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X-Men movies finally as incomprehensible as the comics

THE seventh X-Men film is as bewildering and nonsensical as its source material, it has been confirmed.

X-Men: Days of Future Past features two different timelines, three Wolverines, eight Magnetos, a parallel universe and five alternate futures.

Cinemagoer Nikki Hollis said: “I was completely lost from five minutes in, and I’ve had a migraine for the last three days. Is this why comics fans shun the light?”

Comics blogger Tom Booker said: “You don’t read the X-Men – or X-Factor, or X-Force, or Excalibur, this shit never ends – because you enjoy them.

“You read in the hope that one day you’ll understand who these characters are and what they’re trying to achieve, and then you’ll be able to stop. But you never will.”

Producer Tom Logan said: “By being true to the comics, we’ve made films that you have to see twice at the cinema and six times on DVD even to begin to follow.

“Our next movie introduces Cable, Cyclops’s son with a clone of Jean Grey who was raised by a cult in a dystopian alternate future led by his half-sister from a different dystopian alternate future and infected with a techno-organic virus before travelling to the present day to fight his evil clone Stryfe.

“It’s the kind of classic story we can all relate to.”

Richard Littlejohn’s Lost World of Bollocks

AT the end of the Fifties, my dad was promoted by British Railways to Peterborough, which, luckily for us, was a town in Britain.

My new school, West Town Children Building, was in the same town where our house was, thank goodness. We’d walk there and back, using just our British feet, with my younger sister being British in her pram.

It took a good 20 minutes because we did not have a yummy mummy and a 4×4. But we didn’t complain because complaining was against the law and punishable by having to live in a loud and colourful neighbourhood.

The school was made of purpose-built bricks and had doors where you could go in and out, mostly without being felt-up by some pervert.

The walls were half-tiled, like public toilets but without the phone numbers of promiscuous homosexuals.

I can’t remember a time the school was ever closed. It was even open during the night, when it would be used vigorously by Enoch Powell.

I have memories of trudging through thick snow to school in just a pair of wet woollen gloves attached to a really lovely piece of string my uncle had smuggled out of Dresden.

I’ll never forget that string and all the British things we did together.

Meanwhile, we’d never heard of halal and whenever anyone mentioned it, we’d run as fast we could into Woolworths and hide behind the largest woman in the shop…

Richard Littlejohn’s Lost World of Bollocks is now available for people who shout at the news.

 

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