I was forced to go to the moving pictures last night to see the horror that is Harry Potter. I was determined not to enjoy it, as having moaned about it but never actually experienced it, I couldn't be seen to go back on myself. I needn't've worried. It was rubbish.
For a start, no one I know can go that fast on a broom without succumbing to horrendous wind chill burns. And what's with those wands? How on earth do they manage to contain all that thaumatalurgical energy? Mine can barely hold enough to displace a small car (although it is a very old design). And lastly, who in their right minds would allow children access to such power. They can barely hold in their hormones, never mind anything else!
- muffled thump... slurp -
Bugger! Those bloody kids are back. Hang on...
- scrape... "Clear off. It's not made of cake, you know" ... bang... "ow"... screeeech... lick, lick, lick "urgh"... "fuck off"... "I heard that!"... Zzzzap! -
There. That's got rid of them!
Now I've got no time left to resume the recitation of what happened on Hallowe'en, never mind my rant about Harry Potter. Bloody kids. Actually, it's mostly my fault. I should never have left that stone cladding up that looks like gingerbread...