The Boring Ultimatum

Hello kidlings, it's me, Muhammed Ali - ex-boxer and ex-sane man of legend. I'd like to take a few moments of your time to tell you about this film I've been working on. GET UPPA! GET ON UPPPP! Ye see, I been turning my hand away from the floating of butterflies and instead to the photography of major motion pictures. GOOD GOLLY, MISS MOLLY! I was asked by my good cracker-ass friend, Paul Greengrass (Or Chalkie as I like to call him) to handle the cinematography on his latest film THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM. I was only too happy to oblige. DOES THAT MAKE ME CRAAAAAAAYYYYZY? I shall talk you through some of my favourite shots of the film and discuss it at length, fool!


This is a classic shot of my main cracker, Matt Damon. Damon is a cool motherfucker despite having a potato head and a face like a walnut's ass-hole. DIAMONDS AND PEEEEEARLS! You see what I have done here is use a handheld approach to the photography and made sure that it is not in focus at all or stays still for more than half a millisecond. I achieve this through a new technique I, Muhammed Cassius Clay Ali Mustafa the Third, have devised. I call it Parkinsons-vision! ARE YUH GUNNA GO MA WAY?


Here's another shot of the pasty-faced crackerjack Matt Damon. But this time I used my patented Parkinsons-vision technology turned up to ELEVEN! When you crank this motherfucker up to eleven, all kinds of crazy never-seen-before shit starts happening. You think that motherfucking fuckingmother David Fincher could do this? You think that mothermotherfuckfuck Steven Spielberg ever dreamed of this? I'M INTO SEX, I AIN'T INTA MAKIN' LOOOOVE! You see, I turned the goddamn camera upside down! UPSIDE-MOTHERFUCKINGFUCK-DOWN. You can't even tell what the MOTHERFUCK is going on here! It's the kind of skillage that I was famed for in my boxing days before the cruel irony of brain damage took over. Who'd have thought blow-induced brain damage would be boxing's loss and cinema's gain? WHAT A FEEEEELIN', WHEN YOU'RE DANCIN' ON THE CEILING!


Here is where I pull the goddamn big guns out. This is a variant on the Parkinsons-vision I patented, copyrighted, trademarked and motherfucking cockmunched. It is called Carpal Tunnel View 3.1. AAAAM A ROCKSTAAA, QUICK ON THA DRAAAAW. You can achieve this special effect without all my training, expertise and nibbleness of feet all by yourself. Route A to achieving this goal is to get into a fight with somebody twice your size and use your head to block the punches. Route B is to drink a concoction they have in Engerland - where my main cracka Paul Greengrass is from - called TwentyTwenty. You don't gotta drink a lot of this stuff because, like me, it gets fucking results, bitch. THERE'S A RAT IN MA KITCHEN, WHAT AM A GONNA DO?


Holy shit, I don't even REMEMBER this shot. That's how fucking quality I am, I FORGOT more shots than you've had hot dinners. In fact, just this morning I forgot my name, what year it was and whether cats could talk or not. In fact, who the fuck are you? Where's my nurse? SEXUAL HEEEEEEALING! What the fuck is this? Matt Damon again? I can't even tell? That fucking cracker-munch Paul Greengrass, who probably owns a slave ship or two, ought to put more thought into his movies. Another shot of Matt Damon, the walnut-ass-face-having motherfucker? Is he talking on his mother-fucking phone again? I wanted to do the fucking cinemotherfuckingtography on a JASON BOURNE film, not a fucking CARPHONE WAREHOUSE advert! FUCK THE POOOOLICE! Jesus, son, I will whip your ass and call you Terry next time I see you.


The whole mothergoddamnfucking movie is filled with top quality footage of this calibre and that no-good lynch-mob ku klux klan motherfuckster Paul Greengrass said he loved every frame of it. And if he didn't, I'd punch that ass-master so hard, his KIDS'd be born with bruises. Well, I'd get my bodyguard to anyway. I'M ONCE, TWICE, THREE TIIIIIIMES A LADY! Hell, they were so pleased with my work on the cinematography that they let me write the motherfucking script too. Me, Muhammed Superman Chris Bonnington Barry Cryer Ali, wrote a motherfucking major motion picture. They said it was quite difficult to decipher my scrawled spazz hand-writing, but managed to work out most of it. Hopefully, this won't be the last you'll hear of me! I'M JUST SITTIN' ON THE DOCKA THA BAY! Peace out, crackers.