People have longed to cheat death since at least the 1950s, and here it turns out some old bat had the secret in her spare bedroom the whole time. Her son begs and begs, so finally she lets him in on it and he immediately commits suicide and comes back as an unkillable biker zombie, exploding out of his grave bike and all like the cover of a Meatloaf album. First order of business: filling up on petrol (this movie's British) and not paying. ("I'll teach you a lesson, you long-haired git," says the guy who runs the petrol station. He's immediately owned.) Second order of business: selling the rest of his gang on the idea, which sounds like the Rx for awesome so it's too bad this movie just phones it in and squanders nearly every opportunity. For example, during a funeral for this chick zombie biker they open the casket and everyone's all shocked because the body has skedaddled , but how much cooler would it have been if she had waited until the middle of the service and then punched her way out of the coffin in front of everybody? This flick does have its good points, like the bikers' weird fetish for running over baby carriages, or the scene where the camera slowly circles around this room full of cops- at first the cops are all alive, but when we come around to them again they're all dead. It's passage of time, Rick. My favorite though is when the bikers commit suicide. One cat does this badass forward-facing Nestea plunge right off an overpass, and, in the single best part of the movie, a cop yells up to a dude on the seventh floor to get downstairs and move his bike: "Okay," the dude says, and then, all casual-like, jumps out the window. There's just not enough of this hilarious insanity though; mostly it's just the main guy and his idiot gang tooling down the highway in their queer-ass skull helmets. (I know the idea of a motorcycle helmet that looks like a skull sounds rippin', but trust me, they found a way to totally screw it up.) This flick isn't a total bust, but when it's all said and done I don't think the Hell's Angels or the Pagans have anything to worry about. Or even the Punch Drunk Banditos, assuming a motorcycle club with that name even exists. I sure hope it does.