I’m sure that the first thing that springs into people’s minds when they see Armageddon is why did they shoot a deep core drilling team into space? Why not train astronauts to bore a hole into an asteroid? After all, these people are among the most intelligent, most disciplined, most skilled individuals on the planet. But the film tells us that drilling is an art. Apparently boring a hole into a rock would be too much for a bunch of scientists and pilots.

The real answer is that Michael Bay and Jerry Bruckheimer despise astronauts and what they represent. They represent education and all the evils that come with it. You know, things like patience, dedication and coolness under pressure. Real men work hard and play hard. They don’t do their job quietly and methodically. Hell, you get a bunch of astronauts to blow up an asteroid and you’d probably fall asleep at the lack of Star Wars references. They’re a bunch of boring pussies.

The drillers are supposed to be a bunch of everymen. They’re supposed to be guys that you can identify with. But would you want a bunch of regular guys trying to save the planet? I think if an asteroid were to hit us that I’d want exceptional people to rescue us. I wouldn’t want to entrust my life and the life of the planet to Joe the plumber or a guy called Harry who drills for oil.

The first time we see Harry (Bruce Willis), he’s hitting golf balls at a Greenpeace boat. Take that you fucking dickless liberals! How dare you care about the planet! How dare you criticise the American right to rape the shit out of the Earth! If it were up to you we’d all be speaking Russian and riding oxen to work, you pinko turds.

To illustrate what a great guy Harry is, he tries to shoot a man who sleeps with his daughter. That’s real mature. I mean, did you expect her to remain pure forever? Did you think that she was always going to be yours? Well, Harry seems to think that way. So much so that the very idea that she’d have sex with a man makes him break out in a jealous rage.

But in Harry’s defence, his daughter does sleep with Ben Affleck. I mean, if you had a daughter and she slept with Ben Affleck, you’d get a gun out as well, wouldn’t you?

The other ‘heroes’ of the film are the usual ridiculous ragtag bunch. You have Steve Buscemi as a sex-obsessed joker, Owen Wilson as a cowboy type, Will Patton as an estranged father, Michael Clarke Duncan as a dumb black man and some fatso who doesn’t really do much. They’re among the most unlikeable group of guys you can imagine. Well, they’re unlikable if you’re a smarmy, godless communist. If you’re an honest, salt of the earth, beer-swilling redneck, you’ll probably think they’re swell. I mean, heroes who only save the world so that they can stop paying tax? U.S.A! U.S.A!

The first time a piece of asteroid hits the planet, it hits New York. What a surprise, eh? And so therefore the damage only extends to tourists, liberals and some ethnic minorities. No big loss. But then NASA learns that a bigger asteroid is heading for them and that some decent people might get killed. This news that a global killer is heading for the planet leads to hushed mutterings of, ‘My god’.

Michael Bay’s handling of non-white folks is always precious and he outdoes himself in this movie. Near the beginning we see a motor-mouthed black man riding a bicycle with an ugly dog inside. Why, I’m not quite sure. But the man is an idiot and then proceeds to have an argument with another silly NWP*. Oh those crazy minorities. The stuff they get up to. Needless to say they get hit by a piece of asteroid, the useless fuckers.

Then about two scenes later we have a cartoonish Asian businessman turn up. He’s all smiles and speaks in a funny accent. And then when the drillers strike oil, he gives the thumbs up and says, ‘You’re the man Harry!’ as he drips black gold all over his suit.

But most heinous of all, you have Michael Clarke Duncan. He’s a big, muscular bozo who does what he’s told and who doesn’t have a brain cell in his head. Therefore he’s the good kind of black man. He’s the grateful kind who takes orders well and who won’t fuck Harry’s daughter. He’s also a fucking baby. During a psych test he begins crying and says that he’d like a hug. Awww, the silly black man. I’m sure some fried chicken and watermelon will calm those nerves of yours.

We also have some marvellous hatred of the French. I mean, Bay doesn’t just come out and say, ‘Don’t those smelly, cheese-eating surrender monkeys suck miles of cock?’ but he does have Paris annihilated. From the viewpoint of the gargoyle on Notre Dame we see the city get obliterated. And is there any real comment on this? Is there an expression of sadness at the fact that one of the most beautiful cities in the world has been destroyed? Nope. It’s hardly mentioned. After all, Paris is hardly Omaha or Mobile or Dallas. The destruction of those fine cities would maybe warrant tears, but a few frogs getting vaporized is an insignificant footnote.

When the film’s not trying to be offensive, it’s trying to make you puke. The romance between Affleck and Liv Tyler seems to represent the way of life the drillers are trying to preserve. But this is a man who wants to stuff crackers down his girlfriend’s knickers and this is a couple that smooches in a rocket booster. If they’re a symbol of life on Earth then let the asteroid hit and wipe us from existence.

We also have to listen to the President make a speech as clichéd shots of various nations flash across the screen. It’s like Michael Bay’s sole exposure to the world comes through Michael Jackson videos and Benneton commercials. The French sit at cafes, Asians eat endless noodles, Indians sit by the Taj Mahal (of course) and good old Americans gather round in antique automobiles. Bay’s view of the world is so infantile it beggars belief.

But wouldn’t you know it, it takes a few good Americans to preserve this way of life. A few good roughnecks.

The drillers are in space for like ten seconds before shit starts blowing up – a space station gets destroyed and a shuttle then gets hit by a piece of asteroid. This leads us to one of Michael Bay’s trademarks – men falling to their knees in slow-motion and muttering ‘My god’ as all hope seems lost. But this time it’s better. This time Billy Bob Thorton does it after dropping a NASA mug. Must Bay do this in every film? Isn’t there any other way of communicating deep despair?

After the shuttle crash the astronauts proceed to fart about on an asteroid that looks curiously like the Fortress of Solitude, and an asteroid that seems to have the same gravity as Earth…but only when the script calls for it. When the script wants things to go haywire people fly into space with reckless abandon, but for the most part, they’re fine.

One of the occasions where some convenient gravity comes into play is when Ben Affleck decides to jump a canyon in a space vehicle called The Armadillo. At first it seems like they haven’t got a chance of jumping it, but wouldn’t you know it, the normal gravity stops for a while and they fly over it with ease.

Speaking of the Armadillo, why the hell has it got a mini-gun on it? Are they expecting to encounter aliens or Muslims up there, or even Muslim aliens? What’s the point? Oh yeah, I forgot. It’s so that Affleck can conveniently blast his way out of a fix and so that Steve Buscemi’s character can go nuts.

‘He’s got space dementia!’ Yes, that’s how Buscemi’s madness is described when he decides it would be a great idea to try and blow the asteroid up with a mini-gun. And I thought it was just a Muse song.

Another line that had me scratching my head was, ‘I blew the tranny.’ Do they have trannies in space and how would the blowing work in a vaccum? Oh, he means the transmission. My mistake…

One of the most awful scenes occurs when one of the shuttle’s pilots is being choked out by Harry. You see, the nuclear bomb that’s going to destroy the asteroid is going to be remotely detonated by the government wanktoids on Earth. Of course Harry wants to stop this. Annoyingly, though, the pilot wants to follow orders. But this is a Michael Bay movie. People don’t follow orders here. They go by gut instinct. And so Harry decides to choke the guy. And would you believe it, with 60 seconds left to go before the bomb detonates, Harry manages to choke the guy, convince him that he’s wrong and get the guy to recover from his choking and disarm the bomb. In 60 seconds! Honestly, the guy is being choked and can hardly breath and in the next shot he’s on his feet disarming the bomb. He didn’t even have to get tools. They just magically appear in his hand.

Another awful scene is when Affleck draws the short straw. You see, the bomb can no longer be remotely detonated, so someone is going to have to detonate it by hand. This responsibility falls to Affleck. But before he can do it, Harry takes the burden upon himself. So therefore we have to suffer the sound and sight of Affleck shouting, ‘I love you Harry’ as Harry walks off to his certain death. Never before or since has Affleck sounded so retarded.

In most films Harry would say his goodbyes and do his duty, but this being a Michael Bay film, it seems like Harry says goodbye to his daughter for a couple of hours. A single tear flows down Harry’s cheek as he realises that she’s going to end up with that horse-faced knobhead.

The end of the film sees Affleck and Tyler getting married as a photo of Harry watches on. We’re supposed to think that he’d be pleased at this union, but we know the truth. Harry is sad that it isn’t him who’s in Affleck’s position.

*Non-white person

My brother and I used to refer to Days of Thunder as Days of Chunder (to ‘chunder’ being to vomit). In our estimation, the film was so shit that just to watch a few moments of it would make you regurgitate all over yourself.

So how did it fare this time? Was it as bad as I remembered? Yes. And did I puke all over myself? Thankfully no.

One of the most shocking things about this film is that it was written by Robert Towne – the guy who wrote the masterpiece Chinatown. But then you look at the screen and see that Tom Cruise had a story writing credit. You can just imagine him in script meetings. ‘Yeah, I want a scene where I drive really fast with a shit-eating grin. I want one where I almost die and subsequently learn important life lessons. And I want one where I knob some ginger chick who’s at least two feet taller than me.’

But you’ve also got to remember that this is the same production team that made Top Gun. That means that you shouldn’t expect cinematic excellence. And also bear in mind that uber producer Don Simpson was the sort of man who liked to have prostitutes drink from his toilet as he pissed into it, that he once had fat injected into his penis to give it more girth (unfortunately he ended up with a deformed cock) and that during the filming of Days of Thunder he was experimenting with testosterone implants...in his ass. The theory was that the implants would give him a steady flow of macho energy. Instead they leaked and he went crazy. Mental giants were not in control of this production.

To illustrate this fact, consider the scene where Cole Trickle (yes, that’s the name of Cruise’s character) and rival race driver Rowdy Burns (another great name, and one that perhaps suggests that the character perpetually has the clap) race each other in wheelchairs. You see, earlier in the film, they had quite the rivalry going on and it lead to a spectacular crash. And now that they’re both in hospital, they decide to have a chair race. Yes, they’re primary school children.

However, there’s a scene that’s even more spectacularly stupid than this. For some reason the head of NASCAR invites them to dinner and gives them a set of keys for a car that they can drive over. He does this even though they have serious head injuries and hate each other’s guts. Yes, giving them a car and not having them driven over by a limo would be a great idea. So Rowdy encourages Cole to hire a car so that they can have another race – Rowdy in the car that the NASCAR guy gave him and Cole in the rental. And the two men proceed to race across streets and beaches in their shitty automobiles, ruining their cars. And when they finally arrive for dinner, they no longer hate each other. They share a knowing look that suggests that this vehicular destruction was a substitute for a hard cock up the arse.

By the way, the term for ramming another car is ‘rubbing’. Therefore nearly half of the film consists of men ramming and rubbing each other.

Bearing this in mind, it’s not surprising that women hardly get a look in. Nicole Kidman is a bland prophet of doom who eventually sees the light and realises that happiness lies not with professional integrity but with being a subservient beard. And then earlier in the film we have a scene where Cole and his race team get pulled over by cops. Cole is pushed into the team’s truck and is then groped by a state trooper. It turns out that the trooper is a stripper with a gorgeous set of tits. But you see, just like Maverick was wooed by his woman dressing like a man in Top Gun, Cole Trickle likes some gender reversal too.

Something else that illustrates how disposable women are in this world is the ending. You see, Trickle wins Daytona and celebrates with his beard for about two seconds. But then he sees that Harry, his surrogate father (played by Robert Duvall), isn’t joining in. This makes Cole sad and the two share a little moment. Eventually Harry perks up and the film ends with the two men running after each other with shit-eating grins. Pussy is nice and all, but real ecstasy lies in rubbing another man in victory lane.

Second to the explicit man love, the most amazing thing about Days of Thunder is how stupid Cole Trickle is. He doesn’t know anything about tires or engines. He doesn’t know that you’ll knacker a car if you give it too many revs. How am I supposed to believe that? How am I supposed to believe that a racing driver that supposedly has a few years of experience wouldn’t know that you couldn’t just take a race car and drive it as fast as you can – that you have to have a little strategy? It’s surely too much to ask of an audience.

And then when Cole is injured he’s like a small child. He has to have an MRI and gets a little frightened because no one is talking to him. He then goes on to mention that when he drives he has a man who talks to him all the time. Poor didums needs someone to hold his hand at all times. He probably even needs Harry to tell him how to pee.

But one of the most stupid acts is actually committed by Nicole Kidman. And no it’s not the moment when she decides that Cole can park his car in her garage. No, it’s the fact that she goes on a motorcycle ride with him…without a helmet...after he’s crashed his car and has head injuries. Fuck me running, would you entrust your life to this muppet? A man who can’t control a car and who makes a living by wearing overalls that have Mello Yello emblazoned all over them? He’ll probably crash the bike and then have you piss on his face.

The only thing that saves the film is how outstandingly bad it is. Nowhere else do you find the line ‘we ended up looking like a monkey fucking a football out there’ in it. It’s entertaining for all the wrong reasons. I mean, it has Carey Elwes playing a smarmy scumbag racer. That’s got to be worth something. Not a whole lot, but something. Plus there’s a scene where, after winning a race, and while celebrating his victory lap, Trickle rams Elwes at full speed. Somehow Cole doesn’t receive a life ban for this. Perhaps NASCAR know what a prick Carey Elwes is.

Like Quentin Tarantino says in Sleep With Me, Top Gun is a gay film. How gay? Put it this way, it's gayer than an oiled wrestler doing the worm in a bed of pink feathers with chocolate sauce smeared across his tanned buttocks. We're talking super gay.

One of the few enjoyable things about watching this horrendous film is listening to the dialogue and laughing at the double entendres. Virtually every line contains some sort of gayness. Just take the classic "He's on our tail, coming hard". Speaks for itself, doesn't it? But then there's, "Just stay on my wing and I'll take you all the way in". Ostensibly this line is about Maverick helping a rattled comrade land his plane, but really it's about Maverick helping a colleague make a different kind of landing – one that's just as delicate.

However, other lines aren't so subtle. One of Maverick's commanding officers (Strickland out of Back to the Future) says, "I want to bust your butt, but I can't." Obviously this individual is suffering from some sort of erectile dysfunction. But another officer doesn't suffer from this affliction because at one point the said individual roars, "I want some butts!" He says it loud and proud.

But then there are the simmering tensions between the pilots. They obviously all fancy one another. I mean, one pilot even confesses to his colleague that all this flying jazz gives him a hard-on. But rather than quietly moving away or laughing a polite laugh, the other bloke tells his pal not to tease him. You just know that as soon as they had some privacy they had their hands all over their joysticks.

But this is nothing compared to the unspoken longing between Iceman and Maverick. They start off by giving each other flirty glances and by exchanging catty comments (Iceman is such a bitch!), but soon they're talking about their privates and arguing while wearing nothing but towels. The obvious outlet, at best, would be sweet, hot sex, but since they're still struggling with their feelings – Maverick is loyal to the end to Goose (his wingman) – they engage in a game of volleyball. Needless to say there are ripped torsos aplenty and everywhere you look there are high fives and slapped bums. But on top of that you have Slider flexing his muscles to a song that's called 'Playing With The Boys'. I'm sure many confused young men (and quite a few that aren't confused) have worn out their old VHS copies of this film by endlessly rewinding and pausing that scene.

But this volleyball scene has other implications. Because of his homoerotic posturing on the beach, Maverick misses a date with Kelly McGillis (who actually plays a character who calls herself 'Charlie' – I bet Maverick would rather choke on Iceman's joystick than call her Charlotte). But it's unclear whether he genuinely has feelings for her. He seems sort of interested, curious even, but he leaves before they can have sex. And like Tarantino says in Sleep With Me, how does she get him interested again? By dressing up like a man. After that she finally becomes Maverick's beard. And they even have sex. But Maverick can't even have straight sex in a heterosexual manner. Rather than cock his missile and fire some bombs, he probes his target tenderly while curtains billow and 'Take My Breathe Away' plays. He's yearning for the boys.

And the music is another clue. Not only do you have 'Playing With the Boys' and 'Take My Breathe Away', but you have 'Danger Zone', a song that features the lyric 'Take you right into the danger zone'. On the surface the song is talking about the risks that are taken by jet pilots, but it's really an ode to anal sex.

And Maverick's true feelings are revealed further when Goose dies. He reacts like he's lost a lover. He even quits his job. But when McGillis tracks him down, she's disgusted at what he's become – a man that has finally lost that cocky smirk. Personally, I don't know what her problem is. Before the accident, Maverick is unbearably smug – the 'You've Lost That Lovin' Feeling' scene is probably the most odious thing in cinema – but afterwards he's close to being something like a human being.

But alas the death of Goose has no emotional impact. It's just a cynical way of giving a very thin film a third act. After all, rampant gayness aside, the movie has no content. Maverick goes to Top Gun, meets a woman who resists him for about two seconds, and battles with a gay colleague in some nicely filmed but very uninvolving flying scenes. There's nothing to the film. It's as shallow as it gets.

And the final action scene is pure desperation. The filmmakers finally cotton on that in the absence of a well-written film with three-dimensional characters what we want to see are planes being blown to bits. And yeah a few planes get blown up and it's well filmed, but unfortunately the wrong people die. I wanted the Russians to win. And I wanted them to win for the same reason that I wanted the Japanese to win in Pearl Harbor. In both films the Americans are portrayed as oversexed jackasses that can barely utter a single sentence without hooting and hollering. They're obnoxious. The Russians, though, are completely professional. They don't talk; they just fly. Obviously this is meant to make them seem sub-human (and the black visors are meant to make them look evil), but give me a malevolent atheist who can fly his penis extension with skill and composure over a loud-mouthed, flag waving, god fearing, freedom loving, sexually confused American any day of the week.