I don’t go out much, me, what with watching as many films as I do, as well as having a complete lack of anything resembling a social life.
However, I sometimes compensate for this by imagining all sorts of dazzling social occasions I could attend with my friends from the movies. You know, my real friends, the ones who I talk to under my Clone Wars duvet at night when I’m not scribbling poems for Carrie Fisher in purple crayon.
Being a healthy lad who likes his food, I often imagine these scenarios playing out in some fancy West End restaurant. However, as I lay there one night, imagining an evening at Le Gavroche with Jason Voorhees and Mrs Bates, I thought to myself, “Hang on, I probably wouldn’t get anywhere near a dazzling social occasion with some of this lot.”
Which got me thinking: who would some of the worst dinner dates in the movies be? “Only one way to find out,” I thought.
So, imagine if you will, that it’s a bright sunny morning and you hear the postman making a delivery. You dash eagerly downstairs and find the following dinner invitations on your door mat, all embossed in golden script and all requiring an RSVP. Not sure who to choose?
Then, join me now as I retrieve my velvet evening wear from the dressing up box, dust off my dickey, and guide you through twelve dinner invitations you should probably decline.
Spoiler warning: The entries below give away plotlines about the films included, so it’s best to skip any you’ve not seen yet. A further warning might be appreciated. This is not recommended reading during nibbles at the keyboard…
Your host: John Doe
As seen in: Seven
What’s on the menu? 85 servings of a spaghetti sauce starter, followed by a spaghetti sauce main course (served with lashings of spaghetti sauce), finishing with a dessert of delicious spaghetti sauce.
Previous culinary form: As part of his life’s work, serial killing knockabout, John Doe murders an obese man who he feels represents the deadly sin of gluttony. Forcing the poor fellow to eat huge quantities of spaghetti sauce at gun point, Doe just keeps those portions coming, until his victim’s stomach literally bursts.
So, should you accept the invite? Probably not, especially if you’re prone to carrying a few excess pounds here and there. When serving, Doe simply will not take no for an answer, coming across as a more psychotic version of Mrs Doyle from Father Ted. “More spaghetti sauce? Ah, yer will. Go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on… [ad nauseam]”.
Your host: Oh Dae-Su
As seen dining in: Oldboy
What’s on the menu? Seafood (extra fresh).
Previous culinary form: Having spent 15 years imprisoned in a hotel room and then suddenly finding himself released, Oh Dae-Su wanders into a restaurant and tells the waitress that he wants to eat something that’s alive.
Before you can say, “My God, he’s not going to actually eat that live octopus, is he?!” he’s eating a live octopus, and doing so with all the refinement and restraint of a ravenous Labrador going at a bowl of porridge.
So, should you accept the invite? Well, you’re probably safe from any physical harm, so it just comes down to whether you can stomach the sight of live cephalopod molluscs on your plate.
But it’s important to note that the eating of live things in the Far East is not uncommon, so you may decide to adopt a ‘when in Rome’ attitude. Just don’t get tipsy and let him shag you back at your place, as it’ll inevitably turn out that he’s your dad.
Your host: Georgina Spica
As seen dining in: The Cook, The Thief, His Wife And Her Lover
What’s on the menu? Her lover’s knob. It’s a delicacy apparently.
Previous culinary form: Georgina has an intense affair with a bookish diner at Les Hollandais restaurant before her gangster husband, Albert, finds out and rashly threatens to murder and then eat his rival.
Albert makes good on the first part of that promise, so a distraught Georgina plans to make him go through with the second. She persuades the restaurant chef to cook her lover and, with the aid of the restaurant staff, forces the bullying Albert to take a bite before shooting him in the head.
So, should you accept the invite? She’s quite a lady, is Georgina, so you may wish to chance your arm and give this invitation a go.
Classy, refined and ruder than a funny shaped carrot, an evening with her can result in sexual ecstasy or enforced cannibalism, so take care to treat her well. And do be vigilant when offered the hors d’oeuvres, avoiding anything that looks remotely like a sausage roll.
Your hosts: Mum and Dad
As seen dining in: Mum & Dad
What’s on the menu? Never mind. Just stay away from the offal.
Previous culinary form: Mum and Dad exhibit some novel approaches to the preparation and sourcing of fresh ingredients, Dad being partial to pleasuring himself with raw liver and Mum having a fondness for making sausages from unfortunate nosy parkers who put their heads around her kitchen door.
The breakfast table in the Mum & Dad household is further enlivened with some red hot porn on the portable telly.
So, should you accept the invite? No. For one thing, the house is directly underneath the flight path of planes coming into Heathrow airport, so you won’t be able to hear yourself think, let alone engage in small talk about the difficulties of balancing the stresses of modern family life with a mass murdering lifestyle.
But, if you do insist on going, remember it’s time to call a taxi when Dad puts his dress on.
Your host: Mr Creosote
As seen dining in: Monty Python’s The Meaning Of Life
What’s on the menu? Moules marinières, pâte de foie gras, beluga caviar, eggs Benedictine, tarte de poireaux (that’s leek tart), frogs legs amandine or oeufs de caille Richard Shepherd, c’est à dire, little quails’ eggs on a bed of pureed mushrooms, and finally, a wafer thin mint.
Previous culinary form: A man with a taste for the finer things in life, Mr Creosote isn’t about to let a little thing like being stuffed stop him from sampling the complete menu at a fancy French eatery.
Making room for extra helpings by projectile vomiting over fellow diners and furnishings alike, he is finally undone when he consumes a tiny chocolate mint that causes him to explode across the entire restaurant.
So, should you accept the invite? Only a supermodel on a bender could match the pace set by Mr Creosote, so unless you’re a member of that noble profession, then be warned.
Of course, you will get the opportunity to sample some of the richest dishes known to man, so it all depends on whether you fancy doing so while wearing a Sowester.
But, if you do accept, for God’s sake, don’t offer round the After Eights at the end of the meal.
Your host: Hannibal Lecter
As seen dining in: Hannibal & Red Dragon
What’s on the menu? Sexist bosses and bad musicians.
Previous culinary form: Where to start? Notorious for serving the sweetbreads of rubbish flautist, Benjamin Raspail, to the unsuspecting directors of the Baltimore Philharmonic, Lecter really outdoes himself two decades later.
After avoiding being eaten by some wild boar sausages (or something), he rescues Clarice Starling and treats her to a sumptuous evening meal, alongside her heavily drugged boss and chief tormentor, Paul Krendler.
Exposing Krendler’s brain by sawing the top of his skull clean off, Lecter sautés the frontal lobe with some butter and shallots, then feeds it to him.
So, should you accept the invite? That all depends on whether or not the good doctor would find the world more interesting with you in it. As long as you can keep the conversation going with talk of Dante or your childhood on a sheep farm, then this should at the very least see you through to dessert.
Just don’t take a bottle of Chianti and beware boorish behaviour, as Lecter’s preference for eating the rude will see you flayed, sautéed, and dished up before you can say, “Urgh, sweetbreads?! That’s bollocks isn’t it?”
Your host: Grant Grant
As seen dining in: Slither
What’s on the menu? Meat. Lots of meat.
Previous culinary form: After embarking upon an ill-advised extra marital tryst out in some South Carolina woodland, Grant is infected by an alien parasite that causes him to develop an insatiable craving for vast quantities of raw meat. Buying in bulk, he stores it in his basement where it rots prior to consumption.
Meanwhile, Grant is gradually transformed into a slug-like mutant horror with a fondness for the music of Air Supply and Crystal Gayle.
So, should you accept the invite? If you’re a house fly,then yes, as this will be the dinner date of your dreams.
All other species should steer well clear, however, as not only will you have the stench to contend with, but it won’t be pleasant sat opposite a creature that looks like the output of a diarrhetic giant who ate too much Michael Rooker with his strawberry ice cream.
Your host: Edward Kendal Sheridan Lionheart
As seen dining in: Theatre Of Blood
What’s on the menu? Hot dog
Previous culinary form: A Shakespearian actor with a highly sensitive disposition, Lionheart is destroyed by the West End theatre critics who savage his performances. Taking his revenge on each of them by incorporating violent retributions found in Shakespeare’s plays, he force feeds the unfortunate Meredith Merridew a meat pie containing his beloved French poodles. You know, a bit like in Titus Andronicus.
So, should you accept the invite? As long as you’re not a theatre critic, you’ll be fine, but probably just as well to avoid anything that looks like creamy chunky chicken that has to be imbibed via a funnel.
Also, play it safe by massaging his ego. Tell him you loved his Lear, adored his Iago and were blown away by his Bottom.
Your host: Leatherface and family
As seen dining in: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre
What’s on the menu? You are.
Previous culinary form: Having already dispatched the rest of her friends by means of sledgehammer, meat hook and chainsaw, Leatherface and his kin bind the terrified Sally Hardesty to a chair at their dinner table.
The family torment and torture her throughout dinner before finally deciding to let wizened old Grandpa have a pop at dispatching her with his hammer.
So, should you accept the invite? This charming rural family concern provides a delightful glimpse into America’s heart of darkness.
Relaxing on furniture made of human skin and bone, the relaxed bonhomie of your hosts is only slightly soured by the feeble attempts of the family patriarch to bludgeon you over the head with a hammer, all in an attempt to have you bleed to death over a big bucket.
So, no. No, you shouldn’t.
Your host: The Maharaja of Pankot Palace
As seen dining in: Indiana Jones And The Temple of Doom
What’s on the menu? The World Wildlife Fund’s endangered species list.
Previous culinary form: The maharaja hosts a banquet that makes a bush tucker trial look like a trip to KFC. Guests are treated to roast rhinoceros beetle, eyeball soup and chilled monkey brains. Oh, and don’t forget the snake surprise.
After dinner, the maharaja uses voodoo to help force Indy to drink the blood of Kali Ma, thereby temporarily inducting him into the Thuggee death cult.
So, should you accept the invite? If you’re Indiana Jones, then, yes. In fact, if you’re Indiana Jones you can safely accept any of the invites on this list because, hey, you’re Indiana Jones.
Of course, anybody who isn’t Indiana Jones should think twice. A refusal to drink powerful hallucinogens that will compel you to sacrifice local villagers may offend your hosts, and before you can say ‘ohm numa shi vaiyay’, you’ll probably find your heart being ripped out by a barm-pot in a Jay Kay hat.
Your host: Lionel Cosgrove
As seen dining in: Braindead
What’s on the menu: It looks like jam in the custard. Is that jam in the custard? Oh, God, no. That’s not jam in the custard!
Previous culinary form: Having been bitten by a Sumatran rat monkey, Lionel’s domineering mother transforms into a pustule-ridden zombie with a hankering for the flesh of local townsfolk.
At dinner, Lionel attempts to keep his mother’s rapidly deteriorating condition hidden from their guests. Unfortunately, she takes the opportunity to squeeze pus from her scabby wrist into an unsuspecting diner’s dessert, right before one of her ears falls off into her own. Does she eat it? Of course, she does.
So, should you accept the invite? Lionel would make a quite charming dining companion, were it not for the fact it’s highly likely he’ll bring his mother along. With her rotting flesh and a face full of weeping sores, it’s fair to say that you won’t be ordering cheese and tomato pizza if you have to sit opposite Mrs Cosgrove.
All things considered, it’s probably wisest to give this meal a miss. Even if you can deal with Lionel’s mum, she’s liable to infect the other guests who, based on previous evidence, will end up indulging in wild zombie sex on the dining table.
Your host: Babs Johnson
As seen dining in: Pink Flamingos
What’s on the menu: Difficult to tell, as it’s just passed through a dog’s digestive tract.
Previous culinary form: Determined to retain her title of the filthiest person alive, Babs Johnson raises her game to unparalleled heights. Choice behaviour includes stealing a steak for her family’s dinner, then secreting it between her legs, murdering and then eating some policemen who turn up at her house and, in what can only be termed the ultimate ‘poo de grace’, the consumption of a dog turd. A real one.
So, should you accept the invite? If you need further convincing that this is one invite best left unanswered, did I mention that when shoplifting the steak she also relieves herself? Without removing it?
You should also not RSVP invites from Clapet (Delicatessen) and The Duke (Salò), as well as Nick and Lily Laemle (Parents), but that last’s a list for another day, coming soon.
Do you have other potential dinner hosts you’d like to warn fellow readers about? Add them to the Avoid List, in the comments below…
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