Squit’s about to get real. Joss takes Mary down to the beach to watch a real wrecking party – this should be fun. His crew of mutants lure the unfortunate ship onto the rocks as the godly Mister Davey looks on from the cliffs. The shipwreckees swim to shore where Joss’s thugs greet them with a whacking and a cracking. A lot of motherfucking heads get flown. Drowned, brained or choked out – getting shipwrecked was only the second worst thing to happen to them today. Joss tries to make Mary embrace her nature and kill an innocent sap and when she refuses he gets to drowning her. Just as she’s about to join her mother and the millions of Cornish who died answering the phone while ironing who should bobble on the waves but nausey Will. Joss looks at him all “you’ll do, son” and drowns him instead as Mary screams “I know there’s good in you!” She really is an almighty lackbrain.
Joss drowns him as Mary screams “I know there’s good in you!” She really is an almighty lackbrain.
Proving they can lock the door once the horse has bolted Magistrate Bassat‘s men begin shooting at the raiding party dropping a few of them so Mary and Joss GTFO back to the Inn were Joss sticks his face in Mary’s tummy which I imagine is some kind of “Soz for the murders”. Patience eventually persuades Joss they have a future over in Devon which is probably some magical beacon of civilisation to people from Cornwall.
Back in the state penitentiary the Feds try and pin the 10 murders on Jem telling him he’ll hang like a cunt unless he grasses his brother up. He says he’ll give them the mystery overlord’s name if he and his brother just get life imprisonment not the gallows. All he has to do is persuade Joss to give up the name.
But when he visits the Inn Joss is not talking. Mary takes the opportunity to escape on horseback to Davey’s gaffe but there’s no one in. On returning to the Inn she finds Joss and Patience murdered by scrotes unknown. Bummer. Still she’ll be safe with the God botherers and she crashes with Francis and Hannah. Having a quick root around Francis’s desk she finds stolen booty, “A Pirate I Be” pendant and Will’s shitty engagement ring. That’s odd but I’m sure there’s a perfectly rational explanation.
The vicar is happy to provide it as Mary gradually slips into unconsciousness from the roofie he slipped her. He done it – ALL of it. The wrecking, the smuggling, the shooting, the looting, the darn tooting. And weird Hannah knows all about it. Back in the pen Jem figures out from dirty Harry’s recollections that vicar is the bad guy and escapes custody to apprehend the miscreant. Meanwhile vicar takes Mary for a climb up a big rock.
All of a sudden you can’t stop the cunt jabbering on. Much like Father Dougal he finds the dogma of the Christian church “sickening” which is a bit of drawback for a clergyman. “The old pagan barbarism is honest and clean” he tells her. Human sacrifice? He rikee! The molto remains of shipwreck victims at the top of the rock testify to this. It’s all gone a bit Wicker Man and I’m not talking about Paul.
It’s all gone a bit Wicker Man and I’m not talking about Paul.
Jem makes good ground on the twat, dragging his idiot sister up the rock for leverage. He tries some old-fashioned horse trading – Hannah’s life for Mary’s but old Wicker Vicar ain’t trying to hear that. He licks off a few shots prompting Jem to return fire. Hannah gets deaded in the melee and in a somewhat disappointing conclusion Davey sacrifices himself on Mary’s say so. “Well if we’d known it was as simple as telling the cunt to kill himself we’d have done it years ago” says Jem and the 449 corpses nod silently in agreement.
So that’s your Jamaica Inn over. Friendzoned Ned pays a visit to take Mary back to whatever rural fuckden they dragged her out of but it’s to no avail. Mary wants horse thief cock and you can be damn sure she’s going to get it. She and Jem ride off on a couple of stolen mares like two gypsies into the sunset doing impersonations of nausey Will when he was drowning. Their laughter rings out along the Cornish countryside as one horse looks to the other as if to say “we’ve got a right fucking pair here”.
They have too.
The verdict: I’m in with the Inn crowd.
Marks out of 10: 7