It Couldn't Happen Here

At a tawdry English seaside resort, mummy's boy Tennant, winsome and sad-eyed in full evening dress, surveys the scene: a ranting blind priest (Ackland) stumbles across shingle trailed by a troop of schoolboys; nuns in suspenders and kinky boots gambol in the shallows; at a funfair drug addicts, gorging fat ladies and perverts whizz past on the big wheel; and Tennant sings that everything he's ever done is a sin. Meanwhile Tennant's pop group sidekick Lowe breaks free of a garish boarding-house where Barbara Windsor is serving mountainous breakfasts. Director Bond's attempt at a narrative stringing together of the Pet Shop Boys' pop themes is witless, aimless and pretentious. If this sickbag of kitsch communicates anything it's the anguish of a young aesthete on discovering that flying ducks still adorn the walls of his mother's house.