TACP is proud to welcome Robert the Reviewer to our team of ace reporters. He is joining us from Edinburgh, Scotland where he’s worked as a media critic for several years. He was recently let go from his position as Ace Media Critic at the Edinburgh Times after it was discovered he’d actually never seen any of the movies he reviewed or read any of the books he critiqued. He simply parroted what he heard others say about whatever it was he was reviewing or flat-out made up a review based on something entirely unrelated. Well, we here at TACP admire he’s gusto and his brogue, so we hired him to review movies and books for our readers and have encouraged him NOT to see or read them before hand. In a society filled with people who rarely bother with details, like checking the facts before expounding on a topic about which they clearly know nothing, we feel his brand of criticism will be refreshing and welcome. And now, without further ado, I give you, Robert the Reviewer with his review of the film “Twelve Years a Slave.”
“Hello there, laddies and lassies. This ‘ere ’tis me fine review fer “12 Years a Bloody Slave”. What a ‘orrlble place it ’tis ta be in, bein’ a slave ta some o’ter man. It reminds me ov da time I twas huntin’ a farrgin’ Haggis beastie wit me very own laddie, Robert Jr, who’s a wee bit ov a faggy sissy boy, but I tries ta luv ’em anyways. We was standin’ on top da moors of Edinburgh, waitin’ fer dat faggy Haggis beastie ta leap from its den so’s we could kill ’em ‘n eat ’em. When alls ov a sudden, he leaps o’ us fro’ behind ‘n knocks us out. I came back ta me senses to da sound ov me faggy, girlie man son cry’in like a babe fer ‘is mommy. “Shut up, ya farggin’ faggy boy!” I tellz ’em. “Ya kin act like a farggin’ man, or I’ll kills ya me damn self, ya farrgin’ faggy boy, ya! We’z got ta plan a way out o’ dis Haggis den or we’ll wind up as Haggis food.”
Well, dat shut me girlie man son up long enough fer me ta reach da double barrel shot-gun I’s alway’s keep’s stuffed up me arse when I goes Haggis huntin’. Me Da’ taught me dat trick, and it saved me life ‘n the life of me faggy boy son dat day we was slaves ta dat Haggis. I also blew da ‘ead right off dat Haggis dat day wit me shot-gun. Shot da bastard as ‘e was stickin’ ‘is ugly Haggis tongue out at me. ‘Den I went ‘ome wit it, beat me wife fer havin’ such a faggy girly man fer a son, an’ den we craved dat Haggis, fried ’em, ‘n ate dat enslavin’ bastard right up. To conclude, indeed, “12 Years a Bloody Slave” would ne’ be a thing I’d wish on me own faggy son, ken.” So eat yer Haggis, and stay away from der dens if’n ye’d rather not spend 12 years a bloody slave ta one. Dis ‘ere ‘as been Robert the Reviewer, an’ I’m sayin’ so long ’til next time. ‘Bye.