bible belt.

Just thought I'd point out that this'll be a shorter review than usual (thank fuck I hear you cry) but frankly there's really not much plot here to spell out and I really wanted to use this as a warning to others.

I received this thru' the post from a pal for Christmas (thanks Hernandez) who knows I like 'the wee comic books' and thought I'd enjoy this live action version of the infamous Tijuana Bible.

I really wish he hadn't bothered tho', life is really too short.

For those of you of a sensitive disposition (or who have a life outside this seedy world of zed grade movies and general badness) here's the science part so pay attention.

The Tijuana Bible, the granddaddy of all of man's masturbation material, appeared long before the nudie cutie magazine and the stag film and usually consisted of a lewd 8 page strip small enough to hide in your trouser pocket.

If you want any more info ask your granddad.

Or better still your nan because I have a few that she modeled for.

Well way back in 1973 someone decided that what the world of entertainment needed was a living breathing version of this very thing.

God help us.

Ladies and gentlemen I give you:

Sex in the Comics (1973).
Dir: Eric von Letch.
Cast: Reggie Balls, Bella Bush, Rick Cassidy, Orita De Chadwick and Cyndee Summers.

Blonde bombshell journalist Helen Flange is preparing to interview the famous cartoonist Terry Quim about his vast body of work but, on arriving at his 'studio' (in reality some poor sods shed - it may be the one from The Girl From SIN) Quim is more interested in lecturing Helen on the history of the Tijuana Bible.

Slightly disappointed to not be getting her interview (tho' it would be a different film if she did) the artist tries his best to persuade her that the history lesson will be even more fun and, after a few minutes she's willing to let him give her one.

Replacing Michael Myers with the ghost of Tommy Cooper was the final nail in the coffin for Rob Zombie's Halloween franchise.

Cue the world renowned wobbly-O-screen effect - or it may just be a crap transfer I don't know - as the entire film reforms in a haze of marker pen scribbled, brightly painted scenery into a world populated by pointed breasted, big hipped whores and fat, skinny legged men wearing sinister giant papermache heads who spout arse numbing dialogue lifted directly from the 1930's comics.

It's like a junior school version of The Benny Hill Show with a script by an exceptionally overactive 5 year old.

But with much more (and much hairier) bush.

Obviously.

John Leslie - The park-keeper years.

But the scary surrealism doesn't stop there, it continues into the multitude of sex scenes too.

In one vignette the penis of one particularly bulbous headed men grows to such a huge size that it starts to pop in and out of an unfortunate girl's mouth, later on a porn mustached, cock nosed lifeguard (baring a frightening resemblance to one of the Chuckle Brothers) is driven into a sexual frenzy by a hula dancers erotically charged ukulele playing whilst, in my personal favourite scene some carnie bloke gets his heaving, sweaty testicles caught up in tattooed woman's overgrown lady garden.

Ken Russell's version of The Rainbow this aint.

Well, obviously not, seeing as this doesn't feature Paul McGann's thrusting buttocks.

McGann's arse: bigger on the inside.

But if all this wasn't enough to give you sleepless nights then the film's drug addled editing just might, full as it is of slash-tastic jump cuts, cat scratches and bizarre freeze frames thrown in at random intervals obviously just to scare the audience awake whilst the 'artist' delivers a - factually accurate, I kid you not - voice-over discussing how the politics and the culture of the period affected the creation, growth and eventual demise of the Tijuana Bible phenomenon.

"You want to do what in mah mooth?"

I really don't know what's more frightening tho', the fact that this ever got a green light or the fact that someone, somewhere has a wee Barclays to this on a daily basis.

Sleep tight.