Blonde Fist

This is probably the worst film of all time. Margi Clarke not to be outdone is also the worst actress of all time, so quite a good fit. Honestly it is terrible.

Ravishing platinum-topped pugilist Margi Clarke is on prime gobby form as pugnacious single mum Ronnie O'Dowd in cult 90s Lively-bird drama 'Blonde Fist'. This engagingly rough-hewn, Kirby-set gem about a boozy working class scrappin' scouser and his no less hot-headed daughter is a comedic knock-out ripe for rediscovery! While some of the dramatic elements are a trifle ham-fisted, Frank Clarke's mostly witty text scintillates with a number of eminently quotable zingers!

There's a brief appearance by a young, snot-nosed Stephen Graham, Margi's fiesty prison scrap with fathole (Big Alice) remains a squalling cat-fighting treat, and the still-gorgeous Giallo Siren Carroll Baker is an absolute riot as sassy, warm-hearted ex-showgirl Lovelle Summers. You have to hand it to Margi as it takes some Promethean chutzpah to gamely deliver this deliciously clunky line to her absconding ex: "Don't come back 'ere like a thief in the night!!!!" and, almost, get away with it! I'm not claiming Blonde Fist is Ken Loachian quality, but the noisome protagonists are frequently fun, and this quirky 90s time capsule is a joyous reminder that Margi's a phooken goddess, mate!

This film requires few words of commentary. The plot is laughable, the script dismal and the acting appalling. However, as a Liverpudlian myself, I have rarely felt as embarrassed as I was by Margi Clarke's grotesque performance. She makes a laughing stock of Liverpool people. A dud without equal.

I was reacquainted with Blonde Fist a couple of weeks ago thanks to Talking Pictures TV; I only have a vague memories of this film's release back in 1991 - it was concieved, I assume, as a star vehicle for flavour of the then moment Margie Clarke, who was on something of a roll following an impressive turn on the long neglected (and unfairly so) social drama 'Making Out'.

Written and directed by her brother, co-starring her sister, Blonde Fist soon sank without trace. Drably shot and sluggish paced, the story seems to take forever to get going; Margi Clarke tries, but she is uncomfortable as she is unconvincing in the leading role - hampered by an unfunny script that's stuck between the far superior Boys From The Back Stuff, or an overlong episode of the dreadful Liverpool based situation comedy Bread, and a supporting cast of sanctimonious bullies and clichéd stereotypes.

Give this one a miss - it flopped for a good reason; the only point of note is an early appearance by Stephen Graham, and a small role for veteran Scottish actress Julie Graham; both made a better ''fist' of their careers than Margi ever did...and neither of them were related.

On my way to work I once passed a pair of teenaged girls engaging in a furious fight which revealed a capacity for aggro by the opposite sex that came to mind when I saw 'Blonde Fist'.

Margi Clarke is in her element as a chain smoking Scouse blonde bullet whose bright red lipstick matched her nails who turns her pent-up anger and frustration to financial advantage by joining the fight game.

The cartoonish credits are reflected by the nature of the violence that follows. Despite a couple of nostalgic black and white flashbacks to the 1950s depicting the early days of Clarke the bulk of the action takes place in 199 (complete with a woman wearing an anti-Poll tax teeshirt) which from today's perspective is almost as remote an era (as attested to by the fact that cast member Carroll Baker is now 92).