‘Nerrbits, a story’ by James Cameron, aged 16


Some of you may have read James Cameron’s justifiably concerned response (see Avatar comments below) to the publication of a personal letter that was intended for his eyes only. The AR apologises and lifts his eyebrows up at the centre and depresses them at their ends in a recognisable expression of thoughtful contrition. It is only fair that Cameron be allowed to speak his piece. Accordingly, here is an excerpt from one of his stories about Nerrbits the alien, written when Cameron was a mere 16 years old.

Crepuscular globules swelled from the jungle wall. Alien teeth gnashed in the under-scrub. Were they good alien teeth or bad alien teeth? Nerrbits didn’t know. But one thing was for sure – these aliens didn’t worry themselves about floss. An undue preoccupation with dental hygiene would get you killed on Cameronius Prime. Evolution had weeded out the teeth-pussies.

Sometimes Nerrbits thought back to when he was at school and everyone teased him for liking science and aliens. Butch, Duke and the other Beefy Boys had mocked him, saying “When are you gonna get laid Nerrbits?” or “One day you’re gonna jack your joystick right off Nerrbits, sitting around in that room all day”. How they laughed. Little did they know that one day they would all die in a horrible biochemical attack that would make them grow horribly fat and bald just before they died, horribly. Nerrbits of course survived the attack and went on to become a sensitive lover, a film director and an explorer of alien worlds. But he had known this since early infancy, following a visit from an oracular bluebird who landed on his crib and foretold all of the great things that would happen to him.

Nerrbits hunched down on his haunches and pulled a cyber-whip from his side-pouch. He triangulated his position to the nearest milli-quim and shot a fiery flare into the intense skies of Cameronius Prime. Just as he had hoped, a dick-weasel sprang from the shrubbery flashing its fleshy fangs. Nerrbits seized it by its red shiny head and grasped at its trunk with his limber legs. They fell grappling and grunting into the mildewed leaves when all of a sudden Nerrbits realised his mistake. This wasn’t just any dick-weasel – it was a female dick-weasel. This was going to be a night to remember.


9 Responses to “‘Nerrbits, a story’ by James Cameron, aged 16”

  1. James frickin' Cameron Says:

    GOD frickin’ DAMN IT. You fricker. That’s it, buddy, I’m suing your ASS off. That was my GOD DAMN script for Avatar 2 (3D): The Sexy Alien Lady Terminators Attack (Director’s Cut), you frickin’ ASSHOLE. I hope you’ve got a good frickin’ lawyer, because I’ve got a whole GOD DAMN army of frickin’ sexy lady terminator lawyers and they’re gonna saute your lawyer’s scrotum for BRUNCH. In some creamery butter.

    And I’m gonna call them as soon as I’ve finished looking at these pictures of sexy lady terminators. You ASSHOLE.

  2. Banjo Fett Says:

    Yikes. Cameron full-frontal assault.

  3. johnlebaptiste Says:

    Dear Mr Cameron,

    I have spoken to your lawyers and they have agreed to settle out of court. I will pay you to the tune of ten dick-weasels and a Jetsons sex doll, and you will give me complete rights to everything you have written. I think you will agree that I have sweetened the pot considerably for you with that last item.

    Best wishes,
    John Le Baptiste

  4. James frickin' Cameron Says:

    Can’t talk, busy. Lady terminators. Call my frickin’ people.

  5. Roman Frickin' Polanski Says:


    I see you also read this calumnious bulletin of lies. When are you going to give me my Spy Kids DVDs back? My internet has been cut off so I need them more than ever.


  6. David Cameron Says:


    As an average kind of guy (oh call me Dave, please – none of this ‘David’ nonsense), I’m an avid reader of this blog, but not only for its highly-accurate entertainment industry news reporting. I also use it to gauge public opinion on political matters like immigration and the environment.

    And I must say I am saddened by the behaviour of the myriad of stars who have descended on this blog in recent days, only to vent unwarranted rage on its authors. I am especially disappointed in the behaviour of my namesake, James Cameron, who has used incredibly offensive language (most notably the words ‘scrotum’, ‘brunch’ and ‘rusty terminator fist’).

    That is why I’m making a promise, right now, to ban this sort of thing as soon as I’m elected High Prince of Londonland. The British people are fed up to their hind teeth with Brown’s lackadaisical, laissez-faire approach to celebrity tantrums, and we want change. Big change. Not little change, like when you adjust the angle of a picture in the living room, and it somehow completes the feng shui of the whole house. No, not like that, but massive change. Change you can feel. Change you can grope on the subway train, like a businessman in Tokyo. Change you can chop into lines in the bathroom of a nightclub, and snort up your hooter. Change. Changey changey change.

    So remember: vote Tory Wanker Party in the forthcoming meaningless farce, I mean election, and I, Lord of All I Survey, will make that change happen. For you. And you and you and you-hoo-hoooo.

    I thangyoo.

    David Cameron MP

  7. oldrope Says:

    Is it significant that I saw both James and David Cameron together in Soho in a late night sex shop? I could not see what they were buying, but it was big.

  8. johnlebaptiste Says:

    Hot Jefferson!

    This review surely does have some big name readers. Obviously David Cameron is not included in that.

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