I don’t even remember Lakman or whate’er her name was. Kinnaman perpetually looked like he’d wandered onto the wrong set and was just going with it. Purefoy was OK. Blonde MILF was...memorable. Latina Cop was borderline OTT.

I mean, you may think that the effort, meganoggined Edgar Allen would be a terrible choice as virtual bodyguard - 19th century dandy writers not much known for their martial prowess - but remember that Jimi got kicked outta the army for shirking guard duty to go score weed.

“So, uh, what’s...what’s this?”

To be fair, that could be said of about three-quarters of Netflix’s own-brand stuff.

This has just guaranteed I will never see it in cinemas.

“She said ‘Are you Peter Porker?’ And I said ‘No’. You know. Like a liar.”

Is her special skill being able to check privilege over twice the rate of a regular woman, having previously lived with cishet male privilege before?

“Listen, Tige, this is a fucking comic book movie, not a John Cassavetes auteuristic titjob.”

It’s almost as if some of said tropes a banal, and done to death.

Arcade Gannon? That you?

Oh, look, it’s another show with a young person trying to “find themselves” after rebelling against parental pressure. 

That’s not a mockery of Indians. That’s a mockery of the customer-service industry.

Seriously, there are so many talented voice actors and actresses out their who’ve lost a finger from each in hand in tragic doberman-related accidents, and the fact that they’re using ableist five-fingered actors is, frankly, offensive. 

As an Aussie, I am utterly OUTRAGED at this:

Don’t forget One Of My Best Friends Is Black and Actually, My Great-Great-Great-Great Grandmother Was Half Black.

Jesus, those white American eggs freak me out.

Is this in honour of your Commander-In-Chief?

SOMETHING HAPPENED MORE THAN ONCE!

I’m guessing these guys are painfully white.