The Precious Gift Of Shite

Spot the difference - see if you can spot the 234,679,453 differences between these two photos.


There is something fascinating about excellence. You are drawn to it, you marvel at it, you are soothed by it but at the same time it energises you. The only trouble with excellence is that it is very rare.
I, however, am very fortunate because I seem to live in a parallel universe where I have doubled my chances of experiencing such emotions because I find the appallingly awful equally stimulating.
True, unadulterated, unmitigated, bona fide shite is as rare as excellence but it is out there if you look hard enough and by way of proof may I recommend you to the American made-for-TV film "Florence Nightingale". I have just watched it on an obscure channel and can honestly say that it touched cinematographic and historical depths I never thought possible.
Pure shite, you see, like excellence requires a touch of genius and the genius of this production centred on its casting and plot. While admitting that my knowledge of the Lady of the Lamp is not extensive, I always believed that her primary claim to fame was her success in treating casualties of the Crimean War. Also, I have seen photos of this supposedly earthbound angel and, at the kindest, I can only say she had a face like a camel sucking a biscuit! Her success with members of the opposite sex was further hampered by the widely held belief that she was a rug muncher!!
Now, either the library was closed or the producers of "Flo - The Movie" just conveniently chose to ignore this basic information. No doubt they thought that the story of a pig ugly dyke with a penchant for first aid was not the stuff of great box office. Instead, they decided to, as New Labour would have done, "sex the tale up a bit". Hence, who is chosen to play the part of walking contraceptive and apparent road accident victim Florence? Why, none other than glamour puss and all round penis-stiffener Jaclyn Smith!!!! I think the step from Charlie's Angels to historical epic could best have been termed "ambitious" for our Jaclyn (why do fucking actors insist on spelling their fucking names in a stupid, pretentious fucking way?). Her attempt at an English accent was interesting, to say the least. She ended up sounding like an Australian on day release.
As to the plot, we did occasionally catch a glimpse of Flo sticking on the odd plaster but essentially it revolved around her love affairs with a catalogue of dashing, English country gents!! Bearing in mind her actual sexual proclivities, she was more likely to have wanted to get into Queen Victoria's voluminous knickers than theirs!!
The dialogue could have ruined the utter shitenosity of this film if it had been in the least bit period but, fortunately, the scriptwriters had resorted to their tried and tested formula for all films supposedly involving England and London in particular. There were, consequently, liberal smatterings of "Aam a gud gel, I am", "Gor blimey, Gawd bless ya guv" and "Strewth, scarper. It's a rum deal an' no mistake".
All in all, this film is festering crap at its very rarest. I know it has to go some way to compare with the unparalleled penile seepage of Holiday on the Buses, the big screen version of Are You Being Served? or Titanic but it was certainly extremely entertaining.
While sticking by my assertion that utter shite is as rare as excellence, American-made historical epics are, in fact, a rich vein for true excrement because the Yanks do history so well, don't you think? Facts are not things which have ever weighed heavily on the consciences of American film makers.
The standard was, of course, set by that odious, neo-Nazi, draft dodging cunt John Wayne in The Green Berets. So you thought the Americans LOST the Vietnam War did you?........WRONG!!!!

Dwarf, alleged racist, never-heard-of-fucking-contraception, drunk superstar Mel Gibson also got his historical knickers in a knot slightly in Braveheart. Bonnie and Clyde
spectacularly failed to tell the actual story of another dwarf (played, obviously, by Warren Beatty), his uniquely ugly sidekick (who else but Faye Dunaway) and their murderous, psychotic and totally merciless rampage across the States.
For historical shite in its most refined and purulent form, however, you should really just plump for ANYTHING involving the Irish.
You know, those brave little farmers with their twiddly-diddly-dee lifestyles who are continually oppressed and savaged by the cruel Brits (NOTE for would-be directors/scriptwriters: Just try not to mention the random slaughter of women, children, pensioners, horses, Catholics as well as Protestants, rabid drug dealing, knee-cappings, punishment beatings, torture or kangaroo courts and summary executions - kinda spoils the image those fucking wankers in Boston and New York need to keep up their funding of same).
On that note, having waved a cheery goodbye to all Irish readers, John Wayne's corpse can go to Grantham but his countrymen's attempts at historical epics shall stay here - they are excellently shite.