I wouldn’t say that ‘Sucker Punch’ is terrible, but I’ll use similes and metaphors that heavily imply it

This zeppelin, full of film-making skills, sadly crashed on its way to the 'Sucker Punch' set, and the crew had to go without

“Now I’m no history expert – I’m merely a fan – but I’m fairly certain there were no slow-motion upskirt moments during the Battle of the Somme.”

Blindfolded and semi-conscious, I recently stumbled into HMV and picked up a DVD. I threw my money at what I hoped was a staff member and went home to watch it. Unfortunately, I’d just purchased the 2011 film Sucker Punch.

If, say, Michael Caine came up to me in the street and asked me to summarise Sucker Punch in a single sentence, I suppose I’d offer the following collection of words:

“Well, Michael, if a coked-up adolescent Sigmund Freud made a fairly simple tribute to Fight Club, Inception, Kill Bill, and Mean Girls, Sucker Punch would be it.”

bread&crows at the BRIT Awards, 8PM GMT

We’re live-tweeting the BRIT Awards ceremony from 8PM GMT tonight. Follow @breadandcrows for our shaky coverage.

As some of you possibly know, we – the bread&crows time and space wasters – provided a live commentary of the BAFTA ceremony on Twitter a few days ago. Spewing out approximately twelve idiotic tweets per second, we soon found ourselves colliding with the frankly fascist update limit, and the commentary came to an abrupt end.

We didn’t take this to be a metaphor, though, oh no. In fact, we grew rather enamoured with the idea of being stupid and ignorant on Twitter for hours at a time. It made us feel like celebrities.

So, to distract ourselves from the harsh realities of modern existence, and to selflessly provide you, our dearest reader, with a bit of “five star entertainment” (bread&crows, 2012), we will be taking to Twitter TONIGHT, at 8 o’clock, to narrate the BRIT Awards.

Settle down with your telly and your Twitter, and expect your screen to fill with leagues of unnecessarily cruel, snide, and mocking remarks about various talented artists (by which I mean expect the BRIT nominees to harshly criticise us).

Bring an umbrella.

twitter.com/breadandcrows

Bitesize Review: Lush Toothy Tabs

Chris Jackson cleans his teeth, but not his fingernails, with tablets – but do they actually work?

I like Lush. Lush are a nice company. If you’re not aware of them, Lush are a chain of shops that specialise in fresh and organic handmade cosmetic products, promoting the use of vegetarian ingredients, and only sticking things that are actually needed into their goods. You won’t find preservatives in seventy percent of their products and their packaging is always recyclable, whilst often being made from recycled material itself.

I remember when I was younger I hated even walking past their shops because the smell of all the soap made my nose block up, but my sense of smell must have adapted because I can now walk into their stores and spend at least five minutes in there. Five whole minutes.

Recently, I’ve noticed a growing trend among their products – more and more items are appearing in solid form. A block of shampoo. Solid deodorant. Hard hand cream. Apparently, it’s to save on packaging and to squash more product into less space, but it’s almost as though the shop-owners have an obsessive compulsive disorder, insistent that everything they stock is a solid block. Don’t get me wrong, though. I don’t think this is a bad thing. I like Lush, remember?

On my last visit, I stumbled upon ‘Toothy Tabs‘ – toothpaste in tablet form.

Bobby Kotick on Valentine’s Day

“I wish people didn’t hate me so much,” laments Activision Blizzard’s Bobby Kotick on Valentine’s Day.

02/14/2011, 10am

To my dearest of diaries,

Today is Valentine’s Day! I just love Valentine’s Day, because that’s a lovely thing to love, right?

I caught the eye of Cassandra from PR again. I’m certain that Cassandra and I will engage in pubic relations soon. I left a cheeky Call of Duty-branded card on her desk. The words on the front were great! It said, “I want to Prestige your heart.” Ha! There was a picture of Captain Price holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a live grenade in the other.

bread&crows at the BAFTAs – the highlights

bread&crows’ official BAFTA host application, written as stupidly as possible; a few of the things we tweeted whilst watching the British Academy Film Awards.

Hello, dearest reader (you are our favourite).

As you may or may not know, the bread&crows campaign to physically capsize Twitter during the BAFTA ceremony failed, and the website, with all of its 140-character passengers, remained afloat. We did, however, manage to spout a few bullets of liquid wit; by which I mean we did some tweets.

Sure, we lost a couple of followers – perhaps we even drove them to insanity – but it wasn’t all in vain.

The producer of BAFTA-nominated comedy Black Pond, Sarah Brocklehurst, was targeted by one of David Rattigan’s bread&crows outbursts, in which he announced his terrifying plan to marry the poor woman based on the aesthetic value of her last name.

Fortunately, when Brocklehurst came across the proposal, she wasn’t deterred, and proceeded to read through and actively enjoy our coverage of the awards ceremony. She even tweeted to her 590-or-so followers about bread&crows. Well done us, I think. This must be how Edmund Hillary felt on reaching the tip of Earth’s party hat back in 1953.

Anyway, here are a few of the more coherent things we said last night whilst watching the British Academy Film Awards.

bread&crows at the BAFTAs, 9PM GMT

We’re live-tweeting the BAFTA ceremony at 9PM GMT tonight. Follow @breadandcrows for our shaky coverage.

For years, the British Academy Film Awards, as hosted by the British Academy of Film and Television Arts (BAFTA), has been the victim of an existential dent. Right there, on its left shin, do you see? The shin of the BAFTA awards ceremony has been hideously bruised due to a subtle lack of something more; a lack of beauty, a lack of intelligence.

But no longer.

Observe as we, the bread&crows gaggle, set fire to Twitter in a storm of BAFTA-focused tweets, punching out the dent in its shin and bringing a crown of glory to its previously flawed head.

By which I mean we’ll be doing a running commentary of the ceremony over at twitter.com/breadandcrows. Join us.

Expect comedy, confusion, and idiots.

Imagine that you’re Niko Bellic

Niko Bellic, Hallowe'en 2008, dressed as Barry Chuckle

Watch as we brazenly advertise our social networking outlets using the medium of Grand Theft Auto IV.

Imagine for a moment that you’re Grand Theft Auto IV protagonist, Niko Bellic, but with a better haircut. It’s an average day in Liberty City. You’re squinting at a fuzzy computer screen. There’s an ominous itchy sensation in your bulging Bulgarian ball sack.

A ringing cell fractures the silence. It’s your cousin, Roman.

“Wanna go bowling!” he spurts. “Beeg American titties!”

You utter one of voice actor Michael Hollick’s various pre-recorded responses.

“No way, Roman. Pees orff.”

You crush the phone like a brownie between your teeth.

A collection of white and yellow words ping into view, accompanied by the noise of a sneezing metal bird.

Roman wants you to follow twitter.com/breadandcrows

“I said pees orff!” you groan. “Don’t you know what ‘pees orff’ means?”

You ignore the prompt and continue glaring at the glaring screen. More words.

Roman wants you to follow breadandcrows.tumblr.com

“I want to pierce Roman’s tongue with a metal coathanger, cut off his ears using the hands of a grandfather clock, and throw his limp, aching body off a bridge,” you think aloud, “or whatever it is that angry Eastern Europeans do to their annoying cousins.”

Roman wants you to like facebook.com/breadandcrows

After several moments’ hesitation, an irate blood vessel protruding from your skull, you follow Roman’s instructions.

You are ripped from your seat by an explosion of air, your eyes seared by a great white flash. Hundreds and thousands of in-game trophies and achievements crash through the ceiling, smashing and splintering by your feet. By simply embracing bread&crows’ expansive social networking empire, you instantly complete Grand Theft Auto IV, as well as every other Grand Theft Auto game, including unreleased Grand Theft Auto V, and Crazy Frog Racer, for some reason. Gene Wilder bounds into the room.

“You’ve won, Niko!” he yells. “You’ve won! You did it! You’ve won!”

And so, my friends, imagine for a moment that you’re Grand Theft Auto IV protagonist, Niko Bellic, but with a better haircut. Do what must be done.

Twitter | Tumblr | Facebook

Video game review – LittleBigPlanet 2 Muppets Premium Level Kit; AKA Fandom of the Et Cetera

“It’s time to fund your virtual wallet! It’s time to buy the downloadable content! It’s time to meet the sackbots with appropriate Muppets-themed costumes on the Muppets Premium Level Kit at the time in which you are able to play said downloadable content!” – A discarded theme song for the most recent LittleBigPlanet 2 level kit

Jamie Breeze takes a look at LittleBigPlanet 2′s most spectacular performance yet, featuring the Muppets.

First things first, if you’re looking for a definite answer to “Should I buy this lovely, cheap, exciting collection of levels, trophies, pins, decorations, stickers, costume bits, and an all-round enthralling, awarding, and enjoyable experience?” then… yes, you should. I’m not going to lie; the new Muppets pack for LittleBigPlanet 2 is, without a single grain of doubt, my favourite level kit from the entire archive of downloadable content in the history of video games. The only real Muppets here are those caught up in their own tentativeness about exchanging such a pitifully small amount of coinage for this marvellous surfeit of Muppet-y love.  Since you’re reading on, I’m going to assume you are also indecisive about this whole “buying things” malarkey.  Let me enlighten you, you eager, unlit torch of initial cynicism.

Noel Edmonds’ Luxury Communism

Another Deal or No Deal episode succumbs to one of Noel Edmonds’ historical fantasies.

Episode 1 – With Cannons

Shelf o’clock in the morning. Old grandmother clock, looming in the hallway like a cuboid oak soldier, strikes eggshells. Somewhere in Salisbury, a violin whines for its pension. But not here. Here whines Noel Edmonds.

He lies on his golden mattress like a beached blonde whale, crying into an unfortunate pillow. A photograph of Richard Branson’s facial hair is Blu-tacked to the violet wallpaper above his bed, and a small but biologically accurate leviathan writhes on the carpet, aghast at Noel’s distress.

“Noel, what bothers you?” it hisses.

Helga Rantrunska, a Russian prostitute on Omegle

From Russia with love; a Russian prostitute in erotic conversation on popular chat website, Omegle.com.

Helga Rantrunska is a close friend of mine, and coincidentally a twenty-two year old female prostitute. She was born in Stripagrad, Russia, a smoky vagrant town six miles east of Moscow, daughter to a violent lemonade salesman and Lady Communism. Helga continues to live in the town, now routinely auctioning her flesh at the infamous Magnitogawp brothel. It is said that Stalin frequented the brothel as a revolutionary, supposedly contributing the slogan, “Don’t be a red square, comrade!”

The following is a genuine conservation from the popular chat website Omegle.com, accidentally saved to my laptop by Helga in a fit of frenzied love-making. A word of warning: it’s a bit rude. It’s not safe for work, as they say. It’s not safe for anywhere, really.