bridezilla.

Been busy drawing gangsters 'n' guns for a top secret project so felt like a wee change of pace.

The Blood Spattered Bride (AKA The Bloody Bride. 1972).
Dir: Vicente Aranda.
Cast: Simón Andreu, Maribel Martín, Alexandra Bastedo, Dean Selmier, Rosa Rodriguez, Montserrat Julio and Angel Lombarte.

"They'll come back. They cannot die!"

The lovely librarian-like Susan (La cera virgen star Martin) and her unnamed (onscreen) husband - who for the duration of this review we will call Bob (Andreu from Amando de Ossorio's classic Night of the Sorcerers which I really should review at some point) are speeding thru' the Spanish countryside en route to the honeymoon hotel after just getting married where they'll spend a few days holed up for some rumpy pumpy before heading to Bob’s family estate, a massive castle which he's not visited for many a year.

Which is always the way in these films.
Arriving at the hotel Bob tells Susan to head straight up to the room while he 'puts the car in the garage' - which isn't a euphemism I'm afraid - and Susan, being a wee bit wet, nods her head and does as she's told.

Ah it was a more innocent time.

And by innocent I mean slightly sexist obviously.

Hanging her clothes up in the wardrobe she's surprised when a man with a stocking on his head jumps out and after smothering her with her veil, tears off her clothes and begins to ravish her.

Which I must admit was fairly unexpected.

Suddenly Bob enters the room to Susan sitting on the bed in an undamaged dress, looking as though she's just farted and followed thru'.

“I don’t want to stay here, I don’t like this hotel.” She says.

Phew, it was all in her head.

As opposed to all in the wardrobe obviously.

Paddington.

Anyway 10 minutes in and we've had the first breast reveal - to prove this is an artsy vampire film obviously - so with that out of the way we can get on with the pesky plot as Bob packs up and takes Susan to his castle where she meets his - again nameless - servants/housekeepers (Lombarte from The Killer with a Thousand Eyes, and Horror Rises from the Tomb's Julio) as well as their 12-year-old daughter Carol (Rodriguez), who all take to her straight away.

Possibly because they were worried that being a castle owning rich bloke he was more interested in deflowering Carol than meeting someone his own age.

Just me then?

Fair enough.

This is probably really symbolic of something or other but I'm too thick to know. Sorry.

Retiring to the bedroom that evening Bob is surprised to find that Susan wants him to undress her (lazy cow) but when he happily obliges by tearing at her flimsy lace gown with his sweaty sausage fingers (tho' leaving her massive granny pants intact) she lies there in shock as visions of the  masturbatory hallucinatory fantasy she had in the hotel fill her mind.

Guilty pleasures or an ominous sense of things to come?

Who can say cos by this point Susan's slight mentalism is showing in other ways as she begins to see a beautiful, blonde girl in a lavender dress roaming the estate.

And she's sure she's seen this woman before.

Spooky.

Possibly the most erotically librarian based outfit I have seen for quite some time. That is all.

Bored and wandering the house to look for things to dust (as women do) Susan soon notices that every one of the family portraits adorning the walls of the castle are of men and inquisitively asks Carol the reason why.

Because it's easier to ask a small child about your husbands family history than your actual hubbie obviously.

As it turns out it's quite an interesting story - well more interesting than the main plot anyway - you see all the portraits of the ladies were stashed in the cellar by order of her husband’s granddad after he caught his wife having sex with the postman.

Which is fair enough I guess.

One portrait in particular intrigues Susan tho and that's the one of a blonde woman in a lavender dress, caressing an ornate dagger in one hand whilst wearing four massive inverted rings on the other.

It'd destroy you just thinking about a hand job.

The strangest thing about the painting tho' is the fact that the face has been cut out just like one of those novelty 'Kiss Me Quick' stand-ups you used to get at the seaside.

This it transpires is Bob's totally bonkers great aunt Mircalla Karstein who a century back, killed her husband on their wedding night as he attempted to do something very naughty to her.

Tho' they don't tell us what.

Anyway it was said that Mircalla was discovered the next morning sprawled across the bed with her nightie up around her neck next to her husband’s mutilated corpse in a deathly trance-like state but as it was a Sunday and the local doctor was out fishing the family decided to have bury her next to her hubbie to save time and any uncomfortable chat when she awoke.

And on that note Bob takes Susan to the tomb where she's buried in order to crack open the coffin and show her the bones.

What a romantic devil.

"Laugh now!"

And with that Susan's dreams about the mysterious blonde become much more vivid.

Like you're surprised?

From imagining Mircalla giving her the dagger from the painting to dreaming about touching Mircalla's breasts (well it is European), Susan becomes more and more distraught as the nightmarish visions continue and the situation isn't helped when she discovers the dagger under her pillow one morning.

As is the way everyone is quick to blame Carol who unfortunately doesn't get spanked with a slipper, instead she's tutted at and sent to her room whilst Bob goes off to bury the blade in the garden.

It's like a particularly drugged up episode of Neighbours if I'm honest.

But the dreams don't stop and the next night Susan imagines Mircalla leading her to the grandfather clock in the hall, opening it to reveal the dagger before taking Susan back to the bedroom  where the pair stab Bob to death with it before removing his heart.

And his pants.

"Put it in me!"

In order to prove that the dreams are nothing but the result of a fragile female imagination Bob takes Susan to the clock to prove it but is fairly surprised to see that the dagger is in fact inside and with this he storms of to see the family doctor (Selmier) for some advice.

After listening to Bob whiter on for hours the doctor decides that Susan is suffering from a malaise often found in recently deflowered women and prescribes bubble baths and snuggles before warning Bob that if the treatment doesn't work they will have to lock her up.

That's the 70s for you.

As Susan gets more and more grumpy, rejecting not only her husbands advances but also his offers of warm, milky tea leaving Bob no alternative but to head off to the local secluded beach for a tearful wank and a ham sandwich.

Oh and to rebury the dagger obviously.

And it's there that things begin to get really odd.

Or ludicrous, take your pick.

You see, as Bob finishes burying the blade (ooeerr) he notices not only the top of a snorkel protruding from the sand a few feet away from him but also a human hand.

Quickly heading over he starts to frantically dig away around the snorkel soon uncovering a buxom blonde (Bastedo, from The Champions), totally naked save for the diving mask and a set of huge poundshop rings which she wears palm side in on her left hand.

Thanking Bob for digging her up she introduces herself as Carmilla (only one name a bit like Shakira or Billie) and explains that she'd fallen asleep sunbathing after a wee bit of scuba-diving and must have been buried when the tide came in.

Totally accepting this explanation Bob offers the nude woman a lift to the castle where she can borrow some clothes and maybe get a bite to eat.

Sounds legit.

You're welcome.

Unable to remember anything but her own name, Susan and Bob have no choice but to look after Carmilla till she regains her memory - which she appears to be trying to get back by sleeping in a makeshift coffin all day then parading around the house after dark in low cut dresses whilst licking her lips everytime Susan walks by.

Which is fairly enjoyable to watch but probably not to live with.

As you can imagine all this bouncy breast activity has a bit of a negative effect  on Susan, who gradually falls under Carmilla's spell and begins to partake in late night trysts with the mysterious stranger in the woods much to Bob's chagrin.

Standing up for himself he insists that their new houseguest gets a job to help with the bills and Carmilla (surprisingly) agrees applying for - and getting - a post at the local school teaching biology to Carol and her classmates.

Especially the bits about blood.

Between teaching teens and teasing troubled tottie Carmilla feeds Susan’s barely suppressed hatred for her husband whilst feeding on Susan's blood late at night in the old church where Mircalla is buried.

It's all go isn't it?

Worried for his wife's sanity - and frustrated that Carmilla is getting more action than he is - he calls on the doctor (not that one) to investigate and after a few evenings following the pair around he comes across the pair in a saucy sapphic situation, curled up naked in a Habitat sofa coffin in the church.

The office Secret Santa got stranger every year.

With her lesbian lusts discovered Carmilla decides the time is right to rid herself of the meddling menfolk around her so that she can have Susan all to herself....

From Spanish arthouse auteur, director, screenwriter and producer Vicente Aranda comes this slow burning take on J. Sheridan Le Fanu's 1872 Gothic novella of Carmilla that owes more to Jean Rollin's Shiver of the Vampires (released the previous year) than it does Hammer's kinky Karnstein trilogy.

Which is kinda disappointing but heyho.

I mean The Vampire Lovers has Madeline Smith in it so wins just for that fact alone. 

But whereas Rollin rebelled against such outdated notions as coherent plotting, casting actual actors  and Hammer concentrated solely on Ingrid Pitts admittedly stunning cleavage, Aranda - due in part to the draconian censorship laws regarding nudity on film during the Franco era - seems more interested in exploring Catholic guilt and sexual repression mixed in with a wee bit of social commentary regarding the treatment of women in 70s Spain.

Which is a worthy cause if not a wholly satisfying one when the poster promises blood, boobs and that woman from The Champions seducing a petite brunette.

Plus it's pretty difficult to criticize something when you're bound by its rules.

And even he admitted that the countries censorship issues  caused problems for him, especially when shooting Carmilla's demise.

But at least he tried, his earlier works Fata Morgana and The Exquisite Cadaver go someway to proving that.

"I can see your house from here Peter".

 

Luckily he has a cast that can carry the movie - even at it's most bizarre/ludicrous - delete as applicable - moments, from Maribel Martín's neurotically nervous young bride to Simón Andreu's condescendingly creepy hubby, every member of the films small cast gives it their all but most surprising of all is Alexandra Bastedo's seriously underplayed Carmilla.

For those of us used to the voluptuous vamps of Hammer or the council estate, dirt footed Rollin rascals Bastedo is a revelation, coldly calculating with a performance that is perfectly pitched 'tween boredom and bonkers.

Definitely leaning more toward classy vamp than saucy tramp she even manages to look otherworldly and aloof when clad only in a pair of goggles and buried in a kids sandpit.

I see your dad's taking the divorce well.

Go in expecting a feast of blood soaked girl on girl titillation and you'll be heartily disappointed but if you switch off your sleaze-radar and settle back for something a wee bit more refined you'll discover a wee gem of a movie that whilst nowhere near as great as Daughters of Darkness is an entertaining enough way to spend an evening.

Bizarrely enough tho' if you take this, The Vampire Lovers and Shiver of The Vampire and stick them in a blender you'd probably get the perfect Carmilla adaptation.

Maybe one day.

nemod syad.

Mausoleum (1983).
Dir: Michael Dugan.
Cast: Marjoe Gortner, Bobbie Bresee, Norman Burton, Maurice Sherbanee, LaWanda Page, Laura Hippe, Sheri Mann, Julie Christy Murray, Chu Chu Malave and Gene Edwards.

 

There's some strange shit goin' on in this house!

Like any good horror film worth its salt we open on a windswept graveyard where the young - and frighteningly dog faced - Susan (bony kneed Murray in her only film role outside those shorts she did to pay her way thru' college) is mourning her recently deceased mother as her posh tottie-like aunt Cora (Logan's Run and Swinging Barmaids star Hippe who killed herself shortly after making this movie - take from that what you will) pats her on the shoulder uncomfortably whilst offering to buy her ice cream and a pony to replace her dearly departed parent.

Why do I never get offered ponies?

Oblivious to all the bribery being offered (and wanting a unicorn probably - girls are never happy) Susan legs it and soon takes refuge in an old superimposed rainswept and spookily lit mausoleum (bearing her family name - Nemod - I'm sure her family must originally be from the village Nilbog featured in Troll2.) that is in no way at all scary or foreboding.

No seriously it's not, it actually looks for all the world like it's been outlined in Sharpie the matte work is so shit.

As a spooky fog rolls from its gates Susan pricks her finger on a crown of thorns hanging outside before entering the tomb to be confronted by a shadowy figure with unkempt nails who offers her blessed relief whilst making a passing pedophiles head explode.

Which seems legit.

I can see your house from here Peter.

 
Thru' the power of editing and rudimentary dissolves we're suddenly in the present day (which is the past now....scary eh?) where we find a now adult Susan (ex Playboy bunny Bresee in a performance that's all tits and teeth but not much else which at least means she fits in right at home here) living in a massive house albeit one filled with way too many windows and staircases than is needed and happily married to the ferret-like business bloke Oliver (Starcrash 'star', B'-movie god and once the world's youngest ordained preacher, Gortner) and obsessed with the colour brown for some reason.


Seriously, the house, her clothes, the plants - everything in this movie has the colour palette of dried cack.

Except when a demon appears then the fucker is lit up like a disco.

But I digress.

All seems normal (if you ignore everyone's stilted body language and speech patterns obviously) until that is Susan starts to act a wee bit strangely - or is that just begins to act?

Answers to the usual address.

Oliver thinks he has the perfect answer to Susan's woes so decides to take her disco dancing at the local nite spot where they enjoy (well I say enjoy but to be honest they just look dead inside tho' at least Bresee tries her hardest to look hip n' happening as she pulls a classic 'Le disco duck face') frugging away to some turgid instrumental disco track that even Mike Read would balk at for being too shit.

And he wrote the UKIP Calypso.

Luckily (for us) the whole ordeal is cut short when a drunken beardy man (who I was convinced was original Grizzly Adams star Dan Haggerty but was in fact Gene Edwards who played him in the 1990 remake/sequel) tries to molest Susan on the dance floor whilst Oliver is on the phone causing the couple to call it a night and head home.

Unfortunately the drunk bloke follows them but after a wee bit of shoving he wanders off to his car in order to drunkenly drive home, probably killing a few kids on the way.

But hey it's the 80s and no-one cared back then.

Suddenly and without warning - if you don't count the spooky score - Susan's eyes begin to glow green as she stares at the car for what seems like an eternity (thanks in part to the eye effect being animated over a still) before causing it to burst into flames, trapping and burning weirdy beardy to death inside.

"Eye hen!"

 

And from then on things go from bad to worse as poor Susan experiences angry mood swings and night sweats before turning into a full-blown psycho when she starts offering Ben the sleazy gardener (council estate David Hess, Sherbanee, who's probably been in other stuff but I can't be bothered checking) fresh cups of coffee whilst stroking her breasts then having sex with him in the garage and finally murdering the poor sod (to death) with a garden fork.

Aunt Cora is next on the death wish list, slashed to death whilst being levitated over the staircase after popping round with a cake.

Luckily no-one seems to notice until Oliver wakes up one night to find Susan sitting in a chair spouting gibberish and sporting a pair of comedy horns on her now donkey like head.

Terrified he runs down stairs and quickly calls their old friend and family psychiatrist Dr. Simon Andrews (Burton from Simon, King of the Witches which scarily is actually sitting on my desk as I type this) to ask for help.

It seems that Susan had a few mental health issues as a child due to her dad dying whilst trying to exorcise the demon that had possessed her mother.

Turns out that according to family legend a demonic curse has been passed down the female line of the Nomed family ever since some bizarre incident involving a crown of thorns (what? another one? - maybe this is important) and a sausage roll way back in 1692.

Anyway with all this demonic possession shite going around and with the movie hitting the halfway point it's time for a wee bit of comic relief so enter (roughly behind the bins) the Farrell's cleaner cum housemaid Elsie (Sanford and Son's Page who bizarrely enough at the start of her career, while performing as a burlesque style stripper in Missouri, was billed as "The Bronze Goddess of Fire" because she could light cigarettes with her fingertips*) who - in either a piece of post-modern comedy genius or ill advised racial stereotyping spends her time rolling her eyes whilst shouting out stuff like:

"There's some strange shit goin' on in this house!"
 
"No more grievin'. I'm leavin'!"

And the classic

"Great googily moogily!"

Whilst running about in high-speed effects whilst comedy 'wah wah' music plays in the background.

I'll not comment.
 

Skulk.

With time - and anything remotely resembling logic - running out, Andrews contacts an old friend and colleague of his, the boyishly barnetted Dr. Roni Logan (Mann) for help.

Which is lucky cos she knows loads about demons and the like.

Bizarrely all she does is rereads the family diary as it turns out that the way to kill the demon and Save Susan is actually written in it.

In English and everything.

Yup it appears that the pesky crown of thorns from earlier is important to the plot and all Adams has to do is place it on Susan's head whilst she's not looking.

This will in turn force the demon back to it's tomb giving our heroes time to then place it on the tomb itself locking the creature inside.

Sorted.

Andrews probably skipped that bit but makes amends by phoning Oliver to warn him that when he returns home from work not under any circumstances to have sex with his wife in the bathroom as her breasts may grow teeth and bite him to death.

Which is fair enough.

"Are you the farmer?"

Meanwhile back at the house an Hispanic bloke (Malave who scarily actually had an acting career of sorts, appearing in everything from A Force of One alongside Chuck Norris to multiple roles in the Barney Miller TV show and starring alongside the 'statuesque' Dona Speir in Fit To Kill) is delivering plants and the like to Susan.

But that's not the only thing he wants to fertilize and he's soon in the kitchen phoning his boss to say he'll be late back to the garden centre as Susan seductively flashes her ample breasts at him.

Don't worry tho' as there's no time for any more uncomfortable sex scenes as Susan has t go shopping for some shit occult based art before the movies climax so she quickly makes the guys head melt before going heading to the mall.

No really.

She actually goes shopping and steals some sub Boris Vallejo fantasy art** - she also kills a bald man by dropping him on a spiky sculpture that just happens to be sitting conveniently  on a picnic table before heading home for a well deserved bubble bath.

It's interesting to note that the mentalism and murders isn't the thing that sends Oliver over the edge but the crap art scattered around the house so to prove his manliness he storms into the bathroom to confront his wife.

"Spice Girls number one for Christmas...MONSTA!"

His anger soon subsides tho' as Susan steps out of the bath and into his arms but as the pair embrace Susan begins to change.

It seems that the demon is aware that Andrews is attempting to steal the crown of thorns from the mausoleum at end its reign of terror.

 Will Andrews succeed?

Will Oliver get eaten by the terrifying tittie teeth?

Will Susan actually put some proper clothes on?

At the height of the 80s low budget horror resurgence film maker Michael Dugan (director of the classic Raging Hormones and currently making Youtube shorts and something called Chubby Chasers - go figure) decided what the world needed was a new scream queen to rival the likes of Jamie Lee Curtis, Adrienne King and Linnea Quigley so to that end decided to unleash the 'buxom and beautiful blonde actress' (according to IMDB) Bobbie Bresee upon the world in his second feature - after the 1976 family comedy Super Seal - Mausoleum.

Now don't all thank him at once.

A living embodiment of everything terrifying about the 80s - big boobs an even bigger blonde barnet and teeth so white they could blind you, Bresee is the main focus of the movie and Dugan structures the whole endeavor to showcase her talents as she runs the emotional gamut from happy to sad to sexy via sleepy and maybe bashful and it's her powerhouse performance that makes the movie so compelling.

Only joking.

He cast her cos she didn't mind getting her kit off.

But she's not the only one.

If there's a chance that a character can appear topless Dugan grabs it - from 'star' Marjoe Gortner pulling angry cum faces on a faux fur rug to the mightily manbreasted Norman Burton seductively taking a phone call in his bed, we're not even spared the sight of Maurice Sherbanee's sweaty pot belly being on show as he wanders around with the bottom of his shirt unbuttoned rubbing it seductively as he lusts after Bresee.

None of this nudity would be that bad tho' if any of the cast actually looked happy doing it but as it stands they all just appear nervous and wishing they were anywhere else but there.

I just sat watching hoping and praying that the director would realise that if the actors look uncomfortable pretending to have sex or being naked then maybe he'd see that we the viewer will feel uncomfortable watching.

Poor sods.

Except Sherbanee obviously - he seemed to be reveling in his new found freedom.

Creepy bastard.

"Shite in mah mooth!"

This isn't helped by the cast actually coming across as quite likeable - Gortner is his usual inoffensive self whilst Burton and the rest appear to be enjoying themselves (mostly) and Bresee comes across as a likeable enough person out of her depth both onscreen and off which means at time rather than reeling in terror at the horrors onscreen you're cringing like a parent watching your offspring mess up their lines in the school nativity.

Hopefully not whilst naked tho.

Its saving grace tho' is the fantastic make-up FX work from the late great  John Carl Buechler whose career spanned Friday 13th Part VII to Hatchet and everything in between - the gore effects (especially the head explosion and melting man) are top notch and it still gives me a warm feeling to see a full prosthetic bodysuit on screen even if at times it looks more Space Precinct than Pazuzu.

Fairly mad, sometimes bad - frustratingly so at times - Mausoleum is a harmless and fairly pain free way to spend an evening provided you have enough beer and crisps at hand plus for anyone who's ever wonder what a school disco would look like if lit by Mario Bava then the possession scenes will answer that question for you.

And there isn't much higher recommendation than that.












































* She also swallowed fire and touched flaming torches to her naked body during her act as well as appearing on Rupaul's Supermodel Of The World Album and playing Rupaul.s mum in the Back To My Roots video.



**Tho' let's be honest he did produce some utter wank himself....like this Star Wars inspired piece for example:

horsing around.

As a teen the cover for this was the second most terrifying piece of pre-cert VHS art ever (after Zombie Creeping Flesh obviously) so for years I stayed away from it due to total fear and worries over my mental health.

Mainly because of the really odd angle of the girls head.

But in part because it didn't feature any of 'the horror' tho' it did feature ladies kissing each other which frankly the thought of terrified my tiny 12 year old mind.*

But it's just come out on shiny BluRay so I thought I'd throw caution to the wind and give it a shot.

Plus it's under a different title with totally different art which made it easier.


The Coming of Sin (AKA Visita del vicio, Violation of the Bitch, Sex Maniac
Sodomia. 1978).
Dir: José Ramón Larraz.
Cast: Patricia Granada (As Patrice Grant), Lidia Zuazo (As Lydia Stern), Rafael Machado, David Thomson, Lea Candle, Daisy Jules and Montserrat Julió.

Somewhere in the lush Spanish Countryside, the fairly harsh faced but extremely wealthy painter Lorna's (Manchester-based TV studio and star of the classic Más allá del deseo, Granada) quiet life creating those pictures of dogs playing poker and drinking gin is rudely interrupted when her pal Doris asks her to look after her 17 year old orphan house maid, the thinly mustached and illiterate (it's like character cliche bingo here) Triana (Zuazo from Consultorio sexológico and your dad's bed) while Doris and her husband head off on holiday to Tenby for a fortnight.

Bored with having no-one to talk to (or to clean up the mess) Lorna excitedly agrees, happy to take Triana under her wing but as she begins to prepare the guest bedroom Doris warns her that the sultry gypsy girl is a wee bit mental and suffers from recurring dreams about being bummed to death by horse riding binmen.

Lorna - being either a nice lady or totally self absorbed - doesn't seem to mind and welcomes Triana into her home.

But not her bed.

Well not yet.

But you can kinda tell that will happen later.

Paddington.

The pair hit it off almost immediately tho' with Triana expressing admiration for Lorna's painting skills and Lorna enjoying her guest's guitar playing prowess and arched eyebrows but although things seen to be going swimmingly, Triana is still dreaming of a naked (bin) man astride a big (in every way) black horse stalking her around Lorna's estate.

And by that I mean the countryside and not her lady garden.

Scarily Triana soon realises that the topless man is real (I knida figured that she already knew that horses exist) when she comes across him one day whilst she's emptying the bins.

As anyone would do in this situation, Triana grabs a rifle and tries to shoot him much to Lorna's chagrin and our artsy pal angrily tells Triana that it's bad manners to shoot at random people on horseback and not to do it again.

Which is Brexit in a nutshell really.

As the pouting pair share long lingering looks over the spaghetti meatballs their relationship takes a turn for the - slightly - Sapphic when Lorna takes Triana into town to buy her a pearl necklace obviously to make up for the fact that she can't furnish Triana with a homemade one herself and the pair excitedly head home for crisps, fizzy pop and a movie.

Later that day tho' when she's sneaked out for a crafty fag Lorna too spots the naked man on a horse and immediately becomes transfixed by him and in an attempt to cool her ardour Lorna dresses up in her dads suit and gets Triana to pencil in her mustache so the pair can go out flamenco dancing together without raising any suspicions of lady love amongst the god fearing locals.

 Fuck me this is convoluted.

Bardo have let themselves go.

Returning home the pair enjoy a nice cup of hot chocolate (and a Kit Kat) before retiring but Lorna's sleep is interrupted when Triana appears naked at the bottom of her bed allegedly to clean Lorna's shoes.

Realising that as excuses go that one sounds a bit shit Triana jumps into Lorna's bed where a wee bout of big bushed 70s style sexiness does indeed ensue.

Twice.

The next day and in order to clear her head after such a marathon shagathon, Triana decides to go for a leisurely stroll in the local woods but who does she find standing by the stream?

Only the horse man.

And this time he's stark bollock naked.

And he has a massive erection**.

A massive erection that he's determined to put in Triana whether she agrees or not.

What a rotter.

Luckily she's stronger than she looks (plus her massive grey granny pants appear to be welded on) and she easily fights him off, finally subduing him by beating him around the head with a handy polystyrene rock.

With his cock in one hand and cradling his bleeding bonce in the other he wanders off to the lake giving Triana ample time to run home and into Lorna's arms.

Lorna seems unconcerned tho' and tells Triana to grow up and stop snottering on her shoulder before brusquely heading into the kitchen to prepare lunch as they're expecting a guest.

It comes as no surprise to find that the guest is in fact the rapey young bloke himself.

As he sits down on the sofa (whilst thankfully keeping his penis in his trousers), Lorna explains to Triana that Chico (council estate Michael Brandon, Machado)  lives in a shed near to her property (as in her house not her lady parts) and has helpfully offered to give Lorna horse-riding lessons.

Obviously unable to resist his charms - or his horse -  Lorna eagerly agrees and is soon ordering poor Triana around the house to fetch cakes and coffee as she (stiffly) flirts with Chico.

Triana is not a happy bunny.

As night falls Triana heads of to bed where her Chico-centric dreams take a more sinister (if that were possible) turn as she imagines herself strapped into a big gold horse with her ares hanging out as a naked Chico circles her on a (naked) horse.

I think this may be symbolic - or sort of sexual - but I can't be sure.

Answers to the usual address.

And with that the scene is set for 40 odd minutes of knowing looks, creepy fortune tellers, drunken threesomes, huge amounts of 70s bush and a wee bit of rough sex that culminates with a very sweaty Triana hiding in a bush wielding a shotgun.

Just like your mum and dad's 25th wedding anniversary party.

Yer ma's taking the divorce well.

Hot off the heels (well not that hot seeing as it was 4 years later but heyho it's just cliched review speak) of his saucy 1974 leg-twitcher Vampyres, José Ramón Larraz presented us with another nice hot pie slice of eroticism - this time swapping the damp English countryside for a sun-bleached Spain and replacing the girl on girl bloodletting for girl on girl flamenco dancing before adding some obsessively erotic equestrian action years before My Little Pony made it mainstream to lust after horses.

For its miniscule budget the film looks very nice tho' I'm never sure if that's due to Fernando (Cannibal Apocalypse) Arribas' soft-focus camerawork or the fact that the DVD transfer I watched was oh-so slightly out of focus (tho' not having my glasses on probably didn't help), either way I challenge you to find another film where a gypsies arse looks so peachy and sun-burnt whilst still maintaining an air of mystery.

Your mum and your Auntie Jean getting ready for bingo.

As another plus point the cast (what little there is) are great - Lidia Zuazo is all dusky and mysterious (or is that bored?) and raffish Rafael Machado comes across like an evil Jacko from Brush Strokes but with sharper nipples whilst Patricia Granada plays the beige-clad brush wielding Lorna to perfection.

A pity then that the dubbing director decided to use the cast of the Jim Davidson comedy classic Up The Elephant And Round The Castle to supply a couple of the voice artistes.

I mean there's nowt like someone shouting "Jellied eels!" at the point of climax to spoil your enjoyment of a movie.

Still if you're really bothered about being put off your stroke by the sound of bow bells you can always turn the volume down.

Recommended for fans of 70s front bums and Black Beauty.






































*By that I don't actually mean just ladies kissing but kissing in general. What can I say? I was a shy child.

** Seriously it looks like someone has strapped a babies head to a hosepipe.

peking duck.

Came across this on Amazon Prime t'other night and realised that although I have a copy sitting on the shelf I'd never actually watched it.

Well I have now.

Interesting eh?



The Mighty Peking Man (AKA 猩猩王, Gorilla King, Goliathon. 1977).
Dir: Ho Meng Hua.
Cast: Danny Lee, Evelyne Kraft, Feng Ku, Chen Ping, a big monkey and some other folk that I can't be arsed listing.

Action...Excitement...Spectacle beyond your wildest dreams and maybe a hint of lady breast!

After the always impressive Shaw Brother’s shower screen-based logo and the promise of some patented Shaw-Scope action our story opens at the famous Hong Kong Library of Things where besuited business bloke Lu Tien (Ku from Inframan) has gathered a group of his pals together in order to look at a newspaper featuring a photo of a footprint pertaining to belong to the prehistoric Peking Man who lives somewhere in the Himalayas.

It seems (well according to the wobbly dissolve flashback it does) that this big brute has recently destroyed a model village and a polystyrene mountain much to the chagrin of a group of black-faced extras who look equally bemused and confused as a moth-eaten ape that varies in size between shots grumpily growls whilst squashing them.

After this frighteningly realistic foray into the fury of nature we're back at the library where Lu Tien proposes that they mount an expedition (as opposed  to a wee boy) to capture the giant then get rich by giving him his own daytime TV show.

But who will lead this expedition?

Enter (roughly from behind) the greatest explorer in all Hong Kong, the Elvis haired  Johnny 'Fimbles' Feng (HK action god Lee) who as luck would have it has just fallen out with his girlfriend and is looking for something to take his mind of it.

Your dad's taking the divorce well.

Cue scratchy holiday film intercut with stock footage of animals and various beggars as by the beauty of time-lapse we can witness the entire (almost) journey to their first base camp in a matter of minutes as a fleet of ox-drawn wagons wobble and  trundle along dirt roads to an adventurous type score swells in the back and our heroes spend the time smoking fags and pointing at stuff.

On arrival our intrepid heroes discover that the village is deserted save for a huge blanket with rampaging elephants projected onto it, oh hang on I think those are actually meant to be real elephants.

It convinces the explorers tho' as they all run around shooting at random stuff whilst trying not to get squashed.

The director, quickly growing tired of all this excitement, shoos the elephants away enabling the expedition - and the film - to continue.

But not until Johnny has poured his heart out with regards to the girl he was set to marry shagging his TV director sibling Charlie which sent him careering into drink and depravity that culminated in him leading the expedition.

“You’ve got it made Johnny.” says his sexy mustached unnamed colleague, “Just grab the monster, take it back to Hong Kong and then you’ll be able to get any woman you want!”

Which is fair enough I guess.

With a knowing smile Johnny heartily agrees before telling the group it's bedtime.

What a guy.

Jackie Chan, up the casino, Wigan, 1977.....Yesch!

No sooner have the motley band of explorers had a shave 'n' shite the next morning when they're attacked by a tiger and chased into quicksand (it never rains) luckily Johnny chases the beast away but not before it's eaten one of the native bearers (rubber) legs.

Just to remind everyone that he's a wee bit of a patented bastard Lu Tien shoots the poor bloke in the face - his excuse? Well his cries of pain may attract predators.

Or maybe rats.

No time to mourn tho' as the expedition has reached the Himalayas and there's climbing to be done.

And more nameless extras to die in the name of adventure obviously.

As they - finally - reach the summit, Lu Tien, being a coward as well as being a trigger-happy bastard decides that he's bored and wants to go home.

Or at least back to his nice hotel in order to have some of 'the sex' with the local ladies.

Which is fair enough I guess.

Johnny tho' has other ideas (he's read the script) and excitedly rallies the remaining explorers who head further into the jungle where they catch glimpse of a semi-nude blonde cavorting thru the trees.

Giving chase the merry band soon come across a giant footprint that they assume belongs to the fabled (mighty) Peking Man so decide to set up camp for the night right next to it in the hope that he may return.

Unfortunately that evening Lu Tien bribes the surviving party members with a secret stash of Opal Fruits and persuades them to return to the hotel with him leaving poor Johnny alone without food or water.

Awaking suddenly the next morn to find himself totally alone with only an empty Pot Noodle container and a crumpled pile of stiff tissues for company, Johnny decides to cheer himself up by going for a walk across the studio backlot - sorry thru the jungle where suddenly, out of the blue a giant gorilla arm appears and picks him up before depositing him at the feet of  a smooth, milky thighed blonde (Kraft) clad only in a tiny leather bikini.

Kraft: Cheese.

Speaking in a strange jungle tongue (which sounds a wee bit like she's from Lower Gornal if I'm honest) our (shammy) leather clad lovely persuades the big monkey not to squash (or fuck) Johnny but instead to carry him to her bachelorette love cave where after some sexy fruit eating a whirlwind romance (featuring scenes of Kraft spinning cheetahs around her head till they're sick alongside shots of her amusingly getting elephants to give Johnny a trunk job and the like all cut to a bright and breezy 70s J-Pop ditty) begins 'tween the pair.

But it's not all fun and games (seriously I don't think it'll ever get that far) as we're soon into tragic backstory territory as one sunny afternoon the pair come across the wreckage of an airplane in a clearing in the trees - behind the bins obviously - and the merest sight of this (and the two papermache skeletons in the cockpit) causes our blonde beauty to start sobbing and wailing whilst randomly pointing at the bony pair screaming "PAPA! MAMA! BURNY! BURNY! BANG! BANG! WEEEEEEEEE!"

Scrabbling thru the corpses pockets for loose change Johnny finds a crumpled photograph of what he assumes to be the jungle girl as a child alongside her parents which prompts her to start dribbling into her cleavage and waving her arms about as she attempts to convey the sorry tale of how she arrived in the jungle.

It appears that when her family were flying back from the local Asda one weekend that a terrible (as in badly matted) storm caused their plane to crash.

She was thrown clear - as opposed to tossed off obviously) before it was engulfed by flames and the next morn discovered by the Mighty Peking Man who adopted her.

Seems legit.

Having one last rummage thru' the wreckage for any unopened beers or bags of  crisps Johnny finds a diary that reveals the fact that her name is actually Samantha.

And on that bombshell the pair return to frolicking thru' the trees to a sexy samba beat.

"Oh look....somewhere to park my bike!"

The fun and happiness doesn't last long tho' as when Samantha (as we'll now call her as it's much quicker to type than 'flaxen haired jungle Jane' or 'milky thighed bombshell') sits down on a convenient rock to have a quick snack a deadly Cobra slithers up her leg and bites her inner thigh leaving Johnny no other option than to bury his head 'tween her legs and start sucking.

Which lets be honest is nice work if you can get it.

Luckily a nearby elephant picks up Samantha and carries her off to her cave where Johnny can continue his fantastic first aid technique in more comfortable surroundings.

Meanwhile back in civilization Lu Tien is busying himself touching up local prostitutes in the hotel swimming pool just to remind us that he's a bad 'un whilst at the cave Samantha is quickly recovering and as a thank you to Johnny for saving her life she stumbles into his arms for a wee kiss followed by a bit of bedroom action as the big monkey watches from outside living up to his name of the mighty peeking man.

Sorry.

Fancy trainers not shown.

All these jungle hi-jinks (and long lingering slo-mo shots of Samantha's smooth undulating breasts) can't carry on forever tho' and soon Johnny is yearning for the bright lights of the big city and scarily manages to persuade saucy Sam that they should head back to Hong Kong and take the (Mighty) Peking Man with them.

With Samantha now utterly enslaved by Johnny's cock (well she's only flesh and blood) she excitedly agrees and the trio head off to India where they can hitch a ride to Hong Kong thanks to Lu Tien and his huge freighter.

And yes they do all do appear to have forgotten that he's a bad man.

Thanks to some stunning model work (and someones bathtub) we're off on the high seas where the Mighty Peking Man is having a wet old time being chained to the deck of a freighter during a storm as a soggy Samantha looks on.

And if that wasn't a metaphor for BREXIT I don't know what is.

Luckily Johnny has bought her a (very) little present to cheer her up and fit in when they arrive in Hong Kong, unfortunately it appears that he wants her to fit in to the red light district seeing as the gift consists of a teeny tiny pair of leather hot pants and a basque.

Classy.

Being a modern free-thinking woman tho' Samantha throws the outfit away before falling back onto her bunk in all her naked glory to drift into sleep thinking about big hairy hands and bananas.

Class.

With the movie almost over we're soon in Hong Kong where crowds of (fairly) excited extras are randomly pointing at where the FX team will hopefully superimpose the Mighty Peking Man and his model boat at some point but whilst we're waiting for that  there's just enough time for Johnny to check in on his brother Charlie at the TV station.

After a quick chat Johnny realises that his brother wasn't to blame for the previous infidelity and that it was all the fault of his whorish girlfriend and with that Johnny and Samantha settle down to watch the recording of the Honk Kong equivalent of The Mini-Pops.

Phew glad that's sorted.

Whilst they're enjoying the sight of a pre-pubescent girl miming to The Spice Girls hit Wannabe who should enter the studio but Johnny’s ex-fiancé Lucy (Ping from Da lao qian, Big Bad Sis and Feng kuang da ben zei) who sneakily passes him a note to meet her in her dressing room.

Johnny leaps up and goes to see her where she begs him to take her back and Johnny -being stupid - passionately kisses her just as Samantha walks in.

Heartbroken Samantha runs off into the city (a veritable concrete jungle if you will) and Johnny gives chase.

Unfortunately he keeps tripping over his erection and soon loses sight of her.

"Look at me! I'm from Cradley Heath!"

Meanwhile the poor Peking Man is having a pretty shite time of it himself, chained as he is to a huge pole whilst overweight Chinese folk throw fruit at him as he attempts to juggle a couple of Tonka toys.

Catching a glimpse of these woeful shenanigans on a shop front TV, Samantha bursts into tears before persuading a couple of British tourists to drive her to the stadium where her monkey mate is performing.

She arrives just in time to catch his keepers amusing themselves by trying to push their brooms up his arse so desperately looks for anyone who can help.

Unfortunately for her the person in charge is Lu Tien and never one to not take advantage of a situation invites Samantha back to his office to 'discuss' the matter.

Taking a fairly sinister and totally unnecessary turn, Lu Tien is soon forcing alcohol into Samantha's mouth whilst pawing at her breasts with his chubby sausage fingers as she struggles to break free, finally pulling back the (non beef) curtains allowing the Peking Man to see her plight.

Understandably enraged he breaks free and heads over to the office as a terrified Lu Tien bundles Samantha into the back of his car in the hope of finding a nearby hotel where he can continue his monstrous molestation.

Ping Chen: Hairy back and arse.

Cue ten minutes of cut-price Kaiju style action as the Peking Man stomps on cars and pisses up a couple of cardboard buildings as he attempts to save Samantha from Lu Tien's rancid uncut cock.

Whilst all this pound shop destruction is going down the local (British natch) military have launched a counter-attack and ordered their entire (toy) tank squad to hunt down the beast and destroy him but luckily Johnny nd points out that Samantha can control the Peking Man and probably get him to stop smashing stuff so an APB is sent out to find Samantha who as we know is currently pinned face down on a bed as Lu Tien clumsily fiddles with his flies as he attempts to not prematurely fire his man muck over her peachy arse.

Luckily for Samantha (and her virgin ring) just as leery Lu Tien is about to unleash his engorged member the Peking Man pops his hand thru' the window and grabs him, waving him about before dropping the pervy ponce on the concrete and finally stepping on him.

Result.

Peow!

As Johnny desperately searches for Samantha and Samantha runs around the city in her pants the Peking Man amuses himself by stepping on, well everything really before climbing to the top of a skyscraper and baring his arse at the army helicopters.

Reckoning that a poorly aimed monkey fart could send him toppling down the army decide to fill the roof with petrol and set light to it so to this end send a crack squad to the roof.

Down below Samantha and Johnny are finally reunited and race to the frontline in the hope of convincing the head army man to order a cease-fire so they can head to the roof themselves and calm the Peking Man down.

Army man agrees but as our terrific twosome journey upwards the military are already planning to kill the Peking man.

And anyone who gets in their way..... 

Words!

From the prolific Shaw Brothers directorial mainstay Ho Meng Hua comes this Hong Kong/King Kong mash-up that was all set to rival not only the original King Kong but Dino De Laurentiis' Kong remake at the box office.

Until that is they discovered that it takes more than a couple of tin tanks, an old fur coat and a Swiss bombshell not afraid to furtively flash her nipples to make a classic monster movie.

And no, basing the female leads outfit on the one Marion Michael (barely) wore in Liane, das Mädchen aus dem Urwald doesn't count either.

And if I'm honest it only makes you feel guilty for remembering how obsessed you were with her as a teen.

Michael: Barry more.

It's not all bad tho'

I mean any movie that features HK action icon Danny Lee fighting stuffed leopards and shooting elephants can't be all that bad plus Evelyne Kraft manages to pull of the whole jungle virgin shtick with aplomb whilst wearing what looks like a leather duster on her arse whilst Feng Ku makes a great panto style villain - until the unnecessary attempted rape that is, a scene that's as unwanted as it is uncomfortable in what until this point has been a pretty straightforward boys own adventure.

Albeit one with a veritable feast of nipple slips.

Meng Hua Ho's direction is pretty solid - if a little point and shoot - whilst the score (credited to Yung-Yu Chen) is mainly made up of classic De Wolfe library tracks alongside copious amounts of Dmitri Dmitriyevich Shostakovich which give it an air of - threadbare - elegance.

Or laziness when it comes to the soundtrack, you decide.

Kraft: Slices.

Easily as entertaining as it's stablemates - the South Korean-American co-production A.P.E. (1976) and the Italian monster mash-up Yeti: Giant Of The 20th Century (1977) and scarily slightly better budgeted, The Mighty Peking Man is a perfect Friday night cheese feast of a film for anyone who enjoys a good monster movie or just enjoys seeing hunky Chinese guys topless.

Recommended,

dog day afternoon.

Still recovering from the dreaded Frightfest lurgy so spent this week recuperating with a rewatch of the Jess Franco classic Devil Hunter in the hope of scoring some free stuff from 88 Films thanks to the frankly brilliant review what I wrote about it.

Anyways, the laydees were out shopping today leaving myself and Mr Cassidy home alone so I decided in a kinda sweet father/son bonding exercise to let him pick today's entertainment.*

Well he must have really enjoyed the aforementioned classic as he dove straight into the Franco-pile and chose this.

That's my boy.

Sadomania (AKA Holle der Lust, Hellhole Women. 1981)
Dir: Jess Franco.
Cast: Uta Koepke, Ursula Buchfellner, Ajita Wilson, Antonio Mayans (AKA 'Robert Foster', nope still not that one), Gina Janssen, Jess Franco, Angel Caballero and a huge, horny dog.

"Look at the dog! Look at the dog!"

Young(ish) and fairly groovy (for the west midlands circa 1974) newlyweds, Olga (pert of breast and flaxen of haired Koepke, best known for her performance as Kirstin in the classic Drei Schwedinnen auf der Reeperbahn) and Michael (Caballero from the brothel based drama L'oasis des filles perdues) are happily enjoying their South America honeymoon cum golfing holiday, which is always how these things start if I'm honest.

It's been sun, sand, huge amounts of cocaine, a wee bit of poverty and holes in one all the way so far and with a return home looming our loving couple decide to finish their vacation with an idyllic picnic.

After packing the Tizer and egg and cress sandwiches they're soon on their way, taking a short cut to the beach thru' the grounds of the ominous Hacienda Blanco, a notorious women's prison and general den of kinkiness.

As you can imagine this doesn't go down too well with the Hacienda's evil warden Magda (transsexual mega-star and Euro porn queen, the late great Ajita Wilson) who comes across the pair gobbling on some fruit.

Which reminds me of the reason I got expelled from school years ago.

Wilson: Like you'd have a choice.

After a quick telling off and a slapped wrist Michael is sent on his merry way but Olga on the other (slightly smaller) hand is charged with trespassing on private property and detained at (and for) the wardens pleasure.

Matron!

Surprisingly Michael sheepishly bids farewell and saunters off without even a hint of annoyance at the thought of having to spend the final nights of his honeymoon in the company of mother fist and her five beautiful daughters, leaving poor Olga to be (roughly) taken up the prison to be 'processed'.

Which is nice.

Arriving at the gates and with her only experience of incarceration being endless reruns of Prisoner: Cell Block H and Bad Girls, Olga is surprised to find that this alleged top security complex looks more like an end of days Butlins as imagined by a crack-fueled Robin Askwith, housing as it does around 40 women - of various degrees of attractiveness -  who spend their days sweatily toiling in fields clad only in Daisy Duke style hot-pants whilst (topless) female guards with machine guns watch them from either horseback or home made chariots.

A wee bit like your mums old school.

"Are you looking at my bra?"

Lucky for Olga tho' who to be honest isn't the sharpest tool in the tin,  the prison rules are  simple enough for even her to understand.

And they go something like this:

 If a prisoner is caught trying to escape they are given a 60 second head start and then chased and shot (unless the inflatable Crocodiles don't get them first that is).

See?

I told you they were easy to remember.

Don't worry if shooting or being eaten alive aren't your thing as there is an alternative.

For example if the local politicians wife, the luscious Loba (swallowing superstar Janssen from the Story of Q) is in a good mood, hand-picked prisoners are taken to her villa for a wee kiss and cuddle with her impotent husband Jeff Mendoza (Foster from Oasis of the Zombies and Zombie(s) Lake sporting the worlds greatest comedy moustache).

Or if they're really lucky a wee bit of sapphic sauciness Loba herself.

Now which UK political party would be brave enough to bring this bill in?

I for one would commit a dozen acts of wanton burglary if I was in with a chance of an evening alone with Scottish Conservative bawheid and original Tank Girl  Ruth Davidson.

Well I'm only flesh and blood.

"Now ladies....who fancies a wee bit o' mooth shite-in?"

It's not all fun and frolics tho' as wicked warden Magda has a strict zero tolerance approach to fighting among the inmates and anyone who breaks this rule is punished by both parties being bundled into a ramshackle cage and forced to fight to the death.

Whilst topless obviously.

And what of the winner?

Well they get the special treat of spending the night with Mendoza's (over) friendly Alsatian, Butch and a once in a lifetime chance to enjoy his own special brand of 'meat treat'.

If, for some strange reason, none of this works to break the prisoners spirits, the worst offenders (or those with the perkiest breasts) are sold to the ferret-like Mr. Jorge Lucas (director Franco himself with trademark pube beard in tow) and put to work in his brothel in order to bring pleasure to the local mine workers and various salty sailor folk that pass thru town.

Exactly like your mums old school then.

Who's best...Theresa May or Nicola Sturgeon?.....There's only one way to find out! FIGHT!

Anyway, back to the non lesbian/torture/dog sex plot of the movie (yes there is one) and poor Michael, outwardly beginning to show the faintest signs of guilt in regards to leaving his missis in such a god forsaken hellhole - but more likely just jealous of missing out on all this girl on girl action - decides it's time to mount a rescue mission (as opposed to mounting a rescue dog or your gran) and free Olga.

Yup, I know he's taken his time about it but they've got to stretch the movie out somehow.

But if he's ever to be re-united with his true love he must first face not only the wrath of Luba and her psycho-sexual perversions but the cunning wiles of the horny she-male Magda who, sick of sticking it in girls is searching for some fresh, virginal manass to corrupt.

Oh and don't forget Mendoza's dog.

Which would be quite difficult seeing as he's quite ruggedly handsome if I'm honest.

Well for a dog anyway.

Good old Jess Franco, director of such classics as Vampyros Lesbos and, well anything you can think of with the words virgin, perversion or women in the title really - oh and that cannibal one where Al Cliver loses his arm - brings this shockingly brutal and realistic tale of loose women, perverted prisons and militant feminism to the screen in a blaze of cheaply made, stiltedly acted, S/M fueled trash-o-rama Euro-sleaze in the way that only he can.

Which is for under 20 quid.

Franco-philes, as some enthusiasts like to be called - probably - claim that the great mans movies have a genuine and legitimate artistry to them as well as a strong moral message lurking behind the sleaze and violence but to be honest it's pretty well hidden here as to be invisible.

Maybe I should take a closer look as no doubt it's carefully hidden somewhere between the frankly bizarre cutaways to close-ups of a selection of wind-up tin toys when Mendoza's pup ravishes the foxy cage fighter and the bits prisoners get eaten by crocodiles.

Or maybe I'm just too thick to see past the exploitation excesses.

Most likely tho' is the fact that I really don't feel the need to over intellectualize my genuine love of saucy Euro-Trash and am quite happy to share it with anyone who'll listen.

Because let's be honest here, if I've got the choice of spending a Friday night watching Chiwetel Ejiofor being whipped by a bad man or a flee bitten Alsatian desperately trying to mount a visibly nervous Angel Caballero I know which one I’d go for.

And I don't care how hot Ejiofor looks topless and drenched in sweat.

Plus he's no Idris Elba is he?

Well, neither of them are really but that's a different topic altogether.

"Oh no! I have my woman's period".

Whilst obviously never reaching the dizzy heights of Franco's all time classic Bloody Moon (but then again, what does?), it still has much to offer the serious film connoisseur, from glimpses of how unattractive the majority of people in the 70's were when naked to a rare mainstream (sort of) performance by cult goddess Ajita Wilson, later to become Europe's highest paid transsexual porn star as well as my godmother.

Add to this the copious amounts of mindless violence coupled with the most stunning and overgrown seventies bush ever committed to celluloid and the oh so saucy hints of bestiality and you know you've got a winner on your hands.

Or at least a pitiful semi between your chubby little fingers.

You dirty, dirty boy.

What your girlfriend really gets up to on bingo night.

*By the way, before you complain to social services I was only joking about letting the wee fella watch Jess Franco movies, that would be just plain wrong (plus he's only half way thru' the Joe D'Amato back catalogue and I wouldn't want to confuse him).