The Firm
Adam Hutcheson
The following in no way condones sitting alone in cinemas with erections. (that seemed strange to pluralise)
It was meant to be an erection. An extended throbbing highlight reel of
Football Factory and The Buisness. Lubed up with hilariously
indecipherable cockney-isms. Loosely gripped around a ‘should he
shouldn’t he’ plot shaft for stamina. Climaxing with shocking, deep,
and instant regret. Still, sitting there coated in guilt, a lot of men
would find a much sought sense of simple satisfaction.
Instead it felt the pressure. It felt immature. It felt like something Nick
Love had created previous to Football Factory. It felt like the pitch
for Football Factory and The Buisness before it was split into two
decent films It almost happened for a second when the
banging-on-all-cylinders secretary almost gets some of her kit off. But
it did’t, she moved, it flopped. It was embarassing. I walked
sheepishly away feeling confused and deflated.
Ironically ‘The Firm’ seemed like a floppy cock. NOT the stonking hard on of alpha
male, sports related, brutish mob mentality that not got us into bed in
the first place. Important to note I said bed. Bed not cinema.
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