IT SHOULDN’T HAPPEN TO A FILM JOURNALIST

THIS MONTH MEETING HORROR ICONS…

As a teenager in the 1980s, I couldn’t get enough of slasher movies. , , … I hoovered up each series at my best friend’s house with the lights off, and my cycle ride home, along winding country lanes in the pitch black, was a terrifying affair. Particularly traumatic was the bit where I had to peddle furiously past two trees, a motorcyclist is decapitated by a cunningly stretched-out clothesline, so I always ducked low to my handlebars and prayed.