It does The Duke no good to relate tales of cinematic catastrophe, to review flicks which, in the fabled words of Nietzsche, "Stink like the festering dung of a scabies-riddled baboon." I'd much rather tell you all about the wonders of The Nostril Picker or Suicide Club than talk about cack-spray like The Alien What Fighted A Predator. I mean folks work hard on these things. It ain't nice when someone takes delight in tearing someone else's joy asunder.

To be all the forthcoming in Holland, when I sat down for to view the flick by the name of The Beginning Of The Exorcist, I was sure that some wretched, boil-faced hag of a film was about to assault me in various soul-molesting fashions. I imagined I would leave the place with a thousand-yard stare etched forever on my skull, like in that picture what recently got stolen from the art gallery. The one with a fella screaming that went on to, I believe, become the basis for a trio of Wes Craven pictures.

But no. Amazingly, however stacked the odds may be against it, and they were stacked like a motherfucker, is the truth of the matter, I actually, believe it or not, really enjoyed this flick about The Exorcist - All The Stuff What Happened Back In The Day.

The power of Christ compels you to sit the fuck down and pay serious attention.

The Exorcist was one of those flicks I always wanted to see as a youngster, and was never allowed to. I had to wait until I was old enough, was the harrowing reality, which in fact meant waiting until I could find a copy and then watch it without the folks knowing a damn thing about it. It was one of the Video Nasties, a flick banned for decades on account of its sheer, unrelenting terrorosity.

Actually, it was banned on account of kids might see it and get all disturbed, or it might cause them to find new ways to entertain themselves of an evening, like maybe masturbating with a crucifix and then twisting the neck around and then spitting some stomach-sauce over a priest.

On account of the BBFC, us kids in the United UK had to make do with Pogs.

Curiously enough, the two sequels were passed with nary a word. Exorcist II should, of course, have been banned, on account of the wretched shite what it turned out to be. The third one proves much too depressing an experience for The Duke to develop much of a thought about.

Cheer the hell up, George C Scott. You were in Dr. Strangelove, for Gods sakes, the best of all Kubrick's pictures.

Anyway, I finally got to see The Exorcist, and loved it dearly. Or at least, I convinced myself I loved it dearly, on account of I had spent a decade waiting to see it, and only the pinnacle of cultural achievement could justify such longing.