spazio oddity.

Amazing what you find when idly flicking channels, was deciding what film to watch next in preparation for Han Solo (the movie that is, I mean he's not coming round to the house for nibbles and drinks) when I came across what looks like a nth generation VHS copy of Alfonso (The Beast in Space, War of the Robots) Brescia's little seen Italian Sci-Fi masterpiece 'Battaglie Negli Spazi Stellari' (AKA War of The Planets) on Information TV (Sky channel 212 fact fans).

This lo-fi sci-fi blockbuster stars the fabulous John Richardson as the cream jumpsuited womanly hipped Captain Alex Hamilton.

Hamilton is a kinda rougher (and considerably swarthier) penis nosed version of Jim Kirk, shouting at his computer, disagreeing with his superiors and leaving it till the last possible minute to save battery acid scarred crew members from certain death.

Unfortunately the picture quality is so washed out as to make it almost unwatchable so I only made it as far as Commander Armstrong (the wonderfully drunk Romeo Costantini) giving our hero a bollocking for refusing to investigate a scary alien signal that's interrupting Earth's entire communication network before having to switch off.

"Look it's probably just static or the gypsies" replies our hero to his superior, "Plus we're all a bit tired and want to come home for a holiday!"

Genius.
If I can be arsed I might dig my old VHS rip out for a rewatch if only for an early appearance of what looks like Hollywood heart throb Ed Harris painted green and wearing tiny pants playing a scary alien.

Until then this will have to do....

Sette uomini d'oro nello spazio (AKA Captive Planet, Metallica (no, really), Space Odyssey, Star Odyssey. 1979).
Dir: Alfonso Brescia.
Star: Yanti (meow) Sommer, Gianni Garko, Malisa Longo, Cristea Avram, Ennio Balbo, Aldo Amoroso Pioso, Pino Ferrara, Roberto Dell'Acqua, Fred West's dad and Filippo Perrone.

"Man meets an alien race at last, 

and greets them by disintegrating our vessel"

Somewhere in the inky blackness of space on a mysterious planet, a gathering of powerful aliens, known locally as the Lords of the Galaxy is busily bidding on various planets and suchlike to buy their wives as novelty Crimbo pressies.

Katie Hopkins mum tries to remember which
one of her brothers is her childs father.

The biggest offer of the day is a very familiar small blue/green planet named Sol 3, a planet in which the spiky headed, lank haired Lord Kev Korda is very interested in.

You see, if his bid is successful (it's kinda like an intergalactic Ebay but with fewer overpriced original Star Wars toys) he plans to use the natives of this world as cheap labour throughout the galaxy.

A wee bit like the Kosovans as my dear Brexiteer dad would say (but not I obviously) .

Confident as he is of getting the winning bid he's already set up a number of  window cleaning businesses and off-licenses in readiness of his takeover.

Which is nice.

But just to make sure he's definitely gonna win, our pen faced pal is not above using his almost Derren Brown like mind powers (well, a torch in front of his eyes) to scare his main rival away from the bidding table.

100 million credits poorer (but a whole lotta planet richer) Kev boards his spaceship and relaxes with his battered vhs copy of Cosmos: War of the Planets as he travels to view his newly acquired prize.

Hang on, I'm mistaken, it's not actually some clever self referential nonsense regarding a character in one movie watching the directors earlier work, it's just  Brescia being cheap and using old footage save him shooting any new effects stuff.

Silly me.

"I wanted to be a tiger!"

Scanning his new toy to find out what he's actually purchased (yes, I know it's a wee bit like not looking at a new house till you've paid for it but who are we to judge these aliens?), Kev discovers that not only has the planet 'widespread traces of pollution due to chemical combustion and nuclear waste' but that most of humanity live either underground or in sea cities due to the surface being used for growing food and feeding livestock.

Yup, the pikeys have inherited the Earth.

And down at Earth's fantastically minimalist (or just cheap) space command centre, Admiral Steve (probably, the subtitles are atrocious), being understandably shocked by the huge spaceship approaching, launch a fantastic interceptor craft to say hello to the visitor.

But Lord Kev, being a 100% patent bastard, responds by blasting it out of the sky.

"Shite in mah big tin mooth ya bastard!"

Mightily pissed off by this frankly outrageous act of aggression humanity decides to throw everything they've got at Kev's ship but even the combined fire-power of the entire planet is useless against him and serves only to make Kev a wee bit annoyed.

Yikes.

There's only one thing for it, Kev unleashes a terrifying barrage of grainy, black and white stock footage of exploding buildings, erupting volcanoes, cats looking nervous and archive newsreel shots of the battle of Britain in order to convince the human race that he is, in fact 'the daddy'.

London is totally destroyed, as is most of Australia (no loss there then) and (bizarrely) the Okinawa stadium, leaving the Admiral no choice but to call upon the maverick (not to mention "independent, stubborn and undisciplined") scientist Professor Barry Morey, a forest dwelling genius whose "intelligence puts him about two centuries above anyone else" and whose collars would enable him to fly at least two hundred miles above them too.

Desperate doesn't even touch it.

Fuck me! it's Fred West's dad!

Anyway, Admiral Steve begrudgingly phones the Professor, polishing his ego by telling him that he's Earth's last hope and it's greatest ever scientist/lover/kazoo player etc. before asking him if he can suggest anything to stop the terror from space.

Seeing as Earth is so desperate as to ask a balding, piss stained hippy type for help it comes as a wee bit of a surprise to hear that the planets government and military have refused to give him any cash, support or even a shiny new commode for his troubles if he agrees to help.

I even watched this bit twice to see exactly how this magnificent piece of reverse psychology works but I'm fucked if I could figure it out if I'm honest, so I'll put it down to being an Italian thing.

"Sod saving humanity there be tasty
lady arse a-going spare!"

Luckily the Professors hearing is going, meaning he misses everything except the "you're great please help us" bit and decides to give it a go.

Analysing the alien ship he quickly discovers that it's hull is constructed from a strange substance called iridium, which, it turns out is virtually indestructible.

As is the way in such movies, the Professor has the only other example of this rare metal locked in his garage, a keepsake from his research days when (and this is a scary coincidence so sit down now) him and his team of geeks were working on a way of breaking down iridium to its base molecular structure.

For what purpose I've no idea.

"Shymoo!" - Mickey Mouse's fetish parties were
always a big hit amongst his cartoon buddies.

Earths only hope is that the Professor can round up his old workmates (who all fucked off around the globe after the Professor was discredited for pissing himself in a funding review) and pick up the research where they left off.

If only he had access to a spaceship and daredevil pilot, it'd certainly be better (and more exciting) than catching the bus looking for his ex colleges.

Enter (OK if I must) the Professors beautifully bouncy - and scarily bouffanted - niece Irene (Sommer - in the city probably), whose boyfriend, Jeff, happens to be a hunky space pilot.

Even better is the fact that he spent the night at the house and his spaceship is parked outside!

But how can the kindly scientist convince him to help in his quest?

Would you believe that the Professor has the same spooky mind powers as Kev?!?

Within minutes Jeff is eating an onion as if it were an apple and flying off to round up this sci-fi A-Team whilst the Professor gets down to some serious 'work' in his lab.

First on the list is the roguish mercenary cum chemist (and first love of Irene...yes it really is that convoluted so i'd suggest that you begin taking notes, I know I did) Dirk Laramie (Dell'Acqua), who now spends his days fleecing alcoholics out of their dole money in seedy backstreet bars.

Yup, you guessed it, Dirk too has the very same scary mind powers as Barrie and Kev and has been using them to cheat at cards.

Obviously when the local council estate scum whose Giro's he's been taking find out about this they decide to administer a darn good kicking, which gives our man a chance to show off his sexy street fighting skills to impress his buxom ex, tho' if I'm honest Jeff seems much more impressed.

Sommer lovin': tell me more!

Meanwhile back in the main plot Lord Kev has unleashed an army of face stomping alien Nazi's across the planet to collect 'worker units' and, in a scene of ball aching badness, attack the planets sub-tropical continent, capturing 2000 dark-skinned human units to use as slaves.

Hmmm, see what they did there?

Whilst all this political musing is going on, Irene is off enjoying herself at a community centre boxing match where ex-scientist cum pugilist Bill Norman (The late, great Garko, looking for all the world like a pervier, cancer riddled Sporticus from Lazy Town) is having a girly slapping match with the frighteningly realised warrior robot Hercules (some poor guy in a Mickey Mouse gimp suit).

Being surprisingly fit for someone so close to deaths door Norman beats the crap outta poor Hercules before donning a silk disco jacket and joining our merry band.

"Yesch...gobble my spurtsh
candy wee man!"

Deciding to bring a couple of buddies with him, Norman leads the gang to a deserted junkyard (the producers garden) where they meet up with a couple of dwarfs dressed in silver painted bins decorated with the contents of their mums kitchen drawers and topped off with Orville The Duck sex masks.

Norman, keen to justify why the films overworked - and underpaid - designers would foist such monstrosities on an already threadbare production is quick (maybe too quick if you ask me) to point out that not only do our plastic pals have a full range of human emotions but they're also fitted with some kinda energy conversion bollocks that allows them to phase out of real space so that laser fire passes right through them (a wee bit like chocolate does with me).

Oh, and I forgot to add that due to their emotional chip the pair are in love.

"Duck off".

Meanwhile, back at the space command centre, it appears that Kev's spaceship (despite being big enough to comfortably hold the entire population of Earth plus a shed load of stormtroopers) is actually impossible to track via radar, showing up only when it lands to grab some slaves.

Have they tried turning the monitors on?

No-one dares make this suggestion tho' for fear of interrupting Admiral Steve's Oscar worthy performance as he grimly reads the list of humans already captured by Kev as his stunned comrades look on in mild apathy.

Hiroshima (how's your luck?), Russia, the Arabs and rather oddly "those farmers in the United States of Africa" have all been captured, leaving only the good ol' US of A, half of Govan and the West Midlands left to battle against this thoroughly bad man.

Always believe in your soul.

Whilst all this shit - as you youngsters say - is going down, our heroes (in case you thought I'd forgotten about them) are heading towards the notorious 'Moonspace', a space age Alcatraz orbiting the moon (obviously) in order to break out two other members of the aged professor's science club, some middle-aged bloke named Sean and a sexily square faced lady going by the name of Bridget ('played' by the infamous - well, around here she is - Malisa Longo, AKA Malisa Lang, one of Italy's greatest and most moon headed, exploitation stars and one of the few reasons to sit thru' this film).

Malisa: moooooooooooooooonhead.

The pair are being held in a 'suspension ray machine' designed to keep them awake but unable to move (why? you may ask), giving the lone guard a great excuse to quietly perv over her prostrate form whilst rubbing his leather clad thighs.

Ah, so that's why.

Unable to control his sexual desires any longer the guard turns off her suspension machine and gazes lustfully as she emerges from within, stretching and cooing like your mum after a particularly hard bingo session whilst complaining about how long it's been since she had a real man (hang on, that's exactly like your mum the morning after bingo) before slinking up to him and giving him a big girly kiss.

With tongues and everything.

Well not everything but you get the gist.

Of course, this is all just a ruse so she can release all the prisoners and escape herself in the ensuing sexual confusion.

Freed from their frozen confines the thawed out felons vent their frustrations by instigating a bitch-slapping fest of epic proportions as perky prisoners and leathery guards alike slowly kick and punch each other before taking it in turns to roll around the floor gurning and dribbling.
Don't fret tho' because the break-out is eventually subdued before it gets too embarrassing and/or homo-erotic and everyone involved is given a slap on the wrist before being put back in their cells.

Luckily for us (and the plot), our merry band have been pencilled in for a meeting with the prisons governor about releasing Sean and Bridget.

A pity then that he refuses to let them go free.

What a jobsworth bastard.

Remember tho', Dirk has those scary mind powers so it's only a matter of time before he's persuaded the guv to let them go (and convinced him that he's a dog) meaning that finally (thank fuck) that the science squad is fully assembled and that they can head on back to the Professor's house and prepare to kick some alien arse.

Which in Bridget's case involves getting trussed up in a skin tight leather dominatrix outfit.

Stephanie: Unfortunately
not the one in this movie, or this one.

Will our heroes defeat the evil Kev?

Will there be anyone left on Earth to save?

Will our robot pals ever consummate their relationship?

And, most importantly, will Kev be able to sell on Earth at the next space auction?

Alfonso Brescia's space epic with it's powerful social message regarding Colonialism and the ethno-centric belief that the morals and values of the colonising power are superior to those of the peoples being colonised is a little seen gem of the Italian Sci-fi genre.

Forget 2001 and The Last Jedi* because if it's high concept/budget busting interstellar adventure you're after then this is the movie for you.

I mean the social commentary is there alright, it's just that it's buried alive beneath a slurry pile of skid row acting, cheap robot suits, borrowed effects and scratchy old stock footage of second world war battles.

Was this a clever way of comparing Lord Kev's jackbooted minions to the Nazi Stormtroopers of yesteryear or just a lack of anything remotely resembling a budget?

You decide.

Tho' if you need a clue it's the latter by the way.

If, like me tho' you get bored with trying to justify a love of shite cinema by over intellectualising every single thing about it then there's always the sight of Malisa Longo dressed up like a transvestite hooker as well as the Amazonian delights of Yanti Sommer's cleavage to keep you occupied.

And just in case you think I'm being sexist then don't forget that all you female viewers can gaze lustfully at the professors yellowing bald pate and wibbly wobbly manbreasts.

For everyone else there's a pulse pounding fart-tastic synth score and the chance to see some once great (OK, once so-so) actors such as Gianni Garko and Chris Avram, reduced to playing second fiddle to a couple of dwarfs in dustbins.

And be honest now, what more could you want from an evenings entertainment?








*Actually reading back I've realised that this movie is actually way more entertaining than that pile of shite.

But we all knew that anyway.

And as an aside have you noticed how quiet it's gone regarding Rian Johnson's spin-off trilogy?

the late late deadfast show.

Been preparing for Solo: A Star Wars Story by rewatching some of the best hunky man-based sci-fi epics I can find.

And what better movie to start of with than....

Warriors of The Year 2072 (AKA Fighting Centurions, Rome, 2072 A.D., The New Gladiators. 1984).
Dir: Lucio Fulci.
Cast: Jared Martin, Fred Williamson, Howard Ross, Eleonora Brigliadori, Cosimo Cinieri, Claudio Cassinelli, Al Cliver, Haruiko Yamanouchi, Penny Brown, Valerie Jones and Donal O'Brien.

"It was maths that saved us!"

It's the near future (2072 to be precise but I guess you knew that) and  - after a nuclear war probably - all of planet Earth's major cities have been rebuilt using Lego, egg boxes and toilet rolls, topped off with Christmas tree lights.

The only outlet for the citizens of this new square world order are violent teevee shows (well two of them) broadcast daily to keep the populace subdued and entertained.

Purves: Purveyor of teevee violence and fan of Steven's tailor.

The biggest of these is 'Death Bike', a cross between Junior Kick Start (albeit without Peter Purves) and a Friday night out in the centre of Dudley where a bunch of mad men on motorcycles kick seven shades of shite out of each other until only one is left standing.

Well, sitting actually.

On a bike.

Obviously.

Undefeated world champion of Death Bike is the enigmatically bubble-permed Drake (Martin, pigeon chested star of teevee's Dallas, War of the Worlds and Fantastic Journey) but more of him later.

The other show is called 'Pretend Scares' or something similar and features (from what I can gather from the little amount of it shown) a sweaty woman with hi-tech wires attached to her head watching clips of old Fulci movies and having to pretend that:

A. It's real.

and

B. She's not really scared.

It'll come as no surprise to find that ratings for this have been slipping more than Michael J Fox on an icy path, so the makers of 'Pretend Scares' (after failing to get 'Bastards Hole' past the pilot stage) decided to resurrect the age old idea of the gladiatorial arena.

Huge cotton bud or tiny lady?

This ultra-violent battle of the damned will see twelve convicted killers (but not Dave Vanian) slug it out in a modern day Roman Coliseum until only one survives.

To make certain it'll be a sure fire ratings winner, the slimy teevee executive in charge, Bob Cortez (an unusually clean shaven Cassinelli) decides to firstly employ Chris Chibnall as show runner before hiring what looks like Spandau Ballet to murder Drake's hot young wife and then framing him for their subsequent murder.

Really it does make sense when you watch it.

Bigger than Trumps.

Taken in chains to the training area before being given a sexy bracelet (tho' no pearl necklace) that can administer pain, Drake is introduced to his fellow combatants including genre king Al Cliver as the hunky Kirk, The Last Hunter's Yamanouchi and Fred Williamson as the super suave Tommy Abdul.

There are a few other folk but frankly none of them are that memorable.

Under the auspice of evil trainer Frank Raven (Ross from such classics as The New York Ripper, Naked Werewolf Woman and Poppea: A Prostitute in Service of the Emperor) Drake endures, oh, minutes of torture and bench presses before he begins to break the corporations programming.

It seems that he's starting to realise that he didn't kill Tony Hadley and co. after all and that it may a massive conspiracy.

Luckily the janitor of the faculty, an ex-racer named Monk (Doctor Butcher himself, O'Brien), is an old friend of Drakes who had to leave show business after accidentally melting his face in a freak infomercial recording and who now along with his sexy computer boffin sidekick Sarah (the fantastically fringed ultra-MILF Brigliadori from Beyond Kilimanjaro, Across the River of Blood and, um, my dreams) have decided to investigate Drake's story, uncovering as they do a plot by Junior (the sentient computer that runs the station) to do some bad stuff to folk.

Oh yes and take over the world.

Luckily our heroes have a plan.

"OK muthafuckas! Who's
ready for a mooth shite-in?"

Whilst Sarah goes to visit Junior's creator, Monk makes our hero swallow a magic silver Lego brick that enables him to open doors and turn off force-fields by simply pulling his cum face and it's with this special gift our hero plans his escape.

Whilst all this sex face fun is going on, Sarah has gone to visit Professor Towman (Murder Rock's Cinieri, tastefully covered head to toe in gravy and with a red spot daubed on his forehead), the inventor of Junior to see if the computer could really be mental.

He reckons not but gives Sarah a special key to his control room and a box of plans to turn him off just in case.

Which is pretty bloody lucky seeing as the next instant he's shot and killed as is - the not as attractive as Sarah - Sybil (Brown, the costume designer on Fatal Frames) a bad lady that was sent to follow our heroine (to pick up fashion tips I reckon).

Would you believe it tho' because Monk was also following Sarah (and by default Sybil) and manages to sneak Sarah out of the building under his coat and back to the studio in time to see Drake and his merry band recaptured and made to do sweaty press-ups over an electric floor as punishment.

"And here come the Belgians!"

As the clock counts down and the contestants are preparing for battle, Sarah races to find the key to stopping Junior and save humanity from death by crafty computer....

Claudio Cassinelli checks out the
official Fred Williamson night light.

His slash-tastic horror tendencies exhausted (for a short while at least) after the sleazy hate-fest that was The New York Ripper, Lucio Fulci decided to take time out from spooky scares and throat cutting (well, maybe not from throat cutting) to bring us this fantastically accurate prediction of the rise of reality teevee and corporate whoredom, never realising how prophetic the films concepts were to become.

His trademark visual style, surreal plotting and (sometimes over) use of extreme close-ups (usually of actors pulling what appear to be officially termed their 'sex faces') are all present and correct, adding a sense of the comfortable to the otherwise alienating futuristic feel of the film and Fulci's predilection for copious amounts of blood and violence firmly place the characters in the here and now for it seems that no matter how shiny and silver the future will become blood will always be deep red.

The cast with it's familiar Fulci regular faces and smooth, mini-skirted thighs (yes, that's you Eleonora Brigliadori) play their roles with a stoic, earnest conviction rarely seen outside the Hallmark Channels true life drama output whilst Fred Williamson, so obviously on autopilot whilst awaiting his delivery of malt beer and cigars, is still better than any number of similarly disinterested actors not named Fred Williamson tho' if I'm honest it's scary to see chisel jawed sex pest Al Cliver slowly morph into a puffy cheeked hamster during the duration of a movie.

Eleonora Brigliadori today,
just because I can.

Three years before Arnie became The Running Man, Jared Martin was The Biking Bully and Fulci was showing the world the future as would be.

Genius? Prophet? Mad man or just lucky?

Or a mix of all four?

YOU decide!

where's captive kurt?

Between jobs at the moment so spending most of my days wandering around the house nude whilst re-organising my shelves.

Which is where I came across this beauty.

Allegedly it's the most terrifying documentary ever made.

Even the thought of reviewing it is scaring the shit out of me.

Luckily Cass-man is having a boys day with me (the laydees are out watching Rampage) so we can be manly men together and hug up if it gets too scary.

Tho' he'll probably be unfazed I mean he is nearly 12.

Alien Abduction: Incident in Lake County (1998).
Dir: Dean Alioto.
Cast: Benz Antoine, Kristian Ayre, Gillian Barber, Michael Buie, Emmanuelle Chriqui, Marya Delver, Katlyn Ducharme, Ingrid Kavelaars, Aaron Pearl and Bart Anderson.

 "I AM NOT STONED!"

It's Thanksgiving night and the plaid clad McPherson clan have gathered (as always) at booze sodden Mum McPherson's (Barber, the factory receptionist from Cats And Dogs!) house for the traditional turkey dinner, raised emotions and sarky comments.

Since the death of Dad McPherson, Eldest son Kurt (professional background artiste Pearl) has done his best to hold the family together with a unique mix of shouting, sweating and standing with his hands on his hips and his legs spread wide in a pose usually reserved for bastard Tories whilst his manly shouldered wife Linda (Kavelaars, younger sister of former Ms. Canada wannabe Annette) and their Polly Pocket styled six year old daughter Rosie (Ducharme) gaze at him from afar.

Less an unearthly child more an ungodly one.

But today tensions are higher than normal, thanks in part to Lego haired, eldest daughter Melanie (Sons of Anarchy's Delver) bringing a leather clad black man named Matthew (Antoine from 19-2: The Series...yup me neither) as her dinner date.

Middle son Brian (Buie from, um stuff), doing his best to keep out of the way has taken to shagging his Rosie Perez-lite girlfriend Renee (Chriqui, the voice of Cheetara from Thundercats) in the bathroom whilst youngest son Tommy (Ayre, look him up at IMDB if you're really that bothered) wanders around aimlessly shooting stuff with his video camera.

Badly.

Who needs Blu-Ray?

Cue what seems like days of mum sneaking swigs of booze and commenting on the turkey whilst Tommy annoys everyone with his camera and Kurt sits and seethes like a harsh faced powder keg of pent up sexual frustration aimed, it seems at Matthew.

Luckily for us as soon as the family sits down to eat, there's a flash of blue light and the fuses blow.

But not as much as this family obviously.

Manly Kurt and baw-faced Brian head out to check the fuse box in the garage, with Tommy and his camera in tow only to find the entire box melted beyond repair and smelling like a wet dog.

Which is exactly like your mum.

Kurt has little time to get angry tho' as suddenly a nearby telegraph pole explodes in the distance with all the ferocity of a damp Catherine Wheel on Bonfire Night.

Running to the scene of the sparks our all American boys are slightly disturbed to find a group of paper-mache headed aliens dissecting a cow with a laser pointer.

Scary.

"We're off to Button Moon!"

Tommy tries to not only keep calm but also keep the camera in focus as his brothers spout clichéd stuff like "Holy cow! it's a gen-you-ine Martian!" and the like whilst trying not to shite themselves but all this macho bravado vanishes when the threesome run away screaming after an alien has waved at them.

Returning to the house to find the phones dead, the women folk huddled together (possibly covering in fear from the sex-offender-like charm of Matthew) and mum on her fourth bottle of gin, Kurt explains that there are aliens outside and that they should leave right now but mum has cooked a nice turkey dinner and is adamant that everyone should stay and eat it first.

Everyone bar Kurt agrees.

Feeling his macho prowess threatened Kurt regains control of the situation by heading to the den and grabbing loads of guns while Brian tries to convince everyone that he's not stoned or drunk.

Unlike mum who's off her fucking saggy tits by this point.

Tommy continues filming (obviously) as the womenfolk look on disapprovingly.

Is your hair the only thing you let down?

Suddenly the house explodes under an ultra high-pitched sonic bombardment as the place is over-run by large blue CGI hedgehogs.

Oh sorry I meant a sound attack (as in noise not Scousers) giving the cast ample opportunity to do some quality ear acting, except for Rosie, who seems strangely unaffected by the whole ordeal.

Either that or she's a really shite actress as well as looking like a troll.

The spooky screeching finally subsides long enough for the family to hear what sounds like a group of hyper-active kids jumping about on the roof, giving Kurt an excuse to tape a torch to the barrel of his gun and head outside to fetch his car.

Oh and shoot some shit.

He orders everyone to grab their coats and await his signal to leave, which gives mum ample opportunity to complain that the foods going cold whilst topping up her glass.

Tommy follows Kurt outside to find nothing but the acrid stench of warm piss and stale semen.

It seems that poor Tommy wet himself himself when he first saw the aliens.

But not when he first read the script obviously.

Kurt assures his lil bro' that everybody gets scared at some point.

Except Kurt who is in a constant state of sexual arousal by the look of things, I mean when he reaches the car and pops the bonnet (as our American cousins say) only to find the engine a steaming gooey mess I swear you can see a tiny spurt of love yoghurt erupt from his 501's.

Or it might have been the tracking.

Disappointed they head back to the house to find everyone gathered in the living room shaking, except mum who's busying herself opening another bottle of wine whilst still babbling on about the turkey.

Things are not looking good.

Watch out watch out John Leslie's about.

Suddenly Kurt hears the pitter patter of tiny feet on the roof of the house and, in a desperate attempt to shoot something (anything) heads back outside to fire his load into the air.

Tommy following him outside like some errant love puppy trains his camera up onto the roof and catches a fleeting glimpse of a pale skinned, jump-suited dwarf clambering into an upstairs window.

Yikes.

This is all Kurt needs and our hero excitedly climbs the stairs to check out the bedrooms for any sign of alien interference whilst Tommy quickly changes his underwear.

Unknowingly in the presence of an alien.

"If I lie on this hand long enough it feels like my mums!"

 

Screaming in terror as a bony digit begins to enter his anus, Kurt bursts in just in time to trap the interplanetary pervert in a cupboard before shooting it in the face.

The family regroups in the dining room much to mums joy but rather than start eating, everyone comes down with a massive dose of sinister nosebleeds which leads to a violent affray over who gets the most toilet roll to shove up their nostrils.

All this snot-based excitement is enough to keep the family occupied until poor Renee is zapped by a red light before falling (unconvincingly) into a coma.

Renee: blood encrusted nostril not shown.

Relieved that it's not his bitch that's been blasted, Kurt persuades blubbering Brian to make a run for the highway in order to get help or pizza, leaving Tommy in charge of the women and Renee under a blanket.

The two brothers leave never to be seen again.

After a bit of scary static and according to the camcorder's clock, an hour has passed since the boys left but to the remaining family (and Matthew) it seems that only a few minutes have elapsed.

Mum is devastated when the full horror of the situation dawns on her and she realises that she's lost valuable drinking time whilst Linda and Matthew have have become so confused by events that they start kissing each other.

With tongues and everything.

Melanie is not amused but once Matthew explains (whilst wiping his throbbing black member on Linda's blouse) that the aliens made him do it she calms down immediately, even offering to help dry the sofa cushions.

Note to readers, if your wife/husband/partner ever catch you in this situation I'd like to point out that this excuse doesn't always work.

"The bin men made me do it mum!"

Suddenly (it's always suddenly in this house, have you noticed?) gunshots ring out in the distance, Melanie (now tooled up like a council estate Buffy the Vampire Slayer) and a fresh smelling Tommy quickly head outside but find absolutely sod all whilst back in the house the power begins to fluctuate (again), the noise of someone dragging their nails down a blackboard fills the air and every household appliance goes crazy causing everyone to run about screaming only to stop when Renee, by this point lying in a heap with loads of white sticky stuff running out her mouth (Matthew was that you?) dies.

And on that bombshell the house plunges back into darkness.

Without warning the house begins to get hotter and hotter even mum is feeling the heat as she slowly unbuttons her silky smooth shirt, the beads of sweat collecting on her tanned breasts.

But before we get to see anything exciting everyone begins to complain about a nasty burning sensation on the back of their necks.

Except Matthew obviously who's more concerned with the itchy, burning sensation down the front of his pants.

Tommy tugs on Linda's collar revealing a triangular burn mark, checking the family it appears that everyone else has one too.

All that is except little Rosie, who has spent the entire ordeal so far telling everyone to calm down whilst sneakily emptying all the shotguns and is now assuring all the adults that everything is OK and it will all be over soon.

God how I hope she's right.

Matthew, understandably freaked by all this white folk nonsense volunteers to head out to look for the brothers.

You remember, the actual brothers, not 'brother' brothers.

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

Within seconds there are more gunshots outside, Tommy stumbles out to find the remains of two shotguns; one with a bent barrel and the other sliced in two.

Matthew, Kurt and Brian are nowhere to be seen.

Searching, shouting and waving his camera about like Michael J Fox in a disco, Melanie notices more weird lights in the woods and two bulbous bonced figures approaching the house.

Rushing back inside, Linda, Melanie and Tommy quickly barricade the door whilst mum helps herself to more booze and Rosie plays the piano.

Just like a normal Sunday here then.

Making the excuse that he needs a wee, Tommy heads to the downstairs toilet for a quick cry to camera before rejoining the others who, by this time tired of mum's constant talking of the bollocks have all sat down for dinner.

"Would you like some dark meat?" Mum asks Melanie in a totally non ironic way.

Begrudgingly admitting that mum's spread is actually well tasty, no-one notices when Rosie sneaks away from the table only to return minutes later with a small band of alien visitors.

The surviving family members stand as if in a trance.

The alien closes in.

The tape ends.

Madeline: The Revenge.

So, Alien Abduction: Incident in Lake County, frightening fake or complete and utter bullshit?

Well it's a hard one to call but if you ignore the cast list in the closing credits (especially those of Shari Khademi and Myles Wolf as Alien #1 and Alien #2 respectively), oh and the fact that the entire family are credited as actors, it's understandable as to why this has been reported as the greatest - and most horrifying - evidence of interstellar invasion ever.

From the terrifying non performances of the cast, thru to the nasty nylon fashions and blatant disregard for the rules of tension building, I've not been this frightened, annoyed - or aroused - by a movie since that other true life abduction classic Megan is Missing.

Megan prepares herself for some alien anal action.

Where this movie oh so slightly pips MiM in the reality stakes is in it's use of talking heads interviews.

By that I mean from paranormal/UFOlogy experts not the pop group.

Yup whenever the film looks like it might be building to a scary or tension filled scene, the screen cuts to black and some homeless guy, the directors dad or whoever was available appears to wax lyrical for five minutes on how the footage is definitely real or in the case of some skinhead bloke with a mockney accent how it mirrors his abduction completely.

Tho' it does lose points by not showing Melanie pinned down and roughly arse-raped by the aliens in glorious close-up for ten minutes.

Megan director Michael Goi gets to keep that award unlike Alien Abduction helmer Alioto, who had to contend with various religious groups accusing him of blasphemy after broadcast.

And who says Americans don't have a sense of humour?

An important and shocking film that needs to be seen.

Then when you've finished pissing yourself with laughter and eventually come to terms with what you've witnessed passed onto your nearest and dearest like some yeast based infection.

It's what Kurt and co. would have wanted.

takao's yer uncle.

Tying in nicely with the recent Golgo 13 post, here are manga and gekiga artist (plus Golgo creator) Takao Saito's covers for his little seen Man From UNCLE manga.

Enjoy.

ursula undress.

Just realised that Mrs Unwell's fave cannibal movie is getting released on shiny BluRay so thought I'd blatantly rehash this old review in the hopes of getting a box quote.

Or a free copy.

Or a t-shirt.

Or absolutely anything really, I'm not proud.


Montagna Del Dio Cannibale (AKA Mountain of The Cannibal God, Primitive Desires, Slave of the Cannibal God, Prisoner of the Cannibal God. 1978)
Dir: Sergio Martino.
Cast: Ursula Andress, Stacy Keach, Franco Fantasia, Antonio Marsina, Claudio Cassinelli and some gypsies.

A film poster yesterday.

Busty businesswoman Susan Stevenson (Andress, obviously slumming it to pay her monthly Botox - but alas not bollocks - bill) has recently arrived in Pakistan to look for her explorer husband Henry and, more importantly, to stock up on duty free fags and booze.

It seems that while on an expedition in New Guinea, her hubbie took a wrong turn whilst out looking for the local post office and hasn't been seen since.

Aided by her sleazy (and overtly camp) brother Arthur (star of the classic Demons 6 Marsina, looking frighteningly like Frasier's Niles Crane if addicted to crack and/or cock) poor Susan has spent the last few days begging various government officials to lead a rescue party into the jungle, but all refuse.

Bastards.

Giving the Pakistani government a huge "Fuck you!" the super siblings decide to plan their own expedition and hire the oh so slightly tipsy Edward Foster (mustachioed muffin magnet Keach needing to buy his ex-wife a new house), an old colleague of her husbands to lead it.

Always the gentleman, he explains to the sultry Susan (and to the viewer at home) that it's more than likely that Henry isn't lost in the New Guinea jungle at all and that he probably got on the wrong night-bus, ending up on the island of Roku, home of the Puka tribe, a tiny pant wearing group who spend most of their time showing off their arses to all and sundry whilst worshiping a 'cursed' mountain.

Foster is sure there's something else quite important about the tribe but can't remember what it is.

No doubt it'll come back to him later.

Antonio Marsina wonders who stole his arm.

Filling their rucksacks with fizzy pop, crisps and egg and cress sandwiches our heroic trio, along with a non entities and locals obviously marked for death, head into the jungle encountering stock footage, sweaty palms and various displays of plot driving character motivation along the way.

Three days - and six bottles of J&B - into the journey Foster remembers what it was that he was meant to tell everyone.

You see it transpires that a few years back he visited Ra-Rami island and held captive by the Puka who, he excitedly announces, are actually a group of vicious, hairy palmed cannibals who forced the poor guy to partake in the devouring of human flesh!

Gah indeed.

"Stop!......Keach time!"

Finally arriving on the island (damn those private taxis), they set up camp with the kindly Father Moses (Disney classic Fantasia) and his hunky 'friend' Manolo (the late great genre god Cassinelli), who within minutes of setting eyes on Ursula, is rolling about on the dusty floor of a grass hut with her, kneading her ample breasts like so much sweaty dough as she bites her lip in that mildly erotic way that only women of a certain age can.

Trust me, I've seen your mum do it enough times.

Not wanting to miss out on the chance of any more ex-Bond bird bonking, Manolo offers to accompany them on their quest for the missing hubby.

Perhaps he fancies a threesome?

After a series of high octane jungle trekking excitements (spiders up your trouser leg, grass stained knees, snakes in your pants etc.) and a wee bit of highly dangerous white-water canoing that ends with Foster (well a shoddy facsimile made from a beetroot and some old rags) falling to his death, they find the holy cave of the Puka tribe.

A cave packed with Uranium.

Hmmm.....could this be the real motive behind Stevensons' visit to Ra-Rami?

Or was it really for the cheap drink and whorish teens?

"I could drink you under the table Ursula."

Manolo and Arthur's manly hugs and cries of "We're rich! We're rich!" and Susan's sexy dancing are short lived however as the Puka's launch a surprise attack from the trees like an army of less hairy (yet probably much smellier) Ewoks and, after sticking a sharpened stick up Arthur's (frankly accommodating) arse, take the survivors to their mountain hideaway where Susan is (fairly) surprised to find that her husband is now revered as a God.

Which would be pretty cool for him if he wasn't a rotting buck toothed corpse with a clicking Geiger counter rammed into his chest cavity.

well at least Manolo is happy. 

Susan however has another surprise heading her way.

It seems that long legged, stunningly breasted blonde bombshells are few and far between in the jungle (a wee bit like finding a virgin in Wolverhampton) so the Puka, being rational types, decide that she must be a Goddess sent to them from the heavens.

And what do you do with visiting deities?

Why you strip them naked, cover them head to toe in clay (making sure you do it in lingering, free handed slow motion), get a couple of fairly attractive (and ample bottomed) native lasses to fondle her breasts before finally dressing your religious visitor in a big paper hat ready to partake in a bizarro ritual.

Or three.

Will Susan escape unmolested?

Will Manolo and his trusty beard save the day?

And will Arthur ever recover from his new found appreciation of anal violation?

"Touch mah titties hen!": your mum 
and your girlfriend yesterday.

From Sir Sergio of Martino (director of Suspected Death of A Minor, Gambling City and The Strange Vice of Mrs. Wardh) Mountain of The Cannibal God is probably the nearest thing to a classy cannibal film, less mondo and more macho than the norm it's a (fairly) expensive and slightly more legit relative of the late seventies/early eighties cannibal cycle, featuring as it does an international 'name' cast, a more action/adventure oriented plot and fewer scenes of graphic animal mutilation.

The ones that are killed on screen are ugly things like spiders and snakes so that doesn't count.

But more importantly it features absolutely no Mel Ferrer what so ever.

To folk like me tho' it's best known for featuring a dwarf cannibal tribesman, the first (and possibly only) one ever committed to celluloid.

Surely the best reason (if anymore were needed) to buy this movie.

"I fell off my beanstalk Ian!"

The Keach-man gives it his all, as does the late great Claudio Cassinelli, the pair of them igniting the screen with pure, unadulterated testosterone.

Antonio (star of Antonio Margheriti's gritty Vietnam war epic Tornado) Marsina is great as the slightly fey sibling of Swiss bombshell Ursula Andress whilst Andress herself adds a certain air of legitimacy to the scenes that call for her to be slowly daubed in mud by topless female extras.

I've viewed this scene time and again (for research purpose) and not once does Andress look anything other than absolutely terrified.

Tho' it may be boredom, I was slightly distracted.

Go on, buy it.....you know you want to.

And if you end up not enjoying it at least you've found a costume for your nan come next Halloween.

people you fancy but shouldn't (part 78).

Czechoslovakian arthouse goddess Jitka Cerhová - best
known for Daisies (1966), Zabil jsem Einsteina, panove (1970) and Svatá hrísnice (1970).