One last lolly blog post before I scoot back to the UK, where the Internet has yet to be invented. And, appropriately enough, it's a technology based joke.

What were the two talkative computers doing?
They were having a disc-cussion

What a pity that this joke sucks. Let's put aside the unjustified anthropomrophism of making computers into sentient beings. It's a crap pun. What exactly is a "cussion"? It just doesn't work. It might just work if you somehow managed to make pun into being something about a "disc-cushion", but quite what one would be, or why you would want to cushion your discs... well, that's your problem.

Anyway, I sent Robert Eger to New York yesterday, to swelter in the 90 degree heat and to watch a movie. Here's what he came back with.

The Italian Job Reviewed by Robert Eger, of "Robert Eger hates the movies".

For a film supposedly about minis, this one rather resembles a bicycle. Or rather, a philosopher's bicylce. You know, the one that's had a new frame, and new wheels, and new tires, and new breaks... so is it the same bicycle? Well, on the basis of this film, no, it's not.

OK, let me explain. This is a remake of the classic Michael Caine film. I know it is, because it has the same name and because it says so during the credits. You wouldn't guess otherwise. Because pretty much every aspect of the film has been changed. In fact, the only thing about the film that has been retained has been the three mini-coopers, and they've had extensive plastic surgery in the intervening thirty five-odd years.

You can tell things aren't going to go well in a remake of a film which is famous for its staggering, seemingly never-ending car chase around an Italian city when the, in the remake, the Italian city is Venice, chiefly famous for not being too well off in the roads department.

Also, at no point does anyone in the film say, "Hoi! You were only supposed to blow the bloody doors off", whilst being Michael Caine. Admittedly, if they had, then I would have lambasted it as a shallow, weak imitation of the far superior original, but since I'm going to lambast it anyway, it doesn't make too much difference. "You were only supposed to blow the bloody doors off" is of course the punchline to a mildly filthy joke which I'm not going to tell you, but since I've already given you the punchline then you should be able to work backwards and fill in the rest from there. It's not like it's one of Anchor's bloody lolly stick jokes or something.

The main villian of the piece is Edward Norton, although he is only a supporting actor. The actor his is supporting is Edward Norton's Facial Hair, the one you want to boo every time he comes on screen, mostly because Edward Norton's Facial Hair is pure evil, a sinister brooding presence, who makes every one else on screen look like a ham. And he's pretty callous too, in an evil genius kind of way. The original movie famously ends with a truck full of gold hanging precariously over a precipice in the alps, and Michael Caine claiming to have a good idea; Edward Norton's Facial Hair's good idea is to shoot the rest of the crew and scarper with the gold all for himself, which seems a bit harsh. They may be thieves, but that's no excuse for them to try to nick stuff from each other. The remainder of the movie consists of the remainder of his gang, who somehow manage to survive being shot, drowned and frozen to death, trying to get him back like some kind of tit for tat game. The hero is played by... some guy... or other... I think. He leaves such a little impression on the viewer that I can't even... remember... what it was that I was talking about when I started this sentence. Sorry, what?

For computer nerds like myself, there's a running joke about Napster which begins with a cameo from Shawn Fanning. It can't even lead up to the cameo. Poor guy, forced to make any money he can by selling his name in some dumb summer action movie. How are the mighty fallen; think on't, Page and Brin. You might have to finish those PhDs some day, smart boys...

Final verdict: three thumbs, way down.