Thursday, 12 March 2015

Who You Gonna Call?


I fully intended on writing a blog tonight.....and I am. Aren't I just the modern day Nostradamus? I mean, I'm only predicting what I'M going to do next, which, whilst not exactly easy to do, is hardly up to what 'old Nostra bollocks' pulled off back in the 70's, or whenever he was doing his "thing". Some might say I'm a poor mans Nostra, but I'm only following a trend that has become a worldwide modern phenomena, just doing what other people have done before, only nowhere near as impressively. Maybe this is the identity of the twenty-tens I thought it was lacking?

Talking of the 70's, I was planning on doing a big thing about Jeremy Clarkson and how he was like an embodiment of a time warp back to the brown decade itself, when women and ethnic minorities were pilloried and poked at for for fun, but I really can't be's been a long day and I'm able to summon up only enough energy to squeeze out borderline burbling of inane and frivolous offerings......which is pretty much all I can muster up on a good day.

Anyway, I was back at the 'original thought' palace earlier....the gym, for those of you who aren't regulars to this blog of nonsense. I can barely remember why I began to wonder about an alternative version of Slimer from Ghostbusters, but called "Paedophiler" who would hurtle towards the "Paedophilebuster" before covering him in 'paedoplasm',  creating the phrase "he paedo'd me" which would go proverbially viral, quicker than you could say "Gary Glitter's kiddie-pulling secret was a stash of Penguin bars in his glove compartment". It was at this point that I realised exercise was not good for me, or my state of mind. That said, I hope my letter to the writers of the new Ghostbusters get's read and my idea can somehow be incorporated into the certainly would have made Ghostbusters 2 less ridiculous.

On my drive home, I started to doubt I'd have the wherewithal to recover from this shameful ponder enough in order to produce anything of real was at that point in time when I began to think about Pretty Woman. Yes, the fiasco.....erm.....I mean, film.

Has there ever been a film where if the genders of the lead roles were reversed, it would be as unrealistic and hollow? It makes 'Take Me Out' look like a love letter from Eros (the god of love, for those of you not in the know....I Googled it, if that makes you feel any better). I mean, it seems acceptable for a guy with a good career and lot's of cash to take on a woman who quite frankly, hasn't got a pot to piss in.  If a woman has a good career, it tends to be the case that she wants a man who's equally successful, independent, career focused and self-sufficient. In the motion picture (I'd never use the term "motion picture" in actual life, has anyone EVER said that out loud in an actual sentence before, like during an everyday conversation? If so, I'd like to think that they ended the sentence with a thick lip.....but I'm writing, so I'll say what I bloody well want) 'Pretty Woman' (I couldn't remember where I was either), this rich guy takes the beautiful prozzy in shops that she's previously been kicked out of before, presumably for looking way to prozzy-ish, to buy stuff that she wants to wear and that. Then they go to a swanky restaurant where she learns cutlery etiquette before she tells her pimp to shove his job. Charming, he helps her earn a decent living and that's what he gets, bloody women! Cue female viewers swooning at the very notion of all this toss-pottery, I'm amazed there wasn't a rush on numbers of women taking up the trade.

Safe to say then, that I hated it, to the extreme that I was embarrassingly and needlessly happy beyond GoCompare when 'Gere' and 'Roberts' teamed up again for "Runaway Bride" and to see it flop as sadly as a vegan monks willy on Steak and Blowjob day. I think I got more enjoyment from that film being crap as I have from any other film being good, which makes me feel very spiteful indeed. This little write-up has turned into a right eye-opener, for me anyway.....I don't care what anyone else thinks.

So there we have it, now you all know what my least favourite film is. The worst thing about this listless "rom-com", is that women genuinely lapped up what is probably the least romantic storyline ever written. If a more damning indictment of womankind exists, feel free to enlighten me. How about I write a film where a girl says to her other half as they walk down the street; "eat that steaming pile of dog poo and I'll give you a blowjob", that's about halfway to what I'm looking for. Oh and by the way, when I say "you all", I mean to all my Ukrainian fans. Good to know that my popularity tends to rise depending on the how immediate the risk of civil war and tension.....I might start an advertising campaign in Iraq. War! What is it good for? My blog traffic, that's what.

Goodnight my pedigree chums!!! Or, should I say, добраніч мої племінних чуми!!!!

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