Doctor Bastard: now a major You Tube creepypasta reading with a cast of thousands

Doctor Bastard is now available to make house calls in video format.

The original pasta can be found here on this very blogge.

Bastard Role Models: Inky the Octopus

I hope and trust you've all caught up with the most important story of recent times. No, not Lying Ted Cruz stealing Colorado from The Once And Future Don; I'm talking about Inky the Octopus and his daring escape from captivity to rejoin the ocean.

Inky's in your cereal.

Inky is a better role model than 99% of people. More impressively, he's a better role model than 99% of fictional characters. Take the movie Finding Nemo, for example. Nemo, like Inky, gets caught and put in captivity. But Nemo needs his father and mentally special sidekick Dory to come get him.

Not Inky.

Inky's escape makes The Great Escape and Shaw Shank Redemption look like child's play. Moreover, they make whatever you're doing with your life look like Seed of Chucky. Could you squeeze your whole body through a 6-inch pipe? You can't even keep up going to the gym, you fat fuck.

Inky f'taghn!

Nightcrawler is a great movie.

If you haven't watched Nightcrawler, but have watched anything else from the last several years, you should be banned from cinemas because you have shit taste. Nightcrawler is a great movie about how utterly morally bankrupt the media is. It stars Jake Gyllenhaaal as creepy fuck Lou, a petty thief whose skill set translates perfectly to the job of filming crime scenes and related human misery for profit. His character is like the Gawker of movie characters, except much more likeable and less evil.

Lou takes inspiration from online business courses and enlists Rick, a halfwit who needs the money, to help him navigate around LA looking for scenes of violence and destruction. As the film rolls on, he pushes the limits further and further by moving around bits of stuff, including bodies, to get better footage, and ultimately semi-staging the news so he can record it. As someone that's done TV shit, I know people like that are out there. Given how brazenly "journalists" sneer at the very concept of ethics, it's not even surprising that people like this prosper in this industry.

Since everyone in the media is a lying, evil, amoral, deceitful scumbag, you would think the character would not be very likeable, and apparently this was true for many people when the movie came out. A lot of people's reactions to this film were basically "it's bad because he is a bad man", by which rationale Citizen Kane, Breaking Bad, The Sopranos, A Clockwork Orange, and basically everything worth watching sucks. I can't relate to those people, and I suspect they're not really human.

Anyway, Jake Gyllenhaaaaaaaaaaaaal and Rene Russo are both really good in it and you should see it if you like movies with dysfunctional protagonists like Taxi Driver, King of Comedy, Super, and Paul Blart Mall Cop.

Happy April Fool's Day!

April Fool's Day is an ancient tradition in which people fuck with one another in the most mean-spirited ways possible. It is like every other day, except that when you get found out, you can plaster on a shit-eating grin and say "Aaapril Foool's!" and everyone will laugh despite the blood and tears.

You might think that April Fool's Day would be right up my alley, as I am a thoroughly despicable person. That's not a very nice thing to think though. It's judgemental, and that makes you as bad as me, if not worse. Probably worse, actually, because you're a good person. You should know better.

Everyone with horrible friends will of course be on the lookout for the pranksters and vagabonds among their ranks, and some friends employ a strategy of mutually assured destruction to ensure that any pranking going on will be met with excessive retaliation and the probable dissolution of the, in any case, inexplicable friendship.

This provides a good opportunity for you to exploit as a third party. Say you have a friend who has a friend you hate. You can frame the hated party for a prank on your good buddy, causing them to go to war and end their friendship. Be creative.

Another thing you can do is not prank people all April Fool's Day for years, making you look like a saint, and then offload with great brutality one year when nobody expects it. Note, however, that this will result in a loss of trust, so only do it when you've grown bored of your current circle of friends.

I was going to review the great slasher movie April Fool's Day (not the remake, of course), but I didn't because I was busy. Slaughter High is also set on April Fool's Day and invokes the Britbong tradition by which it runs out at midday. Remember this if you are ever in Bongesia, because if someone pranks you after midday the joke is on them, even though the tar and feathers may be on you.

What ever happened to hitchhikers?

It seems like a lot of people hitchhiked in old movies and in the 1950s and 60s. Why did this lost enterprise so suddenly vanish from the world? Was it because all hitchhikers are either murderers or are murdered? If you ever heard a story about a hitchhiker they always end up dead or murder someone else. What if a murdering hitchhiker hitched a ride with a hitchhiker murderer? Who would strike first? I don't know. Everyone from old times had a hitchhiking story, especially hippy girls. How fucking dangerous can everything be if pot smoking young girls in ankle skirts got into strangers' cars on a regular basis? I say you're all too goddamn scared of nothing. I'm going to hitchhike all the way home in place of a commute and save a fortune. I miss the days of Kerouac and Charles Manson. I can guarantee that I could dance on hot coals juggling knives and be fine, I don't think anything is going to happen. I remain unconvinced that death is anything that ever really happens. I know because I had a little rabbit when I was eleven and it's been at the same farm for eighteen years now. They don't allow visitors. I don't think that's fair. I say the lack of death in our lives is getting ridiculous, have you seen how many people are around? It's ludicrous and frankly, I don't wanna see any more of you assholes, cause it's getting ridiculous. I'm so busy I could sleep until a million. I'm high energy but mentally retarded. My doctor says I've got terminal ass burgers. I'm allowed to say it cause it's what's wrong with me and if you say it you're a racist. I think I've understood this. Post a comment if I'm wrong, I dare you. I wish I could hitchhike out of this life, but it could be a lot worse honestly I'm not complaining. Has anyone seen my daughter I don't remember where I put her.

Doctor Bastard

The first weeks of your therapy went better than expected. You would easily recommend this guy to anybody, unfortunate name withstanding. No one ever seemed to get inside your head so quickly, or with such polite detachment. Deft with words, like a surgeon with his hands. The things he could elicit from you practically without any effort, it was almost disconcerting even as it reassured you. In the first hour you cried. The next time you went back the weight was lifted, and you felt you could get down to some real talking. By the third session that ticking clock went by unheard, and you were surprised, even a little sad, to come to the end of your immersion in that little room.

At some stage you began to really think of him as a surgeon, so clinical and so precise with where he took you, doing light exploratory work on your half-open mind with God knows how many other cases to juggle. You know how they say those experts make it look easy?

And then there's the funny smell coming from his desk some days, and those surgical gloves in the bin over in the corner. At first you thought maybe a surgeon used the room sometimes for whatever reason, but given your read on the guy, maybe your first instincts were right.

You asked him about it once, trying to keep it casual. He said he practises surgery every once in a red moon. Dropped the old joke about leaving his watch in a patient, maybe to play it off. But he didn't really laugh about it like it was a joke - more like when you're remembering a story from your college days or some shit. It's a cautionary tale against the pace of modern life I guess. The guy doesn't know something's wrong until he finally sits down in the quiet of his own home, and he hears it deep inside himself.

Tick, tick, tick, tick...

You can picture this guy walking around like the fucking crocodile from Peter Pan. Whoever heard of a surgeon practising therapy in his spare time? Or the other way round?

People talk about a sixth sense. Everything appears to be well, but there's a voice in the back of your head insisting it's wrong. It's paranoia, and it doesn't want you to get better. You've got to keep telling yourself that. Voices in your head and talking to yourself too now. Wasn't this supposed to be going in the opposite direction? This is the best progress you've made in years and you're starting to feel like he's not a real doctor.

And you can tell the anxiety's kicking in again, cause there's that clock on the wall creeping into your consciousness, driving you crazy. It was all going so well, like you were scaling the heights, and then you backslid halfway down the fucking mountain again. You don't need this shit in your head, and now you're thinking that your therapist is leaving shit inside his patients for real. Well why couldn't it be possible? He's doing open surgery on your deepest trauma centres every week, right there under the lights. Who knows what could've slipped in?

Tick, tick, tick, tick...

One day you'll find yourself heading to the twins' room with a kitchen knife in your hand. You'll do a double take, and stare at it in horror. You don't remember anything for the last couple minutes. You're a parent now. You can't be blacking out and listening to commands left rattling inside your head. You start to hope your dreams were dreams. You had to physically stop yourself there. You don't know what the fuck is up.

So you call in to the hospital and they talk to you like you're some fucking kid asking to see Hugh Jass. You're getting madder and panicking now. You swear to them you're not fucking around. You drive for miles on nothing but muscle memory from the times you used to drive there every week, you're fucking shaking so much.

You practically march up to the reception desk. She's looking over those glasses at you like it's the reason she bought them. But her attitude changes when she learns what you're there for. Her face turns grey, and she mutters something about checking with her boss. Then in the quickest time you've ever waited in a place like this, she's back with an administrator saying you'd better leave. Since February they've been getting these calls in from people asking for a Doctor Bastard. No such person works there. There's no one named Bastard in any hospital in the county. It's starting to scare them.

Everything you've read for months there's something in the margins, links or targeted ads, like creatures milling at the limits of your vision, all about surgical malpractice. Lawyers. Tales. Stories about people with live animals and infant forelimbs sewn up inside them. Somebody was admitted down in Kettering. They found a baby's arm was pressing on his lungs. Another lady had a mother rat inside of her deliver a litter. She came in shitting blood from what they'd gnawed out from inside of her.

Tick, tick, tick, tick...

Every night you sleep later and later. Every corner of your room there's someone's shadow. In your dreams a man in a white coat stands there, in your kitchen, in your home, watching you, smiling. You don't want to sleep. You won't go to the twins's room. You hear them crying in the night and pull your knees up like you don't trust your feet not to go. Everything's plastic in your kitchen now. You eat with sporks and shit. Takeout every night you can get it, and he's still at that conference in Chicago, totally unaware. You want to turn yourself in, have someone open you up, take off the top of that head. Maybe you'll do it yourself. You don't know what the fuck you'll find in there. Maybe no one should be exposed to it. Doctor Bastard? Was he a symptom of this madness? Or did something ancient as fuck find a new way to fuck with the sad world? There's a wailing from the room you never step foot in, down that corridor you walked every day before you ever thought to open up your mind.

Blunt Force Troma: Tromeo and Juliet!!!

"Well we found a peanut all right...a peanut of death!"

- Cop

It's Valentine's Day, and how better to celebrate than with the most romantic movie of all time: Tromeo and Juliet? 

The movie opens with the indelible cinematic image of a dead squirrel hanging from a noose, and features the late, great Lemmy from Motörhead as the narrator, so if you're looking for something to get your partner in the mood for love, you know you've come to the right place.

Tromeo and Juliet concerns two families at war with each other, from forth the fatal loins of which the title characters come. They communicate their feud by means of animal carcasses, but soon escalate to dismemberment and death. For example, this guy gets his fingers cut off.

Then he has his head trapped in a car window and driven into a fire hydrant, whereupon he tries to scoop his fallen brains back into his skull.

But that's not even close to the best part. That honour must go to the context-and-fat-free dream sequence in which Juliet's pregnant stomach is unzipped to reveal a mound of popcorn and a couple of rats. Why? I don't know, and nor does anybody else! Just let it happen to you.

We wouldn't want to scar your mind of course. Note that her nightshirt thing randomly disappears and reappears throughout this sequence, even though you couldn't possibly make that mistake. Based Troma, we salute you.

Despite the similar title, this isn't just a straight remake of the 1597 Shakespeare movie. The ending reveals a left-field twist that changes everything, which I'm surprised William Shakespeare didn't think of himself. Needless to say, this is a cinematic landmark everyone should see before they die (or during). Look out for the great Tiffany Shepis in her first role as "Peter" (top pic). If you watch this movie you will have a fine Valentine's Day (guarantee void outside of Tromaville).

The Horrible Adventures of Princess Oregano and the Seven Gnomes, Part One: In Which Princess Oregano Goes Missing; or, An Unexpected Horror

Being the first chapter in the heinous cycle of infamy known as the chronicles of Princess Oregano:

If you have been affected by any of the issues raised in this video, please remember to like, subscribe and share before you blow your brains out all over your body pillow. Thanks.

The Thing in the Fridge

It's been there for six months now. Every time I open the door I try not to look at it. I must have bought it when I arrived.

I think it must have been food once. Something you'd eat, or put into your mouth and chew and swallow. Some kind of vegetable perhaps? Or maybe a bar of something. It's so hard to tell under the foam and mould and eyes.

I try not to look at it, especially when it looks at me.

I wonder if it's actually alive. If it's developed a brain stem, or if it just moves unthinkingly. It wouldn't bother me, except...

...It's growing bigger.

I barely sleep anymore. The heater in my room is on full blast, but I don't dare to take it down, in case the thing comes in. Could it survive outside the fridge? I don't know, but I'm not taking the chance.

I haven't had anyone over in at least six weeks. The last time anyone came over they went into the kitchen together. I don't know if they saw what was in there, but when they returned they looked like they had seen a decomposing food item of unknown origin.

To this day I've never asked them what it did to them, but I received a message the next day. It read simply, "dude, clean out your fridge".

What did it mean? The words haunt me to this day.

Great moments in Glengarry Glen Ross

As you know, Glengarry Glen Ross is the greatest movie ever made. Everything about it, from the cast to the set design to the cinematography, is God tier filmmaking. Scarcely a minute goes by without a quotable line, and it's in the rare category of movies I can watch over and over, along with The Shining, Starship Troopers, and Event Horizon.

Today, however, I draw your attention to some of the small things that make this the greatest movie ever. I will spoil the ending of the movie and I advise you not to read this unless you have watched it several times.

"Have you made your decision for Christ?"

Alec Baldwin's speech is the most famous part of the movie, and this is the best part of it. The ever circling camera comes in to a low angle closeup and he gets a manic gleam in his eye as he delivers this line that comes out of nowhere and has nothing to do with the rest of the film. It casts the rest of the speech in the terms of a revival preacher or some shit, making the whole thing even better than it ever was.

Some people think the line was supposed to be "for Christ's sake" or something like that, but it's so much better this way, like at any moment he's going to reach into the case he keeps his brass balls in and whip out a fucking snake.

Alec Baldwin holds the new leads with his fingertips

I love how Baldwin holds the leads like they're so precious he doesn't want to smudge them or something. He's holding them so daintily here while he bitches everyone out for their alleged incompetence, and then he hands them over his shoulder to Williamson, who doesn't even give a shit. This is something a lot of people don't appreciate about the film: Alec Baldwin is fucking insane, and is therefore perfectly cast in the role of Fuck You.

Levene's shoulder mount thing for his phone

While everyone else tends to lean forward on the phone, Levene likes to sit back and play with his glasses with both hands, letting this shoulder mounted clip hang onto the phone for him. This is the kind of attention to detail you don't get in most films, least of all mine. I have no idea if this was a common thing back in the golden era of the 1990s, when men were men and cellphones were the size of midgets, but it is awesome and I want to be a down-on-my-luck salesman in the early 90s just so I can have one.

The good cop

The main cop character is obviously the bad cop - he tries to boss everyone in the office around, and his partner (who has no lines) sits on the side of the office with Moss, who disregards him entirely. If there were only one cop it wouldn't be nearly as funny, but the fact that our main guy is the bad cop and is so totally ineffectual is brilliant.

"Anybody talks to this asshole is a fuckin' asshole"

In a movie so full of eloquent one-liners that make Shakespeare sound like a /b/tard, this is a hilarious little moment of reality where Moss can't think of another word for "asshole", so he says it twice. Hey, coming up with Mamet-esque dialogue all day is tiring work.

Roma sticks his gum under the desk like a kid

This is another endearing little moment when Roma sees Lingk coming and quickly makes up a story to throw him off. He realises he's been chewing gum and quickly sticks it under his desk. I like to think this sort of situation comes up every other day and the underside of his desk is covered in gum. I like the association with school days that this image conjures up, because, as we know, Roma is the John Bender of this movie.

"You saw my book!"

In the scene where Roma is bullshitting Lingk to get his dubious sale to stick, this little detail adds a lot to the improvisatory nature of his spiel. He's trying to tell Lingk he's too busy to speak to him right now, so he flashes a diary, which on closer inspection is near empty. It only has two lines written in it. If Lingk weren't such a pussy he could totally call Roma out on this, but he's the Jeb Bush of this film, so he doesn't.

Williamson chews gum

I like how Williamson chews gum at the end of the movie. Roma famously tells Moss "let me buy you a pack of gum, I'll show you how to chew it". I like to think Williamson chews gum because Roma already bullied him to tears over it. Williamson clearly pounces on the opportunity to fuck Levene at the end because every minute of every day of his life is spent being someone else's bitch.

I want to see a sequel where the two remaining salesmen on the team, Roma and Aaronow, give Williamson shit for two hours. Maybe Levene was right when he said Williamson would miss him. Or maybe I'm reading too much into the gum. Then again, people said that about Twin Peaks.

Neon Maniacs!

Neon Maniacs seems like it was adapted from, or meant to spawn, a merchandising franchise like the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I say this because the first scene has a fisherman discover some neat-looking trading cards before getting kilt, and this is never mentioned again and has no impact on the story. His killers never leave the trading cards for anybody else to find, so it's not like it's a calling card, just an ad for something that never existed. Such is the audacity of Neon Maniacs.

Don't lie, you want these.

The movie stars such Hollywood legends as Leilani Sarelle (Basic Instinct) and Clyde Hayes (Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter), so no one. Final Girl is minding her own business hanging out with the Scooby Doo gang when they all get brutally lynched by Moonman and his crew:

I guess they're the neon maniacs of the title, even though there's nothing neon about them and they're LARPers, not maniacs. They have a caveman, a samurai, an Indian, a robot, and a one-eyed lizard dog. They all live together underneath the Golden Gate bridge, which I'm sure you'll agree would make a much better sitcom than it does a horror movie.

In fact the best parts of the movie involve the LARPers trying to do mundane things like go through a turnstile. The Indian and caveman jump it, the samurai tries to chop it with his sword, and the robot zaps it with electricity that makes it spin. I wish the whole movie was like this, with them trying to figure out self checkout machines and parking meters.

I like this guy who clearly doesn't get paid enough to deal with this shit.

So for reasons that are never explained, the samurai, Indian, caveman et al take to stalking Final Girl. With her friends all dead, she starts hanging out with some sitcom guy who wants to get into her pants, and a budget Audrey Hepburn, who I guess is meant to be a goth girl or something.

The movie gleefully and wantonly sheds details and whole plotlines as it grows bored with them, which makes it seem like a first draft written by an ADD kid. Sitcom Guy has a dog in the early scenes which disappears completely from the movie, and Audrey is making a cheap horror movie about vampires which she seems to just forget about. Final Girl has a dream about raining blood that never affects anything either. And there's a cop character we keep cutting back to as he contemplates doing something, but never does.

Sitcom Guy and Final Girl: a love for the ages.

Audrey's oversized baseball cap.

The LARPers are an endearingly uncoordinated enemy for our forgetful heroes. They attack them as a group on the train, with the robot killing the driver and taking over from him. When our heroes flee from the train and hop on a bus instead, the Neon LARPers follow them, but they forget to tell the robot, and we cut back to him merrily plowing along in his train like the most contented autist you ever saw.

Clickety clack, clickety clack.

Audrey discovers that the Maniacs are kilt by water, like the Wicked Witch of the West, so she hatches a scheme to lure them to the Battle of the Bands and shoot water pistols at them (yes). This only sort-of works, but given how stupid an idea it was, we'll call it a success.

The gang then run off to the cop guy and tell him the whole story, offering no evidence, and he OKs them to ride along with the entire police department to check underneath the Golden Gate Bridge. People must just fuck with this guy all day long: "hey, I saw Bigfoot. Can I take a couple squad cars out to check the woods?" "Sure, why not. It's not like I do anything anyway."

"Alright, I'll go, but this better not be bullshit like the last seven times."

The movie ends with a great sequel hook, but tragically, and horribly unfairly, none was ever made because no one gives a crap about the Neon Maniacs. I think that's a shame, because there's more creativity and quality in the costumes, and originality in the premise, of this film than in entire modern franchises (Taken, Twilight, Paranormal Activity, etc.) and you have to credit the initiative of monsters who create their own merchandise in-universe. Imagine how much more respect you'd have for Jason if he came up with his hockey mask hamburgers by himself.

I think you can agree it's time we brought back Neon Maniacs.

Travel 3: MOAR

There's nothing inside this big pyramid (Memphis, TN).

I'm a bastard who likes to travel. I believe it broadens the mind and teaches you things about the world. This year I returned to one of my favourite cities, Barcelona. BCN is great because it is full of weird shit. Everyone who goes there will remark on the abundance of strange and wonderful things to be found on every corner and in every street.

Raval es mejor barrio.

I like the way that someone's shredded jeanshorts were nailed up here. As a warning? Centrepiece?

Here is an Ashley Madison themed parking garage. Note the addendum (topical at the time the pic was taken), which reads "fuck off, you cheaters".

This was a skull I liked.

Moreover, this is a very exciting and exuberant city because of its active populace and strange rituals. You will never be short of things to do and see.

This is something people do in Barcelona when they're bored. They spin these things with sparks shooting everywhere and you get in like an open air mosh and you try to not get burned (but if you do, even better).

On alternating occasions, Barcelonians parade giant birdcage fairy people around.

And here is a sassy giraffe. Not sure if rad or kind of degenerate.

You saw nothing.

Travelling the world is one of the best things you can do. Research that I can't be bothered to link to suggests experiences are a better investment than things, because they last longer. We should all enjoy the opportunity to travel while we can and see the sights before the clouds break and our civilisation is lost in a tsunami of horror forever.