Goth Girls' Detective Club

Hey, everyone, remember me?! I’m still alive! Though I do have the worst flu in the history of mankind ever so it could go either way at this point. Ok, I’m sorry, that was massive exaggeration, I have a bit of a cold and I’m feeling very sorry for myself., I can’t see properly and my head feels like it’s full of cotton wool soaked in pain. However, what has cheered me up today is receiving this wonderful guest post from the lovely Anthony J. Rapino. Thanks to Mr. Rapino I am now considerably happier and totally in the mood for Halloween, if only he could cure my cold and persuade one of my cats to come and cuddle me then things would be perfect. I do hope that you enjoy Anthony’s post as much as I did, I will leave you in his capable hands and I promise to be back soon, probably with something shark related (I’m so predictable).   I Love October Anthony J. Rapino   October is here, and I am happy.   When I tell people that I love October, autumn, an...

Well. It’s that time of year again when the weather starts warming up*, the nights get longer and my mind inevitably turns to one thing and one thing only. Sharks! For various sciency, environmental disastery reasons an evil oil corporation accidently unleashes a Megalodon from its prehistoric slumber to terrorise a small beach community, on the 4th of July no less. Enter marine biologist Cat Carmichael from the Oceanic Investigation Bureau (??!!) to sort things out, if only she had a very poor man’s Quint to help her. Wait a minute....... The Oceanic Investigation Bureau arrive Not Quint Super Shark brings a new level of insanity to the shark movie genre. As a connoisseur of this genre I know I’m enjoying myself when I can’t decide whether a film is actually complete and utter crap or absolute genius, so with that in mind I can only come to one conclusion - Super Shark could possibly be one of the best bad movie ever. My first clue to this came when it had its own theme ...

Now, you may be asking, the Further Adventures, Jinx? Where are the initial adventures of these musicians in horror? And you'd be right to ask. They're here: Caliban's Revenge , in an utterly marvellous guest post I did a little while ago. It's marvellous, really top notch, you should check it out. Say hi to gorgeous Prospero while you're there 'cos he's great. Henry Rollins, Wrong Turn 2: Dead End (2007) Henry Rollins is awesome. I don’t even particularly feel like I have to justify this, you just need to look at any given Rollins biography to get a sense of his awesomeness: Singer-songwriter, spoken word artist, writer, activist, comedian, publisher, actor, and radio DJ. He’s awesome. He’s also kindly contributed to the horror genre which makes me very happy. Wrong Turn 2 takes the format of a post-apocalyptic Survivor type reality show, with added inbred hillbilly cannibals. Henry Rollins stars as Col. Dale Murphy, host of the show and in a some...

The 80s were a pivotal decade for me, a lot of things happened to me in the 80s; I went to Big School, got a baby brother, briefly became obsessed with Norway, accidentally had my hair cut like Paul Young (it was supposed to be a Bowie, ok), the unholy mess of puberty happened and boys were invented, hurray! (I also invented kissing about this point, you can thank me for that later. Best invention of the decade, if I do say so myself, the frozen pea ice lolly which I also invented somewhere around 1985 whilst watching The Incredible Hulk coming in a close second). Yes the 80s were a good time to be young and there is nothing more awesome or awe inspiring than the 80s teenager, they were a beautiful, bright, crazy and profligate breed who were quite often in their thirties. The 80s teenager was a rare and exotic creature with fantastical plumage that was high and proud and bright of hue and gleamed in the midday sun as they shook manes to Whitesnake.  Yes, the 80s teenager was t...

I was unreasonably excited about The Legend of Harrow Woods for the longest time before I managed to see it. I mean unreasonably excited bordering on obsessed. In my defence, this was largely because of the incongruous ensemble cast. The Legend of Harrow Woods/Evil Calls: The Raven stars absurdly stars; Rik Mayall: 80s alternative comedy star and master of the knob gag. Jason Donovan: Australian ex soap star and sometime botherer of the 80s charts Robin Askwith: improbable 70s sex machine star of the ‘Confessions....’ films Norman Wisdom: comedy legend and undisputed king of the pratfall Christopher Walken: yup, Christopher ruddy Walken Unreasonably excited With a cast like that you expect something, you expect there’ll be something about it that drew these people to put their names to it, some degree of quality or interesting experimentation, you expect at the very least it will be bizarrely compelling, but Harrow Woods Evil Ravens provides none of this. Bloody...

I was going to post today, but blogger hates  me and kept screwing it up and I got stroppy, so that put an end to that. Grrr, I say, grrr. It was an awesome post too, really quite extraordinary, you wouldn't have believed it.  (It really wasn't, I don't know why I said that, I'm sorry). Needless to say I am very angry at technology at the moment and am going to shout at the internet for a while. I shall try and post it again later when I've stopped sulking.  In the meantime, instead of a proper post, here's a picture of me and BeBe pretending we're not watching Dancing on Ice . We're not, we're really not. 

When I was a young thing, American pop combo New Kids on the Block were the wholesome young pinups of choice for young girls across the land. With their catchy, if somewhat illogical, songs and their boyish good looks they set many a teenage heart aflutter as they insisted on ‘Hangin’ Tough’ all over the UK charts. Although most of us weren’t entirely sure what ‘Hangin’ Tough’ actually meant we were reasonably certain that it was something terribly cool and American as New Kids were doing it with abandon. This all worked well for some, but fundamentally it had a flaw - we were British - we didn’t entirely understand these perky Bostonians and their oddly synchronised dancing of the street, we needed something else, something that captured the England of our time with all its sullen irascibility. Enter Bros – two leather clad twins of infinite blondeness and the other one in the back in an anorak. Bros wilfully set fire to the charts with their peculiar brand of Aryan blandness st...