My Review of 'Fifty Shades Darker'

Because I like to consider myself as civic minded, I thought I'd take myself to see the 'Fifty Shades Darker' movie today and let you know what I thought of it, and then you can decide for yourselves whether to see it.  I would suggest finding a more pleasurable and less boring way to pass the two hours.  Perhaps bashing on piano keys with your elbows.  Truthfully, Gentle Reader, it was even more idiotic than the first one.  She's still a boring, whiny, lachrymose sounding milquetoast, and he's still a controlling, constipated looking fucked-up gronk with really amphibious eyes (and I cannot abide frogs).  In just about every scene where Grey was fucking Ana, his jeans were almost all the way up over his arse.  This might seem an odd thing to think about, but I guess that's just testament to how unerotic the sex was, if it's got me thinking how the man's jeans are covering his bum.  Why does he not pull them down?  Do they not prove an impediment when engaging in the act of coitus?  Wouldn't the zipper at the front scrape his Jatz crackers?  If any guys out there actually practise the bizarre act of fucking with jeans covering their arse, let me know; I'd appreciate it greatly.

The last time I wanted to track down a movie's producers and shake them by the lapels as I demanded they return the two hours of my life was probably in 1988, following a screening of 'Space Balls'.  Mel Brooks, I will never forgive you for that.  I sat there in the cinema in a delirium of disbelief that movie could suck that badly.  My then flatmate was with me, along with a few others.  My flatmate wasn't concentrating on the movie; he was trying to hit on one of the women who had come along. 

So yeah, there are better ways I could have spent my sixteen bucks today.  Here are some:

1.  On a book.
2.  On a tube of mascara.
3.  On a couple of vodka/lime/sodas at the pub.
4.  On a bottle of wine (and oh how I needed one after the viewing today).

Here are some of the times I've been more sexually aroused than I was whilst watching that movie today:

1.  The time I sat up the front of the bus in the seat facing all the others, and saw a grot on the back seat pick his nose and eat it.
2.  Watching Dave Mason give a flesh crawling live performance of 'Quasimodo's Dream' (that song is also just off).
3.  The time I attempted a home bikini wax and didn't pull the skin on groin tightly enough to lessen the shock, and ended up with bruises all around my bikini line.
4.   Visiting somebody whose dog had tapeworms hanging from its arse, and the subsequent observance of the rudimentary removal of said tapeworms by the dog's owner.  My stomach still churns like an agitated washing machine when I remember that, and it was back in 1991 or so.

So, in my humble opinion, 'Fifty Shades Darker' is a cinematic manifestation of the used toilet paper pilled in the hairs around Satan's butthole.

Oh, and Pauline Hanson, can you get any more ludicrous?  Your opposition to paid parental leave is that the women 'get themselves pregnant for the money'.  Really, you are aware how conception occurs, aren't you?  Or is it your assertion these women are hermaphrodites?  God, just go away and take your arsehat ideas with you.