Each day is a gift- that’s why they call it ‘the present’. Okay, a lot of these ‘presents’ may be gloomy, hopeless and unwanted. Good luck in exchanging them without a receipt!
It involves parallel timelines. The Grandfather Paradox. The Mandala Effect. And faulty Punctuation.
Oh, and a certain science fiction writer called Philip K Dick whose family name, it turns out, is an informal term for ‘penis’.
PKD, to his Dick-head fans, hypothesised one fairly straightforward exchange procedure involving mind wipe flashlights and depressed sentient furniture in his short story ‘I Can Milk This Speed Psychosis for Eight or Ten-Thousand Words Then I Really Must Crash’ but all of this got jettisoned by Hollywood in favour of an unlikely cop buddy movie starring a CGI badger and now dead novelty act Rod Hull (minus the emu which was on a US no-fly list).
After establishing their uneasily mismatched partnership via a couple of rookie cases involving battling CGI robots bigger than even James Corden, they are assigned to stake out a dogging site where all is exactly as it seems.
Ironically, the critics were unanimous in noticing yet not being terribly critical that any actual Dick (big ‘D’) had been written out in favour of dick (small ‘d’), boobs, bums and the occasional beaver being felt up in semi-darkness.
These were scenes that had every tabloid arts-sniffing muckraker and all but one of the broadsheets lining up during the press screening to bukkake all over Observer film critic Mark Kermode who denounced this not only as a disgraceful self-abuse of journalistic freedom but also “One of the most egregious examples of white, male privilege in modern Britain since my own appointment as Observer Film Critic in 2013.”