Welcome to Bad Movie Night, or for those who had followed previous exploits of ours, the triumphant return. For those of you unfamiliar with BMN, it’s where ye cowardly flocks gather to read about movies so bad you dare not engage hours of your lives away. Maybe you’re less cowardly than brilliant, or at least smarter than we are for watching high school film projects gone awry.

Nuff with the fy-lo-so-feye-zing, let’s get to it. Our inaugural monstrosity is a tele-novella entitled Jesus Christ Vampire Hunter. Yup, you heard right, the undead-savvy savior throws stakes and breaks limbs in a film school chopsocky flick of miniscule proportions.

“Vampires no longer fear the sun, but they will learn to fear the son of God,” says the trailer, and by God, his Holiness was a mean, vamp-slayin’ machine a-la Chuck Norris himself (praises be to Chuck).

Now before you go getting all excited thinking this is a church-approved portrait of apocalypse, be warned that not only does the J-man shear his flowing, sacred locks, but he even cavorts with a lusty lesbian derriere-kicker by the name of Mary Magnum. Not exactly the stuff of Sunday school.

The movie starts with the J-man convening with a pair of his righteous priests at the beach. The skinny-suckers are now somehow able to roam around in broad daylight and not turn into briquettes, so they can feed 24-7 on their favored target: Toronto’s lesbian population. Genius.

We rate this at two beer kegs … we cracked a few smiles.

Think you’ve seen something worse or seen something at the video store you don’t have the guts to rent? Send in any requests that aren’t Manos: The Hands of Fate to k_henryv@yahoo.com, and we’ll brave the rapids.