BOOK REVIEW: SHATNERQUAKE

Title: Shatnerquake
Author: God (using the pseudonym Jeff Burk)
UK release date: Who cares? Buy it as soon as you KHAAAAAN! (See what I did there?)



Hey, what's that sound? That's you cracking the spine on the greatest work of literature ever. And that smell? That is the fresh scent of authorly genius. And that taste? That's you licking the pages in ecstasy as you realise reading (and I use the term loosely, as this is a book you don't just read) can actually be a truly sexual act.

But what is Shatnerquake exactly? No idea. This is The No Show, so we haven't read it. But how can so many Shatners be wrong? Quite simply: they can't.

You have to read Shatnerquake. You need to read Shatnerquake. You will Shatnerquake.

1. Why is Shatnerquake (makes my hands tremble and my genitals swell just to write the word) better than Moby Dick?
More Shatner. Less Whale.

2. Why is Shatnerquake (sorry, I came a little there - pure orgasm, not ejaculate, mind) better than A Tale of Two Cities?
Fewer Cities. More Shatners.

3. Why Shatnerquake (all done now - wait, not quite.... there we go) better than the Bible?
No metaphors, no parables, just 12 Shatners fighting one Shatner. The Bible features not one single Shatner (though many in the Catholic Church still believe the Gospel according to St. Bill was removed by a vengeful priest who couldn't match Shatner's oracular brilliance and staggering thick chested magnificience).

4. Why is Shatnerquake better than One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest?
No mentals. Twelve Shatners. Nuff said.

5. Why is Shatnerquake better than you?
Unless you feature 12 Shatners in your everyday life, then Shatnerquake truly eviscerates you.

If the world ends tomorrow (and it might, depending on when you are reading this - remember the internet lasts forever), anyone who has read Shatnerquake could die smiling, with extra wood (if male) or a lovely wide-on (if lady). It's that good.

As the dust jacket says:

William Shatner?
William Shatner.
William Shatner!

Abso-Shatner-lutely.

Shatner Scale: A Godzilla-sized Kirk
Must read: For the love of God, man, Yes.

MUSIC REVIEW: "Footsteps". By Chris de Burgh. CHRIS FREAKING DE BURGH, people.

UK release date: 

I'm not going to tell you in case you decide to buy it.


Admit it: you thought he was dead.

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you thought: "Chris De Burgh - he's dead right? Tragic accident? Involving a gardening implement? Maybe a shovel? Or a lawn mower? Didn't his monobrow crawl down and throttle him?"

But you'd be wrong.

This whole time, Chris de Burgh has been quietly, persistently making music. WITHOUT SUPERVISION. OR RESTRAINT.

Someone has to do something.

This is the man who inflicted "Lady in Red" on an unsuspecting world, a song so creepy it could be the song of choice for serial killers while acting out their most terrible fantasies*, as they force their victims to wear a red dress and strap them to their killing table** all the while singing the song over and over in an ominous falsetto*** .

And now he has the TEMERITY to release a collection of HIS intepretation of what HE considers "pop classics" including, but not limited to "Africa" by Toto and "American Pie" by Don McLean.

Why doesn't he just visit each and every one of us personally and drive a blunt ice pick through our ears?**** Why waste time with the formality of recording and releasing such cruel and unusual torture? How can such a monster be allowed to continue?

I'll tell you why. Wedding reception DJs. That's why.

Because the loved-up idiots at something like 98% of all wedding receptions insist on playing "Lady in Red", in the mistaken belief that it's a celebration of some lovely woman and not the grim voiceover to an unwanted living autopsy***** - and DJs agree to do it. Which means they have to have a copy of the song in their aresenal. Which prompts moronic guests at these weddings to buy their own copies, particularly the older folks who don't understand that all music is secretly free if you just know where to look online.******

All of this keeps the money flowing into De Burgh's soft woolen cardigan pockets and maintains the illusion that he has something worthwhile to contribute to music like fucking interpretations of "American fucking Pie" by Don fucking McLean.

And it doesn't stop with the "music". Even the album cover art gives me the creeps.

Apparently, Chris De Burgh is living on his own planet and observing the Earth, like some demented monobrowed alien. Possibly preparing for invasion. A frightening, invisible monobrow invasion.

What's more, he is so twisted that he recorded introductory videos, from deep in his Interplanetary Lair of Woolen Cruelty, that explain why and how he went about choosing this material of evil. He explains the origins of his musical footsteps of evil, which began in his clearly traumatic childhood before he was sent to public boarding school when he and his parents moved into a CASTLE. This was a tragic castle where there was no heat, no water and most tragic of all, NO TV. And they had to become FARMERS. Before they turned it into a small HOTEL! A fucking CASTLE HOTEL. Jesus.

"Many of the songs on Footsteps started right here," says the diabolical genius. If only the scientists had spent a little less time perfecting the internet and turned their attention to something more important, like time travel, we could go back and stop the madness before it begins. If only.

The day the music died, indeed. It is gruesome and vile. And it must be stopped.


* Probably. I have no data to back this up. It's just a feeling.
** Just one possible example. Not all serial killers have the same MO.
*** Speculation. Some serial killers may have lovely singing voices.
**** Satire. This is not an invitation to Mr De Burgh or anyone to stab anyone else with anything.
***** Conjecture. Not all serial killers gut their victims. For some, the killing itself is the end of the madness; there is no particular inclination to explore further. Instead of slicing and dicing, for example, some serial killers may sit down for a good cry. Or wank. It depends.
****** These are the same people who insist on playing "I Will Always Love You" at wedding receptions - completely failing to realise that it's a song about two people who DON'T GET TOGETHER. Morons.

FILM REVIEW: 17 Again

UK Release Date: 10 April 2009
Starring: Zac Efron (orange teen) and Matthew Perry (orange adult)

OK, full disclosure: even though I haven't seen this film (per The No Show rules), I have seen this film. Everybody has seen this film. There are isolated tribes hidden deep in the jungles of South America who, if asked for the plot of this film, would say, "Oh yeah dude, isn't that the one where this orange dude becomes a younger orange dude version of himself in a desperate quest to rediscover his inner orange dude self that used to be cool and then learns lots of life lessons and totally gets the orange girl and has awesome orange hair?"

Then they would totally shoot you with a poisonous dart before taking away your orange Golden Idol and giving it to Belloq (the French bastard).

But there are two things they will not tell you about this film and these are them:

First, the main dude character in this film, both as an adult and as a teenager and then as an adult again, is totally and completely orange both on screen and off.

Second - and this is the really important bit: we are supposed to believe that Matthew Perry - yes, the chunky orange one from the endlessly repeating TV "classic" Friends - actually looked like Zac Efron when he was 17. (And in case you're older than 14, Zac is the pretty orange girl from the High School Musicals films.)

THIS IS RIDICULOUS. EVEN BY HOLLYWOOD STANDARDS.

I can accept that John Travolta and Nicolas Cage switched faces and recovered in like five minutes in Face/Off. Twice. I can accept that a team involving Bruce Willis, Ben Affleck and Owen Wilson saved the world from an asteroid by being sent into space by Billy Bob Thornton on a military space shuttle in Armageddon. I can even accept the idea of Madonna as actress in Evita.

But my belief suspenders officially snap at the idea of Matthew Perry once looking anything even slightly resembling Zac Efron.

The reasons for this are threefold:

1. Matthew Perry is an old man and Zan Efron is clearly a pretty, young girl. Very flat-chested admittedly, and a bit boyish in her clothing choices, but a girl nonetheless. It's too big a gap for my brain to cross.

2. Matthew Perry looks like someone grabbed his head and inserted it up a cow's ass, twisted it around and then popped it back out, before leaving him out in the sun to dry for several weeks. His skin is loose and a bit floppy like a hunting dog's and it may one day actually reach the ground. His hair is a weird mix of really dry and really greasy. His clothes always look like they may have fit him once, but a long time ago when he was either fatter or thinner. Zac Efron, meanwhile, is a pretty, young, well dressed girl.

3. Matthew Perry is... nope, I've got nothing. Read 1 and 2 above. It's that simple. Matthew Perry and Zac Efron. The same person. Totally ridiculous. Like having Morgan Freeman paying an older version of Scarlett Johansson. Painted orange.

GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER HOLLYWOOD, NOBODY'S BUYING IT.

Shatner Scale: Quincy cameo.
Must hear: No. For the love of God, no.

FILM REVIEW: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Undead

UK Release date: Not soon enough

Starring: A bunch of people and featuring RALPH MACCHIO

Ok, here's the deal: not only have we not seen this film, as far as I know they haven't even finished making it yet.

Here's what we do know so far, via IMDB.com:

"Julian Marsh is an out of work ladies' man who lands a job directing a bizarre adaptation of Hamlet. After casting his best friend and his ex-girlfriend in the show, Julian finds himself in the middle of a two thousand year old conspiracy that explains the connection between Shakespeare, the Holy Grail and some seriously sexy vampires. It turns out that the play was actually written by a master vampire name Theo Horace and it's up to Julian to recover the Grail in order to reverse the vampire's curse... If only being undead wasn't so much God-damned fun!"

Sexy vampires, Shakespeare, more sexy vampires - do we really need to say more? And in case you think we do need to say more, we will only say this one thing more: Ralph Macchio.

What's that you say? Ralph "Karate Kid" "Wax On Wax Off" Macchio? Oh yes.

Verdict? Awesome.



All it needs to make it perfect is the ghost of Pat Morita. They can do that in film these days you know. I'm thinking of an Obi Wan glowing-in-the-background-and-looking-strangely-heavier-than-he-did-before-he-died kinda thing.

Seriously, I don't know what's taking them so long. Just finish it already dammit! While we're waiting, enjoy the trailer (Ralph Macchio's about 3/4 of the way through. He still looks freakishly young. Maybe he's a vampire.)

*Photo courtesy the internet. Not sure who holds the copyright and we'll dump it if it's a problem, but we're pretty sure it's promotional and falls under the definition of Fair Use or something.

UPDATE: PLEASE WATCH THIS TOO IT'S GLORIOUS

FILM REVIEW: Watchmen

UK Release Date: 6 March 2009
Starring: Billy Crudup, Jackie Earle Haley and a whole bunch of future ComiCon attendees

As with everything else on this site, and per the Second Rule* of The No Show, we have not seen Watchmen.

In the interests of full disclosure, however, we have to admit that we have read the comic books [Ed's note: To anyone about to say something, it is a comic book not a graphic novel, so shut it].

We both have copies of the original series (though mine sit in a box somewhere in my parents' basement 3,500 miles from here and are probably covered in crayon scribbles by my nephews because NO-ONE in my ENTIRE FAMILY understands the REAL value of collectibles. *Sheesh*).

We also both know the story involves this superhero owl guy, and another superhero guy with a black and white mask, and a big, kind of Silver Surfer ripoff type character. And a guy who looks like he welcomes new guests as they arrive in Vegas (and possibly stands in for Siegfried and/or Roy on their off days). And even a couple of relatively well rounded female characters too. Right?

Anyway, we read the thing and vaguely remember the plot.

So there's that out of the way, yeah? Great, on with the review:

Watchmen is going to be awesome.

There, done. You can go ahead and move on to something else now, we're done here.

No, seriously. It will be. Guaranteed. It has to be. Wil Wheaton said so. Twice. On TWITTER no less.

And the fact is that it better be awesome. Because if it's not, somebody's going to have to pay. Expectations are so freaking high for this thing that the fansboys and girls will be throwing themselves under passing buses in protest if even one iota of not awesome appears on screen. (Probably one of those Atheist buses too. Just for the irony.)

Remember: this is the comic book that gave birth to this whole interweb thingy. Or at least, it's the thing that got their mojo going. Right after porn, Watchmen is like the next thing on the list of things that made the internet thing popular really fast.

No but SRSLY it's for true: back in 1986, when the comics came out and everyone was all "Whoa like totally AWESUM" (that's how they spoke back then), rumours started circulating about a film version. At that exact moment, the finishing touches were being put on Internet 1.0. Next thing you know, the Web is born and everyone's all over it and asking "So like when is the Watchmen film happening bcuz it R so cool?" when not surfing for porn.

This was of course before everything got taken over by losers trolls and people with a disturbing fascination for cats. (Seriously, what the HELL is up with all the cats on here?)

By the time the actual film was finally put together by a team of magic elves working feverishly for months on end in a secret cave in North Hollywood, and following several trumped up very very important lawsuits (always a good sign on a film production), the interwebs had evolved to the point where celebrities were using l33tspeak well-known internet abbreviations in casual conversation to express their excitement at the film's inevitable awesomeness:

And so now, with the film rising on the horizon like some great big glowing thing peeking out from behind the glowing greatness of President Obama's Presidential Halo of Power, we are left with only one possible outcome: awesomeness.

Watchmen will be awesome.

It will not be slightly disappointing. It will not be just "OK" or "not bad". It will not not quite live up the comics, the ones we haven't read for 20 years but seem to recall really really liking for reasons we can't quite remember (something about it being "really real" and not having a happy ending). It will also not be so buried in CGI that we forget we're watching a live action film, nor will it be ruined by excessively wooden acting performed by actors whose names we won't remember after the credits role, names that if we could remember, we would then forever curse because they were so wooden.

And it will definitely not be yet another absolutely piss-poor piece of shit big screen adaptation of Alan Moore's work, like V for Vendetta, From Hell and The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. They were just flukes.

No, Watchmen will be AWESOME.

Or it will be the worst thing in the history of cinema.

Because when it comes to Watchmen, there's nothing in between.

(And Twitter will fail due to overcapacity either way, of course.)

UPDATE: The Quietus thinks "[director] Jack Snyder has taken one of the greatest comic books ever published, and made the the single worst comic book movie ever to see daylight. Batman And Robin was Apocalypse Now compared to this."

UPDATE: The Motion/Capture review says "Zack Snyder's 'Watchmen' is a profound work of art, a beautiful, deliriously weird, meditative spin on a genre that is as American as jazz."

So there you go: The No Show - your one-stop shop for accurate reviews.

* For reference, the First Rule of The No Show is: Don't touch yourself in public, if at all possible.

Photos: Owl by Dr. Tarak N Khan/Some rights reserved; Who watches the watchmen grafitti by David Masters/Some rights reserved.