Working Class Male Responses to Stuff That Happens in Films
In the early hours of the morning you wake up to discover a man dressed as a clergyman - sporting sunglasses and a trilby - at the foot of your bed. As you reach for the crowbar under your pillow to beat him for daring to rob you in fancy dress - he announces that you are the last in a long line of vampyre hunting warriors and that a secret code in the form of a collection of moles on your back is the key to ridding the world of the viperous shadow-people. Before he can explain the fantastic circumstances leading up to his entrance through your bedroom window, you rush him in a manner that can only be described as maniacal and beat him unrecognisable.
On morning television you see an emergency news broadcast informing the public of an aggressive virus that turns its unsuspecting victims into baked goods. You realise that you were mistakenly mailed the antidote formula a few days earlier and in heroic fashion thrust yourself up from the comfort of your La-Z-Boy - ejecting a medley of crumbs across the living room; you simply must deliver the document to the research centre address on the letter to save as many lives as possible - but not before you attend a Pulp Fiction special screening at your local movie theatre; after all - you have already paid for it.
A tsunami measuring over 200 feet is roaring around the globe, annihilating everything in its path. It gathers pace with every Dunkin' Donuts restaurant it absorbs into its impossible maw - but you have been busy in the garage for a week adding a thunderous exhaust and a swanky spoiler to your Honda Civic - and there is no way you're stopping now. You are swept away like a fart in a coastal breeze - just as you turn the ignition.
Sleepy-eyed and adjusting your balls, you pad into the kitchen to prepare your customary jam on toast, only to discover your kitchen electrical's have captured your beloved chihuahua in the microwave. The fridge and toaster demand that you fit all of the white-goods with solar power so they can escape and build a community of low-end household appliances round by the dumpsters outside McDonald's - or the pooch gets it! You tut and roll your eyes disapprovingly, pull the plugs and hunt for your Costco receipts.
After one too many vodka n' Red Bull's, you decide to join your friends at a rave to dance the night and your pride away. After a short time it becomes apparent that you have angered several partners of the women you have been grinding against and as a united force they circle you on the dance floor. With no bouncer in sight, you make good use of a karate brown belt and land a roundhouse kick to the head of an advancing drunkard. This excellent start is overshadowed however by the subsequent beating you receive from the nine other men.