Having a 'no turning' sign in the drive, and other ways people are pricks about their houses

DO you think an Englishman’s home is his castle? If so you may well be a wanker who adds stupid, self-important accessories to your dwelling. Like these.

A ‘no turning’ sign in the drive

Is your drive made of priceless paintings for some reason? Might someone pulling into it set off a pressure-controlled bomb? No? Then what is the problem with a stranger occasionally using it to do a three-point turn, you miserable bastard?

Putting up high fences so you aren’t overlooked

Given that we live on a tiny island with a population of 67 million people, you’re going to struggle to not have some of them living quite close to you. Nonetheless, stop them seeing in by building some huge, ugly fences that block out the view, as well as next door. What are you doing in there, making porn films as your alter-ego ‘Max Bigschlong’? Nope, just mowing the lawn.

Install a massive automatic security gate

Do you regularly need to prevent a tank smashing its way onto your front lawn? Get one of these intimidating gates that looks as though it may be bullet and shell-proof. If anything it suggests ‘Come and rob me of all my valuables’, but you live in a such a modest suburban house any sensible thief will just think you have delusions of grandeur. Which you do. 

Putting a traffic cone on ‘your’ parking space in the road

If your life is so small and sad that your main preoccupation is being able to park directly outside your house, you need to have a serious word with yourself. It’s bad enough if you stick your wheelie bin in the space, but if you’ve gone to the lengths it takes to get hold of a traffic cone, you are in ‘twat’ territory.

Having an aggressive dog in the garden

It’s good to add an ever-present genuine danger to a normal road. Your psychotic beast tries to savage everyone from meter readers to the hapless sod trying to deliver all those Amazon packages you order. What makes the decision even weirder is that no one ever wants to visit you now. Although that may be related to you generally being a wanker.

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Batgirl, and other signs Hollywood might need to think of a new idea

WITH Warner Bros canning its upcoming Batgirl film amid rumours that it’s incredibly bad, perhaps it’s time Hollywood stopped shitting out the same old franchises? Just a thought.

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Soon, probably by about 2025, every single character who has featured in a Star Wars film for even a single second is going to have their own spin-off. Remember Elan Sleazebaggano in Attack of the Clones? No? We thought not, and yes, that is the character’s name. He’s the guy selling ‘death sticks’ in a club. He could have his own series. A whole series of him selling fags.

Ghostbusters: Afterlife

Considering how hated the dogshit remake in 2016 was, it takes a stunning lack of creativity to go back to the same idea. So that’s what Hollywood did. And we got the less bad Ghostbusters: Afterlife, but it’s still pathetic. This franchise is like the prick at a bar who just won’t take a hint to piss off. And that prick is Dan Ackroyd telling you about his brand of vodka. 


A franchise so continually rebooted that future generations will identify themselves based on who played Spider-Man when they were growing up. Were you a Tobey Maguire type, or a Tom Holland guy? Or an Andrew Garfield fan, or a Nicholas Hammond purist who only watches the 1977 TV series? The actual story is now so convoluted the only person who will understand it will be one solitary uber-geek who is Professor of Spideyology at MIT.

Planet of the Apes

Integral to the appeal of the original movie was the shock reveal that the film was taking place on Earth. Without that, the new slew of films have basically turned into a nightmarish David Attenborough documentary, with monkeys and humans ferociously trying to kick seven shades of shite out of one another.


The original Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory was a surreal fever dream, loved and feared by millions. Tim Burton’s remake, starring cocaine enthusiast Johnny Depp, belongs in a bin. Now there’s going to be a musical origin story starring Timothee Chalamet. What audience was clamouring to find out about the troubled childhood of a mentally ill, slave-owning chocolatier? 


Like a sort of shit Halley’s Comet, one of these seems to come around every 20 years. Sadly, instead of knocking it on the head after 68 years, Hollywood thinks the latest effects will overcome the minimal story. Development meetings must entirely consist of: ‘Let’s see how much more realistically we can now depict a big prick of a lizard kicking over some office blocks. Again.’