Amsterdam. City of beautiful canals. Replete with wonderful museums. Chock-a-block with top nightspots and cafes where one can procure the finest hallucinogenics and undergo an uplifting, life-changing experience.
But why bother indulging in any of these pleasures when you can stay in your friends’ house all night and watch Hellblock 13 on the horror channel? This film has it all. Zombies that giggle like little children will brutally stabbing innocent teenagers whose only crime is to wear bobby sox after 10pm. Gratuitious nude scenes. Men with large walrus moustaches who drink witches’ poisons and swell up into giant pus balls. Acting that is worthy of a special school’s christmas theatre production. Women who trip over carelessly discarded pizza boxes will running away from giant beer-drinking mutant scotsmen capable of knocking heads off with one swipe of their hairy neanderthal paws.
I’ve often harboured ambitions of writing a screenplay that defines the human condition and opens up everyone’s mind to the prospect of a future together, living in peace as a race united, not divided. I no longer feel this is necessary. The creators of Hellblock 13 beat me to it.
I hail their visionary genius.