monster mash.

Celebrating the birthday of the late great Jess Franco in the only way I know.

With a movie featuring a ginger woman singing whilst flashing her pants.

Them's the breaks.

Dracula, Prisoner of Frankenstein (AKA Drácula contra Frankenstein, 1972).

Dir: Jesus Franco.

Cast: Dennis Price, Howard Vernon, Paca Gabaldón, Alberto Dalbés, Britt Nichols (AKA Carmen Yazalde), Josyane Gilbert, Luis Barboo, Brandy and Fernando Bilbao.

 

They have awakened... and they are the sound of terror!

 

Evil bloodsucker Count Brian Dracula (Genre God Vernon, star of my fave ever lake based zombie movie Zombie Lake, the terrifying Orloff And The Invisible Man and latter day angry Chihuahua Ren Hoek) rules over the small Romanian village of Spent with a rod of iron (and teeth like clothes-pegs), spending his nights either draining local virgins of blood or pushing pensioners down the stairs.

With the villagers are too frightened to fight back and local gypsy witch Amira's (Geneviève Robert who was married to Ivan Reitman, no idea how that's relevant tho') spells seemingly powerless against the Count it's left to the local GP, the studly Dr. Jonathan Seward (hunky beef-treat Dalbés star of Tendre et perverse Emanuelle and The Erotic Rites of Frankenstein) to challenge the creepy count and rid the village of his evil ways

 

Fancy trainers not shown.

.

Jumping into/onto his deluxe horse-drawn carriage (which is an odd choice of transport seeing the sheer amount of modern days cars, TV aerials, phones and fashions around the place) Seward makes his way to Castle Dracula and almost without any effort enters the crypt and quickly pounds a stake into Dracula's heart.

Sorted.

This has the bizarre effect tho' of not only transforming Dracula into a tiny stuffed bat but turning the massive wooden stake into a cocktail stick which is now poking out of the bats arse.

Which is nice.

And with that Seward heads back to work.

And by work I mean spending the day 'studying' the dusky, Amazon-thighed María (Gabaldón) his - seemingly - only patient who spends her days wearing only a mans red shirt whilst crayoning on the walls.

Feminine perfection I'm sure you'll agree.

Maria: Thighs.

Being only 20 minutes into the film (tho' to be fair it does seem like longer) there's no way that's the last we'll see of Dracula and soon enough a sinister black hearse trundles into town driven by the boss-eyed hunchback Morpho (Barboo who readers may recognise from Franco's The Demons and from his top turns in Supersonic Man, Conan The Barbarian - yes really - and as Alberic in The Loreley's Grasp), humble servant of the infamous - and oh so slightly pissed - Dr. Rainier Frankenstein (Dennis - my gin soaked career - Price. From Kind Hearts and Coronets to this and with only Horror Hospital to look forward to, poor sod).

Seriously you can smell the booze thru' the screen.

It appears that the pair have stopped to ask for directions to Dracula's castle (as you do), well Morpho has stopped to ask as I'm pretty sure by the look of things that Price can barely stand unaided let alone speak.

Which is probably why the movie has literally no dialogue.

And when anyone does speak it's a voice-over.

Artistic eh?

Or just cheap?

YOU decide.

Anyway it turns out that Frankenstein has purchased the castle at a knock down price and reckons it's just the place for him to continue his work.

Plus it has a really fucking well stocked wine cellar and a handy off-licence nearby.

And with that the pair unpack the car and set up the lab.

They've even got a monster (Bilbao from the frankly fantastic The Vampires Night Orgy), packed carefully into a big box and are all set to go.

Sorted.  

But whilst searching for extra extension cords to plug all his fancy electrical gadgets into Frankenstein stumbles (literally) upon Dracula’s coffin in the crypt, complete with the arse-impaled bat lying inside.

 

Surmising that this must be the infamous Count Dracula himself, the doctor decides to try and reanimate him.

 

As you do.

 

Meanwhile back in town, copper-topped temptress Estela (Gilbert, best known for her roles in Confessions of the Sex Slaves and A Rope for a Bastard as well as editing A Virgin Among the Living Dead and co-writing Nightmares Come at Night) is busy entertaining the locals with her saucy French cabaret act which involves her singing sad love songs whilst shoving her arse into the faces of anyone sitting near the front.

 

Just like your Nan did during the war.

 

 

Strumpet.

 

Luckily we only get to see her perform one song (Jess doesn't need to stretch the running time that much) so she's soon off to her dressing room for a fag and a poo before heading home. Unfortunately she's interrupted by Frankenstein’s monster, who's been hiding behind the wardrobe ready to pounce.

 

And pounce he does, scooping Estela into his arms and beating the remaining clientele to death before stomping off to the castle.

It appears that only the blood from a third-rate, over the hill cabaret performer can revive the prince of darkness so Frankenstein straps Estela to a decorating table and begins draining her blood into an old jam jar wherein lies a visibly terrified bat flapping about as it tries not to drown whilst director Franco pours Ribena over it.

Surprisingly this actually works and thanks to the power of stop/start filming techniques the bat is quickly replaced with a sleeping Howard Vernon (tho' they've not tried to squeeze him into a jar unfortunately) - minus a stake up his arse obviously.

For some unknown reason tho' Dracula is now almost catatonic and unable to function without orders from Frankenstein. 

And what are those orders?

To head into town and kidnap folk to turn into an army of the undead and take over the world.

And he's going to start with Maria.

Probably because Seward is less likely to try and stick his wood into her if she goes all vampy but mainly because the cast is so small.

Look I didn't write this.

As in I didn't write the script.

I mean I wrote (well typed) this obviously.

And this.

But you know what I mean.

 

"Fiona! Where's mah lunch?"

Anyway I digress.

So whilst all this blood draining and kidnapping is going on Frankenstein sends his monster to deal with Seward but being a bit shit it totally fails to kill the good doctor but does leave him incapacitated in a ditch, unable to save Maria from her fate.

Luckily Amira and her Gypsies come across him and nurse Seward back to health much to Frankenstein's chagrin.

Phew, glad that bit of jeopardy was dealt with so quickly, the film almost became exciting for a minute.

With Frankenstein's plan in full flow and Seward out of action recovering on a stinky camp bed no-one seems to have noticed that there was, in fact, another vampire in the castle and this time it's a sexy blonde one (Brit Nichols AKA Carmen Yazalde - best known around here as the uncredited sacrificial maiden in Tombs of The Blind Dead) and she too wants a wee bit of bitey action.

Cue many scenes of her and Vernon breaking into peoples houses and sucking jam off their necks.

I fang you.

 An ever growing gang of vicious vamps isn't all a quickly recovered Seward has to deal with tho' as Amira's spooky spirit guide has warned her that a werewolf (played by the enigmatic Spanish stuntman Brandy and not the American singer, songwriter, dancer, model and actress of the same name no matter what Google says, pity) is fast approaching town with a score to settle with Frankenstein....

For fans of the late, great Jess Franco, Dracula, Prisoner of Frankenstein is a wee bit of an oddity featuring none of the nudity, sexy sadism and erotica (plus copious amounts of 60s/70s bush) we associate with the great man.

Which is a shame really as all we're left with is a threadbare basis of a plot, a barely conscious lead villain, joke shop make-up and a pace that, if any more leisurely with be catatonic.

And don't get me started on the piss poor editing and hit and miss attempts a keeping things in focus.

But as a plus point, the usual Franco crash zooms are always welcome and Paca Gabaldón does have a smashing blouse so swings and roundabouts really.

 

"Spice Girls number one for Christmas? MONSTA!"

 

 

Scarily tho' despite its (painfully) obvious shortcomings it's actually a fairly enjoyable little film, especially late at night with a drink in you.

Plus Howard Vernon is always worth a watch, even when he's as horribly miscast as he is here, all poppy-eyed and cherry-lipped sneaking around various folks bedrooms with an ill-fitting top hat perched precariously on his tiny pinhead.

Like most folk here he's doing his best with what he's been given, which is more than Paca Gabaldón got seeing as she's emoting with only a shirt and a box of crayons but whilst everyone seems to be giving it their all you can't help but feel slightly uncomfortable every time Dennis Price is onscreen as he stumbles around the uneven castle floors, obviously trying his best to walk in a straight line as the booze sweat glistens on his brow.

And to think he'd be dead a year later at the (relatively) young age of 58.

So don't drink kids.

Fucking Hell that's a depressing note to end on.

Sorry.

rappin' with russell.

friday i'm in love.

For you eyeball pleasure and to celebrate 45 years since the release of the very first Friday 13th movie, here's an (almost) complete collection of Friday fan films...

Enjoy.

 

 Never Hike Alone
  

Never Hike in the Snow
 

F13 - A New Wake
  

F13 - The Storm


F13 - Extraction
 

Jason Rising -

Uncut version
 

Censored  version
 

Friday the 13th: Hike to Higgins Haven


Vengeance


Voorhees

F13 - The Fall of Camp Blood
 

Here comes the Night
 

The Cabin he calls home

beastmaster.

With the new series of Doctor Who going from strength to strength* on Saturday nights (or mornings if you watch it on IPlayer) and everyone's favourite top secret military mainstays UNIT back in the picture (and still fighting rather unconvincing rubber monsters more than 60 years since their first appearance) - and with an unfortunately monikered spin-off coming soon I thought I'd rewatch this Don Dohler classic in way of tribute.

And to get rid of the foul taste of progressive politics from my mouth.

Oh the struggles of being an evil hetro-normative white man in the modern world.

Hmmm....Nice optics Rusty.

Nightbeast (1982).

Dir: Don Dohler (with a few scenes by Dave Geatty).

Cast: Tom Griffith, Jamie Zemarel, Karin Kardian, George Stover, Don Leifert, Anne Frith, Eleanor Herman, Richard Dyszel, Greg Dohler, Kim Dohler, Monica Neff, Glenn Barnes, Richard Ruxton, Bump Roberts, Don Dohler, David W. Donoho, Richard Geiwitz, Larry Reichman, Christopher Gummer, Dace Parson and
Richard Nelson.

"Don't call me Bertie!"

Space - the final frontier.

Well it would be if the final frontier were a collection of painted ping-pong balls attached to an old black sheet intercut with slightly out of focus footage from some old NASA videos but beggars can't be choosers which is probably why the 'spaceship' we see hurtling thru' this crap cosmos bears an unsettling resemblance to a Dinky truck sans wheels and painted silver.

Unfortunately the pilot of said craft is way too interested in the surrounding planets to notice the large baked potato hurtling toward him and in a flash of fireworks and kiddies sparklers the spaceship ends up irreparably damaged and  crashing to earth.

To the small town of Perry Hall in Baltimore to be precise.

Think Dudley but with (slightly) better teeth.

The (crash) landing is observed by a group of good ol' boy hunters in the woods who quickly notify the local sheriff, Jack 'The Hat' Cinder (Griffith reprising his role from The Alien Factor) before heading to the wreckage to investigate themselves.

It'll come as no surprise tho' when I tell you that as soon as they approach, a silver jump suited, big toothed beast jumps out and disintegrates them before heading off into the woods to wreak havoc among the locals - killing a couple in their home before murdering a guy (Uncle Dave - a pitch perfect performance from David W. Donoho) whose only crime is having a piss against a tree whilst driving his niece and nephew home.

Obviously the beast kills the kids too but to be honest I was more upset about Dave.

What's that circling Uranus? (sorry).

Realising a scary alien beast is loose in the town (to be fair he has previous) Cinder rounds up a posse - including his 'sexy' blonde deputy Lisa (Kardian - one time hairdresser to Dohler's Auntie, I kid you not) - to go look for it whilst the erstwhile wannabe deputy Jamie (Zemarel, most famous for his role as a bailiff in As The World Turns) heads out to check on his exotic 'lady friend' Suzie (Neff), who is trapped in an abusive relationship with local biker bad boy Drago (Dohler regular Leifert).

And so with everything - and (almost) everyone in place Cinder heads out to a local farmhouse where the creature was last sighted only for most of his trigger happy pals to be zapped into oblivion forcing Cinder to retreat back to the police station and ask local science type Dr Ruth Sherman (producer and actress Frith) and her assistant/son/secret lover and part-time coroner Steven (the legend that is Stover) for help.

Unfortunately Steven reckons they're fucked so Cinder begrudgingly orders the town be evacuated but not before asking local sharpshooter Jimmy Perkins (director Dohler obviously not wanting to miss out on all the fun) and his dad Bill (the brilliantly monikered Bump Roberts) to have one last shot (literally) at killing the creature.

Neff: 'exotic'.

More gun-fun ensues culminating with Jimmy actually managing to hit - and destroy - the creatures disintegration gun, disarming the beast just before he himself is killed.

And with that the creature turns tail and runs into the woods.

 

MONSTA!

 

With the remaining members of the police department - and the postman - beginning the evacuation of the town, Cinder is doing his best to persuade  the local mayor, Bert Wicker (the Internets first horror host, Count Gore De Vol himself, Dyszel) and his vapid assistant Mary Jane (Herman, latter day New York Times bestselling author of Sex with Kings, Sex with the Queen) to cancel a party he's holding for the visiting governor Lenny Embry (Ruxton) that's planned to be held that very evening but the pissed up pair are having none of it and quickly send the sheriff on his way.

 

Paddington.

 

Meanwhile, and with no concern about the scary alien stalking the town, Drago has decided to go and sort out his relationship with Suzie but in a fit of jealous rage inadvertently strangles her before riding off on his BMX with Jamie in hot pursuit.

He soon catches up with him tho' (well he is riding a Grifter) and proceeds to beat the shit out of him, leaving Drago unconscious and covered in mud, sweat and egg before heading back to the sheriff's office to see if anyone else is in need of a fucking good beating.

 

"Laugh now!"

 
Anyway, back at the alien-based plot we find Steven and Ruth busying themselves trying to find a way to kill the beast using any information they've gathered, which seems to be that he likes going to discos (his outfit suggests this), he's a shit driver (hence the crash) and judging by his teeth must be British which in all honesty doesn't give them much to work on but does give the creature a reason to attack their office where, after hiding in the basement Steven electrocutes the beast with some dodgy electrical wires causing it to flee the building whilst screaming like a Democrat on election night.

Too soon?

Back in the woods Cinder and Lisa have come across (not in that way, you've got a mind like a sewer) a mutilated body but whilst checking it for ID (and loose change) the creature stumbles out of the trees and tries to eat them.

Luckily the pair manage to escape but not before Cinder suffers some nasty chafing on his inner thigh.

Luckily Lisa is also a first aider so takes him to her house to patch him up and also have 'the sex'. 

Easy tiger.

 

"Is it in yet?"

 

Back at Mayor Wicker's house the party is in full swing, much to Jamie's chagrin, you see he's decided that if he's upset then no-one else should be having a good time either so after scoffing 14 scotch eggs he forces out a terrible fart then proceeds to tell everyone there's a poison gas leak from the nearby mine causing everyone to flee in panic. 

And in some cases flee in cars.

Wicker and Mary Jane, upset with how the evening has turned out, stay behind tho' (well it is his house) and decided to get drunk instead.

Which is fair enough I guess.

And with that Jamie heads back to the sheriff's office to see who else he can annoy.

"Can you smell petrol?"

Finding out that Jamie has left Wicker and Mary Jane home alone (and hoping for a furtive glimpse of lady garden, probably) Steven decides to go and bring them to the - relative - safety of the sheriff's office,  unfortunately the beast has beaten him to it, first bludgeoning Mary Jane to death in the basement before beheading Wicker in the pantry.

Which is nice.

It's almost the climax so needing all the surviving characters to be together, Cinder and Lisa soon arrive followed by Ruth and Jamie who suggests electrocuting the creature using the high-voltage cables from the nearby power plant, a plan that Steven, remembering his electrical-based shenanigans from earlier agrees with.

And with that they all drive out to the power plant to begin running the cables to Wickers house.

And maybe have a picnic. 

Still no idea why they just didn't lure it to the actual power station and kill it there tho' and save them the effort.

Unfortunately Drago is already there and hiding in the portaloo ready to pounce.

And pounce he does, first slapping Ruth and then kicking Cinder on his sore leg.

The rotter.

Luckily for our hero tho' Jamie turns up in the nick of time and shoots Drago dead.

 

Dave Grohl: tunnel or funnel?

Quickly returning to Wicker's house our heroes begin setting the trap but the creature is lying in wait....

Will they succeed in beating the beast? 

Did I mean that to sound so rude?

Will Cinder and Lisa's relationship work out?

Will there ever be another director as great as Don Dohler?

From Don Dohler, director of some of the greatest lo-fi sci-fi horror yarns ever made comes this semi-sequel to his 1978 hit The Alien Factor, featuring as it does much of the same cast (with a few returning characters thrown in), much of the same plot and luckily enough much of the same joy and absolute love of films and film-making that we came to expect from from the great man's work.

Seriously, what it lacks in polish, acting talent or budget (seriously it only cost $14,000 to make and most of that went on bottles of Just For Men, tho' they ran out when they got to Tom Griffith) it more than makes up for with sheer, unadulterated fun and charm.

Plus it gave good old Star Wars botherer J.J. Abrams his big break (and first onscreen credit) in movies for his fart-tastic synth score for which we can all be grateful.

Possibly.

I mean we wouldn't have The Rise of Skywalker without this.

 

43 years later and with a Disney budget....Hmmm.

 

 

And, bizarrely enough it ended up being classified as a "Section 3" Video Nasty in the UK  for some unknown reason (maybe Tom Griffith's buttocks were too sexy for British audiences?) meaning that although never prosecuted, it was a real pain in the arse to actually watch this as a kid.

Which quite honestly was probably a good thing as I really can't imagine serious 12 year old film fan me (I have previous) being able to actually appreciate the genuine love Dohler and co. had not just for film-making but the horror genre in general.

Plus any movie featuring George Stover is guaranteed to be at least 75% more enjoyable than one without him.

And to think, at this point in his career Dohler was happy just producing, handing the directorial reigns over to Dave Geatty (famous for his portrayal of 'man in bar' in The Alien Factor), luckily for the viewer Geatty had no idea what he was doing and after spending half the budget on a tracking shot that ended up being out of focus Dohler stepped in, giving us what is probably his greatest movie and the greatest scene featuring a flabby, pale man-ass ever committed to celluloid.

I'm looking at you Tom Griffith.

And to think he actually insisted on doing a nude sex scene, even going as far as asking (begging?) Karin Kardian to do it with him.

Surprisingly she agreed tho' I don't know if we should be thankful or not.

Answers on a postcard to the usual address.

Ready Brek.

 

Perfect Friday night fodder and the kind of movie this blog was made for....if you're not a fan of Dohler's work then be warned, you will be after this.

*This is what us Brits call 'the sarcasm'.

may the fourth....

...be with you!

Celebrate Star Wars Day with this Sith-tastic mix of Skywalker inspired sounds remixed for your dancing pleasure. 

Caution: may contain Gungans.

standby for action!

Celebrating the genius of Gerry Anderson on his birthday with 60 minutes of Spectrum Sounds and Terrahawk tunes in one mighty Mysteron mix.....

 

 

doctor in distress.

 

It's time to celebrate the return of the children's hero that adults adore coming back to our screens  - and looking as great as ever - after spending the last couple of years languishing in the backwaters of audience popularity. 

Suffice to say it's been an odd few years as a Doctor Who fan.

Sorry, enthusiast.

I was at Longleat, your argument is invalid.

 

To fill in those who have lives, it all started with the much maligned Jodie Whittaker era which decided that after years of fairly fast moving and exciting plots coupled with genuinely charismatic actors (and Jenna Coleman) and a menagerie of terrifying monsters to relaunch the show with a cast of cardboard non-personalities (and Bradley Walsh), stumbling about bits of South Africa reciting obvious first drafts of scripts before turning to camera and explaining the point of it all.

A particularly bold move was to cast a genuinely funny and likeable actress in the lead then proceed to make her reign all of that in giving us a one-note version of your favourite drunken aunt performing a fairly atrocious impression of David Tennant whilst scrunching her (albeit fairly cute) button nose and then tear up the shows entire backstory for no other reason than to make sense of a throwaway scene from The Brain of Morbius. 

As Jodie left in a nostalgia-fueled tale that still makes absolutely fuck all sense it looked like the writing was on the wall for our favourite show until Russell 'T' Davies stepped back into the breach to save us all.

And with a message for any of us worried that the faux-caring, sharing, lefty lecturing would continue:

 

Phew! Less moralizing messaging and more monsters, Masters and mad adventures ahoy! 

And then this happened:

 

 

What a time to be a Doctor Who fan.

A proper one I mean, not one of those anorak-clad wankers with NHS specs that the Metro was talking about.

 

Anyway to help remember the good times let's enjoy this look back at probably THE greatest bit of Who inspired entertainment ever.

Unless you're one of the few folk who read the original review back in 2007 in which case enjoy again.

Abducted By The Daleks (AKA Abducted by The Daloids, 2005)   

Dir: Don Skaro (Aye sure).

Cast: Eliza Borecka, Sonja Karina, Lina Black, Maria Vaslova and The Daleks.

Who buys this shite?...oh yes, me.

It's a cold wet night in November and a banged up and rusty Ford Fiesta is trundling down a deserted country lane.

Tho' to be honest it's not as banged up as the occupants.

And what of those occupants?

Please welcome our  'young' (well, younger than your nan) leads, a freaky foursome of plastic of tit and very harsh of face Eastern European women heading home after a hard days work letting Soho media types spunk in their hair for coppers.

Tragedy  strikes tho' when they run over an extraterrestrial being who - to all intents and purposes was out for a stroll and minding his own business - smudging their lipstick and totaling the motor in the process.

So far so Torchwood.

If that wasn't enough to put a downer on the evening (the crash I mean not comparing the whole thing to everyone's favourite Who spin-off - sorry Class) it turns out that the woods our crack whore heroines have found themselves in are said to be the hunting ground of a particularly mental murderer type bloke and ex member of The Streets (ask your mum), the amusingly monikered 'Serial Skinner'.

At least in this light you
can't see how harsh they look.

Being girls, they decide that the best course of action would be to abandon the relative safety of the car and wander around in the darkened woods and look for help.

Or a way out of the despair that is Brexit Britain if they're lucky.

Whilst skulking about in the bushes (armed with a handy torch) one of our foxy foursome trips over some roots, twisting her ankle and loses her clothes in the process.

But things are about to turn even more sinister tho' for watching the scene from space are the dreaded Daleks, bubbling lumps of hate trapped inside bonded polycarbide war machines and determined to exterminate all inferior life forms.

Using a Trans-Mat beam (cunningly disguised as a mid eighties Top of the Pops effect) they transport the injured woman aboard their spacecraft. 

Spookily she doesn't seem to notice as she continues to crouch down and rub her ankle whilst the Daleks glide menacingly round her.

Ignore the nudity just check the neck on the red Dalek!

It appears that the Daleks are kidnapping humans to examine and study in preparation for an invasion of Earth.

Again.

Which, if I'm honest is quite lucky seeing as it means that Who fans - sorry 'enthusiasts' - can make it a semi-official prequel to The Dalek Invasion of Earth and therefore not worry about whether it's 'canon' or not and just enjoy furiously masturbating over the home-made casings on show.

Anyway, back to the plot and the three other ladies are still in the woods arguing about whether to look for their missing friend or strip naked and rub each other in a slightly unnatural and incredibly wooden manner. 

Decisions, decisions.

Luckily one of the girls (the least chiseled one) volunteers to look for their pal, meaning the other pair can happily indulge in the uncomfortable (for them and us) stroking of each others harsh, cold bodies.

See? everyone's a winner in this film.

Except the estate of the late, great Terry Nation that is as I'm pretty sure they've not paid for the rights to the Daleks.

But I digress.

Fortunately (for us) these sexy shenanigans are cut short when they too are trans-matted aboard the Dalek ship ready to be experimented on.

These experiments by the way appear to consist of sticking two of the ladies to the wall with tin foil and cardboard straps whilst a Dalek aimlessly fires balls of yellowy melted cheese at their shoes.

The other captive just lies on a decorating table wiggling her arse.

And grunting like a pig.

Too. Much. Acting.

Just as you're contemplating slashing your wrists the last lady is brought aboard, but lo and behold it transpires that she's really an evil spandex clad alien in league with the Daleks!

Be honest you didn't see that coming. 

I mean you heard it obviously but definitely didn't see it.

Beats Rodney Bewes I guess.

Having had enough of their shoes being abused (and possibly getting a sore back from the table) our fearless heroines escape from the torture lab in a blaze of strobe lights, fog and shitey laser effects, only to be gunned down by their evil captors.

One survives (umm...the blonde one) and manages to reverse the T-Mat, returning (naked apart from her aforementioned hideous footwear) to the woods where she is quickly captured by Albert Steptoe (probably but let's be honest do you really care?) who just happens to be hunting the 'Serial Skinner'.

Albert decides to use her as bait, tying her to a tree and hiding in a bush (not hers) whilst waiting - but not alas wanking - for the Skinner to pounce.

A (non serial killer but radio-based) Skinner yesterday.

Bound and gagged (yay! no more of that gruff accent) she can only watch on in horror as the Skinner kills old man Steptoe (which is more than we can seeing as it happens off screen) and advance menacingly towards her.


To her - and our - horror she realizes that the infamous Skinner is actually an evil alien.

And I have to be honest, the creature's reveal is one of the few moments of terror in the whole production, decked out as it is in a red shell suit, sporting what looks like a cheap pound shop turtles mask and armed with a tiny wee pen knife.

I was shaking like a shaky thing as he prepared to skin the girl by drawing on her breasts in lipstick.

For what seems like twenty minutes.

Did I say terrifying?.

Sorry I meant to say utter shite.

Don't worry tho' because just as he goes to put it in her, the Skinner gets beamed aboard the Dalek spaceship 'by mistake' (either that or they fancied a bit of cock for a change) leaving the lady trussed up like a turkey and covered in lippy tied against a tree.

Fade to black, it's a couple of days later and the (still naked and surprisingly even harsher lit) survivor is telling her tale of woe to a couple of nonchalant policemen.

Interestingly one of which looks like Matt Berry but with a squeaky voice. 

This is in no way important, it's just that I felt like sharing.

Sorry.

They dismiss her story as utter bollocks but announce that someone has arrived at the station to collect her......

The poor woman looks on in terror as the room is filled with cries of EXTERMINATE!

Davros farted...and it's an eggy one.

It appears that some 'critics' have been a tad unkind to this film, so I'd like to say that Don Skaro (possibly not the directors real name) has crafted a sinister yet sexy tale of alien abduction that belies it's low budget, soft core roots. 

The performances from the first time cast are top notch, the effects are a wonder to behold and the shocking ending will burn itself onto your memory and haunt you for years to come.

Yes, I'd love to say those things if any of them were true but unfortunately the film is utter shite from start to finish.

Matt Berry, Mark Kermode and Jo Whiley
discuss environmental issues yesterday.

But saying that,  if you're a fan of bottle bleached, middle aged and stony faced illegally imported European women battling 'the strange robot people from BBC TV's Doctor Who' whilst standing in a hastily tin foiled garage tho' then this is the film for you.

From dizzying shots of the girls buttock skirting hemlines and horrendous market store shoes to a fantastically half arsed lesbian scene (with visibly giggling ladies) via the bizarro Dalek S & M torture chamber - complete with stolen Star Trek sound effects - the film hits the 'wrong wrong wrong' button so many times it's a wonder it didn't drop off from overuse.

It's wrong on so many levels and not just because none of the casings match.

Fair play to the producers tho' who were confident enough that people would purchase this quality product just because it has the Daleks in it rather than for the pale arsed, silicon enhanced grannies cavorting around in the woods naked in it.

I mean they even replace lead actress Lina Black halfway thru with Maria Vaslova (due to her being on holiday or something)  and no-one noticed as viewers were too busy making notes regarding the Dalek casings on show.

And purchase they did.

This was possibly helped by the outrage shown by that quality newspaper The Sun when it's headline screamed:
 
"BEEB bosses have gone ballistic after discovering the Daleks are starring in a porn flick!"

I'd pop the link up but the story was deleted years ago so you'll have to take my word for it. 

Mum, Dad I'm sorry.

 
We should also give them credit too for actually featuring the Daleks and not some amusingly named vaguely Dalek shaped villain (ala the Alicia Rhodes starrer Dr. Loo and the Phaleks), seeing as most Doctor Who based porn movies (of which there are a few, trust me) appear to think that calling the lead characters time machine the 'TURDIS' is worthy of a Talbot Rothwell 'Carry On' script and enough to keep folk happy.

But compared to a certain Pertwee story that features only three of those infamous meanies, a blonde that flashes her pants at every opportunity and unconvincing green aliens,  Abducted By The Daleks is slightly more enjoyable and has a better plot.

Plus it's a load more enjoyable - and way less preachy - than anything the actually show has produced in the last 7 years.

Yes, that's THE Karla Romana!

Saying that tho' even the (late lamented) Adult Channel's very own Doctor Who based porn show from about 20 years back (cleverly entitled 'Doctor Screw', must have taken hours that one) was a work of utter genius compared to what passes as quality Who today and deserves a special mention.

I mean it even based a few of it's installments on actual episodes, for example in a riff of the Paul Cornell classic 'Father's Day', The Doctor travels back in time to 1969 so he can shag his companion Holly's 'swinger' mother. 

Which let's be honest is more exciting than watching Billie Piper crying over a ginger bloke getting hit by a Volvo in slow motion as a big black rubber chicken tries to eat Christopher Eccleston whole.

Which is a bit they usually spit out. 

 

 

It loses points tho' for having the tagline 'Shagging his way through time' and having a lead actor (a genuinely funny and likeable turn from Mark Sloan) with really crap facial fuzz and hair.

Which obviously would never happen in the real show.*

Haircut.

Doctor Screw Sucking a lemon yesterday.

But it really doesn't matter what I say, if you're a Doctor Who completest you'll have purchased all of these anyway. 

Probably more likely two copies of each; one for best and one for weekends.

I only bought it for review purposes and then only to give as a birthday present when I'd finished.

Honest.

 

*This for our American readers is what we call sarcasm.