Logan's Drub

Its been mentioned once before, but for the sheer creepiness of the robot in it, I will invoke the film again:
Logan's Run.
Now dont get me wrong, It hasn't been mentioned twice in this blog because I think it was the best that sci-fi had to offer in the 70s and not because it is one of my all time favourites, but it does have what I consider to be one of the spookiest fucking robots ever!
His design, his movement, his wierd, spaced out, dialogue, the fact he likes to freeze humans and feed them to the unsuspecting populace above, and of course his super-creepy catchphrase:
'Fish and plankton, and seagreens and proteins from the sea....'
A harmless enough sentance, but said with such insidious intent, it makes my flesh crawl.
His poetic, monologue and lyrical waxing about his birds and the wind whispering his name is beautiful but has such fatalistic undertones. Like someone trying to woo you before fatally raping you.

On my journeys through many a movie blog, the robot in Logan's Run seems to be much derided. Why? I have no idea. One assumes if these so-called critics are splashing about in the vast sea of 70s sci-fi they must at least like or have an understanding of the genre. If so, the merit of this most creepiest of robots would be apparent.
Saying that though, a reader had commented on one blog saying:
'If they all lived their lives in a domed city, how comes Michael York's character has an English accent?'
Fuck me... Who are we dealing with here? Because you mother sucks cocks in Hell, thats why.
Please express your disgust at the writer and the moronic reader who left a comment at: Movie Blog: Logan's Run
Anyway, 'Box' for that be his name is No. 4 in my Top 5 Creepy Robot countdown. Can they get any creepier? Tune in to my next blog to find out.
Big D out.

C-Creepio!

ROBOT.
Tempting to think it might be an acronym like LASER (Light Amplification through Stimulated Emission of Radiation), the word is actually Czech, and means simply worker or slave.

Zombie-like in cadence and mannerisms. Slow, ponderous and unswerving in their loyalty to their maker.... and paradoxically ready to run amok and kill their maker at the drop of a hat, is perhaps how we see the classic robot. But the image, role and perception of the robot has changed myriad times through sci-fi history. One thing though, has always remained a constant for me. Some are cool, some are cute, some are even humourous. But they are all.... CREEPY. Brrrrr... (shiver)
To illustrate my feelings here starts the Top 5 Creepiest Robots countdown.

Now I suppose the first of movie's creepy robots has to be Maria from Fritz Lang's Metropolis (1927), but then again every single character from every black & white movie from the 1920s is creepy. Those silent, googley-eyed, actors, with their over-the-top physical gestures and the camera speed giving their movements a frantic, jittery air of the maniacal is enough to creep out the person who knitted Freddy Kreugers sweater.

The imposing and impenetrable, mute, brute, Gort from  The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951) is another example. Klaatu Barada Nikto. I hear you say. A phrase that would echo down through cinema history. Toys, Army of Darkness, Tron are a few films which make use of the (para)phrase.

Now Im going to get in so much trouble for my first entry at No.5 in the Creepiest Robots countdown.
Hell, I may even get death threats.
C-3PO. There I said it.

I know him and love him like an uvuncular metal man. I can even quote most of his memorable lines from the original trilogy.
But this is one uncle I wouldnt leave alone with my kids.
Having a camp robot is creepy enough, but there are times when his neurotic campness just spills over into Creepsville. The fact that he walks like Peggy Bundy doesnt help either. And he constantly wears that expression of mild alarm. Like that of a post-pooper whose finger has just breached the integrity of some cheap toilet paper.
Then to have him walking around (ro)bot naked with all his bits and workings showing in the prequel, like some wierd and shameless naturist was the vertiable LED on the circuit board.

'Remember R2, this is our little secret. You dare to tell Master Luke and you'll get sent to Anchorhead or I'll let those horrible Sandpeople touch you again... you know how you hate when those Sandpeople touch you... those rough hands... not like me R2.... not like me....'
And God only knows what happened in that cramped, little escape pod on the way down to Tatooine.

There you have it. Creepy Robot No.5 - C3PO
Tune in to my next blog as we get even creepier!
Big D out.

Why I do the NerDgasm Quiz.

Fuck the schmultz! I love it!
I honestly do. Sure, overcrowding, tie-breakers, awkward publicans and soho crack-heads all stress me out and sometimes throw a spanner in the works, but its just a question of taking the spanner back out and hitting them over the head with it!
At the end of the night, if everyone has had a good time and enjoyed my merry NerDgasm Shenanigans then its all worth it.
NerDgasm is about riding a Grifter over to your mates after you'd watched Tizwaz when you were 10 years old.

Its about remembering how you felt when Darth Vader stepped onto the Blockade Runner in the opening 10 minutes of A New Hope. Its about how cool it was to see Hulk rip Wolverine in half and throw his legs up a mountain.

Sweaty hands clutching a d20,

the last level on Manic Miner, watching Doctor Who save the Universe again, opening a He-Man action figure, playing Top Trumps.....

All this and much more.

Its been going for well over a year now, and Im pleased to say it does have a devoted following, I think partly because there is nothing quite like it.
Where else can you listen the theme of Robocop, answer questions on how the Death Star's thermal exhuast port should be targetted and top it off with a talk about the rape scene in Marshall Law?

All this amongst the gentle company of other nerds.
It made my heart well with emotion to see two people actually playing Magic the Gathering when I arrived for the last NerDgasm quiz on Sunday. Truly, this is a special advent. It has perhaps become larger than me (although thats quite difficult) and is hopefully now about what each nerd brings to every NerDgasm. A point also labelled when a member of one team yelled a lamentful 'KHAAAAAAAAN....' as they slipped from 3rd place to 4th place when the scores were finally announced.

When I  first started it, I wanted to make it like a favourite TV programme that no nerd would ever want to miss. Hopefully this has worked on some level.
I personally work better under pressure, so although I have a basic framework for the quiz and have a pretty good idea whats going into each one, I usually leave everything to the last minute and frantically write questions, edit film clips and collect the sound bites a day or so before the quiz. I also do this as sometimes when new guests confirm attendance, I add questions that I think they will enjoy, and try at least to make what I think will be an even playing field. This has actually proved to be disastrous. I change questions, compile a new picture round, accomodate for the extra people, print extra sheets, add more prizes and fill more sweety bags only to find the bastards dont even turn up.
The worst fuckers are the nerds that I have spoken to, that I know would actually enjoy the NerDgasm if they could get their scrawny asses along, but instead whinge and whine about their barely adequate psychic defenses, saying: Im not very good at answering questions. Ooh what would the other nerds think if I got a question wrong? My skin begins to flake if I dont update my facebook page every 5 minutes. FUCKERS!
I also enjoy shopping for the mutlifarious prizes that feature every NerDgasm.
The prizes are a combination of things that I come across in shops and things I actively search for or find on eBay.
The sweets are now a permanent addition also, since they were added at the Halloween Quiz and seemed to go down so well. They are hand picked by me and lovingly placed in those stripey, paper bags that you all know and love.
May I just make a little reminder that the NerDgasm is 100% me. Its costs dearly of my time and funds, but the kudos I get in return is all worth it. The people I have met and the friends Ive made, and the friends that have been made by others, is really what the night is all about...... Oh ok. The night is about proving that you a far better than any of the other nerds that would even dare try to answer a question on She-Hulks cup size.

Vive la difference! Vive le NerDgasm!
See you for fun, friendship, and fuckery at the Easter NerDgasm!

Sweeeeet Caroline!

My First Lady of Fantasy!

Hot enough to fry bacon on that gorgeous mid-section is the perfectly formed Caroline Munroe, who comes in at my Primo slot.

As if starring alongside Doug McClure in ‘At the Earth’s Core’

as a savage, animal-skin clad, heaving vision of beauty, wasn’t enough, she also heaved her way through the Golden Voyage of Sinbad with her two fleshy hemispheres of delight almost bursting through her sequined ensemble,

was the deadly, seductively winking, chopper pilot, Naomi, in The Spy Who Loved Me, and was the only redeeming feature of one of the worst films, sci fi or otherwise, in existence: Star Crash, where she gives a whole new meaning to the term ‘curved space’.

John Williams score, Christopher Plummer stars, but it all starts to go down-hill once David Hasselhoff turns up…. Nah! Come to think of it the whole fucking film from beginning to end is a pile of feculence, Hasselhoff or otherwise. Please watch it if you like drumming your fingers, rolling your eyes and saying ‘for fuck sake!’

She also starred in innumerable horror movies, Captain Kronos: Vampire Hunter and Dracula AD 1972 being two, among my favourites.

Worth noting is that she refused countless offers, during her career, to pose showing her beaver, split or otherwise. Her long term contract with Hammer for instance, had her turn down the lead roles in Doctor Jekyll and Sister Hyde, Frankenstein and the Monster from Hell, and Vampirella because they required nudity. It is also perhaps worth mentioning that she holds the distinction of being the only woman ever undeniably killed by James Bond in The Spy Who Loved Me.

Here she is still grinning and looking lovely at 61 years of age. Undauted by the hordes of sweaty nerds that must surround her at this fantasy convention.

The type of bird you would have married and still not been disappointed 30 years later. Cuh! I bet she wouldnt even mind rummaging through your old dusty back issues with you on a Sunday afternoon.
Gawd Bless her and all who sail in her!

I hope youve enjoyed oggling this flesh-fest as much as Ive enjoyed compiling it.
Please continue to tune in for the finest in all thing Nerdish!
Big D out.

GET YOUR ROCOS OFF!

Cleo Rocos (Rocco) is a joyful, vision of bountiful, bouncing, playful, delight. Kenny Everett’s faithful sidekick to the end; they say there’s nothing sexier than a woman with a sense of fun and a sinful sense of humour, and Cleo had that… and much more.

Early, saucy memories/mammarys of Cleo and the Hot Gossip girls on The Kenny Everett Show gave me the archetype of what I thought a woman should be like. Curvey, bouncy and fun. Rather like those inflatable castles.

Her antics on TV and the much forgotten film: Bloodbath at the House of Death, have ensured her a place in my heart, and in the top 10 Retro Nerd Babes. This half Greek, Brazilian born, boob laden, beauty, bounces in at a very respectable No.2

I once met her, and she was as divine in person as I could ever have imagined her. She called me ‘A big, noodley thing…’ and I loved her more for it. Aaaah to be Cleo’s Big Noodley thing.

She even let me phone my brother so he could talk to her as well (or rather pant heavily down the phone). She was just pure and genuine class, accompanied by two of the most familiar and well loved bosoms from my childhood.

Please tune in to my next blog for my final installment of the Hot Retro Nerd Babes Countdown!
Big D out.

Dusk till (soft) Porn

The lucky No.3 spot in our Top 10 Hot, Retro, Nerd, Babe Countdown is:

Ok. Now I might get some stick for giving this particular hot, babe the label: retro.
But... it was 15 years ago that my senses were first sexually assaulted by the vision that was Salma Hayek, emerging from a red, steamy aperture, with a symbolic, writhing, albino serpent, coiled sensually around her neck.
The little known name of her character was Santanico Pandemonium and the film was of course: Dusk till Dawn.

1996. Yes, that long ago. I remember having to wipe the saliva from my chin and lock myself in the toilet for 5 minutes, after that particular scene. She was nothing short of a fantasy vision, the like of which I thought was reserved only for when such artists as Frank Frazetta put pencil to paper. Just looking at her hips and thighs makes my hernia start to play up.
There is little more to say after that, other than express my utter disappointment at what she then became.

Errrrr.... Do any of you still recognise her? Yes, it is still Salma Hayek. Minus the whole lot woman flesh that made her the most sumptuous piece of pant arousing totty of the late 90s. When will the fashionistas of today realise that men do not like their women to look like pre-pubescent boys.
Well... men not of the clergy anyway.

Ok gents, loosen your pants and gaze in sexual awe at the Santanico Pandemonium snake dance!



Tune in to my next blog for some more nostalgic mammaries!
Big D out.