I found this one difficult to watch.
I’m still alive.
Tell them I’ll call them back.
This is a rather inventive film.
Wrapped up in web mind.
Super glues a knife to his hand!
For fuck’s sake!!!
That’s when it started to get good.
But God knows how long it took me to survive the punishing beginning.
My Beautiful Laundrette.
Working Title Films.
Bean, Lebowski, Ali G., Johnny English, Shaun, Fuzz, Paul, World’s End, Grimsby, Saoirse Scots…
These are my films.
The auteurs of comedy.
And the muse.
My journey through addiction.
Knowing you’re an addict.
And not a patient on medicine.
Can I recapture?
Forgot the soap.
Soiled with blood.
Had burned off the hair on one side of his head.
Very much like lovely bones.
Kiss to remove my gag.
Martin Rev suicides the wrap arounds from Wal-Mart.
Blinking LEDs chasing across the brow.
Creepy as fuck!
Yet in the mold of Frank Giustra (suing Twitter for comments I and others made).
Free speech, mate.
Yes, you have a psychopathic vibe.
It is my human right to state so.
Hackneyed serial killer.
Headbutt dog and duck.
The star here (besides our subject of study, Simon Pegg) is the beautiful Amara Karan.
Investment banker (!): M&As.
Get the fuck out!
not a terminal degree, but quite academic for iTunes fare.
Pegg’s least-purchased movie (it appears).
But really a fine job by Crispian Mills (Kula Shaker, wot?!?) and Chris Hopewell.