Time to set sail, me Hearties. Well, there was some sailing involved in our latest trial, Kill Cruise, but not a whole lot else. It should have been called Killing Time.

Such high hopes too; Liz Hurley, British sexpot Patsy Kensit and Jürgen Prochnow, Germany’s most celebrated export after the hops vine and Heidi Klum. Two gals, one guy on a boat, – some high quality adult entertainment starts this way (Captain Stabbin, anyone?).

But alas, the wind was sucked from our sails … and not in a good way. Prochnow is a washed up (pun intended) sailor who has lost his good buddy in a gale and his wife because she thinks it wasn’t an accident.

So, he channels Hemingway and drinks life away on the island of Gibraltar, swearing to return to the sea one day. Hurley and Kensit are a couple of Brit expats trying to bum a ride off the island from anyone with a Y chromosome and who’s drunk enough to overlook their horrible sequined skirts.

After hearing the girls sing a terrible number for tips in a bar, Prochnow invites them to set sail, and the three of them shove off where a startup romance between Hurley and “Der Skipper” sends Kensit into a jealous fit. She becomes a three-headed demoness: snooping girlfriend, jilted ex and single white female, culminating in her hiding the diabetic Skipper’s lifeblood of insulin until he almost croaks horribly.

The ending sucked, but you’ll have to suffer like we did if you want to find out. Brass tacks: a mere two deaths, one by smothering and one harpoon in the throat (sweet!).

Not a single boob, can or other enticing article of femininity (we want our money back). We rate this at two and a half nipple clamps. See it tonight.

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.