Trashed elbow

To my stark horror, I saw an advert in a magazine this evening for "Daredevil: the director's cut." I say "stark horror" because the theatrical release of Daredevil sucked so badly that, when I put it in the DVD player and pressed "play", everything in the room was noisily vacuumed into the machines disc slot and I had to wait in there for three hours before Mike got back from work and prised me out with a screwdriver.

Daredevil was absolute toilet: a seemingly interminable montage of Nickelback and Evanescence songs over some extremely poor acting, in no way substantiated by anything approaching a storyline.

As far as making a director's cut goes, I recommend the following course of action:

• Get a VHS copy of Daredevil and a piece of sellotape.


• Wait until a decent movie (Spiderman, X-men, the Hulk) is on the idiot box.


• Sellotape over the record-protection slot on the video cassette.


• Video the film over Daredevil.


• Rejoice.

Whilst I'm on this subject, I think it's worth mentioning the one movie that was even worse than Daredevil.

I refer of course to Underworld.

Now, how a movie whose central premise is urban warfare between vampires and werewolves could be anything other than brilliant is beyond me, but somehow the creators of Underworld managed to ensure that this was the case.

Like the bit where a vampire caps one of the werewolves with the new secret weapon (a gun that fires bullets filled with silver nitrate), then comes out with the amazingly pithy line: "Silver nitrate- I'll bet you weren't expecting that."

I mean seriously, come on.

I hereby apologise unreservedly to Mr Alastair Evans for my suggestion that we should go to the cinema to see that one. Next time, you choose.