So, it takes an episode in a silly TV series to make me think that maybe James Marsters isn’t so annoying after all. Life can be strange sometimes.
This is an interesting case of the media tie-in being superior to the crappy movie that “inspired” it. Not that it is good, it’s just that the movie is far worse.
Ah, those randy English boys and their hind play. And bless those nerds who still take time to do the squats and push-ups too.
The moral of the story is, if you are going to kill your husband for money, kill the brat too or you will really regret not doing so.
The most terrifying thing about this dud is how much of a failure it is as a horror movie.