The first rule of a successful spoof is ensuring audiences know the original material, so why the makers of this puerile, borderline-misogynistic, flatulence-obsessed pastiche of
actively alienate and vilify Twi-hards is anyone’s guess.
Equally bemusing is why Twi-haters over the age of 15 might find any of the low-rent, tired bodily function humour funny (no line of dialogue knowingly delivered without ‘vagina’ in it, characters mistaking menstrual blood for ketchup, witless TMZ references, farting in
And then there’s Danny Trejo soiling his pants for laughs. Like its title then, a stinky, shitty waste product. Flush.