An embarrassing mess of zany movement and occasional loud clonks

Guest House Paradiso, then; a movie I bought for £1 at the local flea market, and which left me feeling ripped off for the entire pound. What started as a tired sequence of set pieces within the world's dreariest set (I'm sure that was the point, but still), involving Rik Mayall with his shirt tucked into his underpants (again), fighting aimlessly and endlessly with a vaguely embarrassed-looking (as well he should be, as the director) Adrian Edmondson whilst Bill Nighy watched on redundantly, morphed into an extended scene featuring a heavy-handed Vincent Cassel (what was he thinking??) attempting to rape his new "bride" whilst awaiting delivery of some prostitutes he'd ordered, and finally collapsed into a new nadir for cinema with a pea-green-soup puke-a-thon (starring Cassel, Simon Pegg and Fenella Fielding amongst others), with said substance filling rooms and corridors alike. I watched the "Making Of" featurette afterwards, and Rik Mayall explained that he and Adrian (the co-writers of this ****) had so many good ideas for the script that the initial read-through ran at almost three-and-a-half hours, forcing them to condense the gags down to "just the very best" ones. Jesus Christ, a puerile 8-man orgy of cartoon-style vomitus taking up at least the last 15 minutes of the film was one of the "very best" gags? Even judging that sequence by its own disgusting standards, it's…

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