I feel the film 27 Dresses is such a cleverly written, under appreciated gem that I have written a new tag line for it in the hope of bringing it to a wider audience:
“SHE was a pathetic drippy spineless wedding-obsessed gawping shiny gob on a stick; HE was a smug, deceitful, shit-eating sociopathic doucheturd; HER BOSS was a limp-haired beige cardboard mockery of humanity; HER SISTER was a vapid blow-dried cock-mental two-dimensional simpering div; HER BEST FRIEND was a grating waxy slate-faced carping satchel of veal. TOGETHER, they were a group of disgusting insufferable unrealistic hateful shit fucking cunt bastards who deserved to be folded in half and chucked into a hole full of twitchy land mines, jagged metal, four day old gravy, cold tea bags, pus, razor blades, the grease from decomposing corpses, dirty socks, overpowered electric cattle prods, the bodily fluids of every seagull on Earth, one million tons of plutonium and a stink bomb.”
Should you ever watch 27 Dresses I’m sure you’ll agree that I’ve captured the spirit of the film in a pithy and accurate manner.
