Sorry for some days without splode. The One Tusk compound has been riddled by Flupocalypse. So I’ve been barely able to get out of bed. And if I can’t get out of bed, then you know it’s bad.
Okay, please ignore the whooping and general annoyances of the hosts of this next bit. Because it’s worth it.
What’s the only thing better than being able to make bad ass sand constructions?
Blowing the shit out of them.
And then, how to make it better?
Play them in reverse.
Such is the power of David Carradine’s fu that he doesn’t have to streak out of the way at high speed, he’s already conveniently in the right position to dodge even before the bullet is fired. Power, son. That is power.
My favorite bit is where he appears to be yelling back at the people at the club he’s just tried to set fire to. I’m sure he’s yelling “I MEANT TO DO THAT!”
Okay, first up we have a trailer that doesn’t have a great deal of kick or splode in it, but–! Asia Argento plus guns equals promise. So.
Rethink your hobby when this happens.
I don’t remember what the satellite’s bonus points were. Anybody?
Pretend you’re driving a pickup truck and entering a car wash. Now. Explain your way out of this:
Richard Hammond had one of the coolest jobs in the world with hosting Brainiac. Why? Because in how many other occupations do you get to race a firework with a motorcycle…in the name of science?
Vic Reeves is the current host, but Richard gets to co-host Top Gear, so he is still in a win status.
Forget the cute cuddly bullshit. When he wants your shirt, he will go through you to get it. Okay?
