wong turn.

It's day 20 of the annual 31 days of horrorthon and time methinks for a wee bit of Anthony Wong style wacked out wickedness.

Plus I first reviewed this about 10 years ago and according to the blog stats only 8 people read it.

Bastards.

Yi boh laai beng duk (AKA Ebola Syndrome 1996)
Dir: Herman Yau.
Cast: Anthony Wong, Yeung Ming Wan, Fui-On Shing, Wong Tsui-ling, Miu-Ying Chan and Meng Lo.

In the back room of a fashionable Hong Kong restaurant, Kai (king of the bad guys and HK's answer to Eric Roberts Wong), ne'er do well employee and general sleazy man spends his off work hours shagging his boss's sexy wife over the uncooked shrimp whilst sweating a fair bit and grunting loudly.

In Cantonese of course.

It's not too surprising tho' that before long his boss has caught kinky Kai red handed - well bare arsed - with his trousers round his ankles and his cock in his missis.

In case you're wondering, her arse is in the egg noodles causing all sorts of health and safety problems.

Gordon Ramsay would have a field day.

And probably a quick reach-around.

Like any normal jealous hubbie in the same situation, big boss man administers a severe beating upon the Kai whilst angrily shouting at his unfaithful spouse.

Again in Cantonese.

However, after about the fifth kick to the nads and general pointy fingeredness, Kai goes completely mental killing his boss and then his bosses wife in a pot noodle of blood and sweat, leaving only their young (Cantonese speaking obviously) daughter alive.

Wife Swap with Rose West went horribly wrong....

Coming to his senses (as opposed to over the corpses which we were expecting) Kai decides the best course of action would be to quickly leg it out of Hong Kong and try to start a new, quieter and dead body free life somewhere else.

Grabbing his passport and kiss me quick hat he reckons the best place to lay low would be sunny South Africa.

"Call that a pizza? It's more like a pizzashite! Disgusting....I'm closing you down....Chef! etc."

Thru' the power of wobbly dissolves we jump forward ten years to find that Kai has carved out (tho' not literally) a nice life for himself, working in another restaurant, the Kurried Kaffa and filling his days off by masturbating with sides of beef whilst watching his new boss Terry and his wife shagging on the tables.

Well at least he's not killed anyone else.

Yet.

Wallace and Torode - they've got something to put in you.

All good things must come to an end tho' and after missing out on a place in the Master Chef finals and the failure of his apartheid themed Nelson Mandelicatessen, the pair desperately search for a way to keep the business from going bankrupt.

Enter (but obviously not roughly from behind) local Farmer Barney Moe who, it turns out is making a roaring trade selling cheap pig meat out the back of a van in the nearby village of Spent.

Overjoyed by the prospect of saving some cash Kai and Terry decide to hit the road and head into the great outdoors for a nice picnic and the chance to buy some inexpensive meat product for use in the restaurant's best selling hamburgers safe in the knowledge that no-one will be able to tell the difference.

Unfortunately on arrival they discover that the entire village is suffering from the infamous Ebola virus.

How's yer luck?

Grabbing their hankies and quickly covering their mouths our intrepid duo complete the purchase without incident (or anal bleeding) and beat a hasty retreat back to the car.

Surprisingly given the circumstances, everything is going swimmingly until that is they happen upon a woman lying prone in the grass and having a seizure.

Either that or she's a Gregory's Girl fan.

Kai, hypnotized by the unfortunate woman's (admittedly bouncy) breasts stands and stares for what seems like an eternity before snapping back to reality and doing what any red blooded sexual deviant would do in that situation, namely running over to give them a bloody good squeeze with his big meaty sausage fingers before unleashing his throbbing member and sticking it in her.

The romantic devil.

And before you can say 'Jingle jangle jewelery!" Kai is pulling a truly terrifying cum face whilst the woman spews up a mixture of blood and warm milk before letting out a massive fart and dying.

"Oooh Vic...I've fallen".

As you can probably guess, the conversation on the way home is a wee bit stilted and when finally arriving back at the restaurant both Kai and Terry decide to never mention the incident again.

A kind of 'what stains in Vegas stays in Vegas' deal.

Which would probably be OK if only poor old Kai hadn't developed a fever (and an embarrassing itch) within hours of his return.

Terry persuades him to visit his local GP who immediately recognizes that Kai is showing the symptoms of Ebola.

Which isn't that much of a surprise if I'm honest.

Luckily Kai's doctor is up to date with the latest research and prescribes plenty of bed rest and weak lemon drinks for our unlucky pal.

Oh yes and absolutely no raping.

Of people or meat products for at least a fortnight.

Bizarrely enough tho' this course of action actually works and within days his fever (tho' not the itch) has all but gone and Kai begins to feel better than he has for years.

And how does our horny hero decide to celebrate his new found lease of life?

Why by raping and murdering Terry's wife of course.

But not before bludgeoning Terry to death with a leg of lamb.

And can you guess how Kai decides to dispose of the bodies?

Yup in a masterstroke of unhinged genius our mentalist mate begins to sell a new dish, African Buns, thru' the restaurant.

And (as if you hadn't guessed) African Buns are (albeit very tasty) hamburgers made out of the by now Ebola infected folk that Kai has killed.

Hmmm.....I reckon this could cause a few problems if not a spike in toilet roll sales.

Translation: "Shite in mah mooth!"

Indeed, it's not long before a large proportion of the populace of Johannesburg are writhing about on the floor foaming at the mouth and pissing blood and it's all thanks to Kai and his tainted meat.

Understandably worried about how this could affect his business and career opportunities Kai is left with no choice but to sell up the restaurant and head back to Hong Kong on the next available flight in the hope of at least getting a part-time job in McDonalds.

You think that wee boy looks happy now? Well just wait till the fucking starts.

As luck - and totally non realistic storytelling would have it -  he boards the plane to HK with absolutely no problems, enjoying a slap up meal and three whole bags of peanuts on his way back.

He's so relieved he doesn't even attempt to fuck any of the other passengers to death during the inflight movie.

Not even the ones that look like they deserve it.

But you know his run of good luck can't last and sure enough who should he bump into as he's collecting his baggage?

Why only Maisie, the daughter of the couple he killed ten years earlier.

What are the chances of that?

Being a model citizen - and having a really good memory -  she rushes to tell the local authorities but much to her dismay they send her packing thinking she's imagined it.

As if the police would ever ignore evidence of abuse?

With no alternative but to take the law into her own (very delicate) hands Maisie decides to follow Kai, making sure to write down everything she finds out in a little pink Hello Kitty diary.

This is a good plan for a variety of reasons, firstly it means she has evidence to back up her claims and secondly but more importantly it means we are treated to loads of montage shots of Kai abusing prostitutes and wanking into peoples underwear drawers.

Which, if I'm honest is what cinema is all about.

Emma Watson was beginning to regret taking a cameo role in Brucie: The Early Years.

Discovering the whereabouts of his new apartment, Maisie decides to confront Kai in the hope that he'll give himself up but this only angers the munching mentalist who then proceeds to try and cut Maisie’s tongue out with a pair of blunt nail scissors.

Which shows he's nothing if not consistent.

It wont come as too much of a shock when I say that Maisie isn't really into this and a scuffle ensues culminating in our heroine biting Kai and running away into the night leaving him to carrying on doing his thing.

Or should that be doing things with his thing?

"Fiona! where's mah lunch?"

And as we've gathered his thing involves a few (well a lot) more killings, loads of sexual shenanigans, a couple more murders and a little bit more shagging.

Really I don't want to spoil it for you.

Sanity soon prevails tho' and the police finally decide (after much poking and prodding) that this Kai bloke is possibly a wee bit loony and that maybe, just maybe they should really bring him in for questioning.

"I'll give you five English pounds for a shot at Nick Berry's mooth!"

On paper this looks like a good idea but in reality sending the HK equivalent of Nick Berry from Heartbeat probably wasn't the best way to go.

When the officer (well wee boy) turns up to ask him a few things (just minor stuff like "Are you an Ebola infected multiple murderer with a penchant for shagging bits of meat?") Kai loses the plot even more than normal (which is a sight to behold) and escapes into the busy city streets.

But not before taking a cute wee Chinese a girl hostage and daring the police to shoot him, risking his blood infecting everyone in the surrounding area.

Which begs the question of what they were planning to shoot him with?

A rocket launcher?

Devo and DLT always enjoyed their

weekly game of 'What's the Time Mr. Wolf?'

With the police either too scared - or too busy - to risk anything Kai is almost home free until that is the small girl ruins everything (as girls do) by starting to cry for her mum, Kai reacts as any meat obsessed murderer would and shoots her in the face before running (like a girl himself I must admit) thru' the busy streets spitting on passers by and hollering "I have Ebola and now so do you!" 

Which is nice.

"Ladies and gentlemen...live on stage...5ive!"

Will Kai be captured before he infects the world?

Will Maisie turn up again or has she disappeared completely from the film due to her refusing to do nudity?

And will I ever recover from seeing the great Anthony Wong slaughtering a frog in extreme close-up?

The infamous Mr. Sausage Fingers was dismayed

to discover that The Cheeky Girls would

never reveal the whereabouts of his car keys.

On paper Ebola Syndrome sounds as if it should possibly be one of the most offensive films ever conceived, from it's tragedy exploiting plot thru' to the constant on screen barrage of murder, sexual violence, swearing, more sexual violence, child murders and gore.

But bizarrely enough it isn't.

Somehow director Herman Yau has managed (by accident or design, who knows?) to give a skewered sense of quality and credibility to the whole thing, partly thanks to an amazing turn from Anthony Wong as ker-razy Kai.

The magnificent Wong, a mainstay of Hong Kong cinema for the past thirty odd years has made a career playing damaged characters in films of wildly varying quality, flitting happily from such critically acclaimed fare such as Infernal Affairs to shite like Raped by An Angel IV.

Here Wong manages to makes Kai the film's most interesting (if not most sympathetic) character, the rest of the (admittedly great) cast all just fade into the background when the great man is on screen.

So you can imagine that when he's got his cock out they've no chance.

"It's Cccccchhhhrrrriiissstttmmmaaasssss!!!"

If any criticism can be leveled at the movie it has to be the completely gratuitous (and unnecessary) scenes of animal slaughter, a throwback to the worst of the 70's Italian exploitation era and, while it may only be a few frog guttings and the beheading of a couple of mangy chickens, it's still enough to taint the viewing experience somewhat.

Perhaps if Wong had just had sex with them instead?

Well it's just a thought.

But don't let that put you off experiencing such a sleaze-tastic epic that for all it's shocks is infinitely less hard going than the earlier Wong-Yau masterclass in restaurant based bad taste, the true story inspired Baat sin fan dim ji yan yuk cha siu baau.

It's still a must see tho'.

This is why your girlfriend didn't
return your calls last Saturday.

Great as a first date film and even better on a quiet Sunday afternoon with the family, Ebola Syndrome has everything you could ever want from a film about a food fucking sexual deviant with a deadly disease and until Greg Wallace decides to do the same, it'll win out over Master Chef every time.

The celebrity editions not withstanding obviously.

the ghost man always rings twice.

Spent the majority of the holidays mixing visuals and making animations for a David Bowie tribute event (see? It's not all blood and boobs) so thought I'd celebrate their completion with a good movie

Unfortunately this was the first thing that came to hand.

Until Death (AKA The Changeling 2, Brivido Giallo: Per Sempre. 1987).Dir: Lamberto Bava.
Cast: Gioia Scola, David Brandon, Giuseppe Stefano De Sando, Roberto Pedicini, Marco Vivio and Urbano Barberini.

Professional brunette bad-lady Linda (Scola from the fantastic Raiders of Atlantis) has decided, along with her horse-cocked (yet scarily rodent faced) lover Carlo (Stagefright's Mr. Serious Brandon) to off her baw headed boring hubbie Luca (Pedicini best known for his voice work in Dellamorte Dellamore, looking like a human/frog hybrid and emptying our bins) and set up house together whilst running their homely seaside bed and breakfast cum restaurant cum boat business like some murderous Basil and Sybil Fawlty.

But obviously without a Spanish waiter with a pig ugly, attention seeking whore for a granddaughter.

And not just because he's sadly dead.

As in it's a shame he died not that he was sad about it.

Tho' he probably was.

Just checking the facts surrounding his death I've just discovered that he died of dementia so he was probably unaware of his impending demise anyway.

I'll admit tho' that any of these scenarios would have added a certain something to the movie.

Namely enjoyment.

But I digress.

Ballie's: more custard than cream.

Anyway, enough character background - and looking back at that paragraph butchery of the English language - let's get back to the story which begins good and proper with the aftermath of Luca's murder and the deadly duo about to dispose of his still fresh corpse in a nearby swamp.

But he's not properly dead and with his last vestige on strength tears one of Linda's huge market stall hoop earring out.

Of her ear not his own obviously.

Hitting the poor sod on the head with a large pizza tray to finish him off our loving couple head home to settle into their new (if rather fraught) lives; baking, shaking and raising Linda's muppet like poppet Alex (AS Roma fan Vivio, who seems to have had the biggest career out of anyone else on screen).

Aw, sweet.

Eight years down the line the couples idyllic - yet it has to be said, fairly paranoid - existence is disturbed by the unexpected arrival of ruggedly raffish traveler (OK, hobo), the hunk-tastic Marco (Sam J Jones alike Barberini from Opera, Demons, Casino Royale and your Aunties bed).

I'd get that seen to son.

After checking out his cooking skills - and it has to be said frankly magnificent arse - Linda and Carlo hire him on the spot to help out in the restaurant.

But it's not long before the pair begin to notice Marco’s frightening familiarity with their home-life, business affairs and even where Linda keeps her clean undies.

He also has an almost unhealthy fondness for lil' Alex but most disturbingly for Linda, he knows all of her secret family recipes.

Nice to see she's got her priorities right, no doubt she'll leave him babysitting next time her and Carlo pop out for tapas.

"Hey senorita! You fancy a little mooth shite-in?"

All this insider knowledge begins to play on Carlo's barely hidden paranoia, leading him to surmise that Marco is working with the police to trap the couple for murdering Luca.

Obviously Italy have a special 'head-fuck' department specially recruited to play with criminals minds.

Or something.

Linda however is way too busy fiddling with herself whilst lusting over Marco to  jump to such bizarre conclusions and poor Alex is too shot to fuck by his recurring dreams about arms bursting thru' his bedroom walls and trying to goose him whilst soggy tramps attempt to crawl out of swamps to care one way or t'other.

"Laugh now!"

Is Carlo reading too much into the situation?

Will Linda get her end away with the hunky bum?

Will Alex get touched up by the nightmarish ghouls?

Will the movie end with a blazing inferno?

But most importantly will Marco steal all of Linda's recipes and pass them off as his own, getting his own teevee show in the process?

If you really are what you eat then he must have eaten a warty testicle.

Only a director of Lamberto Bava's (albeit slightly tarnished) reputation could take the plot of The Postman Always Rings Twice and re-imagine it as a psychological horror tale before turning it into a cheaply made teevee movie and still make it moderately successful.

Under no circumstances to be confused with the 2007 Jean-Claude Van Damme cop caper of the same name (tho' if you did I reckon you deserve all you get), Until Death is, bizarrely enough one of Bava's most subtle and successful movies, returning to the promise he showed with his first feature Macabre then subsequently pissed up the wall with every movie since (Demons being the obvious exception).

"Ooh Alex come and have a wee nibble of your mums nice hot pie!"

It's nicely acted, stylishly shot and features the best line in denim fashion wear this side of Brokeback Mountain.

Or your dad going to one of his classic car weekends.

Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on your alcohol levels) it has one of the most idiotic and shlocky twists ever committed to celluloid.

More fun than Graveyard Disturbance but nowhere near as sexy as Blade in The Dark (or your sister), Until Death is still worth owning.

Especially if you have a wobbly table that needs straightening.

how green is my valley?

Day 29 of 31 days of horror and (again) realized that I'd not featured an anthology (or portmanteau as we call them here) 'orror yet.

Seeing as that was the case I reckon I should pick if not the best then probably the sexiest.

Plus It was a fairly recent purchase so needed an excuse to watch it that didn't centre on Joan Collins frankly magnificent nightie.

Or Michael Jayston's almost obscenely tight track suit trousers.

As is the way with these twisty tales I wont give too much away for fear of spoiling the terrific twists.

Plus I'm writing this on Friday night which is tragic enough without wasting the whole evening writing a blog no-one reads about films no-one watches.

I know my place.

Tales That Witness Madness (1973).
Dir: Freddie Francis.
Cast: Donald Pleasence, Jack Hawkins, Russell Lewis, Donald Houston, Georgia Brown, Peter McEnery, Frank Forsyth, Suzy Kendall, Michael Jayston, Joan Collins, Kim Novak, David Wood, Michael Petrovich, Mary Tamm, Leon Lissek and Zohra Sehgal.

It happens beyond madness - where your mind won't believe what your eyes see.

Welcome one and all to HMP Shadynook where posh car driving Dr. Paul Nicholas (Hawkins - dubbed by Charles Gray - in his last film role) is about to have a very pressing meeting with his erstwhile college Dr. Jeff Tremayne (Pleasence, I'm assuming you know who he is), the psychiatrist in charge of the high tech (for 1973) facilities.

It seems that Tremayne may have discovered the cause of madness or, at the very least the reasons as to why his four favourite patients are locked up in the first place.

I mean it's late at night so it must be important or it could wait till morning.

Either that or Tremayne is a wee bit theatrical and feels that portmanteau horror works best in the dark.

Let's not waste time on semantics tho' as we've got a frightening foursome of fearsome tales to tell.

The first focusing on a tiny baw-headed boy named Paul (Lewis who bizarrely enough went on to create as well as write the Inspector Morse spin-off Endeavor) who spends his days sitting at a tiny piano asking for plates of meat and/or bones.

Must be from the West Midlands.

Inside Elton John's mind....

As it happens poor Paul is a sensitive wee boy who in an attempt to shield himself from his parents - the terrifyingly angry and scarily ginger Sam
(Brit TeeVee stalwart Houston) and drunken uber-MiLF Fay (British cabaret cum jazz songstress Brown in a fantastic collection of hip-hugging outfits) - befriends an imaginary tiger that lives under his bed.


Whilst his slightly pervy home tutor Phillipe (Wood from shit-loads of stuff, go on check) feels that it's normal for a boy his age to have an imaginary friend, his sozzled mum thinks he's a bit of a mentalist which is as good an excuse as any to have her hit the bottle for breakfast.



Shouty Sam doesn't care one way or the other tho' seeing as he's far too busy attending meetings and standing in the hall complaining about things.

Nothing specific mind, just things in general.

It's only when Paul begins to leave plates of chicken bones on his bedroom floor and stealing the Sunday joint from the fridge that his parents decide to finally have a word with him about 'Mr Tiger'.

Who, as mentioned earlier doesn't really exist.

No not at all.

That bike I'm always on about parking.

Next up is the sorry tale of groovy antique store owner Timothy Poshman (Mr Soane himself and star of the fantastic Le Orme McEnery) - alongside his girlfriend Ann (Kendall from Torso and Bird With A Crystal Plumage) - is busy sorting thru' the boxes of tat left to him by his old Aunt Sally in her will which alongside the usual cabinets, cups and crappy knitted toilet roll holders also includes a poppy-eyed portrait of a distant relative called Uncle Albert (Forsyth who, according to IMDB has been in more dodgy stuff than your dad) as well as his beloved penny farthing bicycle.

Tidying up for the evening in preparation for a well deserved Pot Noodle Timothy is shocked to find himself being inextricably compelled to mount his uncles bicycle and start pedaling.

No really.

But that's not the strangest part.

It seems that - in a kinda proto-Back To The Future/Quantum Leap way - Timothy's frantic pedal power actually causes the bike to not only travel back in time to the 1800's but for Timothy to enter Albert's body.

Not in a sexual way tho'.

Taking it all in his stride (and quite a lot of it up his arse judging by the bike seat) Timothy enjoys a quite ride around the park before coming across (phnar) the beautiful Beatrice (Kendall again but this time she's wearing a large hat), who it turns out was/is Albert's true love.

Beatrice tho' is worried, she's been having dreams that a terrible fate will befall her love and is sure that her premonition will come true.

Has Timothy time traveled to steer the couple to togetherness or is something more sinister (and slightly incomprehensible) afoot?

Who knows because to be honest we really don't have the time to dwell on such minutiae seeing as we've another two tales to get thru' so it's confused time travel shenanigans and exploding plates galore as the story lurches toward it's confused and nonsensical climax.

At least Suzy Kendall looks pretty.

Michael Jayston attempts to prevent the catharsis of spurious morality yesterday.

And taking of pretty we're suddenly transported by the power of wibbly-wobbly flashback to the English countryside (probably the big field behind the studio) where tight-trackied and bouncy bummed Brian Thompson (The Valeyard himself, Jayston) is jogging thru' the bushes on his way home from the shops or something.

Tho' he may be just jogging for fun.

Who knows?

None of that is important tho' as it's really just an excuse for him to come across (not in that way, well not yet) a bizarre shaped dead tree he finds propped up against a fence.

Exactly like your mom on a Saturday night.

Brian, taken aback by it's 'natural beauty' (IE it looks like it has breasts and a face-mounted vagina....no seriously, just look at the pic) carries it home and mounts it (again, not in that way just now) in the living room much to the chagrin of his beautiful (in a non- wooden way - never thought I'd say that about Joan Collins) wife Bella.

Admit it, you would.

 As her hubbie begins to spend very waking moment preening and polishing the tree - which he's named Mel due to it having, well the word MEL carved into it - trimming its bush, sanding its curves etc. Bella becomes evermore jealous, first hitting the bottle and then hitting the bed in quite possibly the sexiest babydoll nightie ever (complete with a yummy pink hair-bow....meow) in the hope of winning back her husbands heart.

I would, you would, your granddad did. Twice.

 Realizing that if it's good enough for Shatner it's bloody well good enough for him Brian heads off to the bedroom to treat Bella to an altogether different type of wood leaving Mel weeping green puss onto the living room carpet.

Later that night Bella is tormented by vivid dreams of tree-based violation culminating in her nightie getting ripped by twigs and her breasts popping out.

It's not too surprising then that upon awakening she storms into the living room with an axe intent on proving she's the lady of the house once and for all.....

Lady Gaga's cucumber suit cheered up a slightly depressed Phil Collins no end.

Back at the asylum Tremayne is excitedly introducing Nicholas to his most interesting - and complicated - case.

Tho' what can be more interesting than an ex-Doctor Who villain fucking a tree is beyond me.

Anyway whilst you think about that we're off to Polynesia where the bequiffed and man-boobed best-selling author Dave Kimo (Petrovich who you may remember as Tito in Turkey Shoot) is listening intently as his dying mum explains the secrets of eternal life to him whilst overdubbed bongo drums are played in the background by a variety of facepainted extras.

So fair so racist.

Having spent a life free of women, wine and low-waist trousers (and mirrors by the look of his barnet) Kimo has one thing left to do if he wishes to not only attain enlightenment but also guarantee his dear old mum a safe passage to the afterlife.

And that involves appeasing the Polynesian god of sideburns by performing the mysterious 'Luau' ceremony.

But for this Kimo needs a virgin.

Mary Tamm: Fancy trainers not shown.

Meanwhile back in dear old blighty the frightening frocked literary agent, Auriol - bless you - Pageant (an off her tits on prescription meds Novak), is excitedly preparing for Kimo's promotional book tour.

Having already booked him to do Loose Women and Summertime Special she's decided that what the tour really needs is a massive Hawaiian themed party to show her appreciation of his talent.

And if that results in her getting him pissed and touching his flaccid (I imagine) member then so be it.

Unfortunately on arriving in the UK Kimo seems much more interested in Auriol's beautiful young - as in school age....t'was a different time - daughter Ginny (Time Lady in waiting Tamm).

Tho' to be honest who can really blame him?

Things go from uncomfortable to slightly annoying tho' when it transpires that the local butcher can't get enough pigs meat for the party (really), luckily Kimo's servant Barry Keoki (hardworking Lissek who's been in everything from Shogun to Time Bandits via EastEnders...busy bloke) just happens to have a suitcase full of butchers knifes with him and excitedly offers to take over the party planning and source some 'special meat' for the celebration himself.

You can see where this is going can't you?

Put it in me!

Will Keoki cook poor Ginny and serve her up to the guests?

Will they eat her whole?

Or spit that bit out?

Will Dr Tremayne convince Nicholas that his experiments are a success or will the poor guy be himself declared insane before being dragged off to a padded cell setting up a bizarro ending featuring grainy stock footage of a tiger menacing an obviously unwell Jack Hawkins?

And will the image of Michael Jayston outrageously flirting with a polystyrene tree ever stop haunting my dreams?

Taking in a multitude of influences ranging from EC Comics to Robert Bloch via Gardeners Question Time, veteran Hammer and Amicus director Freddie Francis hits all the right notes - and the bottle by the look of things - with this frankly bonkers tale of tigers, trees and teen-based tea time terror.

 

Jennifer Jayne: Any excuse.

With a script from Dr Terror’s House of Horrors babe Jennifer Jayne (using the name Jay Fairbank due to women not being allowed to write spooky stuff in the 70s....go on check, it was the law), TTWM is at once as brilliantly bizarre as it is frustrating - and whilst not every story works there is at least something to enjoy in each.

Whether it be the fantastic fashions of Collins and Brown, Mary Tamm's ample arse or even Kim Novak attempting to subtly emote whilst dosed up on Ketamine and dressed as a comedy vegetable, there's something here for everyone.

Yes even fans of Victorian bicycles.

And I've not even mentioned the fantastic sight of Michael Jayston attempting to seduce a tree that just happens to be lying in his bed.

Well not for a few paragraphs anyway.

Plus any film that features a proto-Evil Dead style tree violation shot in the style (and colours) of a Debenhams Christmas ad is at least worth a few minutes of your time.

"Leaf me alone you beast!" Seriously this is quite possibly THE most erotic thing I have ever seen.

Criminally underrated and almost as hard to find as Lord Lucan, TTWM is well worth a watch, especially if you have a bottle - or two - of gin handy.

Oh and probably a box of tissues too.

Bloody bonkersly brilliant.

mum's the word.

It's day 24 of 31 days of horror and I've suddenly realized that I've not covered any babysitters in peril yet.

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

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

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

 

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

Babysitter Wanted (2008).

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

Hungry!

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

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

Oh and less importantly local girls have been going missing.

But at least she still has the Lord.

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

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

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

What are the chances eh?

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

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

Or at the very least in your mums bed.

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

At least that's what your Uncle Ted said.

Laugh now!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which is nice.

The Amanda Knox bikestand was sure to be a big hit this coming Christmas.

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

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

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

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

Without a fork.

How common.

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

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

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

Kids eh?

So who is the mysterious stalker?

Will Rick fix Angie's car?

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

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

And frankly it's not too shady at all.

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

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

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

How I met your mother.

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

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

Thompson: luscious librarian love.

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

Even further if his folks keep their food bins at the bottom of the yard unlocked.

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

You could do worse.

people you fancy but shouldn't (readers revenge).

Well Arena reader Kitty Trundle seems to have started a brand new level of online interaction here that for once doesn't involve threatening to kill me.

Which is nice.

It appears that thanks to the Agatha Raisin post literally hundreds (well three) of you have been using your free hand to nominate your clandestine crushes.

So especially for Gareth, Stuart and Ian we present cake creating Candice from The  Great British Bake Off.

Tho' to be honest I'm more of a Sue Perkins man myself.

Normal film type stuff will return shortly.