Thus begins a riotous comic act, with our cowardly slob put through a series of increasingly gruelling trials by a mentor who would quite happily see him dead, if only so he can find himself another Valhalladrim – while the mystical Helm grants Blurdy numerous powers, the one ability it doesn’t have is to sprout legs and locate a superior host. Despite the helmet’s rebuffs, the desperately skint Blurdy slips it into his jacket and takes it home. The enchanted accessory mistakes him for “the Chosen One,” or Valhalladrim, only to realise after several seconds upon his head that it’s gravely mistaken. In his thirties, working a dead end job and still living in his mother’s basement – here in Blighty houses rarely have basements, so I’ve never suffered that predicament – Blurdy’s life is turned upside down when destiny finds its place atop cranium in the form of an ancient talking helmet he discovers at a rather unlikely garage sale.
The Helm’s portly protagonist Matt Blurdy has all of the physical failings and social ineptitude that geekdom brings but none of its ineffectual charms.
0 kommentar(er)
