Why I hate Baz Luhrmann

I hate Baz Luhrmann.
He's a go-getting, overachieving tuxedoed wanker
flouncing and flaunting and poncing and preening
about the globe
flogging himself and his flatulent films
like Jenny Craig on heat.
Flog, flog, flog, what's that sound?
That's the sound of Baz promoting himself
and his film Moulin Rouge.
Moulin Rouge is the worst film ever made,
a pile of mouldering poo.
I haven't seen it but I know it exists,
Baz told me so, over and over again
he told me about his film Moulin Rouge,
before it came he told me about it,
when it was here he told me about it
and now it's gone he's telling me about it still.

Baz Luhrmann makes horrible films
and has even more horrible haircuts.
I've seen him and his haircuts
self-promoting at the speed of light,
polishing Hollywood knobs,
salivating because Spielberg once
offered him a wiener at a c***tail party.
I hate Baz Luhrmann
I hate his name and his face and
his films and his haircuts.

I hate his film Romeo and Juliet.
I haven't seen it but I know it's the
second worse film ever made,
after Moulin Rouge ...
Speaking of which,
Nicole Kidman s**** me too.
I hate her red hair and pixie nose
and milky skin and her domination of
the infotainment trash press and all that
sweet-girl-next-door-done-wrong-by-
wicked-old-Tom-Hollywood-sob-story bulls***.
But the main point is
I hate Baz Luhrmann.
Did I mention his hair?
I hated his grey bouffant
and now I hate his new Beatles cut even more,
and all that shining golden boy bulls***.

Baz Luhrmann is a cinematic spastic bowel,
a festering canker on the face of
cinematic integrity,
an affectation laden globe-trotting fop,
a candy coated clown
churning out flatulent pop pap
for suckers that makes Ken Done
look like Michaelangelo.

Baz Luhrmann would skin his granny for an Oscar,
Baz Luhrmann would slither naked over a
football field of broken syringes for an Oscar,
but Baz Luhrmann didn't get nominated for an Oscar
and I'm glad.
Baz Luhrmann should be stung up in a public square
and beaten with a rusty rake,
he should be staked naked over an anthill
and have honey poured over his genitals.

Baz Luhrmann is a national pest
like the prickly pear and Cane Toad
and should be eradicated.
Imagine a plague of Baz Luhrmann's,
relentlessly overachieving pests,
droning on and on about themselves,
infesting cupboards and pop-up toasters
and television sets.

Baz Luhrmann must be stopped.
And while we're at it
let's string up that pony-tailed toss-pot Scott Hicks.
Shine my arse, Hicks,
you couldn't direct a stream of piss
straight into a toilet bowl,
you're a no-talent hack.
Hearts in Atlantis -
misty-screened nostalgic, sentimental
treacly yankee malarky.
I haven't seen it but I know it's bad,
the third worse film ever made,
after Moulin Rouge and Romeo and Juliet.

But the point is I hate Baz Luhrmann.
I'm sick of the hardworking-creative-savvy-
networking-haughty-Auteur-vision thing
that is "Baz."
Baz the brandname,
Baz the marketing tool,
Baz the tool.
I'd rather watch my pets get cremated than
watch a Baz Lurrhman film.
I'd rather watch my toilet overflow
than suffer through one of his bloated
indulgent pieces of bilge,
I'd rather stick hot pins through my eye
than see another Baz Luhrmann interview
or read another Baz Luhrmann profile.
Baz Luhrmann should be wrapped in barbed wire
and fed to lobsters.

I trust you will consider this, my application
for the position of chief ABC film critic,
very seriously,
yours sincerely

Tug Dumbly c

who the hell has realplayer anyway?