Powered By Square1.io
12 Angry Men
I say that I think the fella might not be guilty; a lot of the evidence just doesn’t make sense to me. I start to explain why but I get the feeling that everybody is just politely waiting for me to finish. One of the angry jurors is staring at me. I go red and trail off into silence. The boy is found guilty and dies in the electric chair.
Ilsa doesn’t notice me when she arrives at the club because people don’t remember me. The club is failing because I lack the entrepreneurial spirit to be a small business owner in a time of war. Also, I’m terrible at reading social cues and never realised that I should have been bribing people to keep me safe so I’m dead and/or in jail.
I spend my vast inherited fortune on Pringles and graphic tees. My Rosebud is a 12″ Shaun Of The Dead figurine.
I get the fuck out of LA after Roman Polanski slices my nose open. I never say a word out loud to anybody about the things I learned but my Water Deals & Incest Goss Whatsapp group is legendary.
Everything that happens to eight-year old Tim happens to me, a thirty-one-year old man, even though I’ve seen Jurassic Park fifteen times and should know better.
High Fidelity remains essentially unchanged except the existence of rap music is acknowledged by the characters.
The Shawshank Redemption
I ask for new posters all the time but I’m not planning an escape I just like to make my cell nice.
The Dark Knight
“Oh no The Joker got away!” I exclaim halfheartedly after our first encounter because I’m scared of clowns. I decide that a better use of my Wayne Enterprises fortune is to build a device that allows me to break the fourth wall and track down Zack Snyder and place him on an island far, far away from the offices of DC Comics.
I turn up to the restaurant ready for the revenge. I excuse myself to go to the toilet and retrieve my gun. I check Twitter while I’m in the cubicle, Kanye has said something controversial. I spend so long trying to think of something clever to tweet about Kanye that my enemies come to check on me and discover me absent-mindedly holding a gun. They shoot me dead.
120 minutes of me psyching myself up to punch Brad Pitt but I never actually do it.
The Usual Suspects
Agent Kujan begins to suspect that something is up when everybody I mention is called Timothy Chair from Tabletown, Illinois.
The Godfather II
There is no Godfather II because I am dead.