In the highly unlikely event that I become a movie reviewer anytime soon, I have decided I would start with the film “The Day The World Stood Still” which I had the misfortune to watch tonight.
I believe it’s alternative title is “The day I tore out my own heart with nothing but tweezers and my sheer will to end my sorry existence“. They used the first working title as the second was a little too long for the ad campaign posters. But in the event of wanting my opinion on it, it goes as following:
I found watching this film comparable to smearing yourself in honey and releasing a rabid honey starved Winnie the Pooh loose from his cage for a game of tag. Yeah sure, you have to get your kicks somehow, but honestly this is only going to end in pain.
But somehow I don’t think they will want my reviewing techniques, so instead I am going to follow in the steps of a Romanian woman and become a pet psychic.
The crazy nut job in question says she communicates with your dead pet and passes messages from and to them.
Lets be honest here. If I was to get her to talk to my pet hamster “Stiffy” that I had as a kid, just what sense is she going to get out of a hamster that was highly likely it’s own Dad and Sister in one? I mean hamsters aren’t exactly too insterested in keeping the gene pool clean are they. So the chances are that when she asked how he was, he is going to say…well…he isn’t going to say anything. Because he is a hamster. And hamsters, just like bridges, cannot talk to us.
I am fairly sure I don’t want to hear from my dead pets. I definitely don’t want to pay out the £80 for the “online discussion” that she offers.
But if your pets could talk, it would be more like this:
Your pet cat will say: “I hated you. I tried everyday to trip you over, and you found it cute. I shoved my arse on your face on a daily basis…did you think I did this because I loved you??? You’re an idiot!!”
Your pet dog will say: “All I wanted to do was lick my nuts in peace. But noooo…you had them chopped off. So I threw up in your shoes on purpose. And what part of you thought I was interested in licking YOUR nuts? You are a disgusting animal.”
Either way, just as I don’t have an urge to smear myself in marmite and offer myself to the neighbours dog (because apparently he will hate me for it), I just don’t need to speak to my dead rabbit.
In case you are interested, news story is HERE. No? I don’t blame you.
wheelturninghamsterdead.com 