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Classic 18: Wrong Turn (2003)

[There are a few minor spoilers in this review but if that stops you from reading it then I think it’s about time you took that dummy out of your mouth and took your thumb out of your bum because I’m about to rain down on you like a tonne of shit.]

I will watch, and love, any film about killer rednecks, cannibals or inbred nutcases.  If the film has a combination of the all three – well then, ladies, you better put condoms over your heads because I’ll be firing pregnant jizz all over the ceiling and if any of it hits you, you’ll be firing babies out of your bum for weeks, and gentleman, you better put a nappies on sharpish because I’ll be pummeling you in the stomach so hard, you’ll be shooting screaming jets of shit out of your arses while I pour enough Haribo down my throat to fill a month of Sundays.

Basically, Wrong Turn is a combination of all three.  I was so excited about seeing this, I couldn’t even eat my usual quota of Pepperamis – and when this happens, you know something’s up.  And it certainly was, along with my penis.

In a nutshell (a rather long, detailed nutshell), Wrong Turn is about some bloke going to a job interview or something shit and boring, but he runs into a traffic jam, which coincidentally is also shit and boring.  So obviously, he doesn’t want to hang about in a queue of smelly cars, so he takes a WRONG TURN and goes off down a dodgy dirt track.

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