In hindsight, perhaps opening a flick based purely (and wonderfully) on pouring as many nubile young tits and asses and rotten old blood and guts onto the screen as possible on Easter weekend wasn’t the soundest marketing decision. I mean even I, a lover, if not downright connoisseur, of such things missed out on the Grindhouse opening weekend as for some reason none of the rest of my rarely-gathered-together family wanted to go. Of course, my brothers weren’t there, but even if they had been, I would have felt a bit of a lout if we had all snuck off for three or four hours while my parents and sweetheart sat in the kitchen debating how to play Pictionary with three people. Not cool.