I started watching the Astronauts Wife last night (the movie, before you think I've become 'my name is Michael Caine, and I am a nosy neighbout') but gave up about half way through when I realised that 1. I was very tired and 2. This was in fact a cheap rip off of Rosemarys Baby - possibly one of the best horror movies ever made. I'd also already watched Mona Lisas smile, not by choice I hasten to add as Ks friend K brought it around (also with toffees and icecream so it was not all bad) but even so, such excriating pointless shite. The film started only in that it obeyed the laws of physics and went from a state of not beginning to beginning, after that it ceased to have a middle or indeed any form of ending other than, after the passage of time, it stopped. This was a truly terrible film with any messsage about the emancipation of women or challenging the establishment lost in a slush of weak script, tired cliches and too much acting. Dead Poets Society is far superior. Fortunately I'd watched Conan the barbarien the previous day so happily fantasied about combining the two films. This culminated in Arnold hacking off Julie Roberts head (rather than James Earl Jones) in front of the assembled cast of all the St Trinians films. Splendid.