When I first saw the trailer for Project X:
I wasn’t that excited. It looked like any of my flat parties, only without the naked woman, my marauding wand, an abundance of Chocolate-flavoured Stout, a condom tree, vats of protein shake, a gym area, a rutting area, piles of DVDs, snakes, a mobile phone overflowing with girls’ numbers and pictures of their areolas, a piñata full of Tangfastics, a burrito made out of ten burritos, a fucking machine (often a sybian), a Nuts magazine with all the pages stuck together, a buffet of nothing but lean chicken breasts and broccoli, a room full of mirrors that only I’m allowed in, a clothes horse upon which girls may hang their knickers whilst they are on the sybian, a swimming pool full of vodka Red-Bull, a tattoo artist that only draws dicks, an entire cupboard full of Skittles (sour ones and normal ones), a pile of cables that have been there for ages and I don’t know what they’re for, lots and lots of Frangelico, a giant Pepperami, mini Pepperamis, normal sized Pepperamis, a bouncer at the entrance whose sole purpose is to confiscate condoms,
a laptop full to the brim with porn a huge TV showing Drive (the Mark Dacascos one) on repeat, a cannon that fires chocolate-filled brioche rolls, a pneumatic drill for destroying DVDs that aren’t 18s, a stripper who farts into a megaphone, methylated spirits for the legends, a link to follow me on Twitter on the right, and a barman that only serves shandy because shandy is fucking nice and I don’t care what anyone says.
So I wasn’t really all that interested in seeing it.
However, I was skimming my gooch over the BBFC website today, and I discovered that it had been classified as an 18.
PROJECT X, I SHALL BE SEEING YOU…LATER.