holy she-it.

We were chatting (excitedly) about Michael Reeves t'other night when I realised that Mrs Lamont had never actually seen this gem.

The She Beast (AKA Il Lago di Satana, Revenge of the Blood Beast, Satan's Sister. 1966).
Dir: Michael Reeves.
Cast: Barbara Steele, John Karlsen, Ian Oglivy, Mel Welles, Jay Riley, Richard Watson, Edward B. Randolph, Tony Antonelli, Peter Grippe, Lucretia Love, Kevin Welles and Woody Welles.

"What's troubling you? For running over a chicken
you won't get more than two years."

It's sunny Transylvania in the year of our Lord 1765 (probably around teatime) where the Secretary of State for Health of the United Kingdom James Murray (or at the very least a passable lookalike, poor sod) is stumbling thru' the bushes towards the local church.

It appears a wicked witch (with eyebrows that even angel voiced mentalist Susan Boyle would die for) has kidnapped his sister.

Goaded on by a pervy priest and a dwarf in what looks like a pound shop Santa suit, a squad of gypsies decide to confront the aforementioned witchy woman at her house.

By house I mean cave obviously.

No idea why I'm typing all of this, I could have just go back and deleted 'house' and replaced it with 'cave' and you'd be none the wiser of my mistake would you?

Anyway, Vardella (for it is she), is - quite rightly - bloody furious at having the ongoing news updates about Keir Starmer's fall from grace and various marches across the UK interrupted by a bunch of unwashed activists so decides to teach them a lesson by attempting to bite their faces off with her scabby, shite filled mouth.

But one - albeit crap-encrusted - woman can only do so much.

Fighting a losing battle, our hairy eyed chum is dragged kicking and screaming to the local lake where she's tied to the unholy Seat of Chastisement (Ikea, $849) before having red hot nails hammered into her hands and finally being dunked repeatedly into the dark, icy water until she drowns.

A wee bit like Noel's House Party but funny.

But before she breaths her last, Vardella curses the villagers.

And their descendants.

Spooky.

And quite possibly fairly important later.

Oh go on then...."Shite in mah mooth!"

Jumping forward two hundred years (it's cheaper for the costume department) we join the newlywed groovers Veronica (Steele - meow) and Philip (Ogilvy - easy tiger) who are enjoying a honeymoon driving holiday in the by now evil Communist-controlled Transylvania.

A little bit of politics...right on!

A country if Veronica is to be believed is "full of weirdies and werewolves." tho' from the evidence on show it appears to be chock-a-block with old men riding bicycles.

Badly.

Studly Philip, feeling a steamer coming on decides that they should rest up at the local hotel - Veronica insists on this at least, she still has grass burns on her knees from the last lustful pit stop - and soon arrive at the world renowned - it says here -  Kereszteződésénél Motel.

Whilst Veronica carries the luggage to their room Philip gets chatting to the incredibly lecherous and slightly alcoholic motel owner, Mr. Ladislav Mortimer (Welles of The original Little Shop Of Horrors and Lady Frankenstein), asking those obvious holiday questions like what are the best local places to sight see, which of the town teens are the easiest to get drunk and molest plus what the motels dish of the day is.

Which any sane - or slightly sexist - reader will know is obviously Barbara Steele.

Suddenly the bar door bursts open and the whole place is overcome by the stale smell of egg, sweat and failure as the famed demon hunter and faded aristocrat Count Von Helsing (a pissed Karlsen) makes his grand entrance.

Taking a break from hanging around the local kiddies play park he spotted the car outside and decided to introduce himself to the holiday makers in order to regale them with tales of vampires and the like.

Well it's a living I guess.

Insert cock here.

All this talk of sex and violence (but mainly violence) is fairly entertaining but only goes to make Philip realize how long it's been since he experienced the real thing (3 hours but who's counting?) and, making his excuses drags his wife back to their room for a wee bit of the old in/out.

The romantic dog.

Cue dozens of luscious close-ups of Barbara's milky white and incredibly smooth topside of breast as he jiggles on the corner of the bed.

Unfortunately Philip and Veronica's sexy shenanigans (and ours) are rudely interrupted by Mortimer sweatily - and noisily - wanking outside their window.

Barbara Steele, up the casino, Wigan, 1967......YESCH!

Furious, Philip asserts his manliness by kicking the shite out of the hotel owner and leaving first thing the next day without paying the bill.

Driving along the deserted country roads and enjoying a giggle after seeing the funny side of someone sneakily cracking one off over a half dressed Barbara Steele (look we're all guilty of it) the couples Volkswagen inexplicably goes out of control, weaving from side to side before narrowly missing a lorry full of chickens and ending up in a lake.

The very lake that the angry villagers drowned Vardella centuries before.

Double spooky.

Steele: Your granddad did. Twice.

Philip, with the help of the lorry driver, manages to make it to shore, but Veronica is nowhere to be seen (hint: try the passenger seat or behind the sofa, that's where I usually find stuff) leaving Philip to pass out whilst sobbing like a wee lassie.

Aw bless.

Taken back to Mortimer's and put to bed, Philip is unaware that a second body has been dragged from the lake and is currently dripping all over the sprouts in the kitchen.

And it isn't Veronica.

Can you hazard a guess as to who it is?

Yup, it’s Vardella, back from her watery grave and all set for her revenge.

And a fair amount of mooth shite-in.

I can dream can't I?

Luckily schoolyard stalker and ghost buster Von Helsing (remember him?) is quick on the scene to fill Philip (phnarrr) in on the back story and point out to anyone who'll listen (which is no one frankly) that "Vardella has returned and she's chosen to possess Veronica's spirit".

Crikey.

"Put it in me!"

If this wasn't drama enough, back at the hotel Mortimer is drunkenly attempting to molest his niece (Love, from the Pam Grier classic Naked Warriors in a blink and miss it cameo) whilst Fred the chicken van owner is worried the police will arrest him for causing the accident with the car in the first place.

Remembering that this is, in fact a horror movie and not the Archers the Count has a plan that will not only restore Veronica’s identity (and shapely figure) but also lift the witch’s curse once and for all.

All he has to do to accomplish this is stick his pinky finger in her eye which will  release the maggots trapped in her skull and therefore bring Veronica back to life.

Or something.

Honestly I couldn't really follow the plan partly because I was still recovering from the sight of a dripping wet Babs.

Anyway if the Count can manage this feat it means he can then chase her around town and hopefully persuade her to sit back on the big chair to get redunked in the lake.

Look I didn't write this shite so don't email me that it doesn't seem to make any sense whatsoever.

Savile: The return.

But with the local fascist (OK Communist) boot boys on their tail and Mortimer hungry for ass (man or otherwise) will our heroes be able to destroy the witch and repair the trusty VW before before Vardella does any bad stuff?

Some really shite artwork yesterday.

The first movie from boy genius director Michael (Witchfinder General, The Sorcerers) Reeves, The She Beast may look like a slipshod low budget shlocker but peel back the thin net curtain of shoddiness and there's a real gem underneath.

Unfairly dismissed by arsey Reeves fans and the type of folk that talk loudly about film in cinema foyers, it's true that the film is crudely made and cursed with a (occasionally misjudged) vein of comedy that is in danger of capsizing the whole proceedings at any moment, but as far as debuts go, it's gloriously watchable and hideously silly at the same time.

Steele: No excuse needed.

Shot on the cheap - and on the sly - in Italy after the wily producers had managed to convince the local authorities that they were making a documentary (therefore enabling them to apply for the lowest location rates) and with a screenplay (of sorts) written by Reeves but under the alias of Michael Byron (to make the crew look larger) the director cast his best mate in the lead role and shot all of Steele's footage in a single 22-hour-long period as to reduce the actress's cost, you must admit that it takes a director of rare talent to produce something as enjoyable as it is under those conditions.

And enjoyable it is, from it's camp as pants cast to it's moments of sly humour and gore that culminates in a 15 minute (!) car chase tribute to the Keystone Cops The She Beast never outstays it's welcome and, like the awkward best friend you only used for sex when you were younger or the local Tesco home shopping van, never fails to deliver.

Plus it's fairly short which is always a bonus.

A bit like this review.

And my mum.

radio ga ga!

Screw the whole dang Netflix and chill thang, World War III is incoming so let's spend tonight listening to popular wide-band web receivers instead!

 

>http://websdr.ewi.utwente.nl:8901/

>http://websdr.k3fef.com:8901/

 
OR Select one geographically close to you:

>http://websdr.org/

 
>http://rx.linkfanel.net/

INSTRUCTIONS:

>Set Frequency to 4724.00, 8992.00 or 11175.00
>Set Mode to USB
>Tap "Wider" to increase bandwidth (2.7-3.0 kHz)
>Press "Chrome audio start" if necessary
>Listen!

AIR TRAFFIC:

> https://globe.adsbexchange.com/

 
> https://www.flightradar24.com/

MARITIME TRAFFIC:

> https://www.marinetraffic.com/

 
> https://www.vesselfinder.com/

 

LIVE UNIVERSAL AWARENESS MAP:

>https://liveuamap.com/en/

REAL TIME RADIATION WORLD MAP:

>https://www.gmcmap.com/index.asp

 

Enjoy!

she-it.

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gettin' lippy with it.

Day 22 of 31 days of horror, just in case you've lost count.

Crazy Lips (Hakkyousuru kuchibiru, 2000)
Dir: Sasaki Hirohisa.
Cast: Miwa Hitomi, Suzuki Kazuma, Osugi Ren, Abe Hiroshi, Natsukawa Hijiri, Yura Yoshiko, Kuribayashi Tomomi, Yumi Yoshiyuki and Suzuki Ikko

"What is happening inside that house?"

Obviously aiming for the title of world's most dysfunctional family, the Kuramashi's are a tough act to beat.

Not only have they spent years in hiding due to the fact that daddy Kuramashi was executed for being a depraved serial killer but it looks like number one son Michio (Kazuma) may be following in his fathers footsteps after being accused of the vile slaughter of four teenage girls.

Tho' is there any other kind of slaughter?

Unfortunately for the rest of the family Michio has gone into hiding, leaving his heartbroken mum (Yoshiyuki, star of Killer Pussy and the classic Queen Peach) and his young sisters, Satomi (long faced Hitomi, she of Ju-On: The Curse, Last Supper and Misa the Dark Angel) and Kaori (Hijiri, don't recognize here from owt, sorry) to face the snide comments, bullying ways and verbal abuse from the local police, the gutter press and even the neighbours (tho' not Madge Bishop because she's a nice lady).

Indeed.

They family rise every morning to find paparazzi scum and TeeVee news crews camped out amongst their begonias whilst the filthy bastard copper Tony Soap (Ikko from the lactate-tasic Visitor Q) takes every opportunity to kick at their door, wear his shoes in the house and slurp his coffee loudly whilst angrily messing up the family kitchen (he even put the spoons in the knife section at one point) and shouting random abuse at them.

Which is nice if a little outside usual police practices, don't fret too much tho' he'll be dead soon.

If that wasn't enough one of the folk that lives over the road keeps lobbing rubbish bins thru' their windows every lunchtime without fail.

With all this going on it's not too surprising that the Kuramashi's youngest daughter Satomi, desperate to find the identity of the real killer decides to hire a a spooky psychic named Mamiya (Yoshiko from the arthouse classic Spanking Love) and her ratty Michael Barrymore of a minder Toumato come over and perform a séance all in the hope of contacting the victims who, in turn can name the mentalist murderer and hopefully clear their brothers name.

It's a wee bit like Eastenders really, but without the ugly actors.


On paper this may sound like quite a good plan till you realize that the dead girls had their heads cut off so are unable to spill the beans.

It's a nice change to not have to caption these myself.

Resourceful as ever Mamiya has a back up plan and orders Satomi to search across town for the missing heads (obvious really) but her help comes at a price.

Realizing that the family don't have a spare ¥5,000,000 lying around (or even hidden in the mattress) the psychic offers to continue helping if Satomi allows Touma to roughly take Mrs. Kuramashi from behind.

Twice.

Sorry, did I say Eastenders? I really meant Hollyoaks.

Your uncle and your girlfriend last Saturday.

Unable to concentrate on her homework due to all the noise that her mother and Touma are making, Satomi sneaks out to the local kiddies play park for a nice wee musical interlude and a quick chat with the tres foxy (and very ginger) FBI agent Lucy Anderson (Tomomi) and her sidekick , 'Foxy' Narimoto (Hiroshi the one that wasn't the giant lizard in Godzilla 2000).

No idea why the FBI are involved or why they decide to recruit a schoolgirl to join a secret organization dedicated to fighting evil cults and rubber monsters but heyho, it must of made sense to someone.

Satomi excitedly agrees and is introduced to the group's leader, the even more mysterious and frighteningly bespectacled 'Colonel' (cartoon Chihuahua Ren) who disguises himself as a reality teevee host and communicates to her via the TV set in the living room.

Same here.

And what does all this have to do with the admittedly ho-hum serial killer/arse sex plot?

Well you see, it appears that the FBI have evidence that Mamiya and Touma are leaders of a maniacal cult determined to awaken an ancient Lovecraftian monster by harnessing the sexual energies released from taking Mrs. Kuramashi up the casino.

Admit it, you'd kinda figured that out tho' hadn't you?

That's not the full extent of their evil scheme tho' as they're also planning - for no reason other than to fill the schoolgirl sex quota - to force poor Satomi to engage in rudeness with the hanging - yet still stiff - corpse of Tony Soap.

How will she explain that to her gran?

If that wasn't enough drama, dirtiness and danger for you the ghostly girl victims - bored with being dead and obviously wanting the movie to finish as soon as possible - have decided to use their spooky powers and find their heads themselves.

No idea how, probably just crawling around randomly picking up round stuff.

You never know one might turn up with a football or a big cabbage.

I'd say that was too silly but to be honest with this movie it wouldn't surprise me.

The big question tho' is will the ghost gals discover the killers true identity before the evil monster wakes from his centuries old slumber or will someone accidentally launch a nuclear strike on the unfortunate Kuramashi family before they get a chance to clear their sons name?

You think I'm joking about the nuclear attack don't you?

From the writer of Ringu, the producer of Ju-On: The Grudge and the executive producer of Audition (as the DVD cover proudly proclaims) Crazy Lips was heralded as Japan's answer to the TeeVee hit The X Files but with added anal violation and death by dildo but minus the drawback of having to look at David Duchovny's horse like face on a weekly basis.

Lollypops!

 

 

Lulling it's audience into a false sense of security by starting out like any number of bog standard late-90’s J-horror movies, thirty minutes in Crazy Lips takes a sudden and unexpected U-turn, and smashes any preconceptions the viewer may have about the unfolding story before morphing into into a chaotic car crash of a movie, throwing headless ghosts, dark cults a smattering of kung fu and necrophiliac sex into the mix as if the film makers were hoping at least one of the ingredients would work in context of the story.

Or at least keep the masturbating teens happy.

"Call me Snake!"

Not always enjoyable - to be honest some of it isn't even that watchable - but never the less always interesting to look at, Crazy Lips (and it's sequel Gore From Outer Space) is the type of lazy Sunday afternoon movie that both you and your gran will enjoy.

If, like mine, your gran liked a wee bit of necrophilia at the weekend.

glad it's all ogre.

Every 31 Days of Horror deserves at least a wee bit of bonkers Bava.

Unfortunately I only have this to hand.

Sorry.

Demoni 3: The Ogre (AKA Brivido giallo - La casa dell'orco, Demons III, Demons III: The Ogre)
Dir: Lamberto Bava
Cast: Virginia Bryant, Patrizio Vinci, Sabrina Ferilli, Alice Di Giuseppe, Paolo Malco, Stefania Montorsi and an Ogre.

When childhood dreams become adult nightmares fear turns into reality!

 

 

It's a lovely sunny day in the gloriously grassy Italian countryside and bullyboy Tom (Fulci stalwart Malco), his downtrodden and frighteningly frumpy wife - and famous author of 'the horror' books to boot - Cheryl (Bryant from The Barbarian Brothers) alongside their little boy Jeff are busy driving to the castle they've rented for the summer holidays.

Cheryl, it transpires, has come to Italy to work on her latest book giving Tom and the boy time to enjoy themselves with a variety of manly pursuits like playing soggy biscuit and digging ditches.

Just like my holidays as a kid then.

The inbred locals tho' are a superstitious lot and are slightly irritated that a family of 'Americans' are renting out the castle, what with it having an ogre in the cellar and everything.

Tho' to be honest they may have mistaken the ogre for the cow that 'menacingly' stalks Cheryl in a kind of sub-Withnail And I type way at certain points during the films running time.

"I love you, could it be magic?"

Anyway back to the plot (I know but needs must) which unfortunately spends the first hour following Cheryl's attempt to write inter-cut with endless scenes of the boys hiking (whilst Tom bitches a lot).

It's a wee bit like a better shot version of those special 60 minute episodes of Eastenders they show every so often when they're trying to stop one of the more popular cast members defecting to ITV.

Or whenever they felt like making Danny Dyer work for his money.

Don't worry tho' it does get slightly more exciting with the revelation that the small girl wearing the horrid nightie being chased by someone with hairy hands in the pre-credit dream sequence was in fact Cheryl as a child.

Sorry did I not mention that?

 

My bad.

Anyway, turns out she's been having nightmares about castles, ogres and cellars all her life which beats my recurring dreams about skeletons with swords riding fire breathing giant ants I guess.

But if that wasn't enough poor Cheryl is even more shocked to discover that the castle she and her family are staying in is in fact the same one from her childhood dreams.

Not only that but everything happening to them has already been written in her new book.

Bizarre.

She's not that shocked that she packs her family into their car and fucks off back to the States tho, obviously.

Cheryl: Tweedy.

No, she decides to stay at the castle, enjoying the wine and local sights knowing full well that the scary beast is out to get her and probably her kid too.

Honestly she's like the Italian horror version of Karen Matthews.

It's not too long before Cheryl begins to see evidence of the ogre milling about the castle for herself (footprints in the butter, toilet seat left up etc.) but as is always the way in these situations they all seem to disappear whenever she calls Tom to look.

 

Luckily (for us that is) mutilated bodies soon start to turn up in the cellar, then a giant pulsating snotter appears on the ceiling, Cheryl starts having 'those' dreams again and a strange man named Dario has begun to paint pictures of it all down in the village.

Sabrina Ferilli:
Fifty and frisky.

 

Apparently - according to a throwaway piece of dialogue spouted earlier - Dario and an incredibly dirty pillowed witch named Anna (Ferilli) are somehow linked to the ogre and the castle.

But not in a good way obviously. 

You see, according to Cheryl's novel, (if you're interested) the monster will end up ripping the clothes off the witch in an satanic style rage of unbridled sexual fury before putting his 'orrible ogre organ in her peachy tanned arse.

Unfortunately we don't get to see this bit.

I did get the kids to draw some pictures of it tho' and may share at a later date if anyone's interested.

What we do get to see is Tom and the child getting lost while hiking (again), a fly getting trapped in Cheryl's typewriter and Tom and Cheryl having a bitch slap session whilst cooking supper.

Just try and imagine a really early episode of River City but with cheaper sets and minus the lovely Scarlett and her wayward cleavage.

Or a typical Archers episode.

"Oh Vic I've fallen".

 

 

And if all this soapy (tit) wank is getting too much to bear fear not, as the oft-mentioned but little seen ogre is about to make his grand entrance.

Decked out in a rather snazzy frill fronted shirt along with what look like cycling shorts, a Professionals era Martin Shaw wig and a pair of Lelli Kelly sandals, he cuts an imposing figure.

Probably.

Well put it this way, the beasts fashion sense is enough to turn Tom from wife slapping misogynist to spade wielding hero type and is scary enough to persuade Cheryl to finally mention that she knows how the story will end.

"Do you need any
scissors sharpening?"

Unfortunately tho' it won't end in a massive fleshy orgy of ogre on angry dad arse action but with Cheryl simply getting into her Jeep and reversing over the poor creature.

Three times.

 

And with the ogre dead everyone hugs and makes up.

Aaah...Lamberto Bava's never ending Demons saga, the guiltiest of all guilty pleasures.

After the stunning genius of the first chapter and the not as stunning but still brilliant Demons II, the brand name was shamelessly hijacked and shoddily stapled to any movie that seemed to fall into the distributors grubby hands.

A heart breaking romance?....called it Demons: The Wedding!

Hellzaboppin' comedy? No problem! It's now called Demons: Pie Fight!

An even more shoddy than normal Umberto Lenzi film featuring the ghosts of slaves with Rice Crispies on the faces? That'll be Black Demons then!

Scarily at last count there were over 16000 films bearing the Demons moniker with more to come, each more inept than the last but frankly a lot more enjoyable than most of the rubbish being churned out in the name of 'horror' today. 

And so the same fate befell this made for TeeVee movie.

But where as the first two featured men, women, children, dogs etc. being possessed by small slimy critters then proceeding to bite each other, this one features a man in a pound shop Halloween mask and lederhosen bumping into the scenery whilst covered in cheap red wine.

Some stunning make up fx yesterday.

On a brighter note it does feature the handsomely chiseled star of Lucio Fulci's House by The Cemetery and The New York Ripper, professional Italian sexy man Paolo Malco in the role of wife slapping, depression belittling Tom and mega-MILF Sabrina Ferilli, a woman with breasts so big they have their own time-zones a a witch so it can't be that bad.

Which is thanks in part to uber-writer, horror legend and dusky moustachioed love God Dardano Sacchetti who manages to fill his screenplay with dozens of riffs stolen not only from his own back catalogue but also random stuff like John Carpenter's Prince Of Darkness, The Last Snows of Spring and even Argento's Inferno.

Couple all this with Lamberto Bava's snappy direction and the magnificent Simon Boswell's frankly bonkers synth score and it least makes it interesting to look at and listen to.

Which is more than can be said for 99% of movies they weren't involved with.

 

sexy (blood) beast.

31 days of horror day 6 and I'm onto the good stuff.

Seriously it's quality all the way from this point on.

Brides of Blood (AKA Brides of Blood Island, Grave Desires, Terror on Blood Island 1968).
Dir: Eddie Romero, Gerardo De Leon.
Cast: Beverly Hills, John Ashley, Kent Taylor, Mario Montenegro, Eva Darren and the fantastic Bruno Punzalan.

Lusting for women it terrified the land! Which is also an apt description of your uncle Peter.

Slick haired and snake hipped Peace Corp volunteer Jim Farrell (Filipino fright film fave Ashley) alongside the cut-price Clark Gable-a-like Dr. Paul Henderson (Psycho à Go-Go's Taylor) and his wife, the classy chassised bleached bimbette Carla (Beverly Hills...not her real name) are traveling to the spookily named "Blood Island" for a six-month stay.

But why would they do such a thing? I hear you ask.

Well, Henderson is heading there to study the effects of atomic testing on local flora and fauna (as you do) whilst Farrell's going to build stuff for the natives (and hopefully score with a few of the grass skirted sex kittens that live there).

And Carla?

Well she's accompanying her hubbie in order to show off her arse in in a variety of Capri Pants three sizes too small.

Just like your mum when she goes to Spain with her mates.

Your Auntie Jean, up the casino, Brighton, 1967....YESCH.

Upon arrival our heroic trio are surprised to find the usually friendly locals glumly carrying a couple of dead bodies towards the beach, which either means a burial at sea or they've gone to the wrong island and stumbled across Joe D'Amato filming another of his cannibal porn epics.

There's no time to check tho' as one of the body-bearers trips, dropping a cloth covered corpse onto the ground with a rubbery thud and our merry trio are shocked to see that the body has been literally torn to pieces.

Well I say shocked but Ashley - with his cinematic back catalogue -  is kinda used to this sort of thing by now and dear old Beverley is too busy concentrating on walking and talking at the same time to notice.

God bless Kent Taylor tho', who gives it his all, twitching and grimacing exactly like your dad at the point of climax.

Trust me I know. 

Luckily Frank Arcadio the English speaking, tea cosy hatted tribal leader (and buddy to Henderson) is on hand to helpfully explain that the two girls were involved in an "accident" and that there's really nowt to worry about.

Especially not radioactive monsters.

No sir.

Before anyone can ask any awkward questions Arcadio mentions that he's prepared a slap up meal of crisp sandwiches and fizzy pop back at his hut so our trio, hungry from all that traveling and corpse gazing excitedly follow him home.

Everything is going swimmingly (if a little stilted tho' that could just be the acting) until Arcadio - handing out fun size Twix's for dessert whispers in a hushed tone that things are a wee bit mental on the island at the moment and, for their own safety that they should really leave.

Right now if not sooner.

Dr. Henderson looks on concerned and nods thoughtfully but Jim is otherwise engaged as he gazes longingly at Arcadio's beautiful granddaughter Alma (the dusky beauty that is Eva Darren, currently doing Stirling work as Thelma in the hit TeeVee soap Magpakailanman) whilst sweating like Jimmy Savile opening a girl guides camp.

Eva: Not green.

Ignoring Arcadio's warning the group head off to bed with Henderson particularly excited about beginning his research the next morning much to his wife's chagrin, in response she decides to sit up all night smoking whilst seductively flashing her ankles at any tribesfolk who wander by.

Jim by this point is already in his tent, searching his backpack for tissues and a Pot Noodle.

As dawn breaks Henderson is already up and about searching for samples in the jungle whilst a bored looking Carla lies wistfully against a tree, her frankly terrifying breasts pointing skywards like silk covered weapons of mass distraction, her scarily pointed bra barely holding their awesome power in check.

The beauty of her surroundings seems to have a calming effect on Carla tho' as she decides that rather than attempting to seduce the locals she'll try to rekindle the Doctor's love for her and to this end starts poking around in the bush for something nice to give him as a present.

It says a lot about Carla that she decides that a massive mutated land crab would make a perfect romantic gift and excitedly hands it to her hubbie.

Rather than trying to shag it as she has everything else that moves.

Giving it a quick once over he decides that the creature is irrefutable evidence that radiation has affected the island.

Hmmmm....you think so?

With the (stock footage and filtered) sun setting, the Henderson's return to the village (with the crab in a shoe box) only to stumble across what appears to be the tribes own version of the National Lottery draw, except this one features purple smoke, drums and a couple of scantily clad laydees crying in a corner.

Which actually sounds pretty exciting.


Well it'd make me consider buying a ticket.

Inside Keir Starmer's mind.

With some poor old guy from the local unemployed group dragged up like Mystic Meg he totters about on a pair of homemade Cha-Cha heels for what seems like an eternity before angrily pointing none too happy native girls and gesturing to a couple of hunky, spear wielding warrior types to carry them off into the jungle.

Our dynamic duo (with Jim close behind -he can obviously smell distressed female from a mile away) give chase but before they can catch up with the procession they are accosted by the bald, cod-eyed Goro (Black Mama, White Mama's Punzalan), servant of the enigmatic Mr. Esteban Powers (Mario Montenegro), owner of the islands only brick house and winner of the Butlins Skegness Dezi Arnez look-a-like competition a record breaking 5 times between 1955 and 1961.

It appears that Goro has been skulking about in the trees since they arrived on the island in the hope that they'll accept Mr. Powers invite of dinner and offer to use of his estate for the duration of their stay.

Which sounds as good a reason as any for hiding behind a bush watching scantily clad babes being carried away screaming, so the party (totally forgetting about the sobbing girls as soon as free food is mentioned) accept heartily.

Dominic Littlewood goes undercover as a genie to report on dangerous garden centres and terrifying things. (One for the kids there).

Arriving at Powers' estate (after a slight fright involving a killer bush...yes really) the Henderson's and big Jim fail to notice (but not me, oh no sir) that not only is the entire house staff made up of dwarves, scurrying and leaping around the kitchens whilst Goro chases down then whips them but also that Powers has the face (and firm tight buttocks) of a 12 year old even those he alleges he's over 50.

To be fair tho' they're probably distracted by the fact that the promised slap up meal actually appears a plate of huge green bananas and jugs of weak piss.

Good to see they have their priorities right.

Making the most of a bad situation (and even worse script) our heroes tuck into dinner, enjoying Goro's dwarf baiting in between Dr. Henderson tediously giving everyone a lecture on the effects of atomic radiation whilst using the croissants to represent tumors, which is nice.

This may be important to the plot later tho', you never can tell.

Excited at the prospect of staying in a house with real beds and hot and cold running water (as opposed to weeping sores) Carla persuades her husband to let her stay over at Powers' House, he agrees that she can stay but explains that he must return to the village to fetch some 'special equipment'.

Jimbo too needs to stay in the village to 'assist' the new building work so the pair make their farewells and head off once more into the jungle.

Beverly Hills Cop (a load of flack for being pro-Trump).

Heading back to the village, they again cross paths with the sobbing girls, only this time they are both naked and tied to crosses in front of a giant paper mache statue of TeeVee funnyman Phil Cool.

Which if I'm honest is one of the most erotic things I've ever seen committed to celluloid.

Jim and the Doctor look on worriedly as they discuss whether to jump in and free the poor girls or just sit back and enjoy the show.

Luckily that decision is made for them when Arcadio, with the help of his silver tongue and a spear carrying posse turns up, diffusing the situation by explaining that they've just come across the local drama group rehearsing the village Christmas panto before taking the boys back to the village mightily impressed by the bound babes convincing acting.

You'll be surprised to know that Arcadio was in fact lying and that the girls are actually going to be sacrificed to 'The Evil One' an ancient spirit returned to wreak havoc on this idyllic paradise.

Jim and Henderson are barely tucked into bed (separately obviously) when strange Animalistic grunts, groans and farts suddenly begin to fill the air.

Laugh now!

Jim leaps from his sleeping bag and confronts Arcadio about the noise (and the smell) but our bonneted buddy remains tight lipped only saying that the whole thing was probably rats before heading off to his hut but Jim is undeterred, turning his charms on Alma.

Melting under Jim's salacious gaze she's about to spill the beans (and out of her top by the looks of it) but runs away sobbing as soon  as she hears the screams coming from the women in the trees.

Jim tries to follow her but is stopped by Arcadio brandishing his massive weapon, the shiny tip glistening in the moonlight.

Threatening to kill our slick-haired hero if he tries to interfere, Arcadio admits that he may have been a wee bit economical with the truth before breaking down in tears and exclaiming that the infamous 'Evil One' has returned.

Jim, finally realizing that being the only male cast member under 40 (just) he must actually be the films hero and donning his best Hawaiian shirt decides that it's his job to combat the terror threatening the village.

And how does he decide to do this?

By showing the villagers how to build an irrigation system for their fields and smiling seductively at Alma in the hope of getting information regarding the Evil One's plans from her.

And hopefully a wee cuddle too.

Luckily the latter part of the plan works and she tells him how the Evil One's violent urges can only be placated by the sacrifice of young virgin tottie.

But not as food for the beast oh no.

You see the hapless young (and firm) girls are given to him in order to quell his bizarre sexual urges.


Yup, the Evil One literally shags the sacrifices.....

TO DEATH.

"Put it in me!"

Meanwhile after returning to Chez Powers, Henderson is almost certain that Blood Island has been contaminated by atomic radiation from the tests.

No idea what swung it for him....was it the mutant crabs, man eating banana trees, giant killer moths or the horny man beast prowling around the forest?

We can but imagine.

There's a wee bit of good news tho' because it turns out that the resulting mutations are - kinda - reversible and only manifest themselves at night.

There's just one thing bothering Henderson tho' - well two if you count how his missis manages to squeeze into those blue hot-pants at this point of the movie - and that's the fact that the villagers themselves aren't affected by the radiation.

Powers, never one to let tension build,  informs him that they were all brought in as part of the US government’s resettlement program for peoples displaced by the atomic bomb tests.

And he should know, because he was on the island all the time nursing his radioactive wife.

Not to worry tho' the only side effects Powers has ever shown is bouts of migraine and a habit of waking up in his garden covered in blood, egg and semen.

Fuck me....it's Fred Titmus!

Hmmmm, I wonder....Could the nice Mr. Powers really be a sex starved atomic shag-beast?

Will Carla realize before she chases him into the forest (at night) wearing only a seductive Baby Doll nightie?

And will Alma win the island lottery?

Farrell and Henderson have only hours to put the pieces of the puzzle together before more innocent women (and Carla) become BRIDES OF BLOOD.

This second film in the late great Eddie Romero's cult 'Blood' series - co-directed with his long-time partner Gerardo De Leon -  invites viewers on a return journey to the notorious Blood Island made (in)famous in The Mad Doctor of Blood Island for an exciting tale of terror that features equal amounts of brutish beasts and bare breasts - the natives must strip the girls naked to be sacrificed as no doubt the beast can manage to tear them limb from limb but not remove their bra's - much to the delight of the delinquent drive-in crowds it was so obviously aimed at.

'Brides' is a no nonsense shoestring 'B' flick that despite it's low budget, still manages to deliver it's quota of scares and sexiness (take a bow John Ashley) that personifies perfectly this period of Filipino film-making mayhem.

Your wee sister will be OK then.

True, many of the 'effects' sequences are anything other than special (the obviously cardboard 'giant' mutant moth and the killer trees clearly visible strings) but everyone involved never takes the plot as anything less than deadly serious, which makes for a genuinely (at times) creepy film that never fails to entertain.



Plus if you do manage to get bored - tho' how is beyond me - you can always marvel in awe at the amount of highly coiffured hairstyles on show.

What your girlfriend really gets up to when she says she's working late.

The acting is uniformly adequate (with special mention to Kent Taylor as the so stoic he's almost solid granite Dr. Henderson) with the glowing exception of Ms. Beverly Hills.

No doubt cast for reasons other than her thespian skills, she lights up the screen like a large, tacky plastic glitterball from the pound shop every time she appears - her pneumatic breasts and gravity defying arse a true feat of engineering of which craftsmen everywhere should be forced to study.

My only disappointment is that after shagging and flirting her way thru' most of the male cast she never bothered to get in on with Mr. Powers' dwarf home help.

Oh well.

The shy, wallflower Beverly Hills in a rare non-posed shot.

But what of the films big selling feature?

The nightmarish Evil One?

In a classic case of enthusiasm over budget the beast is a joy to behold, looking as it does like a wart ridden swollen left testicle with chubby arms and legs, pointy cardboard teeth and torches for eyes it exudes menace and animal sexuality in equal doses.

Well it does if you find the thought of a drink sodden tramped up Mr. Blobby with scabs makes you damp with joy.

Just me then?

But fair play to the film makers who, rather than hide this stunning creation in the shadows come straight out and have it take centre stage.

"Not my wanking hand!"

Maybe not the best Filipino shocker ever made but definitely not the worst by a long stretch (that still has to be Super Beast), Brides of Blood is the perfect Friday night thriller.

Especially if like me you have no pals.