It was in so many ways the very pinnacle of grindhouse cinema, miraculously combining ridiculously low production values, crass content, violence and sex all over the place, into something that was simultaneously impossible to watch, and impossible to look away from. Yep, Zombie Strippers was a special kind of film. Now I’m sure you can all imagine how much of a work of genius this is, but if I’m being brutally honest, I had had enough alcohol that the only scene I really remember in it was a memorable piece of cinema where, in the middle of a fight, one of the zombie strippers discovered that her more powerful undead body meant she could shove pool balls into her unmentionables to turn herself into a human cannon. About Zombie Strippers (capitalised because that’s the actual name of the film as well). Okay, perhaps not such a classic story, but it was a story.

Freddy Krueger, Robert Englund, himself, and was a classic tale about a man who owned a strip club whose workers can all been turned into zombies. One night after a lot of alcohol ( digression: why do I have so many stories that start like that…?), I switched on the TV just in time to catch one of those late night movies that are designed specifically to appeal to people on a serious beer bender. I would like to start this review with a story.

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