As I have mentioned before on this site, I didn’t half enjoy The Human Centipede, and to some extent The Human Centipede II – I also like going into the supermarket with my friends disguised as a human centipede and buying posh things like Ferrero Rocher. So obviously, when I found out that some nutcases had decided that it would be a good idea to create a live Human Centipede attraction I immediately hurled a wad of my own dung at the postman whilst hissing expletives at my penis.
Rather than continue my excrement-based projectile tomfoolery I decided to go and visit it. I went to the press launch at the London Bridge Experience because I’m far more important than you with your lubed up thumb and sore arse, and I had some free champagne and scored a few choice broads’ digits. After some amiable chit-chat the time came for me to enter the deep, dark tunnel.
So after the sex, we entered into the tombs. They take you into a little room and you have to stand in front of a green screen and scream for a photo – I almost got kicked out for releasing my pre-sheathed oak, but I bribed the tour guide with some Tangfastics so he let me stay. Then they take you into another room and some people in shit make-up tell you how if you don’t do what they say they’ll kill you or guff in your face or something, before finally taking you into a lift down to the tunnels.
Once in, it’s pretty much the usual London Bridge Experience malarkey – with people jumping out at you, powerful gusts of air firing in your face (I’d been eating beans), nutcases with fake chainsaws running after you, and jets of water spraying in your mouth (should have gone before the tour etc).
It’s pretty scary stuff, and some of the yats were bare dizzy from all the scary shit going down. Not me though. I ain’t some sort of wack-ass jabroni.
Then, just as I was wondering when the fuck I was going to see a real human centipede, I SAW A REAL FUCKING HUMAN CENTIPEDE. You’re lead into a room that looks exactly like Dr Heiter’s lab in the first film and lo-and-behold, there’s three sodding peeps stitched arse-to-mouth on a hospital bed squirming about and trying to grab you. It was absolutely, positively hilarious – I was creasing long ting. The girl at the back was fit, too – tits weren’t out which was a bummer, but my TPM* still increased twofold.
After that, it’s business as usual as you complete the rest of the tour and add to the scariness by dropping some choice eggy grunters every time a failed actor in zombie make-up shouts in your ear.
All in all, it was a right fucking laugh and I recommend it wholesluttingly to anyone who is a fan of the film. Truxt me blud, you’ll love it. After the experience, you’re free to do what you want. Go ahead, go crazy.
“Have a ball.”
Which is coincidentally what I said to that peng bird with the socking bajoogas when we got back to mine.