Friday Drinking Game #18 – Jaws
Following last weekend’s nautical adventures, matters maritime have been very much on our minds – and whilst getting pissed to Master and Commander might be fun, it’s clearly going to be a poor man’s getting pissed to Jaws. All together now, what sort of boat are we going to need? That’s right. And it’s going to be full of rum.
Take one sip…
Whenever a mannequin gets terribly mutilated. Won’t someone please think of the Autons?
Whenever something gratuitously un-sharky happens to make the audience lower its guard immediately before the shark kicks off. Seriously, whose idea was singing Show Me The Way to Go Home?
Whenever Richard Dreyfuss does anything at all. What an absolute don – Dreyfus was the blueprint for two generations of obligatory owlish experts.
Take two sips…
Whenever local government spokespeople make really, really dreadful decisions. Yeah, closing the beaches will be bad for business. Nearly as bad as HAVING ALL YOUR TOURISTS EATEN.
Whenever the props department got a bit silly with the red food colouring. Nobody bleeds that much!
Whenever someone comes up with an improbably inventive anti-shark device. Harpoons with floaty floaty barrels attached? Poisoned spears? Exploding gas tanks? Much more of this and we’ll need Batman’s Shark Repellent…
Take three sips…
Whenever the theme tune happens. Take this rule with you into everyday life and carry a hipflask emblazoned with a shark for all those times that idiots hum it at you.
Whenever you catch yourself looking for Kelly Brook. Amity’s all very well, but where’s the naked underwater lesbian ballet?
When you finally realise why there are so many massively suspenseful ‘ooh, where’s the shark?’ moments. It’s not an oblique homage to Hitchcock, Spielberg’s mecha-sharks were totally shit. True say.
CHUG AND GET OUT OF THE WATER!
Whenever anyone needs a bigger boat. Clue: everyone always needs a bigger boat.