Twi-Shite

Come back Gramps, for fuck's sake

I'll be buggered if I haven't thought hard about this and you know what? I still don't have a fucking clue about what the world sees in these Twilight films. Not a single fucking clue. Sullen faced vampires = box office gold? It makes me want to eat my own ovaries with a maggoty chip fork. Problem is that Twi-Shite is everywhere so even if you have no interest in the po-faced blood suckers you know about them anyway. That's my excuse for the following summary of all things vampiric. Which is, er, not much...


Robert Pattinson: Between the pink-eye and the pallid gib, young Bob is as much of a sex symbol as Russell Grant wrapped in clingfilm. What the nation's teens find in him to toss over is beyond me. And no, no, no, it just cannot be this brooding glare he's got going on because that just makes him look like he's struggling with a particularly girthy shit.
Kristen Stewart: Exactly what is this aversion you have to smiling? Or looking vaguely interested? Or just looking joyous about being abso-fucking-lutely minted thanks to appearing in the dullest series of filums this side of a documentary about carpets? Just how fucking mardy would you look if you had to pluck chickens for a living? Or empty colostomy bags? Jesus.
Taylor Lautner: Look, what's with this allergy you have to clothing? And the face like a squinty turnip. Oh, and did I mention how deeply unattractive a man becomes when he starts plucking his eyebrows and sucking in his arse cheeks? No? Well, is this a good time?

Someone, please stick a stake in the fuckers. Now.