I like to crawl under the sheets and inhale.

How anyone on God's greenish earth could despise a motion picture built solely around a child who cannot stop farting is simply beyond my limited means of comprehension. Apparently a lot of people do, as director Peter Hewitt's underrated 2002 butt blasting classic Thunderpants currently holds a particularly awful score over at Internet Movie Database. Naturally, one must approach such a crude, uncouth comedy with their absurdity cap pulled snugly around their otherwise discerning craniums, especially if they hope to see those precious end credits roll. Thankfully, when the relentless adolescent flatulating becomes too much to endure, you still have Rupert Grint and an out-of-place Paul Giamatti to keep you company for the duration. But let's be brutally honest with ourselves for a moment -- Thunderpants isn't high art, and it's definitely not going to appeal to uptight parents who involuntarily bristle whenever their child's best friend breaks wind at the dinner table. Truth be told, this is one of the worst examples of low-brow humor currently captured on film, but for some unknown reason, it amused the blue cheese out of me. To put it in layman's terms, Thunderpants puckers my throbbing pink poop producer. I'm not even sure what that means.

Recipe For Success: One Kid Farting On Another Kid + Adults Being Offended By Said Farting + Farting As A Form Of Space Travel

Deep Dark Secrets: If you replace the letter "I" in Grint with the letter "U," you have the word "grunt."

I think that's kind of funny.

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