...and I Bought A Vampire Motorcycle staggers all over that line like a drunk with his shoelaces tied together. Some 'bad' films are quite enjoyable (like Norman J.Warren's Inseminoid), some 'bad' films are just bad (like Kent Bateman's Headless Eyes), but 'bad' films that try and do the post-modernist thing of being knowingly bad should always be approached with extreme caution. A lot of people think Troma's Terror Firmer is a bad-taste masterpiece, for example, but I'm guessing anyone over the age of nineteen will shrug it off as worthless dreck. Then there's John Carpenter's Dark Star. Yes, it's quaint, and certainly a product of its time, but as a film it's only two notches above worthless. This no-budget British black comedy-horror outing tries to achieve a satirical tone, with its endless references to its fellow shoestring splatter flicks (among them Psychomania, Horror Hospital and pretty much anything by Pete Walker), but due to dismal performances by second-string TV actors (the leading lady looks like Amy Winehouse), a script that appears to have been written on the back of a peeled beermat by two 'lads' with no understanding of how film comedy works, Dean Friedman's (intentionally?) dire elevator-rock soundtrack and production values never rising above mediocre, the net result is a film that can only be laughed AT, rather than WITH. If your idea of whoopee is anthropomorphic turds, Chinese takeaways called Fu King and references to long-forgotten TV ads, you'll enjoy this one, but don't expect too much.