In an age where a new streaming service pops up out of nowhere sooner than you can fart twice, (nice, I just found a wild Disney+ up my arse!) it’s hard to find any media property that has enough cultural recognition, popularity, and pulling power—yeah, they’re basically all the same thing, but I was hoping you wouldn’t notice—to draw in enough people for a half decent "water cooler" conversation. However, the Duffer brothers’ smash hit Stranger Things has been a delight for me in that respect, even topping The Fantasy Show That Shall Not Be Named for viewership numbers and excitement levels amongst my little group of young adult peers. Nonetheless, the buzz for the Duffers’ show was not limited to just my friends. The official figures reveal that Stranger Things’ third series was Netflix’s most viewed "thing" ever within a four day time frame. This really begs the question: Why in the Upside-Down is this derivative, predictable, 80s nostalgia fest so Demodog-damn popular?
The news that Disney are finally acquiring 20th Century Fox has opened up possibilities that many of MCU fans thought they could only dream of. Properties such as the X-Men, X-Force, New Mutants, Wolverine, Deadpool, the Fantastic Four, the Silver Surfer, the Savage Land, the Starjammers and the Shi’ar are all coming home and could potentially interact with your favourite Avengers on screen. However, one character’s transition from the Fox-verse may be a tad problematic. I’m talking of course, about the X-Men’s greatest foe, the Master of Magnetism: Magneto.
When I first saw Stewart Lee’s Content Provider at De Montfort Hall, Leicester in February, I had the ill-conceived and frankly deranged idea in my head that I could review it. In fact, I was so confident in my abilities that I spoke to the artist himself after the show and proclaimed my over-ambitious intentions to his face. "You’ll definitely be getting a five star review from me on my university-paper-website-thing called The Demon Online," I burbled like a blithering buffoon, signing the imaginary contract in blood which meant that I actually had to write something and preferably a gut-bustingly hilarious, self-referential masterpiece of a review that was fit for publication in a student magazine. However, when I was drafting my ideas for the piece, I began to doubt my abilities. "What if Stewart Lee actually reads it?" I thought, "What if I try to be funny… and it’s just not funny?" So, to accommodate for these anxieties, my first attempt came across as if it was written by a pathetic, sycophantic fan (the reasons why still elude me). The embarrassing evidence is exhibited below: