Keith Lemon The Film

Keith Lemon: The Film is, quite simply, one of the most repugnant pieces of cinema ever projectile vomited into mainstream consciousness. The so-called ‘plot’ follows Keith Lemon selling his ‘Lemon phone’ that rockets him to an overnight billionaire. I would accuse writer Leigh Francis of copying The Jerk, the Steve Martin classic of 1979, where he makes his fortune overnight from another ridiculous invention called ‘The Opti-grab’ but I refuse to believe Francis has seen it, as surely he would have gleaned some humorous gags from such an iconic comedy classic. Alas for Lemon, uninspiring chaos ensues and awful celebrity cameos abound until our bouncing blonde protagonist learns that friends are more important than fame and fortune.

When the film began, the cinema was perhaps three quarters full. By the end of it, there were just a few people who had been brave enough to sit through it. It resembled one of those sauna competitions they have in Finland. Every few minutes, somebody was heard muttering ‘I can’t stand it’ and crawled to the exit leaving us brave few to withstand the torture. My friend suggested we leave after twenty minutes. Heroically, I told him we had to stay. I felt like Woodward or Bernstein: the public had to know about this unparalleled monstrosity and it was my job, nay, my duty, to tell the world.

I felt my brain cells melt with one awful joke after another. The running gag was that Keith Lemon was not ginger but strawberry blonde. Such originality was matched only by the other running gag, that Keith Lemon spent thousands getting his cock enlarged to twelve inches. A particular highlight was Keith Lemon having an orgasm after seeing Kelly Brook naked so the whole room was covered in his spunk. And no, I’m not making this up.

This film had an undeniable talent for gathering every detestable celebrity under the sun for the briefest and most pointless cameos. After drinking an energy potion, Jedward sing and dance for a while, which I can assure you will make you hate them more. Ronan Keating turns up and is mistaken by Lemon for being Simon Pegg. That’s it; that is the gag. I was also overjoyed to see Holly Willoughby and Fearne Cotton appear. Cotton gave one of her trademark smiles, which makes me think she’s either dead inside or had a lobotomy a few years ago. Vernon Kay is also featured and sits at the table next to Keith Lemon and Kelly Brook at a restaurant. After seeing them push sausages into each other’s mouths, he orders “bangers and gash, no, I mean bangers and mash.”

The fact this film was released at all, though, is worrying for the British film industry. With so many talented directors out there, it is nothing short of alarming that executives would be willing to let this happen. The main issue with the film isn’t just that it’s not funny but you can tell they just didn’t try. If they are making this for the public, which they obviously are, then this is simply unforgivable.

It is never a good sign when you walk out of the cinema racked with guilt and self-doubt. I will not lie to you and say I was asked to go and see this. The York Vision film editors are not responsible. I chose to buy a ticket. My excuse that it was the only film on when I arrived should not be accepted. I paid £5.40 to see it and funded this film out of my own pocket. I imagine this feeling I’m experiencing is akin to how the Germans felt in 1945 after voting Hitler in twelve years earlier. “What was I thinking? I could have seen Batman again! I could have just not got out my bed this morning!” But I did and the only apology I can make is with this review to try and advise people to not make the same mistake I did. Do not go and see this.