New here? This is blog number 9 in a series reviewing the no-budget, no talent, no clue film, Dickshark.

You need to start at the beginning to find out what’s happened so far. Although, in fairness, the first sentence of this post tells you 98% of what you need to know.

We left part 8 with Colin dragging a length of chain through the woods, while tragically-raped-to-death-by-a-giant-mutant/stuffed-spider Vanna danced in her underwear.

Colin thrashes at the ground with a chain, then claws at it with his bare hands, before some graveyard shots and then, finally, Colin getting into a lake with one end of the chain draped over his shoulder and the other end fixed to a breeze-block.

As we see his hand slide beneath the surface we realise this was Colin suicide, unable as he was to cope with the loss of Vanna, the love of his life.

Amazingly this is probably the best scene of the film. Sure, Colin overacts it a bit, but at least he was acting – an entirely new tack for Dickshark.

If I was being picky – like really picky – I’d only offer two minor changes:

1. While the song, Death is so Final, may seem appropriate, thematically, having it sung by someone who’d just bet you a pint he could sing a heavy metal song whilst gargling mouth-wash was distracting.
2. Don’t have Colin hump the statues in the graveyard.

Having lost Colin (and his presumably red-raw knob) we return to Bill, who’s with his ex-girlfriend, Jill, who we saw briefly way back in part 7. Jill has lost, in no particular order:

• Any doubts she had about getting physical with Bill again
• Her bikini top

Bill and Jill break off their embrace – which causes the music to suddenly, and I mean really suddenly, stop – and have a conversation about Colin.

I’m well passed sick of Bill’s nonsense, so it’s good that Jill does most of the talking. Jill is worried that something in Colin’s files will incriminate Bill and urges him to break into Colin’s apartment and look for incriminating evidence.

Bill says he’s determined to “succeed on the side of caution”, because “too many people err on the side of caution, and it teaches people to be careless”, then falls over. I have no idea why. I don’t think Jill knows why either, because it prompts a laugh – the only genuine piece of emotion we’ve seen from her. In fact the only point in this scene where it didn’t come across that she was reading from a hastily written cue-card, being held 3 inches in front of her.

Unexpectedly Bill seems to have succeeded on the side of caution, and has found Colin’s video will.

With video recording and viewing technology now being so ubiquitous I can understand the desire to make your will not just the divvying up of your worldly goods, but also a keepsake for your family, a memento of the person you were in a life, a window into your soul into which they can look for the rest of their lives, seeking a connection with you.

Those are all good reasons to make your opening line, “Would it be too much to ask to have a bigger dick?”

Colin, we learn, was blighted not only with a small dick, but with one that worked intermittently or not at all.

Having hooked his nearest and dearest he goes on to lament the killing of sharks to manufacture bogus anti-cancer medication.

“Sharks don’t have bone structure. Humans have bone structure!” he earnestly tells what he must have assumed would be a room of black-robed mourners, who came to find out who gets his bike, but are now avoiding eye-contact like their own lives depended on it.

Colin then confesses that he ate parts of the dickshark, because he believed that it would make his own organ larger. Again, not sure I’d want that to become the immortalised memory of me that I leave for my children.

“Eat, sleep, piss, shit,” he says, describing the emptiness of his life, as kids, dog-walkers and random people walk by in the background of the park bench he’s sitting on (and where, judging by the light, he’s been sat for at least 48 hours).

He ends – without having said even a word about who gets his CD collection – with a declaration that he’s decided to commit suicide and we cut to a waterfall.

Which is where Dickshark 10 will commence, 1 hour and 57 minutes into this film.

As an aside, if you’ve fallen in love with Dickshark then official t-shirts are now available. The director, Bill Zebub, has followed Lucas’ example and kept the merchandising rights to himself, so if you want a shirt you have to e-mail him directly…just like Lucas.

The review continues here