John Carpenter, the great demi-god of all encompassing icy monotonal death. Whats that shapeless mass shifting around behind him - oh fuck its all the monster and killers from all his films (yeah even the miasma from Ghosts Of Mars!) and they are out to get you in some sort of Thriller killer dance-off but in the end you actually do die, it ain’t no girly dream. How do you meet your sticky end? Alice Cooper impales you on the handle-bars of a bike round the back of your local Satan-harbouring church to the sound of sinister bass drones spun from a synth in a black liquid vacuum of space behind a mirror of Hell.