Breaking News!

break news

A man who went to a very dangerous place was confirmed killed by international news agencies today when it transpired that dangerous places were actually quite dangerous after all. A family spokesperson said as the news sank in-

“The entire family is exceptionally shocked quite naturally, they had no idea that dangerous places were in fact very likely to injure or even kill loved ones despite all the reports in the affirmative to that fact.” a family member further added: “We’re all very angry that the Government, despite repeatedly making it clear just how dangerous this dangerous place was in the first place and suggesting that nobody even think about travelling there, did nothing to help our family member when they got into trouble… because of all the danger.”

In response to that a Governmental spokesperson gave an official comment which simply read:

“We told you so.”

Today many locals from the town of the dead man are all in shock and one prominent local business owner who hadn’t known the victim but wanted to get his business seen on the news went on record saying “I too had no idea that climbing dangerous mountains, visiting civil war zones, popping your head into an tropical medical aid tent infested with Lord knows what and swimming after a meal was just so dangerous! Just what are the Government thinking by not making that ruddy clear?!”

Today the Prime Minister has insisted that the entire nation is now united in grief for the loss of yet another person who thought they were quite indestructible whilst putting themselves in the direct line of some very real mortal danger for some unknown reason whilst all sensible people just settled down to watch TV instead.

As we went to press another Junior Minister further added –

“We urge all UK citizens to once again please just think for a moment before they decide to climb very high, very rocky and of course dangerous mountains covered in ice and snow…oh and please don’t even think of visiting war zones as a holiday destination, they’re also very dangerous and the same goes for dipping your privates into wasp nests, stapling your ears to a gaming table, climbing into the Gorilla enclosure in any zoo flicking the nearest sliver-back on the nuts with a wet towel and screaming ‘Hey ugly!’ as well as unicycling without a seat to sit on but just the pole left in place, trimming your nails with a rusty bayonet, swallowing strange pills from an unmarked bottle found under a railway arch, having unprotected sex with livestock and finally smoking, eating too many carbs, too many trans-fats, too much exercise, too little exercise, jaywalking, chav-baiting, back yard wrestling, DIY tattooing, saying you don’t really rate ‘Uncle’ Stephen Fry in public, drink driving, joining the army, having worked for the BBC in the 1970s, smoking, passive smoking, aggressive smoking and of course voting if you follow the teachings of well known political philosopher Russell Brand.”

Perfidious Alba?

england and scotland

 I have to be honest here and say that regardless of which side of the divide you may be on the Scottish referendum we must be surely chuffed to bits that we’re dealing with it in a fairly mature manner and not resorting to violence to resolve such weighty issues. It wasn’t that long ago really, around 90 years or so that a former and very large, very important part of the UK broke away from the Union and the ‘Nation’ to go it alone and that took one hell of a bloody guerrilla war followed by a lengthy civil war as well as a legacy of bitterness between the UK & The Republic of Ireland that largely lasted until very recently. Sort of puts the usual egg chucking & heckling into perspective a bit doesn’t it?

Irish Free State

 The thing is many people in modern Britain are probably only dimly or maybe even not at all aware depending on their ages, education or interest in the matter that Ireland had ever been part of the UK at all and simply take it for granted that there happens to be an independent nation called Ireland next door to us just as they have taken it for granted that (so far at least) there is a United Kingdom to say nothing of the many smaller Home Nations that make up the wider whole: Wales, Scotland, N.I and England all crammed into its rather snug borders (notice how I left out Cornwall? Pffft! Bitch please!)

Oh and before I get emails please note the Isle of Man and the Channel Islands are not a part of the UK but are crown dependencies.

Personally I find the concept of nationalism a bit of a silly pastime and of little concern but maybe that’s because I’m English (well as English as anyone who has a Welsh surname at any rate) and we’ve largely and steadily reduced our identity and national story to little more than the last night at the Proms, Coronation Street and men in white clothing leaping and jumping around with bells attached to their limbs waving hankies and knocking sticks together whilst backed by some rocking accordion music as well as …er? Well, Hobbits I suppose.

Morris ninja

We also tend to ignore the more militant side of our pasts unlike our ‘Celtic’ cousins partly through not wishing to ‘offend’ anyone in our modern multicultural country and I suspect mainly because we ourselves find such things like waving the St George’s Cross flag around distasteful seeing as how these symbols have more often than not been hijacked by football hooligans, BNP Skinheads and rather ranty old bar soaks in the past. Or maybe we’re just a little bit worried that once we delve into our more war like history we might get to like it and pretty soon we’ll be marching back up ‘north’ to nick the Stone of Destiny again.

To be honest though when you do start to scrutinise the origins and myths of any such romantic nationalism and the creation of any national or ‘ethnic’ identity be it Scottish or English under the harsh glare of a sceptical magnifying glass it all becomes evidently about as genuine as any fantasy world inhabited by bloody Orcs & Hobbits anyway.

Sure there’s a lot of idiots in the ‘YES’ campaign ranting about ‘English rule!’ and ‘English dominion!’ and even protesting outside the BBC against perceived bias against them (Which was odd as the No vote had claimed the BBC was biased against them) turning what is supposed to be a debate about ending centralized rule from a single unitary Parliament in Westminster into a bit of a moronic and simplified ‘us & them’ argument based on ‘race’ intending to do little than settle old scores and supposed or genuine slights as well as who is and even creating a dodgy debate about who isn’t a “True Scot” as Scots who have moved out of Scotland and might only live an hour’s drive from the border are denied a vote in the matter yet EU migrants who arguably have little emotional connection to the country but currently live and work in Scotland (and might very well only be there temporarily) can have a vote. A lot of the Anglophobic ranters of course helpfully choose to ignore the huge role that the Scots have played in the creation of that very same shared Parliament and in English life even before the Act of Union, (To say nothing of the last two PMs being Scottish and the current one being Anglo-Scottish at the very least) but that’ll always be the case. I’m sure if we had a similar vote here there’d be elements of the EDL marching up and down the street making us all look bad.

“A Parcel O’ Rouges.”

Even if Scotland does gain secession from the Union it won’t be the end of the world that some would have you think. The current Union’s only about 300 and so years old and way before that we managed to cooperate at times rather well with the same Monarch but entirely differing parliamentary systems and laws. So why and how did the Union come about if the old system kinda worked as it was previously? First we have to look at previous attempts at closer partnership between our two nations.

The first proper “Union” of sorts, and mainly in name only, was that of the ‘Union Of The Crowns’ in 1603 when the very Scottish King James VI of Scotland became on the death of the childless Elizabeth I, king of two kingdoms and James I of England. Like many a Scot who had done rather well for himself and now had a few quid to his name he promptly packed his bags and headed down south to London although not to hang around the nearest train station sipping on strong cans of lager and screaming nonsensically at pigeons. After he’d made this move he only returned to his homeland once and his absence had the unfortunate but entirely understandable effect of damaging the reputation of the Scottish dynasty back home for a fair many loyal Scottish subjects. At any rate this Union was not a joint administrate nor centralized one, officially at least (although it did act jointly for Scotland & England in matters of diplomacy) but due to the Stuart’s great dislike of heading back home it had necessitated that Scottish nobles and advisors travel to London and take up lodgings to be close to their king and facilitate his will and his rule back in Scotland.

James I/VI seemed like many a British Monarch to harbour grandiose plans at creating an Imperial Britain which consisted of a single nation of many peoples and he ordered the ‘Union of England & Scotland Act 1603’ (actually little more than a fact finding commission to test the waters) to look into the practicalities of making this a reality. At any rate regardless of how serious he might have been with this plan the legacy of hundreds of years of animosity, suspicion and at times warfare between the English & Scottish meant that would be a tall order for even an absolute monarch like James to pull off. Simply nobody liked the idea, the English worried that with a new Scottish king their ancient country would vanish being flooded by Scottish courters and the Scots worried that despite their Scottish King pretty much the same thing would happen but with the king ignoring the North in favour of his new English bets buds. In fact so unpopular was the idea of any true political union that you start to wonder if James was a bit like a bad host at a party where several guests just refuse to get on no matter how much is drunk or what music you put on the stereo and spread a malaise around the front room with their bitchy gossip and James oblivious to the body language and signals being given off.

After this Union of the Crowns which unsurprisingly ended with the execution of Charles I and the disestablishment of the Monarchy the new republican Commonwealth briefly replaced the Union although this was again far from being popular with parties on all sides with the memories of the recent Civil Wars in all the three Kingdoms being bitter. After the Restoration though the unofficial Union once again came into effect and so England and Scotland would continue to progress separately although both being tied by binds of a shared Monarchy and royal concerns but differing laws, parliaments, goals and military structures: A Royal Scottish Army and a Royal English Army existing separately for a while at least.

1707: The Lion and the Unicorn finally “get it on”.

Scotland & England

How did the act of Union get pushed through both parliaments despite it being divisive and unpopular with some people?

One major factor had to be that previous Scottish attempts to create a separate trading empire to match those of other European powers and that of England failed drastically and practically bankrupted the Scottish economy in the process. The Scots had been attempting to set up colonies along the lines of the successful New England model since the 1600s in places as diverse as Nova Scotia and South America but the gamble despite the positive stereotype of your canny Scot failed to be a money spinner and now very deeply in the shit some bright sparks amongst the Scottish thinkers and politicians (also many of them former investors in the failed Darien Scheme) pushed for a merger like one you would see in any big business venture with their more successful neighbour/ associate business down south (England PLC) who could bail them out and invest capitol in more crazy schemes.

Again there were people on both the English and Scottish sides who did not wish to see such a Union, the English worried that it would have a knock on effect for the wealth of England. A nation who had always been far richer than Scotland and whose booming Empire would now become open to Scottish ventures. English money would have to be used to be invested in Scotland and to modernise all aspects of Scottish life from security to infrastructure intended to make it viable as a working partner. This was seen as being little more than a bail out by some in England who wondered what such a small and poor country like Scotland could bring to the table and an all out bribe by some in Scotland. A modern equivalent would be the worries often voiced by wealthy Western European members of the EU whenever a smaller, poorer Eastern or Central European nation seeks admittance into the club.

perfidous albion croppedFrom some observers in the Scottish side of things it wasn’t much of a choice as England threatened to block much needed trade between the two countries and with their colonies overseas via the ‘Aliens Act 1705’ unless the Scots entered into talks about joining a single Parliament. The Union eventually begins to look less like a business merger and more like an outright hostile takeover with the English sympathisers in the Scottish Parliament winning out and agreeing to English demands amid accusations of backhanders that still hang over the affair. So stuck between a rock and a hard place and with the nation utterly divided on the matter Scotland signed itself into the Union properly and a single Parliament. This in theory saw the end of both countries and with the Act of Union the birth of an entirely new one with both partners as equals who would go on to paint the globe a nice shade of pink. Take a look at a map of the British Empires height and then randomly select one of those pink sections and look it up online, sure enough you’ll more than likely find a large proportion of Scots or Scottish names were involved with its founding, colonisation or discovery…. They’re also to blame for the Canadian accent by the way.

So in the end a smaller and poorer partner became the intellectual powerhouse of Britain’s ambitions.

In many respects one of the biggest mistakes in the creation of the United Kingdom was not in selecting a more centrally based location in the brand spanking new country (but a new country with some very old emotional baggage that hundreds of years of complex and interwoven history between all parties will create) for its capitol and therefore allowing MPs from all these supposed partner Nations to meet in a more neutral space rather than that of the obviously very English London. Not only did the retention of London (which since the Union of the Crowns in 1603 had pretty much taken on many aspects of a De-Facto and unofficial capitol for Britain as a whole) have the unfortunate side-effect of adding to the substantial list of concerns about fair and unbiased representation from some within the Scottish Parliament it also meant that in the long run and however unintentional it might have been as well as no matter how many Scots might have had a hand on the wheel which steered the course of that united British power over time, the British Empire as well as the UK and the terms “Briton” and “British” would simply come to mean England and the English for many outside observers as well as the English themselves.

This is still a point of contention with many Scots, Welsh and Irish that whilst athletes from these Home Nations are winning at their chosen sports they’re ‘British’ in the eyes of the UK media but as soon as they lose they quickly seem to revert back to being Scottish, welsh et al.

rab c

Summing Up

And now we’re faced with the biggest shake up of the UK since 1922 and the establishment of the Irish Free State and Northern Ireland and understandably people are just as concerned about the political fall out and what (if anything) will it mean in everyday real terms for them if Scotland really does go it alone. Personally I’m not that worried about whatever the outcome might be. In fact it may be a good thing if only because we all might start to grow up a bit and relax about such silly ideas around nationality. No longer will the English get the blame for every political mishap north of the border and no longer will Scotland get the blame when Andy Murray drops a clanger. Hopefully chips will be brushed off all shoulders.

My only genuine concern would be if an extreme of English nationalism or regionalism saw calls for English regions to then be devolved back to the old Heptarchy Kingdoms of Mercia, Northumbia, Wessex, Anglia, Sussex, Kent & Essex or that the North of England might simply call up Denmark and ask if they could reinstate the Danelaw Or even the City of Liverpool digging a huge moat around itself, filling it with water and simply floating off to settle somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean. There are even those quite serious calls from a few fringe lunatics that Cumbria to be granted similar status to that of Cornwall because like Cornwall Cumbria has a long dead Brythonic culture that left a legacy mainly in bastardised place names.. enough they think to justify reviving the old ‘Cumbric’ language and in seeking home rule.

Think that’s a bit far fetched? Well looking at Europe we’re in a time of great change with many smaller regions seeking greater and greater recognition and self rule from North Italy, Bavaria, Brittany and Catalonia and all have said they’re watching to see how Scotland decides to judge how best to proceed with such ideals in the future… so we’ll just have to see.

A distinct lack of self awareness.

“Yes, we’re all individuals”
metal usa fans
Chucking out another batch of old magazines and as I flicked through the pages making sure I hadn’t any important paperwork stuffed into them, this gem caught my eye, a truly priceless series of quotes from the era of the Nu-Metal led boon in all things ‘Alt-Music’ based of the early 2000s.
Here are some real gems from ‘Mark’ from Wolverhampton, but the punch line is the final quote that had me saying ‘Aww bless him’ out loud on reading it. I think we’re all as guilty of that sort of cringe inducing lack of self awareness and obvious naivety when young.
I know for a fact that I was at times
Mark describes himself as being an ‘Old Skool Rocker’ mainly because he’s been hanging around Wolverhampton skate park since he was 14 and is now (at the time of him writing his missive) the grand old age of 20.
metal fans denim jacket
Q- what do you do?
A- Drink Jack Daniels and Whiskey, gigs and chilling out.
Q- Favourite bands?
A- Black Sabbath, Machine Head, Pantera, Pissing Razors and Slayer.
Q- How would you describe yourself?
A- Freak!
Q- What do you normally wear?
A- Band T-Shirts, army boots with combats covered in band patches. Either wear my trenchcoat or slayer hoodie.
Q- What makes you cool?
A- Being an Individual.
The ending comment from the editor is rather funny as well.”We always like to hear from our readers when they have something interesting to say – or in the case of Mark, even when they have nothing to say. Have any more of our readers meaningless profiles of themselves to send in?”
slayer
The image I have (and rather unfairly I might add) built up of ‘Mark’ is of him idly leafing through the pages of his newly arrived Attitude Clothing Mail Order catalogue as he sits on a half wall near to the skaters, emos and assorted other ‘Alt-Music’ teeny tribes of the early and mid 2000’s, sweltering in his long leather duster coat but unable to remove it with the fear of being accused of being a poseur if he did so. Tut-tutting as the parade of similarly dressed groups walk by and judging them all to be trendies or band wagon jumpers.
I’ve always been amazed at the lengths some people go to in order to adopt such a dedicated image, a uniform look, of a subgenre. Rarely do the bands follow these fads and fashions and the fans seem to be following unwritten rules to some unspoken sumptuary laws handed down over the years.
… So says the man who sported a bright red Mohican, studded leather jacket and battered combat boots over the years.

 

Third Instalment of the just terrible pulp novella- ‘CHEAP DAY RETURN’.

RECAP- When last we left our hero Johnny LaCrosse he had stolen a black cab from outside a local council building and was hurtling into the night in hot pursuit of the Fat Man aka Leroy Entendre. Without a plan or any idea of the plot he arrives in chapter 26 of the damn hard slog of a read that is Cheap Day Return.

Chapter 26: ‘ Cul de Sac of woe’.

 

            If only ‘She’ could have seen me now I thought as I pulled up outside the address I’d been given by the staff at ‘Dave Achmed’s Genuine Yankee Doodles Fried Innit Chicken Shack’. They’d explained how this address was the sole reason for the great fried chicken drought in Blackpool in ’08. Must be the Fat Man’s address and inside he’d have the key to it all, the veritable ruby slippers that could send me home.

“Hello Fat Man, my name is Lacrosse and I’ve come on behalf of kismet” I whispered to myself as I sidled out of the cab door. I flicked my business card onto the seat for the unconscious driver to send me his bill should he wake and headed toward the no 33 on the Rue Morgue Cul-De-Sac.

Rue De Morgue Cul-De-Sac was like a million other cul-de-sacs in a million other suburban areas that since their building had gradually been hemmed in on all sides by the expanding violent darkness of the city scape around them. What once had been a pleasant and green patch of middle class heaven was now in a state of siege, like the Alamo if the Alamo had well catered lawns and flower borders. The surrounding city’s filth and detritus blowing in from the tree lined driveway into this burb was a daily reminder to these people how much things had changed and how little the world seemed to care for their hopes and aspirations. I took a whiff of the air, yep this was Daily Mail country all right. I pulled the collar of my overcoat up around my ears like a down an out Dracula and headed over to number 33 or ‘Pink Eye Retreat’ as the name plaque had it.

cul de sac 1

The door was like a Hammer Horror film, being as it was long, outdated and in a pseudo Gothic style. The door-knocker was in the shape of a silver eagle, wings outstretched carrying a bundle in it’s talons. It looked like the Eagle had mugged the stork and was taking the baby with it. On closer inspection the bundle turned out to be a money sack complete with the dollar, pound and Euro symbols all joined together like the logo of a bankers Olympiad. The eagle was in fact a vulture and on it’s chest it wore a medallion with an ‘all seeing eye’ carved upon it. The conspiracy theorists would go nuts.

gothic door

 

I decided not to pull the bell chord instead I’d work my way over the link fence and make a dramatic rear entrance, a part of me laughed at the thought of the words ‘rear’ and ‘entrance’ but I shook it off. Now was no time for hijinks. Unstrapping my firearm I gently cocked the hammer and put the safety on then scrambled with all the ease and natural grace processed by the offspring of a ballerina and a commando such as myself, over the fence and into a shrub. Pausing just long enough to make sure that I hadn’t been seen I scuttled under the kitchen window and towards the back door.

Neighbourhood Watch area my ass, this was easy.

Then the back door creaked open and a booming voice rich in the sort of tone you’d expect from a man who gargled with gravy every morning spoke.

“My dear Mr Lacrosse! Why if you wished to join our little tête-à-tête then all you had to do was ring our front door bell though I must confess watching you scramble over the fence, catching the hem of your overcoat and falling flat on your face was highly amusing for all assembled. Please, do join us… and wipe your feet when you come in there’s a good fellow. There’s wine and cheese on the table as you enter.”

I heard the fat man shuffle from the door and the natter of people’s voices became clear from inside the house. Standing up I straightened out my attire and brushed down my clothing. If I was going in I wasn’t going to do it looking like a hobo. I retrieved the spare neck tie that I keep rolled up in the inside pocket of my sports jacket for special occasions and removed my old one. Catching my reflection in the kitchen window I was struck by how damn good I always looked when my life was in immediate danger and then headed toward the door.

The house looked like it had been decorated to suit the tastes of a man who was under the illusion that the pad he inhabited was less a bungalow on a quiet cul-De-Sac and more a stately home fit for a prince. The cheap walls had all been covered in a faux oak frame and wooden panelling and on those walls hung crests, ancient weaponry and framed pictures of famous people all seemingly signed by them and addressed to the fat man himself. Unless the Fat Man had found the secret of immortality I doubt they were genuine as most of the people he proudly displayed had been dead long before he’d been born. On closer inspection I noticed that they were all addressed to a L. Entendre II, the Senior. This fat bastard was L. Entendre III Jr.

fat mans walls

“Ah Mr Lacrosse I see you’re an admirer of history, as you can see my father was, as you’d say, a ‘big player’ in the world of far right political thinking. He was highly regarded for the unique service he offered his clients.”

“I see you have a portrait of Chevy Chase.” I said, the Fat Man sighed wearily.

“  Really Mr Lacrosse! You know full well that the man your looking at is Petrovich Zagreb Androvian the fifth president of the small landlocked yet wonderfully oil rich state of Zebredistan. This function is in his honour as very soon and thanks to his generous payments I shall be leaving this hovel to return my family to the status in which they were formally accustomed.”

chevy chase

“So you’re a chip off the old block? Your going into your daddy’s line of work then I get the picture.”

“Mr Lacrosse, I’ve been engaging in the family trade for well over a year now, my job at the cleansing department of the town council was merely a ruse, a handy cover story should a petty snooper like yourself ever come calling..”

“And now I have.” I said.

The fat man took out a dirty hankie from his trouser pocket and pointlessly made a show of dabbing the tidal wave of sweat from his forehead, the fat bastard. He looked more flustered than usual.

“Yes. Indeed, and now you have… you see you’ve put me in a very difficult situation Mr Lacrosse, by all rights I should just have you killed and your body effortlessly dumped into a meat grinder to be served to unsuspecting students from one of my many takeaway businesses that I own but seeing how close we are to realising the fruition of our goal I think allowing you to live for an extra half an hour won’t harm us. Just long enough to see what it’s all about and to know you can do nothing to halt it.”

He grinned, his yellowing bent teeth made a mockery of the word ‘smile’ and his cheeks looked like they were struggling to lift his lips in any other direction but a downward chomping motion. I took in the rest of the scene, the gathered posh Nobs he was playing host to appeared to be people much better off than himself. Here there were guys in full penguin suits and all the gals had more silk, fur and pearls drabbed over their bony frames on than Liberace had ever managed to pull off. Each carried a small wooden panel with a number on it, an auction was about to take place and I wanted to see what the prize would be.

 

Dredd 2

Dredd 2

Heard the second instalment in the Judge Dredd film franchise is on its way to being made very soon. Although it might cause some consternation with fans of the 2012 ‘Dredd’ movie as its earmarked as a buddy-comedy cop romp like classics of the 1980s such as Turner & Hooch, Beverly Hills Cop or Lethal Weapon.

Working title is supposed to be – ‘Right Said Dredd…’

Edgar Wright is earmarked for the directing and the plot sees cuddly life loving yet ultimately a bit of a loser service bot who has never really fulfilled his full servile potential Walter the Robot (or ‘Wobot’) , played by Nick frost in a dustbin and a pair of headlamps, team up with sulky misanthropic workaholic Dredd (still played by Karl Urban) in an attempt to win back Dredd’s true love Andersen after a spat during a Block War cross fire shoot out in a leafy suburb of a curiously Londencentric Mega City.

Walter

 

Leaked opening scene concept:

Track- ‘Boss Drum’ by the Shamen plays in the scene. Close up tracking shot of Dredd’s heavy boots stomping in rhythmic motion almost in beat to the music. A soccer ball rolls into his path, we hear some children ask for it back, he squashes it without remorse and keeps on strutting… music gets louder as still from the perspective of Dredd’s boots we see him kick a wheelchair out of the way, a cat then a baby buggy… camera pulls out to show Dredd in a simulated street scene used in order to train the new judges in a less harsh approach to law giving.

What follows is a pretty standard homage to Police Academy series with an increasingly desperate looking bunch of raw recruits being put through the meat grinder (some die in comical yet horrific live round misfire accidents and climbing rope strangulations) to the backing melody of ‘All together Now’ by the Farm as the cast credits run across the screen.

dredd boots

Eventually Walter wins the seemingly cold hearted and guarded Dredd over to the concept that although Dredd technically outranks Andersen a successful long term relationship is built on compromise and mutual respect and not just giving orders and filling out a series of fortnightly sex request forms. Also he should take a break from issuing arbitrary justice in the streets every night including weekends to jolly well take some time off in order to wine n’ dine Andersen (played by the utterly lovely and ever delightful Kate Ashfield.. gosh she’s lovely, really mean that.) in their local curry house at least once a week. This close friendship being achieved only by the process of a series of heart-warming but witty banter matches around a pub snug and a very funny scene where Dredd attempts to leap a garden fence in pursuit of a perp only for something completely unexpected to happen.

Ashfield Cop

Andersen though decides to leave Dredd for Max Normal who runs his own successful franchise of bookies and doesn’t shoot people for littering or parking in the disabled space without a blue badge. A despondent Dredd returns to his new and empty apartment in the single Judge’s quarters and cries, his helmet’s lenses steam up and everything. Music track: ‘This is how it feels to be lonely’ by Inspiral Carpets.

Deciding to win Andersen back Dredd enlists the aid of three woefully unprepared mates to get him back to the peak of physical fitness and back in the game. What follows next are so many self aware ironic 1980s styled montage scenes that your eyes will bleed uncontrollably.

Darkjudges

Ultimately everything goes tits up big style with the sudden and apocalyptic arrival of the Deadworld  Dark Judges (Played by a heavily made up Simon Pegg, Simon Farnaby, Stephen Mangan & Bill Nighy) and much hilarious Hollywood styled blockbuster antics ensue with Dredd and Andersen being chased through the streets of London/Mega City by Judge Death & his posse on commandeered golf buggies to the soundtrack consisting of Fluke’s- ‘Absurd’. All the time Dredd is attempting to crash course teach Andersen the basics of a decent golf swing in order for her to pelt balls at the pursuing Death & pals before it all ends in a massive shoot out in a Mega City traditional boozer and a real tear jerker of a scene with Walter shot to shit, just pissing oil all over the shop whilst CGI explosions go off as the heroic couple scarper into the night and onto a late honeymoon thanks to Walter’s sacrifice.

Its okay! They managed mid flee to scoop up just enough of Walter to incorporate his ‘Banter Programme’ into a talking microwave, Walter becomes a robotic pet and we see Dredd & Andersen leave their beach hut to wander down to the sea in matching grass skirts, Andersen is visibly preggers.

 

Fade to black, run end credits to the Chemical Brothers ‘Let forever be’

 

… then wait to collect the BAFTAs!

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