The Pink Panther

It's only February, but I'm going to put my neck on the line and place a month's wages on The Pink Panther being unanimously voted worst film of 2006 in the end of year poll.

Setting a new benchmark in bad, only a freak accident at the premiere befalling the star could redeem the release of this film. And only then if it were fatal.

There is no discernible reason why The Pink Panther should ever have been remade. It's clearly been subject to some desperate re-editing in an attempt to salvage something worth screening, but they haven't shredded enough. Another 95 minutes, or so, dropped on the cutting room floor and it might have been watchable.

One particularly long and painful sequence involves Martin mispronouncing the word "hamburger" in a variety of zany and wacky ways. This lasts for approximately three days and is later repeated to even less hilarity. It was around this point that I tried to slit my wrists with the sharp corner of a half-popped kernel of corn.

It's kinder not to mention the presence of Emily Watson and Jean Reno in this leprous whore of a tax write off, but the guilty must be punished. To be fair, even a full cast of Oscar winners could do nothing with the script. The best anyone can hope for is that it sinks quickly and quietly, so that as few people as possible are scarred by the cinematic experience of Martin trying to seduce Beyonce Knowles in a bad French accent with randomly occurring lisp.

I have suffered, so you don't have to.