convincing was his utter contempt for ladies.

Either that or he was hiding something.

And probably not a body in a barn.

Fuck or fight? I'm too confused!

On the plus side Lon E. Norman's jazz fused score is a pleasant distraction from the utter pap onscreen which means you can at least close your eyes and try to think of something a wee bit more enjoyable, tho' be warned I tried this but then got scared that William Joyce (or his ghost) would sneak up on me and attempt to fuck me.

He didn't but that's not the point.

Fuck it I need a shower now.

mum's the word.

 

It's day 27 of 31 days of horror and I've suddenly realized that I've not covered any babysitters in peril yet.

Actually I've not covered any babysitters in anything for years.

Tho' I've always said I'd make an exception for Nancy Loomis in Halloween.

Or just Nancy Loomis in general if I'm honest.

 

Loomis....no reason other than she's absolutely lovely.

Babysitter Wanted (2008).

Dir: Jonas Barnes and Michael Manasseri.
Cast: Sarah Thompson, Matt Dallas, Bill Moseley, Bruce Thomas, Nana Visitor, Monty Bane and Kai Caster.

Hungry bum!

 

The sensibly shoed and incredibly cute Christian college newbie Angie Albright (Thompson from teevee's Angel) is leaving home - and her God bothering mum - for the first time ever in order to study art history at the community college in the next town.

Excitedly setting off on her long car journey to freedom she's soon hit by a wave of disappointment when upon arriving at her new digs she discovers that her roommate is a short-skirted stoner, the floor is covered in a scary mix of egg, sweat and semen stains and that someone has sold her bed.

Oh and less importantly local girls have been going missing.

But at least she still has the Lord.

And a really peachy bum if I'm totally honest so it's not all bad.

She might be sleeping now but just wait till the communion starts.

After a long hard chat to Jesus, our holy heroine decides to get a job to pay for a new bed and lo and behold there just happens to be a babysitting position advertised on the college notice board.

What are the chances eh?

Unfortunately tho' Angie can't get to excited seeing as it appears that she's being stalked around campus by a tall woolly hatted man in scruffy work boots with an uncanny (and frankly unnerving) ability to make art history slide show pictures appear on his face at random.

Which if nothing else should secure him a spot on the Britain's Got Talent finals.

Or at the very least in your mums bed.

Tho' just being male with a pulse should do that.

At least that's what your Uncle Ted said.

Laugh now!

Luckily she's got a new friend to chat to about it, the cool Catholic hunk Rick (Kyle XY star and former 80's super soap Dallas) whom she keeps bumping into around campus.

When he's not skulking around confessional boxes that is.

After a quick phone call and a couple of Hail Mary's Angie drives out to meet the couple in need of a sitter; the farm-working and plaid loving Stanton's (Birds of Prey's Batman himself Thomas and Dead Zone regular, one-time Ms. USA and former Bond Dalton) along with their girlie haired cowboy obsessed son, the monosyllabic Sam (pretty lipped Caster best known for Children of the Corn: Genesis, tho' that isn't really his fault).

Chatting to Mrs Stanton whilst enjoying a glass of homemade lemonade, Angie weighs up the pros and cons of the job (Pros: it pays well, cons: Sam's a freak and the house is in the middle of nowhere) before deciding to take it.

I mean what's the worse thing that could happen?

"You're my favourite Deputy....of love!"

On returning to her room Angie's mood is dampened a little when she finds someone has helpfully stuck pictures of the missing local girls to her dorm door leaving her no choice but to whine at Rick (who just happened to be passing) for a bit before heading to see the local sheriff (genre god Moseley in a scene stealing cameo) who assures her that everything is fine.

But if by some strange quirk of fate a mad mentalist does try to kill her he suggests that she should call him.

Which is nice.

The Lucy Powell bike stand was sure to be a big hit this coming Christmas.

The babysitting day soon comes around and wouldn't you know it Angie's car has broken down but never fear as Jack of all trades Rick is here to save the day, not only offering to spend his Saturday night fiddling with her tubes and pumping her engine but also promising to take her over to the Stanton's house too.

Obviously this does mean that if there is someone stalking our gospel lovin' gal and he does strike tonight that she's stuck in the middle of nowhere alone.

Well alone apart from sinister Sam who just happens to be the freakiest movie child this side of Tommy in Manhattan Baby.

I mean not content with wandering silently round the house like some mini Woody sex doll the little sod insists on eating only raw meat.

Without a fork.

How common.

"Hey kids! Let's round up a posse and have ourselves a spit roast!"

Everything is going smoothly (well for about 10 minutes, the movie's not that long, it only feels it) until Angie begins to hear noises from upstairs and banging at the front door.

Luckily the suspense is soon broken by Sam who wakes up mumbling "I'm hungry" before helping himself to some of the aforementioned meaty bits left in a bowl by the door before promptly running away leaving an oh so slightly panicking Angie torn between trying to find him, cleaning up the blood from the kitchen floor and avoiding the big bald fucker with the knife who's suddenly appeared from nowhere and is currently skulking about the porch.

Kids eh?

So who is the mysterious stalker?

Will Rick fix Angie's car?

And what has Sam been asked to "keep under his hat?"

From the former personal assistant to Neal H. Moritz on such hits as Fast & The Furious, SWAT and 2 Fast 2 Furious via a breakthru performance as the scary Irish Henchman in Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle, writer/director Jonas Barnes and fresh-faced actor turned director Michael Manasseri comes this charming if lightweight addition to the babysitter botherer genre.

And frankly it's not too shady at all.

Suffering somewhat from being released around the same time as Ti West's modern day classic The House of The Devil, Babysitter Wanted, after a fairly serious pre-credit murder plays out the rest of the plot with a slightly more tongue in cheek feel, more Tales of The Unexpected than Hammer House of Horror with it's heady mix of horror clichés and instantly recognizable ciphers, all lovingly crafted into an obvious homage to a genre the pair obviously love.

Either that or I'm getting to a point where I've watched so much shite this month that as soon as something non offensive and halfway decent comes along I'm that relieved that I try to marry it.

Only time, and my analyst truly knows the answer to that.

How I met your mother.

Yes I know bits of it made no sense and it's about 20 minutes too long but it's heart was in the right place.

Plus it boasts a really good cast, led by the yummily librarian-like Sarah Thompson; all big eyes and tight sweaters whilst both Bruce Thomas and Kristen Dalton are equally as lovable as the friendly farm folk in need of a sitter for scary Sam.

Thompson: luscious librarian love.

Which brings me to Kai Caster, who with the face of an angel, the lips of a Parisian whore and the haircut of '80's horror legend Giovanni Frezza was always destined to go far.

Tho' he'd have probably gone even further than Children Of The Corn: Genesis, The Baxters and A Girl Named Jo if his folks had kept their food bins at the bottom of the yard locked.

It's inoffensive, it's harmless and it features Bill Moseley in a rare 'nice guy' role and a bowl haired wee boy chewing lumps of flesh like his life depended on it.

You could do worse.