rat scabies.

Day 11 of this whole 31 Days of Horror debacle and it's time for less monster muttering and more Bruno Mattei...

 


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

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


Nuclear war has indeed decimated our beloved planet Earth.

Well, a bit of it just outside Rome at least.

And maybe Dudley.

No real loss then.

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

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

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

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

Kurt: queer as folk.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With dozens of rats gnawing at the bones!

Yikes.

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

 

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

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


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

It's great to know that even after a nuclear holocaust that people still get their priorities right.

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

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

And with that the group settle down to bed.

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

And they say romance is dead.

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

And no doubt choke his chicken. 

By that I mean masturbate furiously not actually kill a bird I mean it's not Ruggero Deodato directing.

"Is it in yet?"

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

A bag that she can't get out of....remember this, it may be important later.

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

A sleeping bag that will soon become her tomb.

Of death.

Funnel or tunnel?

Lucifer meanwhile is still boozing away and shouting at random objects when he comically falls down an open manhole whilst trying to avoid a banana skin and as he tries in vain to hoist himself up is suddenly jumped on by hundreds of hungry rats intent on stealing his wallet.
 
Kurt and company startled awake by cries of "Aaarrrghhh! rats!" are even more surprised to find Lilith lying stiff as a board in her sleeping bag.

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

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

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

No shit.

Rat in mah mooth!

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

This leaves Kurt in a difficult position.
 
Do they:
 
A. Leave/carry the bikes and run away from town and from the killer rats?
 
B. Go back into the (killer rat infested) building, board themselves in (with the rats) and wait till morning to leave (when the rats are asleep obviously)?

Yup they decide to leg it out of town.

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

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

One by one the gang are outsmarted by the rats, the older Chuck Norris/George Eastman alike is attacked in the hydroponics (painful), one gets a few wee bites and has a flamethrower taken to him - which is a bit extreme if you take a moment to think about it - and the blonde bombshell Diane (Cindy Leadbetter, former Italian Playboy Playmate of the month - September 1978 but better known around here for her portrayal as the mad patient who gets diddled by Laura Gemser in Emanuelle E Gli Ultimi Cannibali) gets nibbled on whilst standing at that unsealed window (doh) and goes a wee bit potty.

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

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

"It's CCCCHHHRRRIIISSSTTTMMMAAASSS!!!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Frankly I reckon they're screwed.

"I can see your house from here Peter!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Phew.

But who are these mysterious strangers? 

Are they friend or foe? 

Are they even human?

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

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

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

It takes a special kind of person to even consider mixing such diverse influences as Mad Max, The Muppet Movie and Willard, let alone to actually go ahead and make such an entertaining movie out of them.

 

And for this reason we must praise the late lamented genius that was Bruno Mattei. 

I mean what can you possibly say about such a heady brew of action, gore, leather trousers, beards and nudity seamlessly mixed with stunning effects (the rat army is a hand drawn conveyor belt with dozens of dogs squeaky mouse toys glued to it) helped along by  top notch dialogue and topped off with a frankly fantastically farty Eurohorror synth score?

Plus it features the magnificent Geretta Geretta (in case you'd forgotten) decked out in cool combat gear and cradling a huge gun.

C'mon, what's not to love?

They should teach Mattei in film school.

But then they'd have to point out that his Jaws 'homage' Cruel Jaws was shite tho'.

Swings and roundabouts really.

flesh gore-dom.

 

Been mixing some Halloween style visuals for an upcoming 80s style music event (as you do) so have spent the last few weeks revisiting all my fave movies from that era in the hope of finding any clips that would actually be suitable to show at an event that's more about the tunes and less (way less) about random acts of violence.

So far the only thing I've found that is in any way suitable is that bit in Burial Ground when Peter Bark opens his eyes in a spooky manner.

So it looks like it may just be that looped for 4 hours.

Anyway all this old school film chat reminded me of Washvac Video in Coseley where I'd hire out all manner of terrifying treats as a nipper.

Including the film I'm featuring today. 

It's an off-licence now so I doubt they'll still have a copy in stock if you were thinking of popping round.

Which is sad. 

A local shop for local people.

 

It's even sadder tho' that as far as 80's zombie movies go, Zombie Creeping Flesh isn't ever treated with the respect it deserves - which to be fair isn't much - but it should be treated a wee bit better than Full Moon Pictures did around 5 years ago when, at the height of the Corona pandemic they shoddily recut/redubbed bits of it (alongside news footage of Donald Trump and footage from Zombies vs Strippers) and hastily popped it online under the title Corona Zombies in a vain attempt to make a cash-grab from the ongoing global pandemic.

Piracy - and a distinct lack of imagination - is a crime. Probably.

So anyway, I'm using 31 Days of Horror as an excuse to hopefully raise it up to the lofty position in cinematic history it deserves.

But before we start let me just get my 'favourite' quote from this (any?) movie out of the way first:

"She may not know much about chemistry, but in bed, her reactions are terrific!" 

Good, now we can begin.



Zombie Creeping Flesh (AKA Apocalipsis caníbal, Zombi 5: Ultimate Nightmare, Hell of the Living Dead, Inferno dei morti-viventi, Virus, Cannibal Virus 1980)
Dir: Bruno Mattei (AKA Vincent Dawn)
Cast: Margit Evelyn Newton, Frank 'Garfeeld', José Gras, Josep Lluís Fonoll, Gabriel Renom, Bob Carolgees and Selan Karay.

This cover scared the living shite out of me as a kid. Fact.

Somewhere (cheap to film) in sunny Papua New Guinea lies a top secret research facility called The Hope Centre where armies of underpaid and overworked Italian extras spend their days dressed in ill-fitting lab coats and children's Bob The Builder hats whilst ooh-ing and aah-ing over a variety of flashing lights and diode meters.

Which if I'm honest is possibly the best job in the world.

Well it would be if it weren't for the scary puppet rat that takes a fancy to one of the poor supporting artistes (who looks way too much like Harry H. Corbett for my liking) nostrils and in a vain attempt to have nose sex with him causes a bad dad gas leak that turns the entire staff into flesh-eating zombies.

Is there any other kind tho?

"There's a rat in the kitchen Albert....you dirty old man!"

Cue the Goblin score to Dawn of The Dead coupled with some felt-tip titles that take us half way across the world - or 15 miles down the road - to some unnamed banana republic where the heroically chinned and scarily hairy backed Lt. Mike London (José Gras, the star of Mad Foxes) and his Quick Fit overalled four man anti-terrorist squad are being deployed to eliminate a group of sweaty, bearded working class types who've taken the directors family hostage inside the local council offices.

These tinker terrorists are demanding the closing down of every Hope Centre in the world due to them being a cover for something bad (probably vaccines or something), which of course both the government and the military deny.

Well they would wouldn't they?

"Get some of that Autism inside you right now!"

 

Anyway back to the plot and bored with sitting about looking manly, London and co. fire tear gas into the building before bursting in and machine gunning all the bad guys.

In the face.

Fuck yeah.

Children beware, their Jeep is not full of sweets.

Once the mission is completed and the bodies bagged our heroes receive an important communiqué from whichever fascist police state they work for informing them that all communication with Hope Centre has been lost and, seeing as this wannabe A-Team is a far as the budget can stretch when it comes to supplying a small army, they've to head out to New Guinea right away.

On arrival our oddly hatted he-men take in the scenery and wildlife as they drive aimlessly around what looks like a kiddies sandpit, failing totally to notice that a number of animals they encounter are all moving in slow motion on differentiating qualities of film stock whilst others just stand in the background as tho' stuffed.

An effect of the chemical leak surely?

There's unfortunately not enough time to discuss this because it's about now that we meet bubble haired journalist Lia Rousseau (Newton from The Last Hunter) and her cameraman Barney (ex-Tiswas star Carolgees), who're busy chasing the same story.

I mean the Hope centre one by the way, not the actual film plot because that would be a waste of time and effort on all parts.

Anyway, London (the character not the city obviously), realizing that Rousseau's breasts will probably be the most entertaining things we're going to see in the next 90 minutes offers to take them along for the ride.

Magrit Evelyn Newton's tits yesterday.

As their journey takes them ever closer to the facility (encountering amongst other things, even more grainy and scratchy stock footage of animals and even grainier stock footage of African tribes plus a few - none stock footage - zombies), London's crack team come across (not in that way tho' it'd brighten things up) a native village that's been recently attacked by persons unknown.

No chance it could be zombies then?

Our haircut dodging heroes desperately need information on the attack if they're to stand any chance of completing their mission and as luck would have it, Lia not content with being the video nasty equivalent of Anne Diamond is also a trained anthropologist, specializing in the tribes of New Guinea.

How convenient is that?

As we all know, the best way to communicate with a primitive tribe is to strip stark bollock (or in this case boob) naked, cover your breasts and face in poster paint and then just waltz on into town.

Frank Sidebottom always enjoyed judging the annual Ms. Timperly competition.

You may laugh but it seems to do the trick, as the team are all invited for dinner and the chance to sit thru' some stock footage (surprise) of various tribal burial rights before rounding off the evenings entertainment with a wee bit of a dance.

Luckily some zombies turn up (finally) giving our heroes a chance to quickly drive away whilst the defenseless villagers are violently massacred.

Which is nice.

Stopping a short while later (far enough away that they can't hear the screams) London and his boys decide to rest up in a deserted plantation where hopefully they can find some supplies and maybe even a ballet tutu or two (too).

Seriously.

It seems that the bald pated Lt. Oswald Osbourne (Fonoll) has gone a wee bit fruit loops due to the intense heat and is desperate to find his feminine side.

Yikes.

Rooting around the building in search of some old ladies underwear to change into, Osbourne discovers whom he takes to be the plantation owner, a wrinkly old woman, asleep in a rocking chair.

Moving slowly closer our lewd Lieutenant is shocked to find that the uncomfortable hardness of his throbbing manhood isn't the only thing stiff in the room...the old biddy is dead and the rocking motion is due to an ickle pussy cat eating its way thru' her chest.

Gah indeed.

And just when you thought things couldn't get any more uncomfortable, the Zimmer using zombie stands up and slowly totters towards a visibly repulsed Osbourne whilst pulling a terrifying cum face.

It's like waking up with your Gran's face buried in the damp muskiness of your crotch.

Again.

What your dad really gets up to on his darts night.

Screaming like Keffiyeh clad kids at an Ed Sheeran concert the team barely make it out alive, in fact poor old Osbourne doesn't, he's unfortunately killed whilst wearing a top hat and a green ballet tutu as the house is quickly overrun - well as quickly as zombies can totter - by the undead.


Eventually, Rousseau, her bullet-like nipples rubbing against her rough yet functional cheesecloth blouse and the remains of London's team battle their way to a local boating lake cum kiddies paddling pool where, after commandeering a dingy begin the final leg of their journey to the Hope Centre.

And it's about fucking time if I'm honest.

Inside Michael Barrymore's mind.

Paddling ever nearer to the complex it soon becomes apparent (thanks to even more stock footage, this time of what looks like a school PTA meeting) what the Hope Centre project actually entails.

It seems that their top secret plan to alleviate world hunger actually involves harvesting the bodies of the dead as a cheap food source.

Soylent Green anyone?

Ironically tho', with the chemical leak causing the dead to rise the worlds starving will now devour us.

Hang on, that's a wee bit serious for this kind of film isn't it?

"Laugh now!"

Suffice to say that when they finally reach the Centre things go from bad to very bad via a quick trip to badsville; the scarily Argento fringed Zantoro (Frank Garfeeld AKA Franco Garofalo AKA The Nipples from Naples) - after spending the rest of the film turned up to eleven finally blows - going so far over the top that his performance can only be viewed from the Hubble telescope whilst good old Mike London appears to suddenly gains 2 stone (pesky reshoots) which he then takes out on poor Lia.

If anything she should be angry seeing as his tits are now bigger (and considerably juicer) than hers.

Whilst all this sweaty arguing is going on, literally dozens (OK a few) zombies randomly jump out of lifts and cupboards (but obviously don't shout) picking off - and pissing on - the survivors one by one, leaving the zombie hordes to take over the world and Lia's head being used as a novelty bowling ball.

"Aye hen!"

Nothing like finishing on an upbeat note eh?

Different title, same movie, scarier cover.

Once again the late (as in dead, not that he's terrible time keeper) great Bruno Mattei proves to the world that a lack of budget, imagination and common sense are no boundary to producing a rip-roaring, terrifyingly taunt movie.

Unfortunately it just wasn't with this one, I must have been thinking of The Tomb.

Only joking.*

Working under the pseudonym Vincent Dawn - in a thinly veiled tribute to George Romero - Mattei would continue to use this moniker till the end of his career and what a career it was seeing as it took in everything from Lovecraftian mummies, Nazisploitation, saucy Roman epics, women in prison, combat shockers and big rats as well as the undead.

Plus in his later years he introduced the world the gloriously button-nosed Yvette Yzon in his Dawn of The Dead/Alien mash-ups Island of The Living Dead and it's confusingly titled sequel Zombies: The Beginning

Indeed this man achieved everything you could ever wish for basically.

Including bedding your mates attractive mum.

Probably.

Bruno and his very own Ripley, the fantastic Yvette Yzon.

Anyway, back to the movie in hand.

Lets be frank here, it's rare to get such a bad film that actually delivers the entertainment factor so perfectly - everything about it screams train wreck - from barely adequate gore effects, ludicrously stiff dialogue and stilted dubbing - "You're beginning to bug me, kiddo - just don't break my balls!" - unnecessary nudity, dodgy face-painting, a stolen score, stock footage pilfered from such places as Nuova Guinea: Isola Dei Cannibali and the directors holiday films via a fantastic collection of ill fitting hats.

This film has all this and more besides.

But despite (because?) of all this the whole sad affair actually works.

Brilliantly.

Scarily enough tho' the film was originally envisioned as a big budget ecological horror thriller - it's original draft features the entire third world becoming zombies taking on the armed might of the industrialized nations - think Soylent Green with zombies and the budget of Avatar, but - as is always the way with these things - when the producers discovered that between them they could only scrape together £6.80 and that Charlton Heston hadn't returned their calls they realized that a major rethink - and rewrite - would be needed.

Enter Mattei (not literally you sick bastard he's been dead for over 10 years) who alongside the hack-tastic master of the macabre Claudio Fragasso soon had the entire project re-jigged to more suit the more, um, modest budget assigned to it.

And more importantly got a cast that would work for food.

Or in José Gras' case cheap cooking sherry.

Allegedly.

And from such problems a work of true cinematic genius was born.

An average Daily Mail headline yesterday.

The films troubles didn't end with it's budget problems, sub-literate cast and lack of suitable head wear tho' as upon release in the UK, Zombie Creeping Flesh was quickly pounced on by the evil forces of the DPP and unfairly (and messily) tarred with the 'video nasty' brush before being bundled into a box next to an ex-rental copy of Night Train Murders.

Night Train Murders: A little bit of chicken in a box.

 

 

But like the zombies it portrays so realistically, the critics found Zombie Creeping Flesh hard to kill as over the years, it's somewhat tarnished reputation as a perfectly formed end of the pier style, totally craptastic shocker has grown to a point where it's fans now number in the dozens.

 

And what other movie has the balls to feature a ending where a zombie pushes its fist into the heroines screaming mouth, forcing its fingers up through her face before poking out her eyeballs?

Not Christopher Nolan's The Odyssey  that's for sure.

Top quality entertainment for all the family.









































 *Or am I?

pish fingers.

Day 17 of the 31 days of horror asks the question "What would happen if two of the worlds greatest directors teamed up to make a movie about a man-eating mutated shark/octopus/beach ball beast?"

 

Let's find out! 

 
Shark: Rosso nell'oceano (AKA Monster Shark, Devouring Waves, Devil Fish. 1984).
Dir: John Old Jr. (AKA Lamberto Bava with a wee bit of help from Bruno Mattei).
Cast: Michael Sopkiw, Valentine Monnier, Dino Conti, Gianni Garko, William Berger, Iris Peynado, Lawrence Morgant, Cinzia de Ponti, Darla N. Warner, Paul Branco, Ennio Brizzolari, Lisa Frances Rubin, Goffredo Unger and Dagmar Lassander.

"You filthy rotten bloody sod, LET ME HEAR YOU!"

As the sun glistens off the calm Florida coastline (which looks uncannily like the canal behind Bava's house) and seagulls waft on the warm air currents the tranquil silence is suddenly broken by a Navy rescue helicopter hurryingly (do helicopters hurry? Answers to the usual address) flying to aid some fat geezer whose inflatable beach toy has capsized or some other such drama.

Arriving at the scene our plucky rescuers are shocked to find huge teeth marks in the poor man and that someone (or something) has stolen his legs.
 
Bastards.

But who cares?

We have science-types to meet.

And first on the list is brainy blonde boffin Dr. Stella Dickens (council estate Michaela Strachan, Monnier, most fondly remembered for 2019: After the Fall of New York and serving you in McDonalds last week) who works at the local aquarium training homeless dolphins to beg for scraps of food and patronizing the visitors.

She will be our heroine for the next 90 minutes.

Meanwhile out at sea her college and fellow scientist Dr. Bob Hogan (a strangely uncredited - and frighteningly shortarsed- Conti from Endgame but not Shirley Valentine) appears to spend all his time getting pissed whilst sailing about aimlessly aboard the sea-going equivalent of a Pikey's caravan, the cleverly named research vessel Seaquarium.

Enjoying the scenery and contemplating a Pot Noodle fueled fiddle, Bob's daydreaming is rudely interrupted when one of the high tech sonar buoys he’s dragging along behind the boat starts making bleeping noises.

Exciting stuff.

Popping his booze on the table and his engorged member back in his shorts, Bob decides that it'd be a good idea to record the noises - well it is his job - but the boat is suddenly attacked and his beer is violently knocked over.

How much fucking plot does this masterpiece have?

Back at the aquarium it's pandemonium as every single dolphin has started going mental, swimming back and forth whilst making that irritating clicking noise (hang on, isn't that just normal behavior for a dolphin?) causing Stella to clumsily slip into the pool and smudge her make-up.

And if anyone ever needed a reason to slaughter dolphins I think that is a good enough one.

Kylie Minogue licking piss off John Nettles yesterday.

With all this make-up mussing we almost forgot about Bob, who is still stumbling about his boat trying to find a blank cassette to record the strange sounds on.

Luckily it stops almost as suddenly as it started so Bob switches off the recorder and sits back down.

But not before he opens another beer.

How much excitement can an audience take?

About this much obviously.

Roughly cutting to the local hospital, we join the enigmatic Doctor Simon Shifty who, after just completing his examination of the legless (but not in a good way) man that the helicopter team brought in, is on his way to give his valued opinion to the high voiced, tiny limbed Sheriff Gordon (Garko, star of Mole Men Against the Son of Hercules and The Psychic) and his hulking sidekick Cortez (portrayed by a brick shit-house).

"It's a shark what did it!" announces the Doc "Or then again it might be an otter or suicide" he continues, "I know! A bad boy done it and ran away!"

Gordon just stands there swaying in the breeze as he strokes his chin, mulling over the Doctors theories.

Me?

I'd have punched the annoying sod in the face.

And his mum.

The sheriff decides it'd be best to take pictures but whether there for evidence or his own sick sexual pleasure we will never know.

Which is a pity really.

It's grim up north.

Anyway before anything remotely interesting happens at the hospital it's back to wee Bob and his scary noises.

Stella, still damp from all that girl on dolphin action earlier is on tender-hooks (well, it's the only thing that can explain away the pained expression on her face) waiting for Bob to play back the recording.

But surprise, surprise when he goes to play it back the tape is silent.

Bob tries in vain to describe the sound, explaining that it was either a spooky voice or a particularly terrifying 'thing' filled with hate.

Hmmmm.

Always helpful, Stella reckons it's the very same noise that sent the dolphins ape (fish?) shit and that it may be either too high or too low for the tape recorder to pick up.

The fact that Bob was so pissed he could of imagined it doesn't enter her head.

With all the facts in hand Stella heads off to see her pal, electronics wizz and part-time hair model Peter (2019: After the Fall of New York's other blond bombshell Sopkiw) at his pound shop lair cum knocking shop where he works - and plays - with his exotic girlfriend Sandra (Peynado, last seen - by me at least - having sex with Fred 'The Hammer' Williamson in Warriors of The Wasteland or whatever it's called this week).

It's like an Enzo G. Castellari survivors group meeting.

Stella arrives just in time to see slinky Pete packing his suitcases into his Jeep, it seems he's off to New York on vacation where "three beautiful women are waiting for him".

That'll be his mum, aunt and sister then.

Luckily - for us and the plot - Stella's really good at batting her eyelids in a sorta harsh faced Bambi type way and within seconds Peter is hard at work building some special equipment to track the mystery noise much to Sandra's chagrin.

It seems she was looking forward to a fortnight vegging out to Loose Women and not having to shave her legs.

Or her mustache.

Peynado: Hairy back and arse.

Meanwhile over at the West Ocean International building, one Dr. Davis Barker (gone to seed David Cameron alike Morgant, in his only film role thank fuck) is busying himself making bubbles in a jug of water (it must be a science thing) whilst his boss' wife Sonja (copper topped genre Goddess Lassander) makes all the office computers say 'I love you Davis' in unison.

What this has to do with monster sharks or devil fish I have no idea but it is rather sweet.

Gazing into each others eyes whilst mumbling something about genetically modifying cod the pair engage in a bit of old person snogging which - fortunately for sensitive viewers - is quickly interrupted by a foxy young lab assistant who just happens to be wandering by.

I've a hunch that this may be important later.

Someone whose passions haven't been dampened tho' is Peter who, even as we speak is not only building all that technical gubbins for Stella but is also managing to pleasure Sandra with his free hand at the same time.

And all to a tinny Casio porn score.

Now there's a man whose life I want.

I wouldn't want one of them swimming up my.....oh fuck it go on then."

Remember the foxy lab assistant from a few paragraphs back?

Well she's returned home to pack her suitcases, phone a cab and run a bath.

And all whilst wearing the flimsiest pants/see thru dressing gown combo I have ever seen.

Which is a skill in itself.

But as fun as it is to watch these lace based, bouncy arsed packing activities, they're soon interrupted by a hairy armed, small handed man ringing her doorbell.

Is it the cab driver?

Donald Trump?

Or could it be that she's been threatening to tell Sonja's hubbie about the affair so he's sent someone round to off her?

Go on, guess.

See? She's not just a talented actress.

 

Either way it looks like it must be the town's annual thug night because that very same evening Peter is woken from his post sex slumber by the sound of someone trashing his workshop.

Not only that but the poor guy is beaten senseless by the same hairy armed bloke when he goes to investigate.

And what, pray does all this have to do with monster sharks?

Fucked if I know, it's almost as if everyone's forgotten that that's what the movie's about.

And I'm spent!

Two people who most definitely have forgotten are the couple balding middle-aged men that head out to sea (in what appears to be a child's toy boat) the next morning to enjoy a wee bit of scuba-diving fun.

The skinnier, more rat like of the two seems to be in his element watching various grainy clips of sharks go by as he bobs about in what looks like a swimming pool whilst his portlier pal lounges about eating do-nuts.

I'm sure it's the same guy from Tentacles.

Imagine the indignity of being typecast as the fat do-nut man who gets eaten by sea monsters.

Tho' saying that he probably gets more fan mail (and money) from that than being known as the Autistic  'mooth-shite guy that blogs about films that no-one else cares about'.

So touché sir.

Pity this tranquility - and random typing - can't last as from nowhere a huge bulbous head with rows of razor sharp teeth appears and starts to chow down first on the boat and then its occupants.

And in a scene shot entirely from inside the beasts mouth.

Art or arse?

YOU decide.

"Look at the dog!"

In spite of all these unexplained water-based deaths going down, Sheriff Gordon is more interested in interviewing the allusive director of West Ocean International himself, the mysterious Dr. Donald West (The Spider Labyrinth star Berger disappointingly not playing the sexy pilot from Lost In Space) regarding the death of the blonde lady from earlier.

No idea why.

Perhaps he doesn't like water?

"Do you think it was an accident…or did she commit suicide?" Asks the Sheriff in all seriousness.

Thinking for a moment a jovial West replies "Well I think that’s up to you to decide Sheriff!"

"Well murder it is then!" Comes Gordon's hilarious retort.

Yup, well researched police work at it's best.

At least it wasn't his wanking arm.

As more bodies turn up (including one of the scuba-guys and a hideously obese married couple who, for some reason best left unknown actually die in the pre-credits scenes of the American cut), Gordon reckons it'd be a good idea to ask the only survivor some questions regarding the attacks.

Pity then that one whiff of Gordon's pickled onion Monster Munch breath sends the poor sod into shock followed by an unhealthy dose of death.

Bored with being sidelined by the whole murder/blackmail plot, Peter, Stella, wee Bob and a foxy Paleontologist with a strange old/young face named Mrs. Janet Bates (Warner, best known for playing a waitress in E.T. and the Sheriff and singing drunkenly at karaoke in my local pub) jump aboard the Seaquarium in order to test Peters brand new sonar equipment.

As Sandra waves them on their journey (and heads off for an appointment with the hairy killer bloke) Bob cracks open the beers whilst Peter fiddles about with various brightly coloured wires.

"Do you think the sonar will work?" asks Stella.

Peter looks up from the back of what looks like an old telly and mischievously replies "You have beautiful eyes!" before getting back to work.

For he is indeed one smooth bastard.

A high tech sonar device earlier today.

Finishing his fiddling Peter dons his sexy scuba pants and dives into the water to check on the equipment whilst Stella and Janet (wearing a rather fetching diarrhoea coloured safari suit) join Bob on the deck for drinks, shits and giggles.


After even more fiddling, diving and drinking the fantastic foursome managed to get a sample of spooky noise and head back to shore for a meeting with the first with the Sheriff and then West who, thanks to Janet receives a fascinating lecture on 'proto-sharks'.

After the thrilling talk (with slides) West, waiting till everyone has left desperately tries to access some secret files on the institute database regarding 'Project Sea Killer".

Could this be the beast that's been terrorizing the coast?

It looks like we'll never know seeing as the computer keeps shrieking "access denied" at every given opportunity.

Which is strange seeing as West owns the place.

Laugh Nooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!

Back on the boat Peter notices a large, luxurious yacht close by which Bob recognizes as Dr. West’s boat, The Saucy Challenger remarking that he's probably sent his heavies to spy on them, smash all their equipment and capture the monster shark for their own nefarious ends.

Rotters.

As if by magic one of the buoys actually breaks down of its own accord so Peter and Stella change into their skimpiest swimming costumes legally allowed in 80's cinema in order to go and fix it, leaving Janet and Bob to get (even more) pissed and await the arrival of the beast itself.

Hopefully cos to be honest I'm pretty sure the thing doesn't exist.

Either that or the FX team haven't gotten around to finishing it yet.

Things go from bad to worse tho' because the broken buoy scenario is in itself  obviously not perilous enough a predicament to put our twosome in so the writer decides to give Peter's dinghy a puncture too.

On a brighter note it does leave the pair no other choice than to swim to the nearest island and have some sex.

Meanwhile, back aboard the Seaquarium (again) the monster shark - finally - shows up on the monitor as Bob and Janet gaze at the Spectrum 48K graphics in a mixture of awe, apathy and horror.

Swimming quickly towards the boat in a joyous mash up of grainy stock footage and blocky blips, it's tentacles poised for attack the shark readies itself.

Hang on....tentacles?

A shark with tentacles?

As if by some sort of osmosis Bob cries "My God, a shark with tentacles!" as the beast eats the camera under the boat and heads in for the kill.

I really can't figure out what's going on here but it looks painful.

Bob in an almost sexual frenzy grabs his trusty dart gun and peers over the side whilst Janet sits on deck pulling a classic constipation face.

Looking for any sign of a fin poor Bob visibly shats himself as a dozen or so rubbery (why thank you) tentacles appear from the sea, grabbing saucily at him before fondling his ample buttocks and dragging him to his doom.

Still feeling a bit peckish the monster shark/octopus/whatever it is makes a play for Janet who, luckily for her just happens to be holding a small hatchet at the time enabling her to beat the beast off.

But not in that way obviously.

And what of our star-crossed shaggers on the beach?

Cos let's be honest, if we have the choice between a wet woman being manhandled by a tentacled beast or watching Michael Sopkiw wiping his cock on a palm leaf, I know which I'd rather see.

So it's back to Peter who, after waking up Stella, decides that they really should get back to the boat to see how the monster search is going on.

She sighs, pulls her swimsuit out of her arse crack and starts to paddle the dingy towards the Seaquarium.

But as the loved up pair approach the boat they begin to realize that something is amiss, Bob is nowhere to be seen, there's blood in the water and a severed tentacle hanging over the side.

Boarding the craft they find Janet hysterical and lying in a pool of her own piss on the upper deck and Peter not wanting to miss out on a breast fondle looms over the poor girl and cradles her in his big manly arms as Stella takes them home.

She's got something to put in you.

Back onshore Peter, armed with a videotape of the creature heads over to the West Ocean International labs - again - (well if you've got a set you may as well use it) to see if anyone has any idea what they're dealing with.

Carefully studying the tape whilst consulting his battered copy of The Ladybird Book of Big Bastard Sea Beasts Dr. Davis hypothesizes that the creature is at least forty feet long with a six feet wide mouth and probably has a top speed is over thirty five knots.

All that from a murky out of focus video tape?

Damn he's good.

Being the heroic type Peter formulates a plan - and for once it doesn't involve fondling old ladies, instead he suggests that they could try and lure the monster shark thing into a trap using the recordings of it's voice that they made earlier.

All they have to do is raise the pitch so that it sounds like a female then lie in wait until he comes calling.

Yup, it's a Peter plan so it must involve sex in some form, I'm surprised he's not just offered to go out and shag it to death.

Anyway, everyone agrees that this is the most sensible option (obviously not the shagging bit) and heads off to load the boat with explosives.

Peter farted....and it was an eggy one.

With all this excitement going on, everyone fails to spot the hairy killing man receiving a phone call telling him to stop the mission at all costs.

Oh and to kill Sandra when he has a spare minute.

Not even stopping to change his cum stained shorts Peter is soon back aboard (well underneath) the good ship Seaquarium, attaching various probes and scanners to it's (and probably to Stella's bottom too) whilst totally failing to notice the beast watching therm from behind some seaweed.

Well to give it its dues the monster shark is wearing a top hat as a disguise.

But that's not the only trouble in store as Janet soon finds out when a group of badmen creep aboard and stab her.

To death.

Whilst all this is 'going down' as you young people say, Stella and Peter are attacked by the same knife-wielding bad boys but this time they're wearing swimsuits in what looks like a community centre drama group recreation of the underwater battle from Thunderball.

Dodging harpoons, knives, visible camel-toe and monster fish, Stella manages to make it back on board only to be captured by the groups ringleader.

Would you believe it, the evil Dr. Miller is behind everything.

Well I mean everything in the film not literally everything it's not like he was the real force behind 9/11, the 1986 Mozambican Tupolev Tu-134 crash, or the fact that Paracetamol causes Autism.

Tho' thinking about it....

Killing every underwater villain, Peter scrambles his way onto the boat and confronts Miller who is standing in his best scary pose with a bread knife to Stella's throat.

And if Peter comes any closer he'll cut it.

A crap pub fight ensues and they both fall into the sea with the monster shark getting ever closer but just as Peter reaches the boat one of the beasts tentacles grabs Stella and pulls her overboard.

Yikes.

Peter looks on in terror (well disbelief and hardly concealed amusement) as another tentacle grabs Miller and begins to toss him about like a dummy stuffed with newspaper.

Which it very probably is.

All this tossing of villains gives Peter enough time to rescue Stella from its slimy clutches and reach the relative safety of the boat where they both sit and watch Miller get eaten before putting an oily blanket over Janet (not as a mark of respect but to cover her harsh face) and preparing the dinghy's speakers.

Yup, Peter has volunteered to pretend he's a horny lady shark-thing (surprise) and lead the beast inland toward a huge mob of dynamite carrying locals eager to blow the bugger to Spain and back.

"Rrrrrrrraaaaannnnggggeeerrrrsss!!!!"

Meanwhile (this is getting a tad predictable now), Dr. West contacts Sheriff Gordon to report his findings.

Yes he has just spent the majority of the movies running time hunched over a computer.

It seems that every single one of the monster sharks cells is capable of reproducing another (albeit slightly less shoddy) monster shark.

Which is bad news as far as the plan goes.

Radioing Peter to tell him the news it's up to our hero to disabled the exploding buoys, warn the over excited townsfolk and find a non blowy-uppy way of finishing off the creature.

All within the next ten minutes.

Will pretty boy Peter succeed?

And will he really give a toss when he finds his ex-missis is dead?

From the smoking quill of Gianfranco Clerici (the writer of such hits as Delirium: Photo of Gioia, Murder-Rock and House on the Edge of the Park amongst others), the visionary mind of Lamberto Bava with cheap drink and snacks supplied by Bruno Mattei (possibly) Monster Shark manages the unenviable task of trying to match the sheer terror and excitement of Jaws but on a budget that wouldn't pay for Richard Dreyfus' nasal hair clippers.

Scarily tho' the film succeeds at this task and sometimes even rises above it's source material.

Not really, it is, in fact, utter shite from start to finish.

But that's not to say it isn't an enjoyable piece of shite, you know a wee bit like that scabbily skinned dodgy dancing delight you meet at the end of the night when your serial killer/stalker radar is at its lowest and you actually start listening to your libido.

Of course you enjoy the kebab stained muddy kneed fumble behind the bins but you wouldn't take her home to meet the wife and kids.

Monster Shark, you are that clap ridden horror and we love you for it.

Just don't expect us to give you the correct phone number as we sneak off for a taxi back to Movieville.

"Fuck me a wasp!"

On a plus point.....hang on there are no plus points; the dubbing is shoddiness of the first order, the editing seems to have been achieved by throwing the film into the air then allowing a group of blind, wooden pawed dogs to attempt to glue it together and the storyline (for what it is) is a weird mix of conspiracy thriller, scientific corporation gone bad, cack handed murder mystery and a monster movie all rolled into one big ball of cinematic sputum retched up from the tar ridden lungs of good taste.

More the beasts tentacles than the dogs bollocks, Monster Shark should have pride of place right next to Shark Attack 3 and Raging Sharks.

Hidden right behind your moldy old Betamax Colour Climax release of Animal Farm you've had since school save anyone sees it and makes a harsh character judgment on you.

Saying that tho' I bloody love it.

And you will too.