Film & TV

The Naughty Corner

Buried under a deluge of essays? No time to indulge in the world’s finest erotic delights? Well worry no more, as Impact’s here to keep you in the know, condensing hours of obscenity into one short synopsis of smut. This issue: the 2003 classic, Womb Raider.

The Beginning: A promising start, with famous adventurer “Cara Loft” – do you see? – being rudely awoken by the arrival of a ninja through her French windows. She might be a high-flying explorer, but our Cara has all the fashion awareness of a pork pie. Leopard-skin sheets with zebra-print pillows? Some clumsy flirting with the ninja, then we’re off to meet the superbly named Dr. Scrotus, who sends her to Arabia in search of three sacred womb statues. Nobody tells him that his beard looks like a deflated squirrel.

The Middle: Arabs, apparently, look and sound like Canadians with marker-pen moustaches and curtains for robes. Although she suffers from a bizarre fabric allergy that forces her to remove her top every six minutes, Cara eventually makes it across the desert and chats to the Arabs in the most persuasive language she knows: the language of girl-on-girl mud wrestling. And the statues are hers!

The End: Back in England, it turns out Scrotus was a baddy all along and, being the naughty sort, killed Cara’s father. The rascal! Good thing she’s able to take him down cost-effectively by only firing her pistols when they’re off-camera. Job done, and it’s back home in time for tea and three-in-a-hot-tub sex romps. Hurray!

With its complex tale of lust and revenge, Womb Raider is that rarest of joys: a bluey that’s actually better with the sound on, if only because Cara has the voice of a constipated Mary Poppins. Final score? Two-and-a-half wombs out of a Scrotus.

Robert Jones

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Film & TV

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