I was unaware of the Fat Slags strip in Viz magazine, though I knew of the magazine. It was a few years before my time, really, so I had no fan-based motivation for liking it. It should also be established that I very much appreciate silly/gross-out humour, so there was no reason for me not to like it, right? In theory, that's absolutely correct, but what materialised before me was so far from humourous that I feared my face may disappear into my shoulders from cringing.
Sandra and Tracey (I don't know which is which) are two fat slags living on Shit Street somewhere up north. They are randomly selected by post to appear on a guest spot of a talk show entitled 'Why are tarts up North so fat?' This title, and what it really says about the North when you can randomly select suitable candidates for such a show successfully, were pretty much the only amusing elements I detected in this still-too-long-at-75-mins shitheap.
Following a blow to the head, megatime businessman Sean Cooley (Jerry O'Connell - oh Vern, you've let yourself down) sees the show during a meeting and becomes obsessed with the Fat Slags, promising he will make them the next big thing. Perhaps ten years ago, before the Reality TV thing had really taken off, this would have seemed like a terrible premise. But now, in the era of the Kardashians, and strings of promiscuous, air-headed ugly 'businesspeople' from Essex and Newcastle and Chelsea, it is really nothing out of the ordinary. I shudder at the thought of people who actually aspire to be like these brainless morons, when there are great artists, philosophers and scientists to admire.
I really needn't say more on the plot; it's been done to death by many a movie nearly as bad as this. It made me think of the abominable Keith Lemon: The Film. But the Slags are even more dislikable than Lemon. They are loud, obnoxious, and exhibitionist about their various bodily functions. They are so over the top with their fart gags, with their shit gags, that it is well and truly repugnant. It definitely takes something special, like American Pie or There's Something About Mary to pull off a genuinely funny bodily fluid joke. Although many loved it, I was thoroughly repulsed by the scenario in Bridesmaids. Yes, maybe it's that I just don't like to see women degrade themselves with such trash. I don't want to get sucked into some sexism row, but I just can't watch women do toilet humour. It grosses me out, and not in a good way.
The fat suits are terrible, the tits are waaaaay too perky to be on these two, and I don't like either of them at all. I especially dislike the dark-haired one (Sandra? Tracey? I dunno), whose whiny voice regularly breaks into a really irritating growl-type thing. The 'plot' is a fucking insult, the appearance of the wonderful Anthony Head makes me weep for his dignity, and the terrible role written for Geri Halliwell (and a couple of her terrible solo tracks) makes me hate my favourite Spice, which is just not acceptable.
Oh, I forgot the only other funny thing. A subplot involving two slimy Northern guys hitching rides back home when they are detained by Immigration, who spend considerable time trying to figure out which far off country the incomprehensible men are from, before shipping them off to Afghanistan. I would by far have preferred a movie about these fellas.
This movie is so shockingly bad I can't even begin to express it. I cannot believe that professional film makers, with decent resumes, never looked at the forceful geiser of shit spewing in front of their cameras and decided that perhaps they should, in the words of Juno MacGuff, 'nip it in the bud before it gets worse'. Surely Jerry O'Connell, who I fondly remember as little chubster Vern in Rob Reiner's Stand By Me, must be ashamed. He is so much better than this. I am glad to see this movie firmly cemented in IMDb's Bottom 100. It belongs there, and only because you can't abort a living movie.
