Home / Lessons The Duke Learned From “Shaun Of The Dead”

Lessons The Duke Learned From “Shaun Of The Dead”

Please Share...Print this pageTweet about this on TwitterShare on Facebook0Share on Google+0Pin on Pinterest0Share on Tumblr0Share on StumbleUpon0Share on Reddit0Email this to someone

At the minute, I feel kinda empty is all. If you know me, you know why, and if you don’t, I’m just gonna suggest that I might be listening to Idiot Wind, but I might skip half-way through to If You See Her Say Hello, because these things are painful to listen to, which is why I got the record on repeat. No big thing. I just don’t like writing the motherfucking words is all.

What I noticed a long time ago, when watching Shaun Of The Dead, is that there’s a scene in there that summed up every damn fucked up thing going on in the World De Duke, every decision I had to make and yet, fuck it, man, I ain’t gonna be making that shit. You can make that decision, is what. I’m gonna sit right here and will the words from off your tongue. Ain’t no way I’m gonna be doing it, even though it makes sense. Even though it’s the way forward and so on, the way forward that still feels like twenty foot back, but anyhow.

I’m sure some of you folks have seen the brilliant Shaun Of The Dead (one of The Duke’s Best of 2004, don’t you know?), but maybe there’s some who haven’t, or maybe some of you have it ordered via one of those internet services where they give you the films as quick as you can watch them. Kazaa, I think it’s called.

So what I won’t do is spoil it.

What occurs in the scene in question, is that a character has to point a rifle at the head of another character, someone very close to Character A, someone Character A would defend with their life, and yet, tragically, someone who’s just became a fucked-up zombie beast wanting nothing but to scoop the guts from out a fella’s gut-box.

The thing is, though, Character A knows that Character B has long since gone. This fucking thing moaning and all blue-eyed and growling, that’s not Character B. The fuck resemblance does it even bear? Hardly any. You’d be forgiven for thinking it was a Character D or Y, so little does it look like B.

But it looks just enough like Character B to ensure that Character A can’t pull that trigger. For sure, this thing’ll devour us, rip our intestines half-way cross the damn carpet, take chunks out our necks and poke at our twitching eyes. But all A can see is B. Fuck the groaning and the moaning and the devouring. A just can’t shoot B in the damn head.

What The Duke deduced, was that this scene spoke volumes about the situation into which I was rudely flung, with not one motherfucker asking my opinion.

The old Relationship thing, the old ring-on-the-finger and such, it had become corrupted and infested with diabolical no-goodery, but I couldn’t bear to look at that shit. All I saw was my reason for even shaving (and, at one point, growing a hilarious goatee) for the last four years. That’s all I wanted to see. I don’t care if it’s a fucking zombie, that’s still Character B.

It wasn’t what it had been a year, a fucking month previous. It was a hideous, scowling gut-fiend that would tear not only my good self limb from limb (and I assure you, a fella don’t get to be as prolific with the motherfucks when a couple arms are missing from the set), but would also destroy the person whom The Duke may have been in awe of since as far back as he probably cares to remember. Some might even allege that The Duke would have happily succumbed to said torso-desecration, but, it has been assumed, the thought that the other person involved in the situation might have to suffer a similar agony was beyond anything he most likely cares to even think about.

If nobody pulled the trigger, things were gonna get incredibly ugly, censor-baitingly vicious. For sure, you can pull a fella’s legs off, but he can go get some of those ones that are made out of steel. Fuck enough with a fella’s head, race around in there long enough causing no end of zombie carnage, and the damage ain’t so easily rectified.

So what we, the collective Character A had to do, was to point the rifle and through gritted teeth pull the motherfucking trigger.

And all a fella can do is sit on his knees amidst all that brain-gunk and hope somebody with a camera shows up, since really, it’s quite an iconic image.

The Duke resides at Mondo Irlando where you can Hear His Miserable Bastard Whining

Fling The Duke An Electronical Email

Powered by

About The Duke

  • I once knew a happy couple who drifted off to ‘ship wreck over a stranger in a car randoming running over their puppy. So, it’s not all zombies for whatever that means.