Fuck You, I Won't Do What You Tell Me

There are only three things in the world that I hate, and one of them is Christmas.

And don't call me Grinch, you're wasting your time. I don't own a dog and I don't speak in rhyme. So here are the 5 worst things about Christmas:

5. The songs: "I don't want a lot for Christmas", sang Mariah Carey, before going on to demand an actual human. That is "a lot", not to mention the legal and moral implications. And then there's the issue of wrapping. If she really doesn't want a lot for Christmas, she should sing: "All I want for Christmas is socks." But Mariah Carey's advocacy of slavery aside, Christmas songs serve only to make the already thoroughly depressing task of Christmas shopping even worse; grudging consumerism to the sound of sleigh bells. There's a reason you don't get sleigh bells in normal songs... they're fucking awful. And the worst thing about Christmas songs is that we have to listen to them. No other time of the year brings such rigidly enforced rules about music. In the interest of fairness, around Halloween the radio and shops and television should exclusively play unlistenable black metal. I'd hate it as much as everyone else, but it'd still be better than Mariah fucking Carey.

4. The adverts: Adverts are bad enough the rest of the year, but they're particularly loathsome at Christmas. It's all creepy supermarket parties, and manipulative sentimentality, and insidious sexism, and dicks being festive dicks, and more fucking sleigh bells.

3. The charity: Wait, hear me out. Charity, obviously, is great. In fact it's one of the best things. It's up there with The Simpsons and Jamiroquai and food. But on the tube I saw a Shelter advert (appeal, whatever) that said: "75,000 children will be homeless this Christmas." What a weird statistic. Presumably those children are homeless the rest of the year as well. That advert makes it sound like these children all have homes normally, but on Christmas day they're all thrown out into the street. Then on Boxing Day they're allowed back inside again. Of course it's really just emotional manipulation; the thought of children being homeless on Christmas seems worse than on any other day of the year. If you're an idiot. 

"Wait, these kids are going to be homeless on Christmas?! That's terrible!"

"Well they're homeless all year round."

"Yeah but... Christmas!"

By invoking Christmas, we're made to feel heartbroken at the thought of these children missing out on all the turkey and presents and the Queen. This emotive message, appealing to our strange cultural values, is more effective than explaining the grim reality of it all. We don't want to hear about all that nastiness, we just want every kid to have the right to eat until they're sick just like Jesus intended. It's this bizarre implication that one day of festive fun makes up for a year spent starving on the street. But obviously this approach works so I'm not complaining. Well, I am... It's just interesting, that we're compelled less by the idea that everyone deserves a roof over their heads and more by the idea that everyone deserves a "Christmas".

2. The homeless: Kidding.

1. The lights: At the beginning of the year, St Albans council decided that 80% of the city's streetlights should be switched off at midnight to save money. It sounds like the start of the most boring horror film ever made. But it does make the walk home from the pub slightly Blair Witch and terrifying. And yet, we still have Christmas lights in the city; what a festive load of fucking joy. Obviously, the important and practical Christmas lights are a much better use of money than the silly, frivolous streetlights with their stupid, trivial way of making sure that people can fucking get home safely. Oh well, hopefully the obnoxiously bright Christmas decorations on the sides of houses can light up the roads.

Thanks for reading, I'll leave you with the festive Rage Against The Machine song from which this blog takes its title. Enjoy!

Black Dog

There are only three things in the world that I hate, and one of them is the Church of England rejecting female bishops.

But that's enough of the boring stuff, on to more important matters. I recently wrote a blog about cats who die in horror films, and there's only one thing worse than when a cat dies. No, not when a human dies... when a dog dies.

A dog is a man's best friend, with the possible exception of robots like Siri. So if you want to send a message to someone in a horror film and they don't have a child or email, kill their dog. Because of this bond we have with dogs, they're a good vessel for some easy emotional manipulation or aliens.

So here are my top 5 dogs who die in horror films: (WARNING: Contains spoilers and dead dogs.)

5. The Hills Have Eyes

Wes Craven's exploitation classic features a pair of dogs called Beauty and Beast, convincingly played by Flora and Striker respectively. According to IMDB they've not appeared in anything else since, but considering Craven's success you'd have thought he could throw them a bone. 

Sorry. Anyway, Beauty meets an unpleasant end when she's killed and fed to a girl as punishment. Just like her namesake in Disney's Beauty and the Beast. 

4. Sightseers

I won't spoil Ben Wheatley's new black comedy because it's not out until the 30th. I was lucky enough to see it at Celluloid Screams and I wrote about it here. All I'll say is this: it's brilliant, and there's a brilliant dog death. 

3. Alien³ 

The dog in Alien³ winds up as dead as the Alien franchise, as an Alien bursts out of its stomach. It's horrific stuff, but infinitely more watchable than Prometheus. 

Apparently, their plan to make the Alien was to put a real dog in an Alien costume. They decided against it because it didn't look huge and terrifying like an Alien, more cute and adorable like a dog. It would be difficult to believe that this Alien will be the total destruction of humanity when it's always humping someone's leg.

2. Equilibrium

I know it's not a horror film, but it is one of the worst scenes in anything ever. Maybe it's just me, but the bit where Batman walks off holding that adorable puppy is hilarious. 

Incidentally, that scene was a rejected Andrex advert. They felt that "toss it back in, I'll finish it off" wasn't an appropriate slogan.

1. The Thing

That, from John Carpenter's sci-fi/horror classic, is why you should get pet insurance. And a flamethrower. 

Thanks for reading. Next time - hamsters! I'll leave you with the Led Zeppelin song after which this blog is named, enjoy!

Soul For Sale

There are only three things in the world that I hate, and one of them is adverts. Again. Again. Again.

Yesterday's blog was much too long and serious, so today I'm just going to briefly moan about some more adverts. Here are the three most annoying adverts I saw at the cinema yesterday before Hotel Transylvania (s'alright).

3. Jameson Whiskey:

I can't find the advert I mean online, but you'll have seen it if you've ever looked at a screen for longer than about 0.08 seconds at any time in the last 20 years or so. This is the previous one:

I don't care if it means the redundancy of thousands of blameless, hardworking employees, I just want Jamesons to fold. And then explode. 

2. Ronald McDonald House Charities:

"Hospitals can be scary places without mum and dad." Especially if there's a big fucking clown in there with you. This manipulative piece of awful is an unashamed exercise in distressing the fuck out of children. "Let's get a cute thing and then make it really sad!" Or replace all the burgers in McDonald's with smoothies and the kids won't have to go into hospital in the first place. Alex pointed out that it's not even asking for donations, it's literally just an advert for McDonald's.

1. Samsung Smart TV:

One question: Why was she flirting so sexually with her TV?

Thanks for reading, I'll leave you with the brilliant song by The Skints that this blog is named after. Enjoy!

I Don't Care(y)

There are only three things in the world that I hate, and one of them is Lord Carey.

Sorry to keep going on about gay marriage, but the thing is I know fuck nothing about politics. I mean, I study politics and philosophy, the word "study" here being used in its broadest possible sense. But actually, my only knowledge of politics comes from a combination of TV shows like The Thick of It, comedians like Josie Long and bands like Rage Against the Machine. This means that I rarely feel confident enough to come down strongly on one side of a debate. So when I do, it's because the right thing to do seems so glaringly fucking obvious that even an idiot like me could see it. It's with that in mind that we turn to the man himself; Nicholas Parsons. I mean Lord Carey.

To recap, Lord Carey is the former Archbishop of Canterbury who wants to deny gay people the same rights as him, who responded to Nick Clegg's (completely correct) comments about opponents of gay marriage being "bigots" by claiming to be offended and making Nick Clegg take it back which he did, because our values are so backward that they're seulav.

Then, at a fringe event at the Tory party conference, he compared opponents of gay marriage to the persecuted Jews in Nazi Germany, and the supporters of gay marriage to the Nazis. Now, I'm no expert, but I'm not sure gay rights were particularly high up on the Nazi agenda. In fact now that I think about it, and I may be wrong, but I think, that denying homosexuals their rights was more the Nazis' bag. Obviously I'm not calling Lord Carey a Nazi, because that would be a horribly offensive comparison for anyone to make. What I'm saying is that he's a piece of work. Wait, not work; shit. Lord Carey is a piece of shit.

We have Thatcher to thank for his appointment to the position of Archbishop of Canterbury, and now he is a member (unelected, obviously) of our legislature. This man should not be a Lord, and I'm not even sure if he can pull off "Carey." It's just a misspelling of Carrey, and he's even worse than Jim Carrey. Speaking of which, I watched Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind recently, and the fact that it's Kate Winslet who's so massively revered and Jim Carrey who's so widely ridiculed just adds to my fear that we have everything completely backwards. But where was I? Oh yeah, Lord Carey is a piece of shit. Fun fact: his real name is Lord I. Don't. Carey (about anyone other than myself). And don't get me started on Rowan fucking Williams.

At the same event as Carey's Nazi comments, Ann Widdecombe spoke with all the eloquence that we've come to expect from her, asking: "Is it bigoted to recognise that the complementarity of a man and a woman in a union open to procreation is unique and cannot be replicated by other unions?" Yes. That's exactly what it is.

Speaking of pieces of shit, Jeremy "least qualified man for the job" Hunt recently managed to dribble something about wanting to halve the abortion limit, showing that he has as much respect for women as he does for science. He's the health secretary and he believes in homeopathy. Because fuck you MR. SCIENTIST, with your rigorous peer-reviewed system based on evidence and commitment to the progress of humanity. Incidentally, if you repeatedly dilute Jeremy Hunt, he might drown. So that's worth remembering. 

Anyway, the homeopathic fuckcunt turned his expertise towards the female reproductive system. He claimed that "everyone looks at the evidence", which is a lie because he clearly doesn't, and he concluded that the abortion limit should be shortened to 12 weeks into a pregnancy. The rest of the creepy fucking Silence of the Lambs cabinet rushed to agree with him but denied that there would be a change in the law with a level of fervency that suggests that there will definitely be a change in the law.

Gay people and women people; I do not envy you.

Thank you for reading, the title of this blog is a super smart play on The Roots song with which I will leave you. Enjoy!

Two Years Gone

There are only three things in the world that I hate, and one of them is the fact that I've been writing this blog for two years now.

In fact it's exactly two years today, so please humour me as I plunge to whole new levels of self indulgence. It may come as a surprise to learn that a lot of ideas I have for blogs don't actually make it through to completion. "I'd like to see the shit that doesn't make it on to this fucking blog!" I hear you snark. Well be careful what you wish for, because here are my top 5 blogs that never made it.

5. Ideas for films: 

This one was abandoned when I remembered that my imagination isn't good enough to come up with any more than The Humane Centipede (in which they just hold hands) and the plot for The Hangover 3, where they wake up to discover a load of chopped-up dead women in the fridge, and the first person they ask tells them that they murdered lots of women before they even started drinking.

Talking of films, I just saw Sinister which is notable only for some of the most laughably awful exposition dialogue I've ever heard: "Wait, we didn't move into a house two doors down from a murder scene again, did we?" Genuinely.

And talking of terrible names for films, as I was last blog, what the fuck is up with The Perks of Being a Wallflower?

4. More horror movie cat deaths:

Because one blog about cats who die in horror films just isn't enough. But then the only additional one I could remember was the cat in Pet Sematary who's unlucky enough to die twice in the same film. Anyway, it turns out that one blog about cats who die in horror films is definitely enough.

3. My top 5 characters who are in love with sex dolls:

But I could only think of three: Dennis Hopper in River's Edge (not actually Dennis Hopper, but a character), James Franco in 30 Rock (actually James Franco) and Krieger in Archer (well not a sex doll but a hologram. Swings and roundabouts.)

2. There are only three things in the world that I hate, and one of them is Nicholas Parsons:

Abandoned for obvious reasons. Still, he is a cunt.

1. People I've called a cunt in dreams:

Again, there weren't enough instances to form a complete blog. So far the list is just Beyoncé and the cunt from Kasabian.

Thanks for indulging me in what can only be described as "a new low", and for reading my blog at all over the past two years. You insane, beautiful people. The title of this blog is one fifth of the Led Zeppelin song Ten Years Gone. I'll leave you with all five fifths of it, enjoy!

Remember The Name

There are only three things in the world that I hate, and one of them is films with stupid names.

"Right, we need a name for this big new sequel," says Mr. Hollywood to a room full of dead-eyed rich men. 

One of them raises a clammy hand.

"How about Transformers: Dark of the Moon"? 

Everyone laughs.

"We can't call it Transformers: Dark of the Moon", chuckles Mr. Hollywood, wiping a bloody tear from his eye, "that's just fucking ridiculous."

"But why can't we?" he replies, "why does it matter?"

"Well, people won't come to see it," explains Mr. Hollywood.

"Yes they will. They'll come to see it regardless of what we call it. We could call it Transformers: I Fucked Your Mum if we wanted. People would still see it."

"Wait a minute, you're right! And to think we spent all of 2 minutes coming up with the title of the previous one, Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen."

"Also, I've seen the film, and there's really no need to even pretend to care about the audience at this point."

"Good work, have a million billion dollars. Now let's name the rest of these pieces of shit in five minutes then head to the strip club."

Or something like that, I'm no expert. The point is, Hollywood care so little about their audiences that they call their movies whatever piece of awful they like, and in some cases seem to deliberately come up with stupid names. Having had the same complaint about album names, it's even worse for films and especially bad this year. So here are my 12 Worst Named Films of 2012.

12. What to Expect When You're Expecting

This snappily-titled film is named after a pregnancy handbook, so it could just as easily have been called Mommy Guilt or HypnoBirthing, both of which would have been a drastic improvement. Anyway I've not seen it, but it is definitely shit.

11. Piranha 3DD

The problem, aside from the obvious sexism, is that 3DD isn't a plausible bra size. Correct me if I'm wrong, again I'm no expert. As Alex points out in his excellent review, they should have called it Fish 'N' Tits. Anyway I've seen it and it is definitely shit. 

10. Jeff, Who Lives at Home

We don't need the main character's life story in the fucking title. 

Spider-Man, who shoots webs. 

Citizen Kane, who dies. 

Jaws, who is a shark.

Anyway I've not seen it, but it is definitely shit.

9. Martha Marcy May Marlene

Ok this isn't a Hollywood movie, and I think I'd love it. But an unpronounceable name? What are you, Prince?

8. Seeking a Friend for the End of the World

Basically, I don't like long titles. If I'm bored while reading the title, it does not bode well for the actual film. Anyway, not seen it, definitely shit.

7. For a Good Time, Call...

One of the most loathsome looking films ever has one of the most stupid names ever. It doesn't make any sense! How the fuck am I meant to pronounce that?! Why is there an ellipsis and a comma in the name of this film?! Anyway it's not even out yet, but it's definitely, definitely shit.

6. Star Wars: Episode 1 - The Phantom Menace 3D

George Lucas: "How can we make this ridiculous title any worse? I know, we'll add 3D on the end!" 

Prick.

5. Anna Karenina 

If I were Tolstoy's publisher, I'd say: "It's great Leo, I love all the... sex? [I've not read it, there's sex though right?] The only thing is the name. Karenina. It's impossible to pronounce without sounding like a dick."

4. Avengers Assemble

Or as everyone calls it, The Avengers. Because no, Hollywood, we're not going to get it confused with the 1960s TV show because we're not a bunch of fucking idiots. You might as well have called it Avengers, Meet Back Here in 10, Maybe 15 Minutes. Make Sure You Go to the Toilet First... Thor.

3. Katy Perry: Part of Me 3D 

Yeah.

2. W.E

A film by Madonna that sounds like a toilet.

1. Now Is Good

Now Is Good? Was that dreamt up by a thick child? It makes no sense, it's unbelievably annoying, and fuck off. I've not seen it, but Now Is Good is shit.

Thanks for reading, I'll leave you with the Fort Minor song that this blog is named after. Enjoy!

The Evolution of Gayness

There are only three things in the world that I hate, and one of them is this piece of news. 

If you can't be arsed to read that article, I'll sum it up for you: Nick Clegg says something right for once; forced to apologise.

The second that Clegg went into coalition with the Tories he put his spine up for sale on eBay, with the comments: "Good quality, I just no longer have any need for it. Collection only." Since then he has folded on everything from tuition fees to Lords reform, and making jokes about him has become as boring as Nick Clegg. Okay there might still be some mileage in that. But today, he surprised everyone by calling opponents of gay marriage "bigots", and was right to do so. However, he was forced to withdraw the comment, because the world is a ridiculous and backward place.

Apparently it's okay to discriminate against people based on their sexuality, but it's not okay to call those who do so "bigots", despite that being exactly what they are. It's a bit like the time Gordon Brown had to apologise to that bigoted woman after he called her a "bigoted woman", but even worse.

Former Archbishop of Canterbury Lord Carey said that Clegg's statement was "very offensive", displaying a lack of self-awareness you'd normally associate with children or inanimate objects. This man, Jim Carey or whatever his name is, goes "I can do this, but you can't purely because you are gay," and then claims to be "very offended" when challenged. What's more offensive than denying someone their rights and dignity based on their sexuality? Well according to Lord Jim Carey, the word "bigot" is worse. He thinks that a single word which has no effect on his rights as a person is offensive, while trying to stop people from enjoying the same rights as him. It doesn't just show total hypocrisy, it shows a complete lack of humanity.

Nick Clegg actually stands up and says something important, and the bigots claim that it's a violation of their rights, and it's him who has to apologise. It's beyond parody. Coalition for Marriage actually called Clegg's comments "intolerant." Let's go through that: A group committed to preventing equal rights for gay people called someone else "intolerant". And rather than being laughed at for their fucking idiocy, they got their way. Nick Clegg did withdraw his comments, which is always a bizarre thing to happen, someone retracting something they've said. We know they think it, but suddenly they've un-said it so it's okay? Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yeah, the world is fucking stupid.

"This is not the way the Deputy Prime Minister behaves," said Tory MP Peter Bone, managing to string enough caveman sounds together to form a coherent sentence, albeit a fucking awful one. No, it's not the way the Deputy Prime Minister behaves; but maybe it should be. Maybe if our politicians weren't afraid to be honest then politics in this country would be less reactionary, less close-minded and less boring. Let's allow people to actually express their opinions without insisting they stick to some unbearably tepid party line. Let's stop being bullied by bigots who claim to be offended while discriminating based on sexuality. Let's stop stifling free speech while upholding bigoted laws.

Thanks for reading, this blog is named after the brilliant Baba Brinkman song in which the rapping biologist explains how homosexuality might survive genetically using the power of hip-hop. Enjoy!

Killers of the New Frontier

There are only three things in the world that I hate, and one of them is The Killers.

That's all I have to say really. Thanks for reading!

Fine, I'll elaborate. This came to my attention on Twitter yesterday (which was my birthday thanks) and the fact that Brandon Flowers (from off of The Killers) and Jimmy Carr (from off of not paying tax) are friends is simultaneously totally bizarre and completely logical. Of course they're friends, they probably sit around talking about themselves.

It's also interesting to learn where The Killers actually get their ideas from. I always assumed they scraped them from the bottom of a massive barrel. But it turns out they get them from Jimmy Carr. So in a way I was right. But what other bands are actually being fed ideas by television comedians? Are Muse songs based on Russell Howard routines? Does Michael McIntyre write for Kings of Leon? Is Frankie Boyle friends with Coldplay?

So Jimmy Carr looks up from his dinner and says: "It seems that humans get annoyed when you don't pay tax. It's as if they care about the economy more than they care about me. What's that all about? Anyway, you should write a song about the economy." At which point Brandon Flowers spits out a mouthful of... flowers, I guess, and exclaims: "The economy! Why didn't I think of that?!" These are all direct quotes by the way.

I can only assume that the resulting song, "Deadlines and Commitments", is as profound and important as we've come to expect from The Killers. No doubt it has already solved all the economic problems in the world, just through the power of music and Mormonism. 

But that's all fine; if Brandon Flowers and Jimmy Carr are having dinner together then at least they're not out in the world. What's not fine, however, is Brandon Flowers saying:

"Guitar bands aren't writing songs. Write a f**king song, get over yourself. There aren't any. Where are they? Dance music cannot compete with a really great rock and roll song ... There ain't no DJ that's gonna play something that can take 'Mr Brightside' or 'Don't Look Back In Anger'. Those songs are better than that."

What the fuck does Brandon Flowers know about rock and roll? I know it's hard to define, and in fact it's easier to say when things are definitely not rock and roll. So here are some things that are definitely not rock and roll:

Being a Mormon. Two things that we know go hand in hand with rock and roll are of course sex and drugs. But Mormonism prohibits both sex and drugs. Including coffee. Coffee! Admittedly, Mormonism is associated with polygamy which could be kind of rock and roll... but Brandon Flowers only has one wife, so he's not even rock and roll within the Mormon community. So no Brandon Flowers, being a Mormon - who, let's not forget, forbid sex and alcohol and coffee - is not rock and roll.

Being friends with Jimmy Carr. Being friends with comedians could be rock and roll; being friends with Bill Hicks, now that would be rock and roll. But you're not friends with Bill Hicks, you're friends with Jimmy Carr. And that's not rock and roll; it's just very, very boring.

The Killers. The Killers are not rock and roll. You mentioned "Mr Brightside", Brandon Flowers. In fact, you mentioned it as an example of one of the greatest songs ever, despite it being your own song. After using the phrase "get over yourself." But anyway, is "Mr Brightside" rock and roll? That song that plays in clubs to squeeze out every last drop of every young person's individuality? Is that rock and roll? Is that what Led Zeppelin fought for? I know they didn't fight, the point is, The Killers are not rock and roll. 

Thanks for reading, the title of this blog comes from the song Wind Below by Rage Against the Machine, who very much are rock and roll. Enjoy!

The Plan

There are only three things in the world that I hate, and one of them is Ben Drew.

In the latest instalment of the always brilliant Kermode & Mayo podcast, they interviewed Ray Winstone and Ben Drew about their upcoming film The Sweeney, which I won't prejudge, other than to say it looks shit.

But the worst bit of the interview came from Ben Drew (AKA Plan B), have a listen: 

I'm sorry I just made you listen to almost two minutes of Ben Drew talking. They're two minutes you won't get back, two minutes in which you could have done something more fun, like staring at a wall or eating a rusty nail.

The reason that clip made me so angry is because it's a classic example of one of the worst things ever: successful people complaining about their success. It's like the humblebrag, but without even the pretence of humbleness. A brag, I guess. 

Ben Drew complains about working without holidays, except for two holidays which "ain't enough." He complains about being in the immensely privileged position of being able to pursue whichever project he chooses. He complains about being successful.

He hates being famous, and I'm with him on that one; I hate that he's famous. He hates music and films, and again I sympathise, because I hate his music and his films. Maybe we have more in common than I thought. We should meet for a drink some time, if he ever gets a gap in his impossibly hectic schedule.

Poor Ben Drew, he doesn't even get the weekend off, like "normal people" do, and what a lovely phrase that is too. The "normal people" have it so easy, not like the supernormal Ben Drew, with his tireless work, without which we'd all die.

Sarcasm aside, Ben Drew just sounds churlish and ungrateful by claiming that he's somehow worse off than "normal people". Hearing him complaining about having to spend two years promoting an album like it's the hardest thing in the world is just painful. The reality is that any one of those "normal people" would swap lives with Ben Drew in a heartbeat. Well actually, they wouldn't, because then they'd have to be Ben Drew. 

Also, if he works so very hard, then why is everything he does so shit? I think that's actually my main problem here; Ben Drew is fucking shit. I probably wouldn't mind him complaining about how successful he is, if he wasn't so absolutely fucking shit. I've not seen him in anything, nor have I seen the film he directed, or heard much of his music beyond the total fucking shit that's always playing everywhere, but still, he is shit.

Thanks for reading, I'll leave you with the Poets of Rhythm song that this blog is named after. Enjoy!

Purrfection

As you know, I love everything in the world, with the exception of three things. Two of those things that I love the most are horror films, and cats.

When the two meet, it tends to end badly for the cat. There are some famous exceptions; Jones from Alien survives, as does Claude in Black Christmas (presumably) and of course the stray cat who Patrick Bateman almost feeds to the ATM in American Psycho. Presumably those cat actors are in a strong union.

I can't be the only one who breathes a sigh of relief when he only kills the human, rather than the cat. It's odd, but I care more when animals die in films than when humans do. Well, it's not that odd, it's perfectly explainable; I hate humans and I like animals, especially cats. So here are my top 5 cat deaths in horror films: (WARNING: Contains spoilers and dead cats.)

5. Straw Dogs 

Sam Peckinpah's classic should be called Straw Dogs and Dead Cats, thanks to this scene in which Dustin Hoffman finds his cat hanged in a wardrobe. As in the case of most cinematic cat murders, this is a warning; "To prove to you that they could get into your bedroom." It seems a bit extreme though, they could just as easily have hidden his jeans or something.

4. Kill List

In what is probably an homage to Straw Dogs, the cat in the incredible Kill List meets the same grizzly end. Killing animals is famously a sign of psychopathy. Let's face it, you'd have to be a monster to murder an adorable cat. Unless it was really annoying.

3. Scream

Okay, so this isn't strictly speaking a cat death; if you're going to be all pedantic about it then yes, Rose McGowan is technically a human. But she is killed in a cat flap and it turns out I haven't done enough research, so it counts.

2. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

I won't use a picture for this one, because if you've seen David Fincher's The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo then you'll probably remember the horrifically mutilated cat, and if you haven't then I don't want to spoil it. Basically, it's one of the most horrible things ever. Let's move on.

1. Drag Me to Hell

My favourite horror film cat death comes in Sam Raimi's brilliant Drag Me to Hell, in which a girl denies a mortgage extension to an old gypsy woman who, in revenge, puts a curse on the girl which will send her to hell in three days. At one point, in a desperate bid to send an animal sacrifice in her place, the girl kills her own cat. Long story short, it doesn't work, and the cat comes out of someone's mouth at the end. You don't get that in Sam Raimi's Spider-Man films...

Thanks for reading this blog, which will presumably be all over the tabloids when I'm inevitably admitted to an institution of some sort. Next time - dog deaths! 

I'll leave you with the excellent Submotion Orchestra song on which the title of this blog so innovatively puns. Enjoy!