I think I’ve just about got over Frightfest now. I had to have a break from watching horror films (well, films in general) and wait for the swelling on my willy to go down before I could get round to starting my review of the festival. Well, the ice-pack that I stole from that prick outside the hospital came in handy because my oak is now at its usual girth.
“What are you talking about? That thing is massive! Put the ice-pack back on it you idiot!”
Incorrect, that is the usual size – you should have seen it last week. Like a sodding ciabatta it was. Anyway, I’m going to stop talking about my thrute now (I’m not) and get down to the important business of what the fuck happened at Frightfest 2012…
So I arrived 15 minutes early so that I could go and get a double espresso because I was knackered for some reason – couldn’t help but shag two girls the night before even though I knew I had to sit through a load of films. What am I like? What am I fucking like? So I got my espresso, downed it in front of a hot woman to impress her but then screamed in her face because it was fucking boiling hot and she left. No matter, I hadn’t even waved my wand through the doors of The Empire cinema yet.
I walked in, and I’m sure that the floor must have fallen at least a centimetre such was the force of the collective gusset-drop of all the females in the foyer. I HAD ARRIVED.
I sauntered past numerous yats, winking at them with an expression that made them aware I was interested in them but also simultaneously asserting my alpha-dominance over their chutney boyfriends by subconsciously alerting the girls to the inferior size of their partners’ cocks. I call this move ‘the wank’. I need to come up with a better name because it’s not obvious that I’m talking about a wink whenever I refer to wanking at girls in public. I am though. Sometimes anyway.
Anyway, I grabbed a bottle of water, which the hot cashier dropped because I assume she was confused as to what was happening to her genitals as she looked at me across the counter, and I strode into the auditorium and went to find my seat.
The seat was a good’un, although unfortunately I was not seated next to any juicepots. This has not yet happened at Frightfest much to my dismay, but I took it in my stride, and settled down for the first film – The Seasoning House.
This was horrible. I like my horror films extreme, but this was just rape after rape after rape – properly depressing. It basically follows this girl who is trapped in this dodgy whorehouse in the Balkans and has to endure the sight of loads of young girls getting raped and murdered (as do we, sigh) and then eventually she goes fucking mental and starts stabbing people in the head. It gets better when she goes mental but it’s completely implausible.
That’s because it’s her against a load of hardened nutcase soldiers. Somehow I doubt a teenage girl can take out a load of huge, hulking maniac rapist soldiers with guns. Oh wait, yes she can because she is magic. And she doesn’t even give a fuck about bullets, she can dodge them easy blud. All a bit silly really.
However, on the upside the gore effects are properly amazing, like one really disgusting bit where the girl shoves this huge knife in this guy’s mouth and wiggles it about until it pops through his cheek, and it’s all done in one shot – it’s gross. And it’s ok because it’s on a rapist. You’re allowed to do that to rapists.
So after that, I went and had a piss, but I wanted a shower instead – I felt dirty after watching that grime. On my way to drain the proverbial lizard, I noticed the huge queue for the cubicles in the men’s toilets was back. There’s always a huge line for the cubicles but the urinals are nearly always free, I don’t understand this because every person in the cubicles is not doing a shit. If they were it would sodding reek. Maybe horror fans don’t want to wee next to other horror fans – it’s either they’ve all got small willies or they’re actual psychos and they don’t want to suddenly snap and cut the person next to them’s cock off with a knife. I reckon the second one.
Me, I’m happy to parade my gigantic horndog about the shop – helps just in case any sorts’ boyfriends are near, it really dents their confidence when I chat their girlfriends up later.
Next up was Cockneys vs Zombies which sounded like a Berkshire Hunt. I sat down to watch it, but during the intro the writer said “This film is so gory! You won’t believe it got a 15!” and I immediately took my condom off and stormed out of the theatre spitting Skittles at the crowd. I ain’t wasting my time watching kids’ films, this isn’t Kids Time Shitting Story Crap is it? That’s a kids’ programme right? I’ve never seen one. Sounds like one.
So during Cockneys vs Zombies I went for a swift spot of dogging up some back street somewhere before getting bored and going to wank at some girls in Leicester Square. As in my special wink, not actual wanking – I really need to think of another name for that don’t I?
Finally, the 15 was over and all the babies came out of the creche, so I pushed through the crowd and went back into the auditorium ready for Grabbers. I’ve got to admit, I didn’t have my hopes high for this one – it had 15 written all over it. But I gave it the bonerfist of the doubt, and sat down.
I walked out after the second shit death. I’m not in the business of wasting time. Or condoms for that matter, so I didn’t even bother taking it off this time and I went for a swift posho wank in the cubes (there weren’t any hots around). After this, I decided to head home – I was in a bit of a mood to be honest. Hadn’t even rooted one 10 or anything.
Oh well, there were bare films the next day so I had a much higher chance of juicing it up big style until the cows rimmed the broth.