It’s just three days to Hallowe’en, but odds are on you’ll be celebrating this strangest of festivals tonight or tomorrow. And how better to welcome in what is technically Hallowe’ene’ene’ene’en (we don’t make the linguistic rules) than by watching a scary film and drinking yourself into oblivion? You’ll need the Dutch courage when Ghostface comes knockin’…

Start yourself off with some pre-drinking as you identify the posse – that’s the mob of teens who’re due to get chased around for the next hour and a bit.

Take one sip:

When you meet the black guy who’s going down first. What can we say? Serial killers are racist.

When a girl does something slightly slutty which immediately marks her out as knife-fodder. Racist and prudish, that’s your basic serial killer.

When you clock the hard guy who’s going to meet a particularly brutal end. Buzz cut and bulging guns? That guy’s screwed.

When you think you’ve guessed who’s going to be the Final Girl. Capitals deserved there, we think – the Final Girl is such a well-worn archetype she has her own Wikipedia.

Nicely lubricated now? Right, stand back while the posse dig themselves into an early grave…

Take two sips:

Whenever some twat thinks it’s funny to grab a girl’s shoulder in the dark. Dude! Did you not get the memo re: there being a FUCKING MURDERER in your charming suburban home? Not cool.

Whenever anyone ironies themselves to death. “You stay here, I’ll be back in a minute!”. You definitely, definitely won’t.

Whenever sex > DEATH FEAR. “Sure, there’s an escaped psycho with a cleaver somewhere in the basement, but we’ve definitely got time to make out. Why don’t you take off your bra? Nobody’s here to see, and if you don’t I’ll tell everyone you’re frigid when we go back to school on Monday. What? Of course I’ll still be alive then.”

Whenever the posse passes up the opportunity to escape so they can try and kill the killer. This is so simple. Go. To. The. Fucking. Police. Station. And. Get. The. Police. To. Deal. With. It. They do have duties other than identifying you from dental records, you know…

This is serious, but now the dead wood’s been picked off the last few teens look like they might have a chance. Or do they? Unfortunately, the writers care more for their well-worn clichés than the health of their creations. Brace yourselves…

Take three sips:

Whenever a character’s torch breaks a) just before or b) just after they hear a scary noise. Things are scarier in the dark, we get that. Do you know what else is scary, guys? The standard of your writing.

Whenever a ham-fisted variation of the pathetic fallacy punches someone in the back of the head. And by ‘pathetic fallacy’, we mean ‘pathetic fallacy as understood by slasher writers’, which = ‘mist/snow/rain whenever things are SCARY, because they mean you can’t see all the SCARY which makes it SCARIER!’. If only more teens planned ahead and scheduled their sleepovers in abandoned haunted houses near derelict insane asylums when the forecast was clear and balmy…

Whenever the DEATHLY MUSIC OF DEATHY DEATH DEATH happens. If the posse could hear the score reverberating around their soon-to-be-slashed ears, the killer would never have a chance. “I tell you what, I bet the killer’s nearby.” “Why do you say that?” “Because those strings are giving me a fucking nosebleed.”

Whenever the killer appears to die, but hasn’t. How many times have you watched the slumped corpse of an antagonist slowly fill the screen in a tortuously slow zoom, only to see a finger twitch or an eye snap open? It’s just not playing fair.

Okay, here’s the deal – the killer’s apparently been put down once, but we know they’re coming back! It’s time for the endgame…

DOWN IT YOU STOCK CHARACTER:

Whenever someone just happens to have a ridiculous weapon lying around their house. How many of you have convenient machetes in the airing cupboard?

Whenever someone conveniently works out how to put a lethal dose of sizzling blue electricity (that’s definitely what it looks like) through the baddie. Do you have any idea, Hollywood, any idea at all how hard it is to actually electrocute someone with a toaster?

In fact, whenever someone who’s been totally useless throughout the film suddenly gets all handy and fashions some sort of deathtrap out of two tampons and a small piece of Edam. Alright, MacGyver, calm down and concentrate on RUNNING THE FUCK AWAY.

Whenever a bloody hand punches through the soft earth of a recently filled grave. COME ON, you guys. If you can do that gag with a jar of ashes, I’ll be impressed.

Good luck, and remember – if you go to the kitchen for another drink, TURN THE LIGHTS ON!