What a crashing disappointment and a tortuous tossed off ordeal for all those uninvolved. There I was carrying my record case of all the Supertramp LPs (classic line-up Rick ("Nail that chick") Davies, Roger ("Roger? 12 times a night mate") Hodgson, John ("Mean well, but go to hell") Helliwell, Bob ("Lob it") Siebenberg, Dougie ("Pass the doobie") Thompson to the Stondon Massey Pentecostal Occasional Film Festival showing of this animated film with high expectation. Would it be the band's "Yellow Submarine" - forever preserving their music for future generations? Or would it be a case of "Crime of the Century"?
How am I supposed to feel about two characters that drinks 42 cans of Tennants Super and then turn into "Supertramps"? After imbibing such an infusion of golden delights, the two "heroes" fly into the air on a golden shower, using ass blades as directional mind feeders. How hilarious when they gatecrash someone's party and suck the vodka out of the eyes of strangers.
I would have thought that the film could have included one of Supertramp's songs at least, alas no. Deidre (a rabid horniculturalist and part-time Nancy boy and my girlfriend to boot), suggested that we do our "Goodbye Stranger" routine in honour of the group. So we proceeded to wheelbarrow in the crowded theatre and after submitting my finer points, I wiped my Sponge Bob Square Pants on the Pentecostal curtains and vowed to never trust Canadian animators again.
A defining moment in celluloid history...
How am I supposed to feel about two characters that drinks 42 cans of Tennants Super and then turn into "Supertramps"? After imbibing such an infusion of golden delights, the two "heroes" fly into the air on a golden shower, using ass blades as directional mind feeders. How hilarious when they gatecrash someone's party and suck the vodka out of the eyes of strangers.
I would have thought that the film could have included one of Supertramp's songs at least, alas no. Deidre (a rabid horniculturalist and part-time Nancy boy and my girlfriend to boot), suggested that we do our "Goodbye Stranger" routine in honour of the group. So we proceeded to wheelbarrow in the crowded theatre and after submitting my finer points, I wiped my Sponge Bob Square Pants on the Pentecostal curtains and vowed to never trust Canadian animators again.
A defining moment in celluloid history...
