For the nineteenth successive week, the greatest warriors of the mighty word-army which defends Best For Film Towers from ignorance, poor journalism and Peter Bradshaw have abandoned their posts and left the walls unguarded to gather in the Great Hall for a council of war. The enemy is not Iraq, Terror, Drugs or even HeyUGuys – it is the misery which strikes at the human heart when an Orange Wednesday ticket is wasted on a poor choice. They ask for nothing in return, and they do it all for you.

While legions of Britons celebrated the monarchical nuptials via half-price champers ‘n cucumber-sandwiched exercises in vicariousness, April 29th saw a dissenting faction hanging with the real royalty – in an evening enchanted by torture-porn vignettes, the virtues of Driller Killer(s) and a good ol’ 70s creepshow…

One minute you’re basking in rapturous applause, gratefully clasping the most coveted of all tiny golden men, and the next, well, you’re teaming up with Ashton Kutcher for yet another kooky road comedy. We explore the terrifying curse of the Best Actress Oscar, and pay homage to those poor souls struck down…

Shane Black. Does this name mean something to you? If it doesn’t, then make it your business to brush up on this witty American writer, director, producer and all round king of blockbuster action movies. Come closer children and sample our lovely Cheat Sheet….

It’s summer time and with it comes lots of French people, live action anime, beautiful documentaries, college kids doing what they do, screechy high school girls, fighting pandas and much much more. Excited? I know I am.

Since little Saoirse Ronan has come out all freckled and hard as nails in Hanna, it got us thinking about other kick-ass girl tweens that could give Bruce lee a good hiding. You don’t want to mess with any of these chicks. Not that you would. They’re not even real, man.

For the last few weeks the Monday Mash-Up has lain dormant, like a horse with chronic pleurisy and a bad hoof – throughout the land there has resounded a wailing and gnashing of teeth as the children of Israel (amongst others) found themselves bereft of idiotic Photoshop distractions at the start of the working week. Well, NO MORE! We’re back, baby, and we’ve got enough copypasta for everyone.

Guess what?! Seven days have gone by since your last film related paralytic coma and now it’s time for another! Yay! If you haven’t quite recovered yet don’t worry, there’s nothing like the old hair of the dog to make your liver go numb and completely forget it’s working overtime to try and fix the damage you did to it one week ago. Sit back bottle in hand (don’t bother finding a glass, you won’t be needing it) enjoy a good ol’ flick, then lose any memory of ever watching it.

Another Friday, another needlessly aggressive exploration of a divisive subject. This week in the firing line is the lanky king of arrogantly verbose titillation: Russell Brand.

Sometimes it’s not all about the box office. Sometimes it’s not even all about film festivals and Cannes. Sometimes it’s about the glory of hobby film making, of quirky scripting and dragging uni friends to a lighthouse thingy to create a real-life Miyazaki-flavoured oddity. God bless ‘Mildly Interesting Films’!