people you fancy but shouldn't (part 87).

English journalist, television presenter and BoJo baiter
Steph McGovern.

true story (bro).

I was in my local Morrison's the other day and was in line to buy some ham at the deli counter there for a friend who is ill so therefore couldn't shop.

The meat serving man asked me what kind I wanted, and, being a vegetarian and knowing fuck all about meat I had to reply "I have no idea what different kinds of ham there are, please help!"

I'd not realised that I'd been really loud - and fairly stimmy - and soon saw that the guy behind me in line had burst out laughing.

I turn around.

It was top 80s funster David Copperfield from Three of A Kind.

He half leaned over and said "Honey glazed my good man!" to the server whilst I just kinda stared at him for a second before smiling and saying thank you.

I was about to pay for it when he said "No way this one's on me" and handed over his platinum American Express card.

I was shocked and amazed, all I could think of to do was reply with one of my favourite David Copperfield quotes.

"I am a lone lorn creetur... and everythink goes contrairy with me!"

Once again he cracked up and asked me if I had any idea how long it had been since someone said that to him.

I said "a year?"

He replied "try twenty mate".

We ended up having a coffee at the newly opened Costa drive-thru opposite, where I found out that he'd bought a house in Knightswood and has been living there a while.

We talked and talked for about 45 minutes before he said he had to leave because his shopping was defrosting and with that I shook his hand and said he made my day.

As he stood up to leave I noticed a shiny object glinting in his hand.

it was a chrome ice pick.

He smiled stabbing violently and randomly at me with it.

I dropped to the floor and into a pool of my own blood and as I lay there I could just make out a blurry image of the madcap entertainer hoisting a breeze-block above his head.

Thru' the ringing in my ears I could just about hear his his acclaimed version of Classical Gas* as the breeze-block came crashing down, ending my life.

*Classical Gas is an instrumental musical piece composed and originally performed by Mason Williams with instrumental backing by members of the Wrecking Crew.

Originally released in 1968 on the album The Mason Williams Phonograph Record, it has been re-recorded and re-released numerous times since by Williams.

One later version served as the title track of a 1987 album by Williams and the band Mannheim Steamroller.

Copperfield often performs it for his encore.

"like tears in the rain."

RiP Rutger Hauer.

Listening to this in tribute.

snack attack.

It's Lucio Fulci's birthday today so I'm celebrating by doing fuck all work and watching this.



I soon realised that my original review (from way back when the lovely GFT gave it a rare big screen outing) was lying unloved in the depths of this blog so in loving tribute I'm reanimating it for you now.

Apologies  for the distinct lack of 'laugh now' and 'mooth shite' references ahead but this was from a time when I thought folk were actually interested in what I wrote so I tried to be quite serious.

That didn't last long.


Anyway, enjoy.

Zombi 2 (AKA Zombie Flesh Eaters, Island of the Flesh-Eaters, Island of the Living Dead Gli Ultimi zombi 1979).

Dir: Lucio Fulci.

Cast: Ian McCulloch, Tisa Farrow, Al Cliver, Auretta Gay, Richard Johnson, Olga Karlatos, a shark and some zombies.

What is all this about the dead coming back to life again and... having to be killed a second time? I mean, what the hell's going on here?

Welcome to New York - thanks to some rather wonderful Cinéma vérité  style of the cuff (and off the radar) footage - where a seemingly abandoned ship drifts spookily thru' the harbor, out of control and unstoppable.

Luckily the local harbor patrols two best men are sent to investigate.

Well second best.

The two best are out investigating another mysterious ghost ship filled with huge Kinder Eggs further up the river.

Arriving on board in a flurry of Action Slacks and sideburns the brave officers find that the ship is deserted, or so it seems until the fattest bastard zombie you will ever see shambles out of the hold, moaning and dribbling as he goes.

Tho' how the fuck he managed to hide aboard such a little boat is never explained, I mean even if you discount his size he still must stink worse than your gran after the retirement home Xmas party.

Anyways back to the action.

Refusing to show his ID (tho' not ashamed to flaunt his terrifying man-tits) our rotund rotter kills one of the patrolmen with a nasty bite to the throat and a quick stroke of the balls before the other, less dead cop shoots him in the face causing him to flop overboard faster than Natalie Wood before sinking straight to the bottom.

"Fiona! Where's mah lunch?"

Seeing as stuff like this doesn't usually happen in the Big Apple, NYPD's finest decide to get in touch with the boat owner's daughter, the delectable Ms. Ann Bowles (genre superstar, ex taxicab driver and sister of Mia Farrow) in order to question her regarding the scary fat cannibal bloke, find out who styles her hair and ask the whereabouts of her missing dad.

Pleased that someone appreciates the effort she puts into looking so good but surprised to hear her dad is missing (close family eh?) Ann, concerned not only about his welfare but her huge inheritance too, returns to the ship that very night to search for clues and stuff but what she finds on board is far more exciting.

And considerably sexier than anything we've seen so far.

Please welcome ace reporter and all round studly Italian horror movie hero, the scarily comb-overed yet still cool as fuck Peter West (the man, the myth, the legend that is Glasgow's finest, Sir Ian of McCulloch).

West has found a letter written to Ann from her father (told you he was a good reporter, well it's either that or he's broken into her mail box, which frankly is the last box of Farrow's I'd want to break), which tells of a mysterious disease that is ravaging his home on the mysterious island of Matool and that he may never leave alive.

Ann, now very worried about her inheritance (you can tell by her quivering lip), and Peter, interested in the story (and in Ann), decide to travel together to the island to discover the truth.

McCulloch: He's got something to put in you.

Being too tight to get their own boat, the dynamic duo hitch a ride with a couple of hip American tourists, the swoonsome beefcake Bryan (the fantastically furry chinned Cliver) and his shapely wife Susan (Auretta 'Brillantina Rock' Gay- can this cast get any better?), who are enjoying a pleasant sailing holiday.

By sailing holiday I mean Cliver stands around looking rugged in a shirt that's about three sizes too small whilst Gay spends her days busying herself scuba diving in nothing but a pair of flimsy, fanny revealing pants and a pink flowery swimming cap.

We are indeed in cinematic heaven.

Gay: areola's like dinner plates.

It's during one such dive that possibly the greatest scene ever committed to celluloid occurs when the positively pneumatic Susan is attacked by a terrifying Tiger Shark.

As she wiggles her huge arse and sticks her breasts out towards the camera in fright to a terrifying Fabio Frizzi score, the fairly ferocious fish swims around menacingly thinking check the hat whilst licking it's shark lips.

But that's not the best bit, you see just when it looks like it's going to eat her whole (you know the punchline) a zombie pops up from behind a clump of undersea fauna and tries to bite the beast on the arse.

The shark that is not Susan.

The ensuing spectacle of watching a stuntman attempt to punch out a shark will stay with you forever, pant wettingly exciting and probably the reason that cinema exists in the first place.

Seriously.

"Slate and Vera Lynne?"

Eventually the intrepid party arrive on the shores of Matool and are approached by what looks like a gang of drunken tramps.

On closer inspection tho' they discover that they are, in fact an ARMY OF ZOMBIES who are also FLESH EATERS.

Tho' in retrospect the title does kinda give it away.

Unsurprisingly our heroes leg it up the beach (to be honest it's more a leisurely jog up the beach seeing as zombies aren't that quick) and, after stopping for a rest, being chased again, stopping for another rest and being chased again, a pal of Anne's dad, the enigmatic Dr Menard (a very angry Johnson) turns up in a jeep and offers them all safe haven at his house for tea and crumpets.

Some zombie flesh eaters yesterday.

Menard is convinced that the mysterious plague ravaging the island is also responsible for the dead rising from their graves.

Peter West nods sagely and adjusts his hair whilst the others look on - Susan in a particularly toothish manner usually seen only on rabbits.

Now it's a race against time as Menard struggles to find a cure, Peter and Bryan struggle over who's the more alpha male, Ann struggles to find her fathers whereabouts, Susan struggles to keep her kit on and Menard's sexily stern wife Paola struggles to finish her shower before a zombie pierces her eye on a large shard of splintered wood....


Will they survive the terrifying attack of the zombie flesh eaters and will horror cinema ever be the same again?

"Eye hen!"

What can you possibly say about the late, great Lucio Fulci's magnum opus that hasn't been said a hundred times before and by better folk than me?

I mean come on, everything about it is just brilliant, from the opening shots in New York to the exotic locations in Haiti which add a stark otherworldly air to the proceedings making the island of Matool a nightmare of dust storms and barren decayed buildings which cleverly mirror the colour palate used in the zombie make-up.
 
The dead being as much a part of the island as the beach and sands; a stark contrast to the vivid greens of the jungle scenes.

Also on show is Fulci's predilection for using the "crash zoom" as a shorthand way to heighten the audiences reaction to scenes of horror and gore.

Sometimes overused in his later movies, this (his) signature effect serves him well when it comes to the sheer horror of the decaying army slowly lumbering towards our heroes; never have zombies looked so hideous or repellent, bloated and muck encrusted with gaping wounds, tore flesh and dead eye sockets writhing with maggots.

Something that living in Glasgow I'm used to, having had to navigate Sauchiehall Street every weekend.

Nasty.

"...bloated and muck encrusted with gaping wounds, tore flesh and dead eye sockets writhing with maggots..." Yup gotta love a Glasgow gal.

The cast is, quite frankly magnificent, featuring the ultimate team of the grumpy Scotsman McCulloch, whining waif Farrow and the manly Cliver, all mainstays of the Italian horror genre and all never better than onscreen here.

Plus when you add the Ruebenesqe form of one (oh go on then two) hit wooden wonder Auretta Gay and her much needed gratuitous nudity to the mix, wobbling about in a pair of her mums pants as she desperately trying not to chafe her nipples on her oxygen tanks you know you're in the presence of genius.

Auretta Gay, or as she'd be these days Auretta Non-Binary.

Behind the cameras Fulci is served well by his crew, from husband and wife team Elisa Briganti and Dardano Sacchetti's cut to the bone script to the unforgettable make up effects from Giovanni Corridori and his team via Sergio Salvati's stunning cinematography, the whole film is a lean, mean experiment in sheer horror that still stands up as a masterpiece of the genre today.

Seriously, everything in the movie just falls perfectly into place but I have to say that the icing on the (very gory) cake is the stark synth' score from Fulci regular, the wonderful Fabio Frizzi.

Cinematic gold from the grand master of grand guignol.

Fulci, we salute you.

avon's calling.

RiP Paul Darrow.

loveless.

Happy Valentines Day everyone!

 "Chief, listen to me. You have to go to the mine! We were having a party and Harry Warden started killing everybody!"*

My Bloody Valentine (1981).
Dir: George Mihalka.
Cast: Paul Kelman, Lori Hallier, Neil Affleck, Keith Knight, Larry Reynolds, Patricia Hamilton, Alf Humphreys, Cynthia Dale, Helene Udy, Rob Stein, Tom Kovacs, Don Francks and Peter Cowper.

My Bloody Valentine - fucking awful Photoshop.

It's February the 14th, 1960 and the small mining town of Valentine Bluffs (twinned with the village of Spent fact fans)  is having its annual (obviously) Valentine's Day dance; a tradition that the townsfolk have followed for the past century.

Hopefully they wash their pants in between tho'.

But whilst the assorted townsfolk are happily frugging away to hit pop tunes and tanking the local home brew, five poor miners are stuck digging away at the coalface having drawn the short straw and being forced to miss the party.

Well those secret Lemonade mines aren't going to dig themselves.

Their shifty supervisors tho', feeling particularly frisky and feeling slightly foolish decked out in dinner jackets whilst in a coal mine, decide to sneak away to join the celebrations leaving their colleges underground.

I mean it's not like anything could go wrong is it?

Well, nothing except a huge explosion caused by a build up of methane gas - see? who says films aren't educational? - leaving the five miners buried alive.

And more importantly, late for their dates.

After hours of digging (thru' rock, not the 1960's fashions) the towns rescue workers finally reach the trapped men.

Unfortunately all except Harry Warden (the films stunt coordinator Cowper) are dead.

And poor old Harry has gone a wee bit mental because of the ordeal, so the local townsfolk cart him off to the Shady Nook rest home for a while.

You can see why tho', you really don't want some dirt covered, piss stained fella crying about his dead buddies when you're trying to get into the vicars daughters undies do you?

Up the casino. Yesch.

Anyway after spending a year sitting in a pair of toweling pajamas and staring into space whilst dribbling, Harry is deemed fit for release and is sent home on the eve of the accident that sent him mental in the first place.

Which is nice of the doctors to take this into consideration when thinking about discharging him.

It should come as no surprise then to find out that the first thing he does on arrival is butcher the two supervisors who left their post early to go dancing and leave a chilling warning for the townsfolk that if they even think about having another Valentine's Day dance, he'll return once again to take bloody revenge on the town.

Which is a little extreme don't you think?

Jump forward to 1980 and, whilst the mine is still the town's main place of employment, there hasn't been a single dance or party held in town since that terrible night in 1960.

Until now that is.

You see, lovely old lady Mabel Osborne (Hamilton, star of The Fenn Street Gang and Upstairs, Downstairs - no, really) has decided that the town needs something to look forward and to forget about the mine disaster and wacky Warden.

To this end she spends her every waking hour decorating the town with Valentine's Day decorations whilst the younger residents begin to get all excited at the prospect of a night of dancing, drinking and shagging in bushes.

Bless.

As Valentine's Day draws ever nearer the town's Mayor, Jeff Hanniger (Reynolds, better known as Judge Burton from the hit teevee show Street Legal) wakes to find a fresh human heart wrapped in a lovely Valentine's Day packaging has been popped thru' his letter box.

Which at least shows that the town has a damn good postal service, I mean I'm still waiting on a box of blank DVD's after three weeks.

Attached to the box is a warning to expect a few more killings if the town decides to go ahead and celebrate.

Heart in mah box!

If this wasn't enough of a warning the mysterious messenger has murdered poor Mabel as well, just to show he means business.

Hanniger calls off the dance, getting local police chief Jake Newby (Francks, the voice of Sabretooth in the X-Men vs. Street Fighter video game no less) to tell everyone that Mabel fell down the stairs and that it's being cancelled as a sign of respect.

But the hotheaded - yet deep and caring - miner (and son of the town's mayor) Jessie 'TJ' Hanniger (Ryan O'Neill alike, bollock squashing jeans wearing Kelman), who has recently returned home after failing to make it as an exotic dancer in the big city and is desperate for a drink as well as gagging for some of the sex with his ex-girlfriend Sarah (blond, sensible underwired bra wearing teevee stalwart Hallier) decides to throw his own special Valentine's party down in the mine itself.

You can tell that beneath his rough exterior that he's a nice guy tho' because along with Sarah and all the other hip young miners he's also invited Sarah's current beau, the uber-cool Axel (Affleck, better known these days as an animation timer on The Simpsons but not as Batman obviously).

Well, it's either that or he fancies a Sarah Spit roast.

All set for a wee bit o' mooth shite-in.

But can you guess who's already down the mine waiting for the young uns to turn up?

Yup it's horrid Harry Warden, all decked up in Kwik Fit garage overalls and a handy gas mask ready to slice n' dice his way thru' anyone who even remotely looks like they may start jiving or cutting a rug as the young folk say.

Unfortunately a couple of the miners and their girlfriends have decided to start the party early and head down into the mine for a little tour (and some kissing and stuff), giving Harry a head start to his killing spree and the chance to stick something unexpected into the ladies.

When Jessie and co. finally arrive to discover a pile of corpses they begin to realize that Warden is indeed back for vengeance.

Trapped in the mine with only a six pack of Bud and the homicidal Harry chasing them with a rusty pick axe, the remaining party goers must try and escape before they too end up having a very bloody Valentine....

"Are you my Mummy?"

George Mihalka's My Bloody Valentine is probably more famous for what it was missing rather than what appeared on screen, as nervous Paramount execs decided to gut the film of any and every gore scene before it's release way back in 1981.

They scarily left all the 70s style trousers in tho'.

Despite this the movie still stands up as a competent (if slightly pedestrian) little shocker with an interestingly dressed villain and slightly more rounded than usual characters, taking an essentially cheesy premise yet playing it totally straight.

Chin.

Luckily back in 2009 some smart Alec decided to remake My Bloody Valentine as a high concept 3-D shocker (the rights must have been cheap) so, suddenly all that missing footage turned up and was quickly re-instated allowing for the directors original vision to finally be seen as intended.

Or to make a few extra bob of those punters too young to remember the original.

Take your pick.

Either way it made one helluva difference to the film, adding an extra dimension to the manic miners reign of bloody terror, the scratchy footage (it's been stuck in the directors loft for 28 years so what do you expect?) gave a much missed air of evil nastiness to Wardens revenge, making you wonder why this gas masked gimp was never taken to the audiences hearts as so many other slasher stars of the era were.

He's got something to put in you.

Competently acted, nicely shot and directed with a steady, workman-like hand (obviously the rest of George's body was OK too), My Bloody Valentine deserved a wider appeal than it ever got on release.

Plus the band are no bad too.






























*Just in case you're wondering why the picture of Anne Hathaway is at the top of the review it's just because she once did a Valentine's style photoshoot for Harpers Bazaar in 2014 and I've never been able to think of a good enough reason to post it before.

Plus she's awfully pretty.

 See?

forget me not.

Had shedloads of 'proper' work on recently (shocking I know) and usually when beavering away I like to have a movie on in the background to drown out the voices.

Unfortunately my oh-so slight (yeah right)  ASD tendencies mean that it usually has to be something I've already seen otherwise I end up getting way too interested in the movie and get fuck all done.

It's a hard life.

Anyway as rewatching that seminal shocker Burial Ground again this week and remembered that years ago I'd written probably THE most comprehensive account of the lead actors career ever, which would have been great had anyone ever read it.

So again for your enjoyment I give you - oiled up and naked - the story of the legend that is Peter Bark.

You may know him as as the freakish Michael in Andrea Bianchi's zombie opus Burial Ground: Nights of Terror but the greatest little man (with the old lady paunch) of Italian cinema has featured in a myriad of well regarded roles such as 'Boy Scout in Train' in the classic Via Alle Grande (1983) and the 'whistling guy' in 1979's Liquirizia.



Superb cinema each and every one of them.

Unfortunately due to the secrecy of the Vatican occult archives very little is known of the 64 year old Bark's early life and career except that his real name is Pietro Barzocchini, he is a native of Rome and that he originally he wanted to become a shopkeeper.

Unfortunately his lack of height made it impossible for him to see over the counter without the use of a box but the incident that made him turn his back on a life of retail was when a group of school children stole the Curly Wurly he was using as a ladder to reach the pornographic magazines on the top shelf leaving him stranded for 6 days with only a glossy picture of Anna Kanakis' breasts for company.

And it was seeing the beautiful star of The New Barbarians watching over him at night that convinced Bark to pursue his acting dream.

Dario Argento: The Grange Hill years.

But first he needed an English sounding stage name.

Choosing the first name - and the hairstyle - of his favourite musician Peter Tork (of The Monkees) and Bark after the noise he would make as the other children beat him on the way to school - scarily up until the age of 14, he was only an astounding 16" tall - he began to apply for auditions but to no avail.

You see he was unable to reach the letter box to post the letters


As he was walking home dejected and dragging an envelope behind him he was accosted by the famed director Salvatore Samperi, it seems that Bark's incredible whistling talents had entranced the film maker who swiftly rewrote the script of Liquirizia adding the character the of 'whistling boy' specifically for Bark.

The rest, as they say, is history.



Or his story if you prefer.

Tho' seeing as his entire filmography consists of only four movies, maybe the phrase 'and the rest is a small pamphlet' may be more precise.

"Aye son!"

But does quantity really matter when you've earned your place in horror history with your first foray into the genre?

I think not, as anyone who's seen Bark's unique performance as Michael, the little boy with the bad hair in Burial Ground will agree.

Especially when you realise that he wasn't even the top billing, that honour was reserved for the up and coming - usually quite loudly - starlet Karin Well.

But even when faced with such career defining performances from the likes of such cinema legends as Mariangela Giordano, Anna Valente, Simone Mattioli and Raimondo Barbieri, it was Bark who won the critics (and fans) appreciation for his scarily accurate take on puberty, Oedipus complexes and high waist trousers

"Hey there I'm a primate!"

The character of Michael was originally written for an actual 12-year old actor, however Italy's ultra-strict child labour laws forbid the participation of children in any film featuring sex, gore or hints of incestuous overtones (especially if the child character was indulging in both) except in cases of the films being funded by the Catholic church so Bianchi hatched the audacious plan of casting the then 25-year old Bark as Michael, who his make-up artists promised, could believably be transformed into a 12 year old boy.

And as viewers will attest, the effect is uncanny and so realistic that when the film was put forward for a special 'make an adult look like a wean' award, the judges threw out the nomination ad sentenced Bianchi to 15 years hard labour for flouting the law whilst Bark - forever typecast went on to be the original face - and wobbly tummy - of Kinder chocolate.

Bark today: still tiny.

Bark made one more film after Burial Ground, but found that he missed his old life so, using the money he'd made punting sugary snacks to kids opened a specialist 'short people friendly' hardware store in Rome which he runs to this day.

"Put it in me!"

As a bizarre aside, whilst I was on the phone to Mr Bark researching this piece he informed me that he'd have to cut our conversation short (snigger) as one of his regular customers had just arrived to buy a tiny tin of emulsion to paint their dollhouse with.

Cheekily asking if she wouldn't mind answering a few questions about the shop* I soon discovered that the customer in question was none other than the vacant eyed, button nosed, 80's breasted blonde star of many a lo-fi Euro epic ranging from Jess (the sandwiches cost how much?) Franco's classic Cannibals to the Fulci masterpiece Conquest via the sauciness of Blue Island.

Yes ladies and gentlemen (but mainly gentlemen) I was indeed chatting to Sabrina Siani.


What are the chances?

And for those of you unfamiliar with her work (there's a fair bit of it scattered around here if you can be arsed looking), she's usually to be found either naked or at the very least in a pair of tiny pants and was famously once referred to - by the aforementioned Franco no less - as "the stupidest person I've ever met".

And seeing as he had the pleasure of working with not only Manuel Gélin but also Bela B. Felsenheimer and Doris Regina that's something not to be taken lightly.

Anyway back to the potted history - I'm not getting paid by the word - and to the backstreets of Rome where Sabrina Seggiani - as she was originally known - was born - the first of 11 children - to a pair of performing circus midgets on a cold rainy night 13 August 1963.

After a freak big top accident involving a flare gun, an oiled seal and three primary school children Sabrina and her family were forced to flee the city for the nearby mountains where she spent her childhood attacking travelers for food and clothes in order to survive.

Things looked grim until, at the age of 16, she was caught rummaging thru' the bins of ace director Alfonso Brescia, who immediately he cast her as Maria in his Mafia vs. shopkeeper epic Napoli... la camorra sfida, la città risponde.

And no I have no idea what it means either.

Skorpio!

It wasn't long before she was setting the screen alight (oh, hang on that was the audience) as the arse baring teen cannibal cutie in the fantastic  - well, I say fantastic but I really mean barely watchable = Mondo Cannibale and finding new ways to look slightly bored whilst stripping naked in a load of instantly forgettable Italian sex comedies.

Whilst other, lesser thesps would be happy to continue showing their breasts to wee bald Italian men for cash, Sabrina knew that there was more to her talents, if only a director would give her the chance to prove it.

That chance came sooner than she thought when professional liar and all round thin man Umberto Lenzi cast her as a scantily clad female Tarzan in his 1982 movie Incontro Nell'Ultimo Paradiso.

From that point there was no stopping Siani in her plan for cinematic domination as she wowed audiences with her chameleon like ability to play everything from a scantily clad sword-swinging siren in Joe D'Amato's Ator the Fighting Eagle to an even more scantily clad wicked witch in Fulci's sword and small pants epic Conquest.

How your Mum manages to pay for all those family holidays to Tenby.

Naked save for a market stall g-string and a drugged python and with her face hidden beneath a joke shop robot mask, Siani comes into her own - but not alas over the sofa - as the evil leader of a gang of marauding dog men with a penchant for snorting their vanquished victims brains thru' bendy straws and unconvincingly snapping nude women in half.

It says a lot for Siani's convincing portrayal of evil that at the films climax when her mask opens to reveal a rotting, putrid corpse face that the majority of the audience still would.

Twice if the truth be told.


But not me, oh no as I'm not remotely sexist.

Siani: sucking a lemon.

Siani's finest hour however was when she appeared as the Golden Goddess in Michele Massimo Taranti's arse numbing (and not in a good way) sub - Conan cash in Sword of the Barbarians.

Her entrance in the movie, emerging mysteriously from a fountain of party poppers and glitter whilst wearing only a plastic crown and bejeweled thong slowly making her way towards bearded beefcake Pietro Torrisi for a spot of hot barbarian bonking makes the proceeding car crash of badly staged swordplay and stilted dialogue all worthwhile.

After a couple of soft core/hard gore sleaze epics, Siani reunited with D'Amato (and her Mondo Cannibale dad Al Cliver) for the futuristic actioner 2020: Texas Gladiators before hitting the high brow groove as Berthilde in Dino Risi's medieval romp Le bon roi Dagobert, a surprisingly funny (and realistic) portrayal of the life of Good King Dagobert, the first French king to be buried in the royal tombs at Saint Denis Basilica.

See? this blog is educational too.

Then after appearing (nude of course) with Fred 'The Hammer' Williamson in the no-brainer Black Cobra she vanished leaving behind only a tiny diamante thong and a blink and miss it cameo in Fulci's Aenigma.

As well as about 600 saucy cover shoots for Skorpio magazine for us to enjoy obviously.

She'll catch her death in that outfit.

And then.....not a sausage.

But whatever she's up to now - apart from painting dolls houses obviously -  I hope that she's happy.

And not having to wear shite face paint like she did in Mondo Cannibales.




















































*She said that Mr Barzocchini is always very friendly and helpful, even allowing her to climb up to the high shelves herself whilst he holds the ladder.

silicone valley high.

Another (31) day(s of horror), another mutant shark movie.

So who'll surrender first?

Me or the folk that keep producing movies in this quality sub genre?

I blame The Meg and it's box office bonanza myself.

Even tho' this came out 6 years previously.

Two Headed Shark Attack (2012).
Dir: Christopher Douglas-Olen Ray.
Cast: Carmen Electra, Charlie O' Connell, Brooke Hogan, Christina Bach Norman, Morgan Thompson, Gerald Webb, Ashley Bissing, David Gallegos, Anthony E. Valentin Geoff Ward and the lovely Corinne Nobili.

"Wait, if it has two heads then it must have double the teeth!"

Somewhere in the local park paddling pool behind director Ray's house, hunky Simon McCorkindale alike Professor Franklin Babish (O'Connell, brother of teevee's Jerry) and his wife, Anne (ex-Baywatch babe and Marvel comics assassin Electra) are busy teaching a group of (very old looking) teens about life on the ocean waves aboard their boat cum classroom cum skimpy bikini base - the aptly named the Sea King - aided and abetted by the stone breasted Capt. Laura (Ex You Are the Supermodel host Thompson) and funny accented foreign fella's Han and Dikilla (Asylum regular Webb and ex-electrician Valentin).

Haveta admit that's a shitload of characterisation for what is essentially a crap B movie but heyho.

Hogan: you would but you'd be thinking about her dad.

Anyways whilst discussing the best way to use a sextant (snigger) the boat hits a half chewed CGI approximation of a shark which unfortunately becomes lodged in the boat’s propeller, damaging the hull and causing the boat to take on water.

Which is kinda nice.

As Babish and co. run around trying to fix stuff and the students - all jiggly sunburnt breasts and stud muffin chests - attempt to imbue their cardboard characters with something vaguely resembling life a giant two-headed shark appears from nowhere and attempts to have sex with the boat, breaking the radio antenna and causing nice girl student Kate's (Unwell fave and Ex Crocodile Dundee Hogan from Sand Sharks) frankly terrifying tits to slowly undulate from side to side in a manner not unlike a pair of hypnotic sex-trifles.

With Laura needing the ship empty to affect repairs and Anne's breasts wanting some screen time, Babish decides to take students, consisting of the aforementioned Kate, geekily pube bearded Paul (Gallegos), the yummy Kristen (pretty lipped Nobili) and rentahunk Cole (1313: Hercules Unbound! star Ward) alongside a group of soon to die, look-alike pneumatic beach babes and studs over to a nearby (and incredibly handy) atoll aboard a dinghy.

A butchers shop window yesterday.

As Professor Babish tries in vain to enthuse the students, Laura (and her breasts) enter the water in order to repair the big jaggy felt pen line that's appeared on the ship's hull but the shark quickly swallows her whole.

Nope it doesn't spit that bit out.

Meanwhile, as the rest of the group searches the atoll for scrap metal to help repair the boat (?), Kate opens her heart (but fortunately not her scarily skinny chest cavity, well not yet) to Kirsten.

It seems that when she was an ickle girl she was touched up by a shark at the beach or something and has joined the sea school in an attempt to master her fear of water.

Her fear of bad scripts tho' appears to know no bounds.

Realising that we're 25 minutes in and no-one has taken their tops off yet, faceless students Haley (fake tits, big face) and Alison (real tits, small head) decide to indulge themselves (and us) in a wee bit of lesbian based skinny dipping whilst the rodent like fratboy Kirk fondles their peachy arses as says "Whoa!" a lot.

Not too surprisingly the tonguing trio are attacked and eaten by the two-headed shark.

Or a rather large rubber approximation of it.

Tho' it may be fiberglass.

I mean do you really care?

Anyway back with the students and our polytechnic pals have come across (not literally) a couple of small speedboats in a bay but before they can celebrate an earthquake hits the atoll, causing the professor to trip over a stone and graze his leg.

Aya my BCG indeed.

Jam in mah shitey mooth ya bastards!

Nice guys Jeff and Mike offer to take Professor Babish back to the ship for a sticking plaster and a wee cuddle off his wife but on the way back are surprised to see Laura's severed hand floating in the water.

No doubt her rock solid breasts have sunk straight to the bottom before poisoning any fish unfortunate enough to chew on them.

As is the way in these movies, where's there's a rubber head there must be a rubber shark and within seconds of making the ghoulish discovery Jeff and Mike are frenziedly gobbled by the beast.
Matron!

"Laugh now!"

Meanwhile curvy Kate and polite Paul have managed to repair the abandoned boats and thick as mince Cole has even managed to find some petrol, overjoyed by this he jumps aboard one of the craft along with three of his pals and chugs off upstream prompting Kate and co. to chase after them in the other.

Boat that is not pal.

Nobili: knees.

The teens decide to have an impromptu race, blissfully unaware of the professor and his missis screaming "Shark!" at them.

Tho' by the look on his (manly) visage it appears from a distance that Babish is either having a wank or a stroke.

But tossing teachers is the least of their worries when our two headed pal turns up and attacks Cole's boat and eats a boy, which at least warns the others that it's around, which is a good thing really.

I guess.

Luckily this gives brainy Paul time to work out that the shark, having two heads is twice as good at hearing, hence it's chasing the boat with the biggest engine.

Or something.

Surprisingly thicky Cole figures this out at the same time, abandoning his boat and leaving his pals to face the jaws of death.

What a nice guy.

Returning to shore, Kate bitch slaps Cole for a few minutes before Anne, Professor Babish and the comedy crewmen arrive via a very quiet dingy.

"Put it in me!"

The fight is cut short tho' by another earthquake which leads Babish to surmise that the atoll is collapsing and that this coupled with the fact that they're two thirds thru' the movie means that they have to come up with an escape plan pretty sharpish.

Paul, determined not to die a virgin (contrary to what he told you, your Uncle Peter fucking you violently up the arse doesn't count) comes up with a plan to hook up a handy generator to a couple of metal poles and placing them in the water to distract the shark while Kate (whose dad was a welder) and turncoat Cole travel back to the boat to repair it.

What could possibly go wrong?

Possibly one of the sexiest scenes ever committed to celluloid.

Will Kate overcome her fear of water/sharks etc. in time to fix the ship?

Will Cole come thru' as a hero or fuck off with the boat in an attempt to save his own skin?

Will Kristen get damp and topless before entertaining us with an erotic dance?

And does anyone really care?

From the son of the director of Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers comes another Asylum shlockbuster aimed fairly and squarely at the lonely geek masturbation crowd.

Which let's admit it, is most of the readership of this blog.

From their humble beginnings releasing barely watchable  rip off's (Monster anyone?) Asylum have gone from producing shite like Allan Quatermain and the Temple of Skulls, The Da Vinci Treasure and The 9/11 Commission Report,  learning from their mistakes to a point where they now give us such top quality entertainment as the Tiffany starrer Mega Piranha and um, that one with David Carradine fighting the big crocodile.

Some things don't change tho' with Asylum still following the company template to the letter with it's unflinching emphasis on beasts, breasts and butts shoddily wrapped in a bow of cut-price CG with a topping of z list stars and yesterdays has beens, 2-Headed Shark Attack delivers exactly what the frighteningly photo-shopped box art promises.

Which is no bad thing if you're home alone on a Friday night with only a pizza, six pack and a box of tissues for company.

I never thought I'd say this but more please.

Especially if they feature Corinne Nobili in an ill fitting bikini.