This is it – the end of the single most laborious series of blogs we have ever bloody produced. Dying to find out who made the grade for our Top 12 cinematic drummers? They’re all here, and whoever you’re thinking of is definitely among them (turns out nobody really likes drummers). Merry Christmas, and see you same time next year!
Pipers piping! Eleven of the buggers! We’ve had to get a little creative with this one. Along with a few lovely lady Pipers, we’re also celebrating the Christmassy goodness stuffed into Nicolas Cage’s lucky crackpipe, one of the various instruments of death found in the House of Wax, and an escape route Tim Robbins would probably like to forget. LET’S GET PIPING.
As our Christmas countdown edges into double figures and you realise that you have, what, three days left to do your shopping (don’t forget about Susan in Marketing, because you know she’ll get you something even if you’ve already done Secret Santa and it’s always awkward), what better way could there be to fritter a few minutes of our last pre-apocalypse day than by reading our tenth successive holly-draped blog about nothing much?
Three quarters of the way into our Christmas countdown, we’re relaxing our previously bird-centric attitudes to focus on the ladies who make Hollywood dainty and sweet-smelling and so on. Except for Lady Snowblood, who’s a mass murderer. And Margaret ‘Iron Lady’ Thatcher, who wore awful suits and destroyed British heavy industry more or less on a whim. And Lady, who’s a dog and reportedly spent most of her time off-camera licking her own vagina in a pile of fox shit. Ladies are unpredictable, is our point.
Can you believe that there’s only 6 days until Christmas!? Let us commiserate at the implacable march of time by considering our top 8 maids a-milking. There’s a lot of fertile subject matter here, but it’s become a little tribute to some of the most important themes of Christmas – family, togetherness, the sacrifices of a loving mother, baby Jesus and… um… Joe Pesci? Whatever. Milky maids. Let’s do it.
FINALLY! It may be only day 7 of our Christmas countdown, but we’re diving into the sherry because it’s the last of the bloody bird-related ones. Do you have any idea how hard it is to be funny about twenty-three sort-of birds over the course of a week? No wonder we’ve ended up writing about such tenuous nonsense. Still, take heart – Christmas is just a few days away and there will be maids for you tomorrow. Until then, Christmas swans ’til death!
We’re already half-way through our 12 Days of Christmas! Where has the time gone? Let’s take a GANDER (geddit?) at Best For Film’s Top 6 Geese. Are you EGGcited? OK OK no more goose puns. We couldn’t think of anymore anyway. Enjoy!
Here we are, at everyone’s favourite refrain! Let’s celebrate by considering 5 of the best “gold rings” (they’re not all gold, they’re not all rings). We here at BFF are so very kind that we scoured cinema history in order to deliver 5 shiny circles into your brain via your optic nerve. You might remember Michael Fassbender doing a similar thing to Kevin Bacon in X-Men: First Class, but we promise to be more gentle than that.
Christmas is getting closer and closer, and our 12 Days of Christmas blogs are getting better and better. Today we present Best For Film’s Top 4 Calling Birds, and we’ve really stretched the boundaries of definition to bring you some interesting presents. We’ve also fallen upon a rather fun theme for our choices, and that theme is Death. ENJOY!
On the third day of Christmas, attention is turned from the most overrated of seasonal poultry to the most unheralded; the noble hen. In the spirit of international racial equality, we open up this celebration of the pluckiest of birds to all, non-restricted by national identity. We know what you’re thinking: how could you, mere mortals that you are, Best For Film, condense the entire cinematic oeuvre of our feathered friends into only a triad? And the truth is, we couldn’t. But don’t get yourselves into a flap, the Three French Hens that we have chosen are, most definitely, something to crow about.