Anyway, I'm supposed to be talking about The Muppet Christmas Carol, by far the best reason yet for this fucking depressing monthly realisation that we muppets aren't the world's greatest filmmakers. Until now I was going to suggest we should all be mothballed or turned into dusters for all the joy we've inflicted on cinema audiences, but fortunately we saved our pathetic furry assholes with not just the best muppet film yet, but one of the best Christmas movies ever, and if anyone disagrees with that you can kick 'em in the baubles with compliments from me.
Me with that unbearable twat Bunsen. I had the cameraman
fired for incorrectly focusing this shot on Johnny No-Eyes.
A tiny percentage of the credit should probably go to Charles Dickens for writing a structurally flawless story in the first place, and it doesn't hurt that for once the songs aren't utter shitballs. Even Gonzo doesn't fuck it up this time - his totes meta narrating gig might disappear up his own Gonzhole but at least it's bloody funny. However it's clear who the stars of the show are: me, obviously, and my old pal Sir Michael Fucking Caine.
Nice hat. If you like looking like a cock with
a rolled-up johnny perched on the end.
Mike rules this film like a boss, and between him, Dickens and me, we created movie gold. It was my idea to hand him my scarf at the end - he wasn't sure, but I said "Listen up, shitbrick. This is the emotional core of the whole fucking film. You might not have a clue what you're doing but I know my shit, so take the fucking scarf and try not to hang yourself with it." In the end he saw that I was right and repaid me by sending a few of his female fans my way. They were knocking on a bit but you learn a lot from the older birds.
So, yeah. Very good. Well done us. Now fuck off will you, I'm trying to watch Muppet Treasure Island.
Beaker out x