Mathew ‘Hold the T, Extra E’ Horne and James ‘HA HA HA HA HA!’ Corden are true pioneers in the field of experimental entertainment.

In only a few short years, they have broken boundaries that lesser scientific performers could only possibly consider dreaming about far, far in the distant future. Let us pause for a moment in our busy lives and consider their achievements. Their feature film, Lesbian Vampire Killers, still holds the world record of largest gaping hole between title-prompted expectation and viewing disappointment. And, of course, the Horne and Corden sketch show on BBC3 managed to create the hitherto only theoretical comedic vacuum; a place where even the most gag-stuffed idea can have every last trace of humour squeezed out of it to leave a small, calcified pebble of misery, rattling painfully around in an empty space between a documentary about racist dogs and Family Guy.

But they’re not resting on their laurels. They have now managed to completely discredit the entire discipline of statistical research.

This epoch-shattering news was broken on Chortle:

Horne and Corden are the best comedy duo ever – better than Morecambe and Wise, Laurel and Hardy or The Two Ronnies… James Corden and Mat Horne topped a poll run by the online TV service seesaw.com, which attracted 3,000 responses.

That’s it. That’s the end. That’s the last survey that will ever be done. The idea that Horne and Corden – the most critically-panned comedy duo that ever walked a planetary body, the twosome whose best effort at a joke was to place anything between one and four quivering buttocks in the way of a camera and wait for the cretinous laughter – are the best comedy double act of all time is so ridiculous, it makes a mockery of all statistics ever done.

The concept of using a small sample to reflect the opinions and view of a much larger population is now obsolete. All numbers now mean nothing. Horne and Corden have actually broken maths.

It seems there is nothing this brave pair cannot do if they put their big old minds to it.

The scientific community was quick to react to this news. Steven Hawking has controversially claimed he “wasn’t that bothered”. “Who needs numbers,” he said, peeking round the gyrating thighs of his favourite Stringfellows dancer, “when you’ve got Krystalle?” The ghost of Archimedes was reported to be muttering something about preferring “that bit in Little Britain with bloke falling out of a wheelchair.” But current TV obsession and vocal celestial body fan Professor Brian Cox has declined to comment on the grounds of being far too handsome.

Of course, Mat and James themselves have been celebrating their epic breakthrough in own indomitable style. Horne has gone for a bit of a nap for the rest of the decade, poor mite. And Corden has stripped to the waist, impervious to the aeroplanes falling from the sky, deranged computers eating humans, rivers running red with the blood of the righteous, and all the other signs of the death-of-numbers apocalypse he has caused; he’s got his belly out, and he is laughing and laughing and laughing and laughing and laughing.

His belly apologises for the chaos it has wrought.

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A title sure to attract Goths, gore-hounds and repetitive strain injury victims across the country.

Lesbian Vampire Killers is a title is so audacious, so in your face, so silly, it should probably be less of a surprise that the film can’t live up to its promise.

Thrusting current ‘it’ boys from the vastly overrated Gavin and Stacey, Mathew Horne and James Corden play the two best buds Jimmy and Fletch. Jimmy (Horne, recently-dumped) and Fletch (Corden, craving adventure), decide to take a scenic camping trip to some generic creepy village. Problem is, it only features one house, a pub, an endless forest and obviously the aforementioned lesbian vampires.

If that set-up doesn’t sound contrived enough, then add to that a director who starts off like an ADHD victim on ecstasy, who inexplicably goes cold turkey half way through the film. He aims for Edgar Wright but comes off more Edgar Shite. He could have at least stuck to his convictions.

It’s then down to Horne and Corden to supply the buddy-banter comedy. Scrap that – it’s down to Corden. Horne’s Jimmy does little more than stand around screaming, moaning and looking slightly feminine. Corden brings the funny, but for a clearly talented man he is reduced to spouting out a barrage of knob jokes.

The ladies of the film do nothing to add to the proceeding. Not that we went in looking for it, but when a film clearly advertises a film about lesbian vampires we would at least expect something towards titillation. Hell, we would’ve settled for some titters at all from the 90-minutes.

Trying to make sense of the mess is hard work. At one point one very non-lesbian vampire character obtains some sort of magical powers for a brief moment, which left us slightly perplexed. But needless to say this is the least of the film’s worries. With hap-handled plot, romance, action and comedy elements, there really isn’t much to be seen here from two of the UK’s biggest rising stars.

Lesbian Vampire Killers is a film that should do exactly what it says on the tin but barely could be called Bi-curious Bat Beaters. Horne and Corden do their best to enjoy the material but we seriously think there is a complaint to be made here to the trading standards commission.

[story by David Scarborough]

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