Funniest Film of 2008

***THERE ARE SPOILERS HERE - SEE THE FILM THEN READ THIS***
(although only see the film if you fancy a laugh)

Alien vs Predator: Requiem

AKA:

AVP2 or AVP:R

Or as I would've called it:

"Predator swats Aliens like flies until he meets the, ahem, 'Predalien'* who then kicks Predator's ass all around the screen at every opportunity right up until the quite frankly ridiculous ending which is so bad it will remind you of Cube 2, (which sucked)"

But I doubt that would've fit on the poster.


Moving onto the film...

Here are some choice scenes:

:Man leans on Sheriff Truck, dressed in Sheriff's uniform.
:Man gets into Sheriff Truck but...

...just in case there was still any doubt...

:Camera zooms onto "COUNTY SHERIFF" which is written on the side of truck and allows you to... read... it... really... slowly... just in case you STILL DONT KNOW WHO THE MAN IS.

NEXT!
________________________________________

:Boy delivers Pizza to girl.
:Girl likes boy but has dumb boyfriend.
:Boyfriend doesn't like boy which is made clear by crass comment as boy arrives but...

... just in case there was any doubt...

:camera zooms in on girl's boyfriend who gurns and stares in a comedy WWE wrestler fashion.

NEXT!
________________________________________

:Head chef to waitress:
:Supremely obvious "THIS MAN IS GOING TO DIE!" line alert!

"Don't worry, I'll see you in the morning..."

:Man dies within minutes.

NEXT!
________________________________________

:The 'Survivors' turn up at, what can only be described as, the local corner shop.
:Hero-esque Man: "Where are the guns?"
:Girl (pizza girl from earlier) walks two steps into the store...
:Girl: "Over here!"

Really - that one you just HAVE to see to truly get how hilarious it is.

NEXT!
________________________________________

An homage to Final Destination:

:Blonde walks down corridor.
:Eponymous Hunter fights off a couple of Aliens.
:Eponymous Hunter uses two off-worldy ninja stars (bigger and sharper and make slicy noises when they fly through the air) to dispatch his assailants.
:Off-Worldy Ninja Stars fly through the air and kill Aliens
:One carries on flying and nails the stupid blond bint to the wall!

BRILLIANT!

I actually lol'd at that one. Whoops.

________________________________________

So in equal measure: DONT SEE THIS FILM and DO SEE THIS FILM

And the ending?! OH MY GOD. The ending is HILARIOUS. But I won't ruin it. Promise.

BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAH - I'm STILL laughing!

Put it this way, y'know that bit in Mystery Men when the Blue Raja says:

"I didn't expect to see you so... SPOON!"

Yeah, that bit. Imagine the last line of AVP2 said in that way. Seriously.

Hats off to the directors for making something so brilliantly and fantastically rubbish and hilarious in equal measure.

*sigh*

James


*Clearly THE WORST made up word since 'Quadrilogy'.

Bouhf.

I know this isn't really in keeping with R&J, and there's no witty payoff, but I'm sure James won't mind me hijacking the blog today just to post a little WTF?!, bloody hell and bouhf about the passing of Heath Ledger, just when he was about to astound us all as the Joker.

Gutted.

And here's hoping that Dark Knight won't become a Crow-like emo-fest on the back of it.

*sigh*

Roger

Pooter trouble

So. Young Roger finishes her last blog entry. Safely tucked up in her pyjamas she sips a late night cuppa whilst settling down to watch Heroes on the laptop.

Immediately, an almighty din ensues and Roger is convinced a Spitfire has somehow gained access to the flat, possibly through an open window, but further inspection reveals the noise to be emanating from the disc drive which appears to be, for want of a more technical phrase, buggered. (They may or may not have been an element of slight droppage earlier. Maybe).

So I fire off an email to Dell. Yes, yes, I know....but it was cheap and it's still under guarantee so worth a try, no?

No.

The reply starts off in a promising fashion:

"I understand from your mail message that the DVD drive is no longer working. Please do not worry, I assure you that we will take care of the issue and resolve it to your satisfaction."

So far so good. A customer service team on top of their game. I felt 'assured'.

Now their first practical suggestion involved an awful lot of technobabble and diagrams. And a screwdriver. I'm sorry, but surely that's something you get a little man in a shop to do? So I ignored that and moved swiftly on.

"If the issue persists then please restore your Dell system to date when it was working fine."

Lets ignore for a moment the niggling fear tat this point that the writer of this missive may not have the world's best grasp of the English language, and move right on to the nub. Effectively they are saying : Your DVD drive is not working. Solve this by travelling back in time to the last time it was working. Then, presumably, try not to break it again.

"Does the issue persist?"

Well, yes, my drive is still f$£ked but frankly now that I have discovered the secret of time travel I shall no longer be needing this puny Earth technology anyway. Oh no, hang on....

Now this, this is my favourite suggestion. The piece de resistance. They really do save the best for last down at Dell Towers:

"If still persists then would it be possible for you to swap the DVD drive with the known good one, if available?"

Translation: If drive is still knackered, replace with one that isn't. (Or, if we're being literal here, replace with "The Known Good One" - WTF?? Your guess is as good as mine).

Luckily, the drive seems to have spontaneously fixed itself as things are wont to do if you ignore them for long enough and give them a few good hard stares.

Dell. You're everything I hoped for and less.

*sigh*

Roger.

Keep young and beautiful

Right. First of all, sorry James, I know this is not the blog entry you are looking for. But this literally only just came to my notice and as I sit here in my jamas an hour away from sleep time I can either watch another episode of Heroes or write a very small blogette - so here it is.

My flatmate's girlfriend has recently sort of unofficially sort of moved in, as girlfriends are wont to do. This is fine and dandy, and she is lovely. No problem.

The one thing I don't understand though, is the bathroom.

She has so. Much. Stuff. And I don't even know what most of it does. Seriously. I find it fascinating. There's potions and serums (I don't think I've ever owned a 'serum' in my life - apart from anything else it always sounds a bit rude and well, kind of, organic, if you see what I mean), and oils and creams and loads of makeup of that really expensive sort that you buy in department stores from terrifying looking women that spray you as you walk past (with perfume, not in a territory marking way. That would be wrong).

Now. I wouldn't mind, but now I'm not sure whether, as a girl, I'm supposed to have all this stuff too. I just have no frame of reference. For comparison, my shelf comprises:

A toothbrush.
Half a tube of Clean and Clear (because that's what I've washed my face with since I was 15 and I see no reason to confuse myself with change).
A very sticky pot of hair gel.
Dalek shaped bubble bath, and
A bottle of Sailor Matey.

All of which currently look vaguely embarrassed against this new influx of spa treatments and cleansing micro-bio-wankenoids.

Pffff.

Ah well. Back to Heroes.

*sigh*

Roger.

I've bin to the edge

As Roger mentioned recently I am now get paid for doing this kinda stuff.
All official like. Not here mind. This is for fun. Or 'The Sex' according to one theory.

Anyway, the worst part about it is - and this really does depend on your point of view - I do my best writing at night. I always have done and, until I work out what it is about burning the midnight oil that produces such creativity, I always will.

This post however, this post, is written in the morning. At 11am on a Saturday morning in fact. Why?
Well that'll be because I was woken up at 10am on this Saturday morning...
Allow me to explain:


Yesterday, for some ungodly reason, I was managed to be awake for around 22hrs.
Rounding off the day at about half 4ish in the A.M. by putting some finishes touches to a document I'm working on for my employer.
"It's Saturday tomorrow.. I can lay in" ...I think to myself, all smug like.

So...

I'm laying in bed. Asleep.
Dreaming of walking through a field..
Listening to birdsong and appreciating the wildlife when all of a sudden a cow turns to me and says: Ding dong.

"S'funny, cows don't make that noise..."

A synapse goes off in my head and I make the connection of the sound with that of my doorbell. I ignore it. It's Saturday, I'm not expecting anyone, it's probably the postman...
I'll just roll over and go to sleep.

Ding dong

"Grr..." - Maybe they'll go away in a minute. Ding dong

RIGHT! (and also just so you know, at this point, I have no idea what time it actually is) I'm going to have to answer it, DAMMIT!
Whoever it is it must be important and they're clearly not... Ding dong ....ARRRGH! ...they're clearly not going to go away.
I run around trying to find my dressing gown. I have two now having recently got one for Christmas. Can I find either? Can I balls. I throw on a pair of jeans quick.. run... Ding dong "ALRIGHT ALRIGHT!" ..down the stairs... aaaaaaaaaaaaaand...



I am greeted by a small woman and what may or may not have been her husband..
Both of whom I could only best describe as being... European.

And thinking on it. Scrap that. They didn't even _actually_ greet me.
*She* was straight to the point...
(he didn't say a bloody thing - just stood there looking dopey).

EuroBag: "Excuse me, are you the person that keeps putting their rubbish in our bins?"
Me: Err... "What?"

Realisation slowly dawning that it is in fact very cold and I am standing on my doortstep in nothing but a very raggedy pair of jeans...

EB: "It is just that someone has been putting their rubbish in our bins and now there is no room for any of our rubbish to go into our bins. The dustman are here now... "

I look up. Yep. They're here.

"... and I do not know if you know but recently they have changed the day on which they collect the bins, they no longer come on a Thursday they come on a Friday. They have come today which is Saturday because of holidays and now they are here they will only take rubbish from front verge, this because there is new contract with Council and old dustmen, old dustmen used to take the rubbish from bins in garden out back but new dustmen, these dustmen, will only take rubbish from verge on front grass. On Friday mornings we have to put rubbish out for new dustmen. So if you have any rubbish you should put it out now for the dustman or put it out on Friday because that is when the dustmen come now."

I swear she did *not* pause for breath... and it doesn't seem like she actually said that much now that I've written it down but trust me; this woman would *not* shut up.
Throughout this entire 'exchange' - (ha) - I've been slowly waking up whilst trying to nod in the right places etc... at the same time trying to deny all knowledge of 'bin-gate' (when in fact I know full well it's me.
The bins are always sodding full so I just stick my rubbish in the nearest empty one.
It doesn't *actually* matter who's rubbish goes where, all the bins get thrown out eventually...

Well... it turns out that this in fact may not be the case and would explain why my bin is always full. I actually have to take it out.

So I'm standing there, in just a pair of jeans, clearly only having just crawled out of bed because of the idiots in front of me ringing my door bell at 10am on a blimmin' Saturday morning and this woman actually expects me to give a flying fudge about her sodding bins.

And what did I do?
WHAT DID I DO IN MY INFINITE wisdom?!

I said: ".... er.. thanks, bye."

I then closed the door, climbed up the stairs, stubbed my toe on the top step, (nothing worse than stupid, half-awake injuries), got back into bed and tried woefully in vain to try and get back to sleep...

*sigh*

James

How would YOU do?

46%

Roger's Score ^

57%
James' Score ^

Together we have a 103% chance of survival.

How's that for a slice of fried gold?!


Roger & James