Lesbian Vampire Killers (2009)

My wife, who is in most things very sussed and cool, has an unerring knack of choosing the worst films in the world. The only saving grace about her selecting this pile of abject, risible, insultingly unfunny wank is that in the week that we went to view it she had already seen Marley and Me on her own. If I'd had to see that too, it may have been too much for my barely adequate sanity to survive.

This is so bad that I feel morally offended that any of the clowns involved- the squeaky fat one, the gargoyle-faced one, the one with all of the brothers- hasn't come out and publicly apologised for it. I now hate them all. Hate. It's a comedy-horror with no comedy or horror in it. The plot, which was written on the back of a soggy beermat, is thus: 'give the film a title to get teenage boys interested and make it look like a Lynx advert with a couple of flashes of nipple'. This is so bad that even Paul Ross wouldn't like it.

I hoped that I would feel cleansed if I admitted that I'd seen it, instead I'm repulsed by the memory.