g.i. nooooo!

Day 30 of the by now tiresome 31 days of horror and it's time for a wee bit of slasher action.

Someone was wearing a T-shirt of this movie at the John Carpenter gig t'other week and I'm easily swayed so there you go.

Plus I know at least one person who enjoyed this film so they might leave a comment.

I can but wish.

Rosemary's Killer (AKA The Prowler, 1981).
Dir: Joseph Zito.
Cast: Vicky Dawson, Christopher Goutman, Cindy Weintraub, Farley Granger, Lisa Dunsheath, David Sederholm, Diane Rode, Bryan Englund, Donna Davis, Joy Glaccum, Timothy Wahrer and Lawrence Tierney.

"Come on, kid, don't play hard to get. What about New Year's Eve?"   "Well, that was different. I couldn't help myself".

It's the end of World War II and the screen is full of newsreel footage showing hundreds of cheering GI's celebrating having singlehandedly saved the world from the evils of illegal invasions, torturing civilians, abusing minorities and all manner of fascistic behaviour.

My how times have changed.

Unfortunately one poor soldier wont be getting the celebratory leg over he deserves as his lady love, a woman named Rosemary (Glaccum, from The Children. No not the shite one, the other one.) has decided to dump him in favour of shagging a skinny bloke called Roy (Wahrer in his only screen role outside his family home movies).

That's not all tho' because the pair have decided to officially  announce their relationship  at the town graduation cum welcome home brave soldiers dance.

Fucking hell the sign must have been massive.

Bored with frugging to Glenn Miller, the loved up duo head off to the duck pond to spend some quality time together.

Oh and maybe a quick breast/ball fondle session.

As is the way with slasher movies tho', an ominous figure clad in full combat fatigues and carrying a pitchfork is watching them from behind a bush.

18 flowery pages to tell you she's fucking your dad. Bloody typical.

Although the power is suddenly cut off our amorous couple carry on snogging, until the aforementioned prowler sneaks up behind them and stabs the pair with the pitchfork creating a massive blood and spunk stained human kebab.

Gazing at his handiwork the crazed killer gently pops a long-stemmed red rose in the dead woman's hand.

Spooky.

Fast forward thirty five years and the town is preparing for it's first graduation dance since that terrible night.

Enter (oh go on then, I have a few minutes free) the man-chinned little miss sensible Pam (As the World Turns Dawson) who is busy helping to decorate a bandstand whilst swooning over her true love, the Lego haired deputy sheriff Mark (latter day teevee exec' and cut price Dirk Benedict-alike Goutman) whilst trying to keep her cliched group of college chums from removing their clothes and shagging in the car park.

Teenagers eh?

Pam desperately tries to ignore Mark's giant pink nipple.

But not everyone is happy about the return of the graduation party, well I say not everyone but I really mean long dead Rosemary's wheelchair bound dad Major Chatham (Big Joe himself, Tierney), a poor old soul who's spent every waking minute since his daughters untimely death sitting in his window watching co-ed's get undressed.

Which is as good a way as any when dealing with grief I guess.

Anyway, back at the sheriff's office and Pam is discussing her news article on Rosemary's killer (the case not the film obviously) with local lawman George Fraser (Farley "My mortgage is how much?!!?" Granger) when the radio squawks to life with a report that an unknown assailant has robbed a nearby pound shop,  slashed up the manager and taken his car.

But that's not all for it seems that the authorities are concerned that the killer is headed towards the town.

Yikes.

A killer, heading toward a town on the very night that 35 years ago someone was murdered?

What are the chances eh readers?

Despite (or because of) this news, sheriff Fraser refuses to cancel his fishing trip, putting London (the deputy not the city) in charge for the evening.

Pam: She'll have someone's eye out with that chin.

Being the concerned type (and with Jamie Lee Curtis unavailable) Pam airs her fears regarding the chance of a killing spree taking place on graduation night with her roommates; the pixie haired, peachy arsed  Sherry (ex psychiatric nurse, model and Playboy Bunny Dunsheath) and permanently pouting Lisa (Weintraub, later to be seen being chased by horny fish-men in the Corman classic Humanoids from the Deep).

Sherry however is more concerned with getting everyone out of the dorm before her buff beau Carl (Ryan's Hope star Sederholm) turns up whilst Lisa is busy flashing her 70's style breasts at Major Chatham across the street.

Realizing that no-one really gives two fucks about what she thinks Pam sighs wistfully and continues putting the  finishing touches to her outfit.

But elsewhere a shadowy figure is also preparing for the graduation dance, tho' there are no dresses or clumpy shoes for this person,  just a second world war combat uniform, complemented with a shiny bayonet, ultra sharp hunting knife and a handy sawn-off shotgun.

Which is nice, if a little over the top for a night of drink and jiving if I'm honest.

As Lisa and Pam leave for the dance Sherry decides to kill the time waiting for Carl by getting totally naked and incredibly foamy in the shower, proving once and for all that dreams do come true.

All I can say is that towel is horrible.

As expected Carl turns up right on cue and after a quick hello and some over rehearsed saucy banter goes into the shared bedroom to undress.

Just as he's pulling down his big daddy Y-fronts a combat clad intruder takes him violently from behind and plunges a bayonet straight into the top of his head and out thru' his neck, forcing his eyes to roll back in their sockets as if in the middle of a particularly memorable masturbation session.

Sherry, oblivious to all this knifing, is still gently soaping up her perky young breasts when the killer enters the room and, mistaking him for her boyfriend suggestively asks if he has anything to put in her.

As luck would have it the killer does indeed have something hard and pointed to enter Sherry with.

Unfortunately it's a pitchfork which he wastes no time in plunging deep into her stomach, giving us ample opportunity to be at once repulsed by the murder yet strangely turned on as her bloodied boobs bounce about like playful puppies in a bag.

And they say horror films affect the mind.

"Put it in me!"

Back at the party, Pam is busying herself serving drinks and looking concerned when she notices Mark arrive but her true love is soon dragged onto the dance floor by slutty causing our heroine to pull a face not too dissimilar to a bulldog licking piss of John Nettles.

Which is unusual to say the least.

Unsure how to react Pam starts fiddling with the cocktails in the manner of a Prozac dependant housewife, only stopping to smile when Mark, barely hiding the semi caused by Lisa's grinding comes over to the table.

Things go from bad to worse tho' when a tipsy Lisa accidentally  thrust her fanny at Mark's arse causing him to bang his erection on the table covering Pam's dress with sticky liquids.

Fairly furious and extremely damp she heads back to the dorm to change her outfit.

She's dreaming of a large mooth shite....

And what an outfit she chooses, throwing caution (and all signs of good taste) to the wind she changes into the kind of powder blue affair usually associated with Parkinson's riddled old ladies topped off with a matching chiffon top.

Nice.

Obviously looking good for Mark is a complicated task seeing as she not only fails to notice that the bed is covered in blood but also totally misses the two corpses (and the killer) in the bathroom.

As she leaves the apartment and heads down the stairs she notices the faint smell of egg, gravy, dried blood and shame wafting down the corridor and, looking up to see where it could be coming from notices what looks like a G.I. standing outside her room door.

understandably she runs away.

But the killer gives chase.

Pam is too quick for the killer tho' (well to be honest he is getting on a bit and is carrying a full army kit around with him) and easily outruns him, pausing only to bump into Major Chatham - who appears to be out for a midnight roll - and drop her handbag before coming across a concerned (or is that constipated?) Mark.

After persuading Pam to sit in his car (no doubt to prepare for a wee bit of biting later) Mark proceeds to go all Nancy Drew on us (well he has the hair) and investigate the dorm.

Is it too much to believe that he too misses the bodies in the bathroom?

John Leslie: The Return.

Deciding the most likely culprit is the grumpy old cripple, Pam and Mark head over to Major Chatham's house only to find that he's not home.

He must still be trying to get his wheelchair - and ample arse - up the porch stairs the poor sod.

As a plus point it does give our dynamic duo a chance to fiddle about in his drawers and search for his pension book.

Erm...I mean look for clues.

And pictures of your gran naked.

Little do they realize that the killer is watching them from within the shoe cupboard.

Your gran naked.

After finding a photo album that reminds the viewers about the opening sequence the pair then drive back to the dance to tell everyone's favourite Home Economics teacher, the strangely alluring Miss Allison (Davis, last seen signing on) about the life size Action Man prowling around the town.

Being the sensible type she quickly tells her students that they should stay inside until the combat-clad mentalist has been apprehended and - surprisingly for an 80s slasher movie - everyone worryingly agrees.

All except Lisa that is who, pissed off at her boyfriend Paul for being way too drunk to perform (either on the dance floor or elsewhere) has gone to the swimming pool for a late night dip.

In her pants the dirty girl.

Insert cock here.

After a few laps and dives in the obviously freezing water (you can tell because you can see her breath, how else?), Lisa decides to head back to the party but as she climbs the steps out of the pool the cruel killer kicks her in the face before bayoneting her in the throat leaving her still wriggling underwear clad body to sink to the bottom. 

Back at the dance Paul has noticed that Lisa is missing but is so drunk and abusive that the poor sod gets arrested by Mark and thrown in jail, giving Mark and Pam time to look longingly at each other over coffee, discuss the original murder and attempt to contact Sheriff Fraser.

Who, it transpires is out night fishing and wont be back till morning.

Luckily just as the conversation is about to grind to an uncomfortable halt, the creepily bearded Pat from the local newsagent turns up drunk complaining that the local cemetery has been desecrated by teenagers before turning tail and going home.

Nothing like moving forward the plot in a totally natural way is there?

Anyway, Pam and Mark decide to check it out.

Back at the party a concerned (and fairly attractive for an older woman) Miss Allison has gone outside in the hope of finding Lisa.

Noticing the pool is full of blood she panics, flaps her arms like a chicken and letting out high pitched bleating noises before attempting to get help only to be brutally murdered by the killer using his handy bayonet.

Pam Ayres...Shitey mooth, bayonetty neck , legs akimbo, Bradford, 1974....Yesch!

Meanwhile at the cemetery our law abiding love birds have discovered that Rosemary Chatham's grave has been dug up and her putrid corpse replaced with the frankly much more attractive body of Lisa, still all wet and glistening after the pool incident.

Mark must be made of stronger stuff than me tho' seeing as he's not even tempted to have a wee fiddle with her, preferring to head back over to the Major's house for one last nosy around.

Beware the Binmen!

Deciding that the best course of action would be to split up and stumble around in the dark it's not long before Mark is beaten unconscious by the killer.

Pam, on the other hand has busied herself pulling Rosemary's rotted corpse (still in her graduation dress) from the chimney plume.

This at least shows that the killer has a good sense of humour, seeing as the only reason for putting it there in the first place is to give some unsuspecting passer by a bloody good fright.

Shouting for Mark, Pam turns around to find herself face to balaclava with the murderer, luckily she experienced this earlier and runs away again, firstly hiding under a bed (with a rat. Gah!) before finally getting herself trapped in the downstairs utility room with our pitchfork wielding pal.

Don't worry too much tho', it's a walk in one, not one of those tiny things you get in modern houses.

Will Pam survive long enough to finally kiss Mark?

Will Marks hair have saved him from permanent brain damage?

Who is the killer?

And will local mentalist Otto from the shop turn up at any point carrying a shotgun for no reason?

Joseph Zito's 1981 movie is an oft forgotten gem from the slasher era, similar in style and plot to George Mihalka's My Bloody Valentine released earlier that year Rosemary's Killer is often seen as the less effective of the two.

Which is a wee bit bizarre seeing as Rosemary's Killer boasts a halfway decent cast, is well directed with finesse and style by Zito and features some of Tom Savini's best work.

Plus Farley Granger is in it, making a change from seeing a drunken Cameron Mitchell stumble his way thru a slasher film which seemed to be the done thing at the time.

And lest we forget a soaking and soapy Lisa Dunsheath in all her cutesy glory.

Surely reason enough to adore this movie?

The connoisseurs choice when it comes to little seen crazed killer flicks, Rosemary's Killer is a lean, mean little movie that builds on the directors earlier Bloodrage (naive country boy kills hookers) and nicely sets him up for the directors gig on Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter.

Where as you may be aware he made the frankly fantastic decision to cast Crispin Glover AND let him dance to the hit Love Is A Lie by top rockers Lion.

And for that we salute him.

Bizarrely he left horror behind after his visit to Crystal Lake and is probably better known these days for introducing the world to the delights of the Chuck Norris starring Missing in Action series.

Now that is scary.

how green is my valley?

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

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

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

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

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

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

I know my place.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Must be from the West Midlands.

Inside Elton John's mind....

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


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



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

Nothing specific mind, just things in general.

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

Who, as mentioned earlier doesn't really exist.

No not at all.

That bike I'm always on about parking.

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

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

No really.

But that's not the strangest part.

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

Not in a sexual way tho'.

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

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

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

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

At least Suzy Kendall looks pretty.

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

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

Tho' he may be just jogging for fun.

Who knows?

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

Exactly like your mom on a Saturday night.

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

Admit it, you would.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So fair so racist.

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

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

But for this Kimo needs a virgin.

Mary Tamm: Fancy trainers not shown.

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

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

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

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

Tho' to be honest who can really blame him?

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

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

Put it in me!

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

Will they eat her whole?

Or spit that bit out?

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

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

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

 

Jennifer Jayne: Any excuse.

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

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

Yes even fans of Victorian bicycles.

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

Well not for a few paragraphs anyway.

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

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

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

Oh and probably a box of tissues too.

Bloody bonkersly brilliant.

radio daze.

Day 28 of 31 days of horror and in tribute to the podlings school Halloween party I reckoned it was time to feature some creepy kids.

OK, just one creepy kid.

And she's really not that creepy.

And only in it for about 10 minutes max.

To be honest I've not really thought this thru', I might have well said todays film features a house cos I live in one.

Ghost House (AKA La Cassa 3. 1988).
Dir: Umberto Lenzi.
Cast: Lara Wendel, Greg Scott, Mary Sellers, Ron Houck, Martin Jay, Kate Silver, Alain Smith, Kristen Fougerousse, Susan Muller and Donald O'Brian.

Who are you? What do you want? For God's sake... somebody help me... help... aarghh!

Somewhere just outside sunny Boston the pigtailed, pug nosed and prepubescent princess Henrietta Baker (Fougerousse, bless you) is celebrating her birthday by pounding her pussy to death in the cellar.

Which got my attention and, it seems the attention of her God fearing father Sam (former Interzone dwarf Smith) who fires off a few Jesus based insults at her before turning off the lights and locking her down there.

Luckily she has a (quite possibly demoniacally possessed) clown puppet for company.

Back upstairs Sam continues to rant religiously whilst his hard done to (and harsh faced) wife (Muller whom you may recall as the voice of Muriel in Cenerentola '80) just nods her head and frowns.

Michaela Strachan realizes too late that Jimmy Savile's van is not full of sweets.

Suddenly things take a change for the bizarre, firstly the dining room light bulb starts to warp before exploding, poor old Sam has an axe put thru' his skull whilst the mirror explodes leaving Mum (who if I'm honest was no great looker to begin with) with her face full of broken glass.

Don't worry tho' as help is on hand to ease her pain when an unseen assailant kindly cuts her throat.

Meanwhile in the cellar Henrietta sits hugging her clown.

"Aye hen!"

Jumping forward in time (with a wheezing, groaning sound) 20 years and the frighteningly plainly dressed Martha (Wendel best known as the sexy teen in the tiny skirt from Tenebrae and who scarily seems to turn up quite a lot on this blog) is on the phone to her boyfriend Paul (Star Wars video game voice Scott), a ham radio enthusiast cum computer programmer desperately trying to organize what time she should head round for dinner.

Exciting stuff I'm sure you'll agree.

But Paul has other things on his mind as it appears that the previous night he picked up a strange message on his radio, a mysterious voice shouting 

"Who are you? What do you want? For God's sake somebody help me!....."

followed by an ear piercing scream.

Luckily the same message is broadcast again that night allowing Paul to record it, giving him ample opportunity to discover where the broadcast came from, which by some strange quirk of fate (or storytelling) is the old Baker house from the films opening.

How weird is that?

William Roach's fancy dress outfit was a big hit at the local school Christmas party.

After picking up (and dropping off) a jive talking, satin jacketed hitch-hiker our daring duo arrive at the house to find not only a bow-legged loon named Valkos (Doctor Butcher himself, O'Brien) tending to the weeds (in between threatening folk with a spade obviously) but a radio set up in the attic.

Spooky.

It appears that this radio belongs to fellow broadcaster Jim (singer cum producer Jay, who's worked with everyone from Take That to Cockney Rebel) who along with his pals, the brassy biker chick Susan (Stage Fright and Eleven Days, Eleven Nights vixen Sellers), ginger prince Mark (Ex-cartoon chihuahua Houck from the Christopher Cazenove sitcom Ticket To Ride) and his troubled teen sister Tina (Silver, a kinda sexier, sleazier Hilary Swank with a fine line in stone wash denim) are enjoying a weekend camping out the grounds of the house.

I say camping but they're all living in a van about the size of my house parked on the front lawn, kids eh?

Kate Silver, a chin made for chiseling and a mooth made for shite-in. In.

 After explaining the whole situation Paul is confused to discover that although it sounds like Jim on the message he couldn't have sent it, seeing as he hasn't as yet set up the antennae.

 Oeerr missis.

After a few minutes collectively rubbing their chins the group comes up with a plan to try to figure out the strange radio message and, no doubt seal their fate.

Is it just me who thinks that things are going to go very bad?

Well let's see what Paul's plan involves shall we?

He decides that himself,  Susan and Martha should drive a couple of miles up the road (?) and listen for the signal from there whilst Jim, Mark and Tina split up and wander around the house in the dark.

"Guess what? I'm 15 and love Linkin Park too...now get your webcam on and your top off!"

It doesn't come as too much of a surprise when the message turns out to be some scary premonition from the future, a future where poor old Jim is downed by a ghostly fan blade, Mark is menaced by a horny looking Doberman and an already shot to fuck Tina is chased by an axe wielding Valkos.

Luckily the dog (being short sighted) mistakes a table leg for Mark giving him time to escape thru' an upstairs window and chase Valkos into the bushes just as Paul and company return.

Phew.

After following Valkos to his shed, the mental muckraker manages to overpower Mark and pin him to the wall with a pitchfork but as he goes in for the kill (or a sneaky kiss...who knows?) Paul bursts in and renders Valkos unconscious with one well placed punch to the kidneys.

And with this everyone heads back to the house to find out where Jim has gotten to, giving the gruesome gardener ample time to escape into the trees.

"Put it in me!"

Searching the house Martha finds herself in Henrietta's bedroom where after rummaging thru' an old toy box she comes across (not in that way, tho' it'd be worth a shot) the creepy clown doll from the movie's opening.

As if by magic (or wires) the room bursts into life as the clown attempts to strangle our heroine and various toys buzz around the room in a fairly slipshod manner reminiscent of a school production of Poltergeist.

Or what the actual film would have been like if Tobe Hooper had really directed it.

Paul - being the films hero - hears his girlfriends screams and arrives in time to save her from a deadly death by clown whilst the others are lucky enough to be the ones to find Jim's still warm (and oozing) corpse.

With all this death and the like going on it's not long before our motley crew decide to call the police, who turn up and tell the kids off for trespassing before blaming Jim's death on poor old Valkos who it transpires is a former mentalist who was given the groundskeeper job upon leaving the local asylum.

Well, if you skip the opening sequence and forget about the haunted radio signal and demonic clown it kind of makes sense in a Scooby Doo way I suppose.

Emu's revenge on Rod Hull was not a pleasant sight.

Bidding their farewells and heading back to Boston, Paul remains unconvinced with the police's explanation of events so sets out (much to Martha's chagrin) to discover the house's horrible history  and the relevance of the creepy clown whilst back at the house Mark, Susan and Tina are having troubles of their own.

Nightfall is approaching, the van wont start and Tina needs a poo.

Unfortunately the only working toilet is in the (ghost) house.

As Paul and Martha race back to the house with vital information regarding the haunting, Mark and his buddies find themselves trapped whilst somewhere in the bushes a vicious Valkos is determined to kill anyone who has appeared on screen for no other reason that it'd be a laugh.

Expect bloodshed and bad hair.

Released in Italy as La Casa 3 to cash in on the success of the first two Evil Dead movies (La Casa and La Casa 2 respectively), exploitation god Joe D'Amato (uncredited as producer) and director Umberto Lenzi's threadbare classic Ghost House is one of those rare movies that is as incredibly creepy as it is
entirely terrible at the same time.

Which is an amazing feat.

Coming across like a Spielberg-less Poltergeist, rewritten for a teevee budget by the producers of Scooby Doo, the movie has everything you'd expect from the lower end of late 80's Italian horror cinema; wobbly lightbulbs, ghostly girls, hideous wallpaper and seas of man-melting yogurt violently juxtaposed with a fantastically frenetic synth score, an overuse of stone wash denim and acting that veers wildly between awake (Kate Silver) and the front window of a taxidermist shop (Lara Wendel and the rest) via booze sodden madness (Donald O’Brien and his haunted leg).

A special mention must go to  Willy M. Moon whose performance as the practical joke playing backpacker Pepe is a joy to behold and worthy of his own movie.

But what makes this performance really stand out is the fact that his character has no reason to be there at all, he adds nothing to the plot apart from a fine taste in red shiny jackets and joke skeleton arms.

It's like Fat Albert turning up halfway thru' The Exorcist to perform a 10 minute stand up routine.

Actually come to think of it that would make it a much better movie.

"And I'm spent!"

Worth a look to see the house from Fulci's classic The House by the Cemetery lit badly if nothing else, Ghost House wears it's heart and it's influences proudly on it's sleeve, pity then that it's a huge pink floppy wizards sleeve belonging to that 60 something prostitute that lives on the estate you keep hearing about.

And like her it's well worth a quick visit.

skulking around.

Day 27 of the 31 days of horror and I've run out of witty things to say.

That'll explain why this review is so short then.

No doubt you'll be grateful for small mercies.

Normal 'mooth-shite in' will be resumed tomorrow.

Army of The Dead (2008).
Dir: Joseph Conti.
Cast: Ross Kelly, Stephanie Marchese, Miguel Martinez, Mike Hatfield, Audrey Anderson, Vic Browder, Jocelyn Tucker and some skeletons.

The year is 1590 and a (very) small group of conquistadors lost on their way back from bingo have found themselves wandering aimlessly thru' a never ending series of plaster caves in the vague hope of finding a taxi rank.

Unfortunately they only have a couple of quid left so it's quite fortuitous when the conquistador leader Chaz finds a pile of gold coins in the corner.

Unfortunately it turns out that these are scary cursed gold coins that cause the stars in the sky turn black and the moon to turn blood red.

Which is nice.

If that wasn't enough to cause a spike in viewer incontinence then the appearance of a group of GCI-ed skeletons wielding children's toy swords and screaming for blood may be responsible for a few loose stools at a later date.

"RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAANNGGEERRSSS!!!!"

Meanwhile in the present day, the movies square jawed hero ex_England player and rapper, John Barnes (The Stink of Flesh's Kelly, a kind of low rent Chris Pine but with the hint of a man haunted by past indiscretions) and his foxy wife Amy (kissy lipped and tustle haired Marchesi) are celebrating John's birthday with a weekend of off-road fun in some pimped up VW’s.

Also along for the ride is his instantly forgettable pal (we'll call him Jeff), his drunken ex-girlfriend Jenny (Anderson but not the one from The X Files), another couple I'd actually forgotten about till I watched the credits and his old university professor Gordon Vasquez (Martinez from Klown Kamp Massacre and your Mum's bed).

Undead skeletons on the rampage? Well don't expect this guy, the movie's too cheap even for him.

But wouldn't you know it, the professor has an altogether more sinister agenda, one that  involves the cursed gold, a couple of incompetent mercenaries and a variety of ill-fitting combat trousers.

Suffice to say that as soon as he finds the coins the skeletons once again rise and start committing acts of bloodied and bony mayhem.

Who saw that coming?

"OK everyone.....LOOK AT THE DOG!"

But it's not only the professor, his beard and his gung ho hired hands that are in the skeletons sights seeing as John and his pals seem to think that a wee bit of Aztec gold might come in handy down the line...

Insert cock here.

With a budget less than the amount it takes to get your sister drunk and with a price tag of a quid from your friendly neighbourhood Poundland, how could you possibly slag off Joseph Conti's CGI shite fest?

Well for a start the acting ranges from serviceable to sodden, there's way too much time taken up with footage of steroid-strapped VW's cruising around the desert, it features one of the most abysmal beards ever to grace the screen and there's a distinct lack of nudity.

But we're here for the skeletons right?

And surprisingly they're not too shady, fairly scary and almost indestructible.

Their only weakness?

A giant Tesla coil.

Ahem, quite.

Well what did you expect for a pound?

Jason and The Argonauts?

nicked cave.

Day 26 of the infamous Arena 31 days of horror 'celebration' and today we're visiting the....

Cave of The Living Dead (AKA Night of The Vampires. 1964).
Dir: Ákos Ráthonyi.
Cast: Adrian Hoven, Erika Remberg, Carl Möhner, Wolfgang Preiss, Vida Juvan and Karin Field.

Beyond the black mouth of the cursed cave lurked the unfleshed...

Somewhere in the seedy side of downtown Europe, full-time slick haired sex God and part-time trench coat wearing copper Frank Dorin (German superstar Hoven AKA Wilhelm Arpad Peter Hofkirchner of Berlin Alexanderplatz fame) is enjoying a rare night off from fighting crime by getting rat-arsed in his local bar.

But his perfect evening of letching over a variety of mini-skirted totty, refusing to answer the phone and staring at the waitresses ample chest is cut short by the arrival of a couple of felt hatted Interpol types, the like of which is usually only found hanging around school gates or bins.

It seems that Chief Constable Shirley has a case so baffling that only Dorin can solve it.

Obviously PC Plumb is busy.

It appears that there have been a series of bizarre killings in a remote village where six women - all aged between 18 and 22 - have died in as many months with no sign of foul play or rudeness.

If this wasn't mysterious enough tho' it seems that for an hour during each of the killings the entire villages electricity supply cuts off.

The authorities needless to say are baffled.

Dorin tho', is intrigued.

And not a little aroused.

"I'm shagging your weans!"

Shirley (for no discernible reason) thinks the events may be linked to the famous grotto near the village, so Frank armed with a state of the art (for 1940) infra-red viewer and official looking "I'm a detective" papers to impress the local police with , heads off to investigate.

Meanwhile at the village inn, the portly and pervy innkeeper Stefan Dennis is desperately trying to persuade local inbred dairymaid  Maria (So Much Naked Tenderness and Circus of Horrors star Remberg) to let him put it in her.

With his chubby little sausage fingers pawing her lithe young body (whilst his even chubbier penis strains to be unleashed) Stefan accidentally breaks the chain holding the crucifix round her neck causing her to come to her senses and trot off to bed alone leaving a by now ferociously aroused Stefan to take solace in his glass of home-made wine and the sweet caress of mother fist and her five beautiful daughters.

A situation that readers of this blog probably find themselves in every Saturday night.

Erika Remberg: Your granddad did. Twice.

Arriving at the outskirts of the village Frank is disturbed to find the radio and engine suddenly cut out in his car and when he gets out to investigate, his torch also stops working.

That'll be the pre-murder blackout then.

Frank is approached from behind and quickly pulls out his weapon threatening to fire it's load in the strangers face but soon offers to point it elsewhere when he realizes that his assailant is a beautiful woman.

Karin (Field from Lo strangolatore di Vienna AKA The Mad Butcher) - for that is her name - explains that she's out for her nightly walk after a hard day assisting the famous Professor of sciencey stuff, Terry von Adelsberg ( War and Remembrance's Field Marshal von Brauchitsch himself, Preiss) up at the local haunted castle.

Which is fair enough I guess.

"Pull my finger!"

Being the friendly type she offers to show Frank the way to the inn where, at that very moment what looks like a modern shadow dance is taking place outside Maria's window.

You may have noticed that there's a fair bit going on here.

It's like about six different movies crammed into one, I mean I've written all this stuff down whilst I was watching and I'm still confused.

Anyway back to the plot where Frank after finally arriving at the inn, almost immediately strikes up conversation with fellow skirt-chaser Stefan, who regales our shiny-haired stud with spooky tales of the grotto which, according to local legend is haunted by vampires and, more importantly, which of the local girls are clean of yeast infections.

Leaving the men to their sex chat Karin heads back to the castle, followed from a distance by the local sex offender and deaf tramp Thomas (Schrenk, best known to readers of this blog as Hauptwachtmeister Schulz in the 08/15 saga probably), who is luckily - for Karin - frightened away by the sight of the castle's butler John (Dr. No's Quarrel himself, Kitzmiller), who kindly waits for Karin every night to make sure she's home safe.

Well it's that or he's waiting for the night that Thomas actually catches her, either way it works for me.

Thomas meanwhile, annoyed at having nothing to violate, makes do with stealing Frank's infra red viewer and pajamas from the abandoned car.

Beware The ghost of Jimmy Savile!"

Awoken by a frantic knocking at the door and an uncomfortable stiff patch in his underwear, Frank is surprised to see the police burst in with their shiny smooth pistols in hand.

Obviously upset at not being invited to the macho meeting and in an attempt to claw back his position as coolest muthafucka in the room, Frank knocks the gun from a constable’s hand before whipping out his own much larger weapon and finally forcing them to read his official papers.

What a guy.

It appears that Maria has died of heart failure exactly like the other girls, which would be fair enough if it weren't for the two big teeth marks on her neck but the local doctor (Sink the Bismarck! star Möhner) dismisses them as superficial scratches caused by a small rodent or dog.

Frank is not convince and, at Stefan’s behest, heads off to visit the village's resident witch, Nanny (Juvan, famous for he stand-out role of Lajhovka in the 1952 classic Svet na kajzarju) at her usual hang out behind the bins. 

Lighting a fire and being careful not to stand on her own nipples, Nanny recounts the terrifying tale of the local vampires as images of cut-price dancing girls flicker in the flames.

According to our toothless chum the local populace, annoyed at getting bitten in the night, trapped the bloodsuckers in the grotto over 200 years ago using a gypsy curse but, as is the way with anything purchased from a pikey it didn't go completely to plan meaning that the vicious vamps can still leave the cave if they get bored, need shopping etc.

Luckily tho' they can only do this at the stroke of midnight and for only for 59 minutes.

And with that she pops a cross round Frank's neck and gives him a small vial of herbs that, if rubbed over a fresh vampire bite, can restore a victim to humanity.

This may come in useful later.

"Have you tried lying on it first? Then you can pretend it's your mum doing it!"

Heading back to the inn Frank comes across - again, not in that way -  John out walking his dog who politely invites him back for tea and crumpets.

Our cool copper realizing that he's not investigated this bit of the plot yet happily accepts the offer and the pair (plus dog) make their way up the twisty turny road to the castle and maybe even a glimpse into the professor's secret experiments.

Or, if Frank is really lucky, a glimpse at Karin's milky white thighs.

We live in hope.

Chatting stiltedly with the Prof. (who as it happens doesn't like mirrors or garlic...suspicious eh?) Frank discovers that the old boy actually owns the property and moved back to town 6 months previously for a quieter place to do his research.

Research, he stresses that has no involvement whatsoever with vampires, blood or the grotto.

Especially not the grotto.

No sir.

And with this Frank decides to check out the grotto.

"I'll admit that setting fire to your cock is a pretty good trick but what do you do for an encore?"

On route John steps out of the shadows and offers to go with him (tho' how he got so far ahead when there was washing up to do is a mystery never explained) so the intrepid pair head ever closer to their destination.

Back at the castle and by some bizarre psychic power (or convenient plot contrivance) the Professor realizes that John has accompanied Frank and therefore put himself in mortal danger.

I mean who else but the manservant is going to polish off the Prof. on those cold winter mornings?

Well since your sister got that Saturday job anyway.

Entering a cupboard off the dinning room and carrying a cheaply made Voodoo doll Prof von Adelsberg attempts to communicate with his butler.

Or is that Stan Butler from On The Buses?

Who knows because we're back at the grotto being treated to so oh so funny comedy dialogue involving John wondering aloud if the vampires "like the black folk with their black blood....cos the villagers sure don't Meessa Dorin!" before saving Frank from a falling stalactite.

 Frank smiles and replies "I don't know John but I sure don't mind your black skin!"

This scene plays out in such a bizarre and uncomfortable way, mainly due to the fact that you can't decide whether the writer/dubber is trying to bring a wee bit of cultural  diversity to the movie, or if our up until now heterosexual hero has turned gay by the sight of John rippling muscled form.

But frankly who wouldn't?

He's probably the best (and not to say cleanest) ride in the town.

Taking of rides, on the way back to the castle Frank decides to go and look in on Maria’s body, figuring that if she's not too putrid he could at least try to vent his sexual frustrations on her.

Or possibly in her.

Looking down at her pale sallow skin he suddenly comes to the conclusion that victims of heart attacks don't usually look like they've been drained of blood and hurriedly rushes off to find the doctor.

As he leaves the room tho' Maria begins to slowly breathe before opening her eyes and smiling revealing sharp pointy fangs.

"Look Maria! Quit moving your head or you gonna end up with your hair full of muck...again!"

But when he returns with the doctor in order to take a blood sample, Maria has vanished.
Frank decides that now is the time to discuss the case with another professional, but seeing as neither Bodie - due to being dead - or the one with the girls hair is available has to settle on the doctor.

I mean come on it's not like they can afford to pay the cast they have let alone hire even more folk.

Calmly explaining about the Professors experiments, the vampires and all that other spooky stuff that's been happening in the village and after a slight pause to rub his chin, he patiently awaits the doctor opinion.

Which is that it's all bollocks and there is in fact a mental  murderer running about.

A murderer whose M.O. is to steal the bodies before they can be used to gather evidence.

Laugh now!

With no-one left to turn to except Nanny and with an underlying feeling that the Professor maybe lying about the not being a vampire, Frank asks the old dear for some bloodsucker slaying tips.

Nanny explains that a stake through the heart or three strikes to the chest with a  mallet (?) will destroy a vampire but you must kill the leader in order to kill his minions.

Scribbling all this onto the back of a fag packet our courageous copper heads back to the castle to stop the vampire menace once and for all.

Or something.

To be honest I'm not quite sure.

Coming across like the back street birthed bastard offspring of Twin Peaks and Balamory directed by a Parkinson's riddled, wooden spoon-handed 4 year old, Cave of The Living Dead is at once a work of sheer unhinged genius and utter shite.

Everything is mishandled, from the sexy jazz score to the misjudged sexual humour whilst the erstwhile Adrian Hoven appears to be channeling Carry On star Jim Dale in his portrayal of the allegedly super suave, super cool Frank Dorin, eventually coming across as more of a low rent fanny obsessed Frank Spencer than a wise cracking womanizing detective.

But if I was feeling kind I could point out that this might be in some small part due to the cack handed dubbing and poorly translated dialogue.

Then you turn the sound down and watch Hoven's fantastic comedy eyebrow acting in the opening scenes as he subtly tries to get a girls attention.

He'd be more subtle if he just got his cock out and slapped it on the table.

"Hey...do you say mouse-shite-in?"

That said there is something reassuringly oddball about the whole proceedings and it does feature the yumsome Karin Field, looking for all the world like a bustier, more Aryan Noomi Rapace and despite throwing in enough (obvious) red herrings to fill the EU fishing quota for about 6 years - especially when the villain's identity is obvious from the start - it still merrily jogs along at it's own club footed pace, oblivious to any criticism along the way.

 Which is kinda sweet.

No atmosphere, no tension and no mercy but just like your best friends old, saggy breasted drunken auntie it seduces you into staying the course.

And although you hate yourself for admitting it, it's not that bad a ride.

And under the right circumstances you'd do it again.

You filthy, filthy people.

boys will be boys.

What would 31 days of horror be without at least one movie featuring William Shatner?

Don't answer that.

The Devil’s Rain (1975).
Dir: Robert Fuest.
Cast: William Shatner, Tom Skerritt, Ernest Borgnine, Joan Prather, Eddie Albert, Ida Lupino, Keenan Wynn, John Travolta and Anton LaVey.

"Corbis, you want the Devil's Rain, I want Tom & Julie Preston. I do not underestimate your powers, nor do I overestimate them".

Ladies and gentlemen let me introduce to you the Preston's.

They make look like an ordinary family (albeit one obsessed with lumberjack shirts) but behind their normal facade lies a dark secret.

And it's not that one of them was lead singer with The Ordinary Boys and married minor celebrity cum-bucket Chantelle Houghton for 15 minutes either.

Oh no, it's much worse than that.

Some ordinary boys yesterday.

You see the poor family have been cursed for all eternity by the potato faced Satanic high priest John Corbis (the legendary Borgnine).

Yup, it seems that generations ago the Preston family were members of Corbis' Satanic church but after deciding that virgin killing and goat shagging wasn't for them, they stole his magic book and sold him out to the Christians.

Since then a never ageing Corbis has vowed revenge.

Which kinda makes you wonder what he's been up to the last hundred odd years seeing as he only lives about ten minutes away.

Perhaps he's been redecorating his church?

"I wish I knew how to quit you Bill."

Luckily for the film viewing public Corbis has chosen this very night to begin his plan of action, firstly he jinxes Samuel Preston's first solo single "Dressed To Kill" so that it fails to chart before kidnapping Dad Preston for a wee bit of terrible torture, finally letting Dad escape in order to warn his wife and young(er) son about the true extent of Corbis' wrath.

"Give Corbis the book" gurgles bubbly Dad "Or all will suffer!"

And then, as if to hammer home the point he proceeds to melt into a pile of wax before his families very eyes.

That's not all tho' as for a final trick Corbis kidnaps dear old Mum.

"Shite in mah mooooooooooooooth!"

Finally having enough of Corbis' constant curses (which actually would make a great teevee show, Channel 5 take note) and with no-one to cook him dinner, the aforementioned son Mark (Shatner, nuff said) takes the book to Corbis in the hope of defeating him.

Well c'mon, it is Shatner.

After what seems like eight hours of desert driving scenes the pair eventually meet up in a ghost town in the desert, and in a scene of such homo-erotic power as the world has ever seen, Corbis cheekily offers Preston a drink of hand pumped water from his old water spout.

Phwoar.

Shatner takes a huge gulp then spits it out, proclaiming the water to be too salty or something.

Corbin gives a cheeky grin and replies, "Sweet way to end a thirst, though." before pulling out his massive horse cock and challenging The Shat to a sword fight in the directors mouth.

Probably.

Nope sorry, I must have fallen asleep and imagined that cos what actually happens isn't half as interesting; Preston talks about God, Corbis talks about the Devil and finally Preston challenges Corbis to a battle of faith whilst waving a gun about.

Ho hum.

"Now you stop thinking about shooting dat bad man and just think about shooting onto my tits instead!"

Being a polite kinda Satanist, Corbis invites Preston to join him for morning worship which if I'm honest Preston seems to be enjoying until that is his mum turns up with a face like a bag of spuds and big black holes where her eyes should be.

It's at this point that poor old Preston starts shouting Holy stuff whilst shooting the place up like a disgruntled, beer-bellied post-election Trump supporter.

Look, you know it's going to happen.

Corbis follows our hero outside asking, "Is that your faith?" before turning Preston's ginormous gold Godly medallion into a snake.

Shitting himself at such a long slimy thing being so close to his mouth, Preston throws it away before being promptly captured by a gang of hooded hoodlums.

"If you're scared now just wait til the fucking starts!" whispers Corbis.

I imagine.

"And remember guys for the best results this one's for her arse and the others for her fanny....now get fiddling!"

Meanwhile in a big city, Preston's scientist older brother, Tom (Skerritt channelling early seventies George Harrison) and his insectoid wife Julie (Big Bad Mama's Prather) have just received word that Mark has gone missing and decide - with top psychotherapist Dr. Sam Richards (Albert) in tow - to go look for him.

And then some excitingly scary stuff happens possibly.

I say possibly cos I fell asleep only to be rudely awakened by the booming sound of thunder on the soundtrack, falling off the sofa to be confronted by the image of Ernest Borgnine transforming into a silver wigged goat whilst a topless, sweat covered former starship captain, his man-breasts undulating softly in the wind, wriggles suggestively on an inverted cross.

I've not been right since.

William Shatner's cum face yesterday (go on, ask your mum).

Meanwhile Tom, not knowing whether to laugh or cry, is watching all this from behind an old piano only to be discovered by one of the Satanists who've sneaked off for a pee.

Legging it towards the church (which surprisingly isn’t being used for the ceremony - perhaps the new paint isn't dry yet) Tom meets up with (an until now useless) Richards (no idea where he's been, probably looking to punch fuck out of his agent for agreeing to him appearing in this shite) and begins to rummage thru' Corbis' dusty drawers.

Beside the ancient issues of Razzle, fluff covered mints, a crusty sock and old VHS copies of McHale's Navy our terrific twosome come across a porcelain chamber alleged to contain the souls of Corbis' followers and the secret of his powers.

And the name of this pot?

The Devil's Rain.

Clever eh?

"Laugh now".

There's no time for celebration tho' as crazy Corbis and his sinister Satanists have tracked Tom and Sam back to the church, threatening all manner of vile torturers if they don't hand over the paranormal pot.

Luckily Richards, being a man of science, reckons all these goat headed goings on are utter bollocks and quite calmly smashes the pot causes all of Corbis' followers to melt in the ensuing rain storm.

Thank fuck the Devil never set up base in Glasgow, the poor bastard would never have been able to leave the house.

"I can see your house from here Peter!"

As Sam and Tom beat a hasty retreat thru' sticky remains of Corbis' followers, our moustachioed hero notices his wife standing in the distance (I think she might have been captured at some point) ands runs to embrace her.

As the pair hold each other we (the audience, well the ones still awake) realize that Tom is in reality hugging Corbis.

Yup, the evil fella has swapped bodies with Julie, whose soul he has trapped within a new improved paranormal pot.

On a downside it does mean that until his strength has returned, Ernest Borgnine is going to get roughly shagged by Tom Skerritt on a daily basis.

Hang on, did I say downside?

Best remembered for totally destroying the film career of ace director Fuest (the man who gave us  The Abominable Dr. Phibes, Dr. Phibes Rises Again and The Final Programme), The Devil's Rain suffered from such a critical mauling that Fuest was immediately placed on the top of the FBI's most wanted list and his family imprisoned.

The story doesn't end there tho', for after years of living in exile on the isle of Shetland (eking out a pittance making dire teevee fodder) he was ordered to direct the soft core stinker Aphrodite (1982), a movie that's only memorable feature was it's lead actress, Valérie Kaprisky's massive bush.*

Kaprisky: hairy minge.

It's not all bad tho' as not only do we do get to see a pre-Trek comeback Bill Shatner topless but also get to experience the joy of watching a young John Travolta being seduced by an evil cult from which he can't escape.

Something that wouldn't happen in real life obviously.

But with it's (probably) unintentional homo-erotic subplot, scenes of Mexican extras covered in chip fat in an attempt to make them look melty, a constantly angry Tom Skerritt (remember he chose to do this yet almost knocked back Alien)  and the sight of a shirtless Captain Kirk being tongued by an almost mummified Ida Lupino, The Devil's Rain has something for everyone.

If that person is criminally insane with no self worth obviously.
























*Due to the fact she was an avid - and award winning amateur gardener in her spare time.