If someone, somewhere has been searching for a horror comedy about middle-aged male strippers encountering an ancient witch, this one's for you. The ahem members of the troupe, Wet Dreams, are booked in for a gig in Essex at a strangely deserted working men's club. Then something stirs.....
The set-up is fine, a sub-plot about stripper Alan's attempts to reconnect with his estranged daughter Daisy emerging as all hell breaks loose. There are some laughs and a bit of gore. It's all good fun. Oh, and Peter Andre turns up in a ludicrous wig for no discernible reason.
The gender politics are harder to determine. Is this meant to be a reversal of the age-old premise of hot young strippers being imperiled? Most of Wet Dreams have seen better days and the lads spend most of the film clad only in tiny glittery shorts. Then there are the witches, in multiple. Is witchcraft inherently bad? Not clear. There is quite an ugly scene toward the end that rather ruined the viewing experience, as Alan suddenly steps up to take action, urged on by his mate Deano.
Ah, yes, Deano. So, Deano has an interesting anatomical feature only revealed right toward the end. Is this meant to be a joke? Is the whole film a health film in disguise? Not clear. A bit of a dampener, one might say.
"It's cock-a-clock!" one character announces. If that appeals, this is your film.
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