Written by F Rheins
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Topics: roger ebert, battle

Tuesday, 28 March 2006

image for Roger Ebert's estranged brother wants in on the act.
One Thumb Up . . . my nose if bad; my ass, if terrible.

After a decades-long commitment due to losing an adolescent battle with a virulent form of Tourette's syndrome, Roger Ebert's heretofore unheard of twin, Egbert Ebert, is out on a work release program. And he's chosen to go into the family business.
Here's his first review (He's a bit behind the times):

Bend It Like Beckham.

Let me tell you, despite vague yet keenly felt personal qualms, I was really drawn to the title. When I first got wind of it a perverse train-wreck fascination grabbed hold and wouldn't let go. Couldn't get it out of my head. And I'm not the kind of adventurer who gets thrilled to the point of lightheadedness when rare tales of social unorthodoxy get transmitted into digitized display, ripe for the plucking, to be devoured in the free-for-all environment of the home.

This was going to be something, shockingly salient, I told myself over and over, each time I checked my mailbox, anticipating that red-wrapped DVD, courtesy of good and dependable NetFlix for a price eminently reasonable.

Man, I was even more shocked by what greeted me when I slid the disc into my cheap DVD player: Denied the morbid extravaganza of penile puppetry-performed by some freak named "Beckham"-instead I was inadvertently exposed (thankfully brief) to an unfolding foreign dramedy of vile treacle. A heartwarming, prostate-inflaming and spinchter-constricting story that darkly hinted at coming themes of cultural chasms, feminine coming of age and climatic feel-goodisms, plus a whole lot of other steaming horsesh*t along the way, certainly sure to waft and then dessicate into flakes before my cheated eyes.

Well, I wasn't standing for it. Out came the disk and back into the package it went. Blatantly mistitled, Bend It Like Beckham is one to avoid.

(Unless you like deception. If so, then go and rent the Battle of the Bulge. Nowhere in that film was there anything remotely evocative, as the title teasingly suggested, about two guys rubbing their crotches against each other till one delightfully screeches No Mas, and then throws in the towel-after cleaning himself off.)

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The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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