by guest reviewer Wilson, the Limey
Me muvver and me bruvver and me bruvver's gooseberry puddin' all being guests of Her Majesty, somebody hat to take me little niece to the fucking pitchers and that somebody was fucking me, wasn't it? I asked her what she wanted to see and the little dustbin lid was all "Let's go see Cheaper By The Fucking Dozen 2". I went up to the did-you-mount-her and got us a couple o' Jiminee Crickets, a box of Chinaman's horn and a fucking jumbo missing link and we settled in for a bit of good clean fucking entertainment, right?
Decent movie? Fucking shambles more like. Some old geezer and his love-and-kisses take their pack of vendor bids to some fucking lake and hilarity or sumfin ensues. Load of old cobblers, if you ask me, not that you fucking did, right? Casting was atrocious. Steve Martin? What's wrong with Bob Hoskins? Or me old mate, Terence fucking Stamp, for that matter?
About half way through, this geezer comes in waving a front porch in me mince pies and telling me to get me plates off the seat in front. Bugger just stood there, staring at me. I don't like people staring at me. Bad fings tend to happen to people what stare at me. Pimples. Split ends. Ingrown fucking toenail. I told this bloke to watch it or I'd shove a bottle up his Khyber Pass. He said, "What's a boh'all?" I said, it's a glottal fucking stop, innit? He said, "What's a gloh'al fucking stop?" I jumped up and I was just gunna kick the sod in the Albert Halls when me niece grabbed me arm. "Let's just fuckin' go, orright?" she says, and like escorts me from the theatre.
Outside, this other geezer comes up wiv two fucking security men and says, "Sir, I'll have to ask you to leave the shopping centre." I told him nah, I'm right, just fuck off orright and we'll go and get some coffee and doughnuts. Next fing I know, the two security geezers have grabbed me by me lucky charms and are dragging me off the fucking premises! I said, "Oi, fuck right off wiv that ya cunts!" but they didn't seem to unnerstand the Queen's fucking English, right, so I had to resort to the international language of smashing people's fucking skulls together. I grabbed me niece and scampered, quick fucking smart.
After we outran the space hoppers, I dropped me niece back at her foster parent's cat and mouse. They said, "Wilson me old mate, how about taking little Jemima to see King Kong next week?" Sure fing, I told 'em, then drove back to the shopping centre to get my revenge. I'm not a vengeful guy, normally, but it's the principle of the fing, innit? You scratch my back, I'll fucking punch out your eyes. Just like in the fucking Bible. Amen.