It’s been years since Hollywood served us a proper comedy — the kind where you laugh so hard you briefly forget your own name, your troubles, and occasionally, your ability to breathe. Somewhere along the way, the industry decided that “funny” was something to be sprinkled lightly over a superhero script, like parmesan on a sad bowl of pasta, or wedged awkwardly between explosions in a Netflix action series destined to be forgotten by next Tuesday.

And yet, like a banana skin placed perfectly in the path of a dignitary, the unexpected happened: Liam Neeson — yes, Mr. I have a very particular set of skills — wandered into a reboot of The Naked Gun… and it worked. Not just “good enough” worked, but actually, really funny worked. Even Pamela Anderson pulled her weight in the joke department.

For those raised on Leslie Nielsen’s holy trinity of deadpan brilliance, the thought of anyone stepping into Frank Drebin’s (Jr’s) shoes felt like sacrilege of the highest cinematic order. Those films were slapstick poetry: gags stacked higher than a Jenga tower at a caffeine-fuelled family reunion, a visual buffet of nonsense where background jokes were often funnier than the main plot. But Neeson’s turn somehow managed the impossible — paying homage without embalming the thing in nostalgia syrup, while smuggling in fresh gags that didn’t make us wince. I left the movie thinking… what an absolutely inspired choice.

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Why the Long Drought?

Why has Hollywood gone through a two-decade-long comedy dry spell, offering up “quirky dramedies” when what we really wanted was a pratfall into a cake? Maybe it’s because comedy, more than any other genre, ages like milk in Frank’s fridge — one whiff and it’s over. What’s hilarious one decade can be cancelled the next. Maybe it’s because “funny” doesn’t test as well with international audiences as “explosions” do. Or perhaps Hollywood simply forgot that the point of a comedy is to make you laugh until your face hurts, not to sneak in a moral about nurturing your inner child while being chased by CGI raccoons with suspiciously realistic dental work.

It could also be the fear factor. In the current climate, comedy writers navigate a minefield where every joke risks becoming a social media trial by fire. Slapstick, thankfully, is largely immune — it’s hard to take offence at someone being hit with a custard pie, unless you are, in fact, the custard pie.

A Sign of Hope

Whatever the reason, I’d like to think this new Naked Gun is a good omen. If Neeson — a man whose cinematic emotional range usually runs from “intense glare” to “even more intense glare” — can successfully anchor a slapstick farce, then surely there’s hope for more full-throttle comedies. Ones where the jokes come fast enough to cause mild whiplash, where scripts exist solely as delivery systems for absurd sight gags, and where nobody tries to teach you anything except that banana peels are still funny.

Frankly, I can’t wait until it hits streaming so I can watch it again. Until then, I’ll be rewatching the originals, chuckling at background gags I somehow missed the first fifty-hundred times, and keeping an eye on any other serious actors plotting a slapstick heist. Daniel Day-Lewis in Airplane 3? Dame Judi Dench in Hot Shots: Part Trois? Hollywood, the runway is clear — bring back the belly laughs.

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AJ Wright

AJ Wright is a quiet yet incisive voice navigating the surreal world of sociology, higher education, and modern life through the unique lens of a neurodivergent mind. A tech-savvy PhD student hailing from South Yorkshire but now stationed in the flatlands of Lincolnshire, AJ writes with an irreverence that strips back the layers of academia, social norms, and the absurdities of daily life to reveal the humour lurking beneath.

As an autistic thinker, AJ’s perspective offers readers a rare blend of precision, curiosity, and wit. From dissecting the unspoken rituals of academia—like the silent war over the office thermostat—to exploring the sociology of “neurotypical small talk” and the bizarre hierarchies of campus coffee queues, AJ turns the ordinary into something both profound and hilarious.

AJ’s unassuming nature belies the sharpness of their commentary, which dives deep into the intersections of neurodiversity, tech culture, and the often-overlooked quirks of human behaviour. Whether questioning why university bureaucracy feels designed by Kafka or crafting surreal parodies of academic peer reviews, AJ writes with a balance of quiet intensity and playful absurdity that keeps readers coming back for more.

For those seeking a blog that is equal parts insightful, irreverent, and refreshingly authentic, AJ Wright provides a unique perspective that celebrates neurodiversity while poking fun at the peculiarities of the world we live in.  Also a contributor at Thinking Sociologically.

untypicable.co.uk

The name’s Bond. James Bond. After our annual Christmas Bond-a-thon I pondered who the next James Bond could be but this time, instead of a smooth-talking Londoner with a taste for martinis, our next 007 should be a Yorkshire lad with no time for airs and graces.

This Bond swaps Aston Martins for a turbo-charged Reliant Robin, martinis for pints of bitter, and tuxedos for a sturdy flat cap. And when it comes to the cold, there’s one thing Yorkshire Bond won’t tolerate: coats—or the “southern softies” who wear them.

Yorkshire Bond wouldn’t bat an eye at snow, sleet, or sub-zero temperatures. To him, cold is just “a bit of fresh air,” and anyone bundling up in scarves and gloves is promptly dismissed as “nesh.” When sent to London for an MI6 briefing, he’d spend half the meeting rolling his eyes at the room full of southerners in cashmere overcoats.

“Coats? It’s barely brisk out there,” he’d mutter, taking a long sip from his flask of Yorkshire Tea. “Southern softies, the lot of yer.”

Yorkshire Bond’s disdain for coats would extend to every situation. Whether he’s infiltrating a snowy mountaintop lair or chasing villains through icy backstreets, he’d stick to his trusty tweed jacket and flat cap. In a climactic showdown on a frozen lake, the villain would arrive in a thermal suit, shivering despite its high-tech insulation. Bond, unfazed, would shrug off the cold with a smirk.

“Tha’s got all that fancy gear, and tha still can’t handle a bit o’ frost? Proper nesh, that.”

His attitude wouldn’t just be bravado—it’d be a deeply ingrained part of his Yorkshire identity. Cold weather isn’t something to fear; it’s something to endure with a bit of grit and a lot of sarcasm. Southerners bundling up in multiple layers would get no sympathy. Instead, they’d get a healthy dose of mockery.

“Ey up, tha’s wrapped up like a sausage roll. What’s next, heated slippers?”

Even Q’s attempts to outfit him with cold-weather gadgets would be met with skepticism. A high-tech parka with built-in thermal regulation? Bond would scoff, “A parka? Aye, give us a proper gadget—like a flask that keeps me tea warm.”

Despite his anti-coat stance, Bond’s ingenuity in cold climates would shine. His gadgets would include essentials like a heated flat cap, wool-lined boots that still look rugged, and, of course, the aforementioned tea flask that doubles as a hand-warmer. He’d use these tools with casual efficiency, all while making everyone else feel soft for needing them in the first place.

At the heart of this Bond’s character is a deep-rooted pride in his Yorkshire toughness. When confronted by a room full of shivering southerners, he wouldn’t just hold his ground—he’d make it a point to remind them of their southern softness. And if anyone dared call him out for his bluntness, he’d shrug it off with a simple: “Truth hurts, doesn’t it?”

In the end, Yorkshire Bond wouldn’t just save the world. He’d do it while making sure everyone knows that northerners are tougher, southerners are soft, and coats are for people who don’t know what real cold feels like. If MI6 ever needs a spy with grit, wit, and an unshakable ability to survive any weather, Yorkshire’s finest is ready to roll. And he’s bringing a flask of tea—not a coat.

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Dwight Warner

Dwight Warner is the quintessential oddball Brit, with a weirdly American-sounding name, who has a knack for turning the mundane into the extraordinary. Hailing originally from London, now living in the sleepy depths of Lincolnshire but claiming an allegiance to the absurd, Dwight has perfected the art of finding the surreal in real life. Whether it’s a spirited rant about the philosophical implications of queueing or a deep dive into why tea tastes better in a mug older than you, his blogs blur the line between the abstract and the everyday.

With an irreverent wit and a penchant for tangents that somehow come full circle, Dwight Warner doesn’t just write; he performs on the page. His humour is both sharp and delightfully nonsensical, like Monty Python met your nosiest neighbour and they decided to co-write a diary.

Known for being gregarious, Dwight is the life of any (real or metaphorical) party, whether he’s deconstructing the existential crisis of mismatched socks or sharing his inexplicable theories about why pigeons are secretly running the economy.

A larger-than-life personality with a laugh as loud as his opinions, Dwight Warner invites readers to step into a world where everything’s slightly askew—and that’s exactly how he likes it.

The festive season brings with it a parade of Christmas films, each vying to capture the magic, joy, and chaos of the holidays. Yet among the glittering lineup of holiday classics, one film stands taller than a poorly secured Christmas tree: National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.

It’s not just the best Christmas film of all time—it’s a cinematic masterpiece that captures the essence of Christmas with unmatched hilarity, relatability, and an uncanny ability to make us feel better about our own holiday disasters. Here’s why it reigns supreme.

1. It’s Relentlessly Relatable

At its core, Christmas Vacation is a film about one man’s quest for the perfect Christmas—and how everything that can go wrong, does. From the catastrophic Christmas lights to uninvited in-laws wreaking havoc, the Griswold family’s chaotic holiday is eerily familiar to anyone who has ever hosted Christmas.

Clark Griswold (Chevy Chase) is every well-meaning but doomed Christmas enthusiast: the person who dreams of the ideal holiday but ends up with a squirrel in the tree, a house that nearly burns down, and a jelly of the month club subscription instead of a bonus. Watching his life unravel is oddly comforting because, no matter how bad our Christmas might get, it’s unlikely to involve electrocuted cats or frozen turkeys.

2. The Ultimate Dysfunctional Family

Every Christmas film has a family dynamic, but none are as hilariously dysfunctional as the Griswolds. The film doesn’t sugarcoat family life—it embraces the chaos.

• The In-Laws: Clark’s house is invaded by bickering parents and in-laws, who treat his hard work with the enthusiasm of someone handed a beige jumper.
• Cousin Eddie: Randy Quaid’s Cousin Eddie is a scene-stealing marvel, embodying every relative you secretly dread seeing but can’t stop laughing at.
• The Kids: Audrey and Rusty, Clark’s perpetually unimpressed children, are a reminder that no matter what you do as a parent, teenagers will never be impressed.

The Griswolds are a disaster, but they’re our disaster, reflecting every awkward conversation, petty argument, and shared laugh that makes Christmas with family unforgettable.

3. It’s Hysterically Quotable

Few Christmas films can boast the sheer volume of iconic quotes that Christmas Vacation delivers. Whether it’s Clark’s rambling rant about his boss—
“Hallelujah! Holy shit! Where’s the Tylenol?”
—or Cousin Eddie’s unforgettable:
“Merry Christmas! Shitter’s full!”
The script is a treasure trove of one-liners that have become part of holiday pop culture.

It’s the kind of movie where you find yourself laughing before the line is even finished because you know it so well.

4. The Perfect Blend of Heart and Chaos

Beneath the slapstick humour and absurd situations lies a genuinely heartfelt story. Clark’s relentless pursuit of a perfect Christmas is something we can all relate to: the desire to bring everyone together, to create memories, and to find joy in the little things.

But unlike overly sentimental Christmas films, Christmas Vacation doesn’t beat you over the head with its message. It lets the chaos unfold naturally, reminding us that even when things go horribly wrong, the spirit of Christmas survives.

5. It’s a Time Capsule of Holiday Nostalgia

Released in 1989, Christmas Vacation is a slice of festive nostalgia that captures the late 80s perfectly: the fashion, the decor, the absurdly large Christmas trees. Watching it feels like stepping back in time to an era when tinsel was king and everyone’s holiday light display was a fire hazard.

For those of us who grew up in that era, it’s a warm reminder of childhood Christmases. For younger viewers, it’s a hilarious glimpse into a time when people microwaved turkeys and used giant VHS camcorders to capture the chaos.

6. The Holiday Disasters Are Timeless

While Christmas Vacation is rooted in its era, the disasters it portrays are universal and timeless:

• The Tree Fiasco: Who hasn’t had a Christmas tree-related mishap, whether it’s too big, too small, or infested with squirrels?
• Lighting Woes: Clark’s epic battle with 25,000 Christmas lights is relatable to anyone who has ever untangled a string of fairy lights or struggled with a plug that mysteriously won’t work.
• Work Stress: Clark’s disappointment over his Christmas bonus is a reminder that no matter how festive the season, work stress always sneaks in.

These moments transcend time, making the film as relevant today as it was over 30 years ago.

7. Cousin Eddie: The True Star

While Clark is the heart of the film, Cousin Eddie is its chaotic soul. From his unusual wardrobe choices to his RV that doubles as a sewage nightmare, Eddie is a masterclass in comedic absurdity.

He’s the wildcard of the Griswold family, delivering lines and moments that are as cringe-worthy as they are hilarious. His unexpected gift of a dog and his decision to kidnap Clark’s boss are just two examples of why Eddie remains a fan favourite.

8. It’s a Film for All Ages

Unlike many Christmas comedies, Christmas Vacation appeals to everyone. Kids laugh at the slapstick moments (the sledding scene is pure gold), teens relate to Rusty and Audrey’s eye-rolling, and adults see themselves in Clark’s relentless attempts to make everything perfect.

It’s a film you can watch with the whole family without needing to explain awkward jokes or skip scenes.

Conclusion: A Perfectly Imperfect Christmas

National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation isn’t about a perfect Christmas—it’s about the messy, chaotic, and hilariously imperfect reality that most of us experience. It’s a film that makes us laugh at the disasters, embrace the dysfunction, and remind ourselves that even when everything goes wrong, the spirit of the season endures.

So, the next time someone asks what the best Christmas film is, tell them it’s Christmas Vacation. Because nothing says Christmas like 25,000 lights, a fried cat, and a family that loves each other despite it all.

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AJ Wright

AJ Wright is a quiet yet incisive voice navigating the surreal world of sociology, higher education, and modern life through the unique lens of a neurodivergent mind. A tech-savvy PhD student hailing from South Yorkshire but now stationed in the flatlands of Lincolnshire, AJ writes with an irreverence that strips back the layers of academia, social norms, and the absurdities of daily life to reveal the humour lurking beneath.

As an autistic thinker, AJ’s perspective offers readers a rare blend of precision, curiosity, and wit. From dissecting the unspoken rituals of academia—like the silent war over the office thermostat—to exploring the sociology of “neurotypical small talk” and the bizarre hierarchies of campus coffee queues, AJ turns the ordinary into something both profound and hilarious.

AJ’s unassuming nature belies the sharpness of their commentary, which dives deep into the intersections of neurodiversity, tech culture, and the often-overlooked quirks of human behaviour. Whether questioning why university bureaucracy feels designed by Kafka or crafting surreal parodies of academic peer reviews, AJ writes with a balance of quiet intensity and playful absurdity that keeps readers coming back for more.

For those seeking a blog that is equal parts insightful, irreverent, and refreshingly authentic, AJ Wright provides a unique perspective that celebrates neurodiversity while poking fun at the peculiarities of the world we live in.  Also a contributor at Thinking Sociologically.

untypicable.co.uk

The festive season is an odd, liminal space in the calendar—a time where you’re never quite sure of the day, but it doesn’t really matter. You can’t move for leftover cheese, your family’s tolerance levels are hanging by a thread, and suddenly it feels acceptable to sit in your dressing gown for 72 hours straight. What better way to spend those long, glittering evenings than with films that make the world outside disappear?

This isn’t a list for just Christmas films—though a couple do sneak in. It’s about nostalgia, chaos, and sheer entertainment, the kind that makes you feel like the world might not be so bad after all. Grab your favourite snack, claim the comfiest seat, and settle in.

The Muppet Christmas Carol (1992): A Festive Classic for Everyone

Let’s start with the best—The Muppet Christmas Carol. There’s no need to argue. This is Dickens as it was meant to be: a ghost story wrapped in felt and stitched together with Michael Caine’s deadpan sincerity. He plays Scrooge as if he’s on the West End stage, delivering Oscar-worthy grief while surrounded by Kermit the Frog and Gonzo narrating as Charles Dickens himself.

The music is excellent, the jokes are timeless, and it balances heart and chaos like no other festive film. If you don’t shed a tear during “Bless Us All” or laugh at Rizzo muttering, “Light the lamp, not the rat!”, then you may, in fact, be Scrooge.

Jaws (1975): Nothing Says Togetherness Like Sharks

Nothing bonds a family like collective tension, and Jaws provides it in spades. Spielberg’s masterpiece is technically a summer film, but its crashing waves and tight-knit trio of Roy Scheider, Richard Dreyfuss, and Robert Shaw make it perfect for a wintry watch.

It’s also the ultimate lesson in anticipation: Jaws builds dread with precision, proving you don’t need to see the shark to know it’s there—much like that relative who insists on discussing politics after too many sherries. Watching it in the festive season feels oddly comforting, like slipping into an old jumper that smells faintly of salt and terror.

Paddington 2 (2017): Pure, Undiluted Joy

Paddington 2 is a film so charming it could single-handedly cure cynicism. If you’ve not yet seen it, you’re in for a treat. If you have, you already know it’s as comforting as a cup of tea and a marmalade sandwich on a cold day.

Paddington himself—gentle, earnest, and perpetually optimistic—reminds us of the importance of kindness, while Hugh Grant’s ludicrously brilliant villain turn as Phoenix Buchanan injects just the right amount of chaos. If the festive season is making you feel a bit frayed around the edges, this is the film equivalent of a warm hug.

Die Hard (1988): Yes, It’s a Christmas Film.

Is Die Hard a Christmas film? Of course it is—Bruce Willis fights terrorists at a Christmas party, there’s snow (sort of), and “Ho ho ho, now I have a machine gun” is practically carol-worthy. But even if you’re not convinced, Die Hard deserves a place in your festive rotation for one reason: it’s the antidote to saccharine holiday fluff.

There’s nothing cosy about ventilation shafts or Alan Rickman’s Hans Gruber falling off a skyscraper, and yet it’s impossibly rewatchable. If nothing else, Die Hard proves that Christmas is about tradition—and for many, watching Bruce Willis crawl through ducts barefoot has become exactly that.

Goldfinger (1964): A Bond Film Is Non-Negotiable

No festive season is complete without a James Bond film, and Goldfinger is as good as it gets. Sean Connery’s Bond is suave, confident, and prone to dropping lines so iconic they belong on tea towels. From “Shocking, positively shocking” to the unforgettable “No, Mr. Bond, I expect you to die!”, it’s a film dripping in nostalgic British charm.

Bond films have a tradition of appearing on television at Christmas, often while families half-watch through post-lunch naps. There’s something reassuring about it—like Alan Partridge narrating Bond’s “seductive spy work” in his dulcet tones, offering unsolicited opinions on laser beams and bowler hats.

Scrooged (1988): Bill Murray at His Chaotic Best

Scrooged is the dark, chaotic cousin of The Muppet Christmas Carol, and it’s all the better for it. Bill Murray plays Frank Cross, a cynical TV executive and the modern-day Scrooge, whose Christmas is filled with sarcasm, explosive sets, and the occasional ghostly intervention.

It’s relentlessly funny, occasionally unsettling, and undeniably 80s in its approach. Frank’s transformation from a sneering villain to a man with actual feelings might not be subtle, but that’s not what you’re here for. You’re here for Bill Murray, who delivers lines with the kind of unhinged charisma that’s perfect for the season.

Carry On Camping (1969): Classic British Nonsense

The Carry On films are to British cinema what leftover turkey sandwiches are to Christmas—they’re unavoidable, slightly absurd, and oddly satisfying. Carry On Camping is the pinnacle of this nonsense, featuring Sid James, Barbara Windsor, and a series of double entendres so predictable they’ve become an art form.

It’s ridiculous, of course, but that’s the joy of it. Watching Carry On Camping during the festive season feels like a throwback to simpler times, when comedy didn’t require nuance and the only thing that mattered was the next pratfall. It’s nostalgic, chaotic, and wonderfully British—perfect for a post-lunch slump on Boxing Day.

Elf (2003): Festive, Silly, and Impossible to Resist

There’s something undeniably pure about Elf, even if you’d rather not admit it. Will Ferrell’s Buddy, an oversized elf with the innocence of a child and the energy of ten espresso shots, transforms even the most cynical Scrooge into a believer.

It’s a film that thrives on its silliness—whether Buddy’s wrestling a fake Santa or enthusiastically pouring syrup onto spaghetti—and yet, it manages to hit the right emotional beats, too. By the time the credits roll, you’ll have laughed, you’ll have cringed, and you might even feel a tiny bit festive.

Films to Escape Into

The festive season is about indulgence, nostalgia, and films that bring comfort, chaos, or a bit of both. Whether it’s Michael Caine delivering Dickens, Bond battling Goldfinger, or Bill Murray yelling at ghosts, the best films to watch are the ones that remind us why we fell in love with movies in the first place.

So grab a blanket, pick your poison (tea, wine, or leftover trifle), and settle in. The festive season isn’t just about tradition—it’s about creating your own strange, wonderful moments. And sometimes, that means watching Bruce Willis throw Hans Gruber off a skyscraper for the fiftieth time. After all, what else are you going to do—go for a brisk walk? I didn’t think so.

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James Henshaw

James Henshaw is a brooding Geordie export who swapped the industrial grit of Newcastle for the peculiar calm of Lincolnshire—though he’s yet to fully trust the flatness. With a mind as sharp as a stiletto and a penchant for science-tinged musings, James blends the surreal with the everyday, crafting blogs that feel like the lovechild of a physics textbook and a fever dream.

Equally at home dissecting the absurdities of modern life as he is explaining quantum theory with alarming metaphors, James writes with the wit of someone who knows too much and the irreverence of someone who doesn’t care. His posts are infused with a dark humour that dares you to laugh at the strange, the inexplicable, and the occasionally terrifying truths of the universe—whether it’s the unnerving accuracy of Alexa or the existential menace of wasps.

A figure of mystery with a slightly unsettling edge, James is the sort of bloke who’d explain the meaning of life over a pint, but only after a dramatic pause long enough to make you question your own existence. His wit cuts deep, his insights are sharp, and his ability to make the surreal feel strangely plausible keeps readers coming back for more.