Dead Ringer Sandwich

I was going to start this by apologising for going off on a tangent about merciless kill-demons from hell (A.K.A. spiders) in my last post, because in hindsight it was a bit random, and random is just sooo 2008 now. But then I thought that I'm not apologising for jack-shit and that was that.

What I really want to talk about is a truly traumatic experience that I endured recently. A few weeks ago whilst browsing the tinter-web, I happened upon a movie called 'Dead Ringers' in which Jeremy Irons plays twin gynaecologists who develop a new instrument for use on mutant women. If you are anything at all like me I doubt you will read a better sentence in your life. The synopsis alone meant that when I eventually got around to watching it, I was fairly buzzed. I actually bought crisps and made tea for the occasion.

You should know now that none of this movie lived up to my expectations. What it did make me do, however, was ask myself a question that I feel no man or woman should ever have to ask themselves, and if you don't want this thought seared into the very fabric of your fragile brain I would suggest looking no further: "I wonder how I would react to the thought of Jeremy Irons and his retard-junkie clone joining in a Devils threesome with a ginger?"

Not well. The answer to that question for everyone that ever has or ever shall exist is 'not well'.

Two Girls One Cup no longer holds the same place in my heart, that's how awful the images in my head are. I can't close my eyes without seeing it. I can NEVER watch Die Hard 3 again.  I will remain flaccid and impotent until at the very least the next time I see a picture of Zooey Deschanel (................all better :D ) but worst of all, the most reprehensible thing about all this is, is that one or more of the people who read this will watch it now. It's like the video tape in The Ring and there's nothing we can do to stop it!

Well, I could have just not wrote this, but I'm not that sort of guy.

Enjoy!