the snurds must die

Horror film on the box.
Watching with Serafina.
The film is called The Beast Must Die.
It's a 1970's blaxploitation thing with Richard Roundtree playing a thinly disguised version of me.
Richard is a multi millionaire with a passion for big game hunting.
All his life he's dreamed of the ultimate pursuit.
He wants to hunt and kill a werewolf.
He's invited a group of guests to stay at his palatial estate for the weekend.
The guests are unaware that Richard has reviewed their files and knows that there is a high probability that at least one of them is a werewolf.
The guests are also unaware that for the purposes of this weekend they will be prisoners on the estate which is ringed with electric fences.
It is of course the night of the full moon.
Over dinner Richard tells his guests somewhat apologetically why they're here.
They look suitably chagrined.
They are a chagrin awful looking crew to begin with anyway.
There's Tony O'Reilly of Independent Newspapers, plush bottomed and self satisfied, indolently lounging at the table, perpetually lost in eternal reveries of self worship.
Beside him sits his lickspittle Paedophile Ian O'Doherty, known as Paedophile or Paedophile Coward since he falsely, maliciously and malignly wrote in the Irish Independent that the Catholic Church is a paedophile ring.
Next to him sits the only nearly female person at the table, a certain Brenda Power of The Daily Mail. She is an odious fervourless clype who wrote in the Daily Mail on Tuesday this week some sort of sneer about what she called "holy Catholic Ireland," implying that children were generally abused in the Ireland of fifty years ago, and deliberately omitting to mention that abuse levels have gone off the scale in the Ireland of today, ignoring totally the children being murdered in Health Board Care, the children committing suicide in unprecedented numbers across the country, the children being compelled to live with drug addict parents who violate them with impunity because Judge Liberal doesn't want to be judgemental about such things, and the children having sex with other children at the age of nine, I kid you not, and then being forced to murder their unborn children through abortion or abortificiants, and all this has happened in the Ireland of today, the Ireland whose culture has been vitiated by the atheistic liberals of today, by Brenda Power, the Daily Mail and all the other scruff, I mean I'm not their judge, but come on, the emperor's naked and there's an outsize mole on his penis, and it looks like Brenda Power, I'm just saying is all, the truth still has some currency, doesn't it, it must have.
Then there's Conor O'Clery or Conor Brady of the Irish Times. I'm not sure which. I'm always mixing them up. Whichever of them who said straight after Nine Eleven that he was afraid of what the Americans would do next. That's the bastaad. Yeah him.
Beside him sits John Fry Chief Executive Officer of the Johnston Press famous for his "cor blimey" catch cry and near cosmic inability to manage a newspaper group. Hey Fry. You cor blimey c---s owe me money.
They're all spluttering about how outrageous the behaviour of their host is in keeping them captive for the weekend against their will.
Richard Roundtree silences them with a wave of his hair.
"Tonight is the night of the full moon," he tells them dramatically. "And tonight... the beast must die."