Canter Bridge

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There’s only a handful of words you hope never to catch yourself saying without a due period of reflection: ‘I love you.’ ‘That dress makes you look fat.’ ‘Have you put on a few pounds?’ ‘Nobody will notice.’

And then of course: ‘This is the funniest movie I’ve ever seen.’

I can hardly stop myself. I’m gonna’ say those words about Will Ferrell’s Talladega Nights. The Ballad of Ricky Bobby.

I live in a town that titles itself ‘the racing capital of the world’. In fact, I was out at the Brickyard yesterday to watch McLaren continue its resurgence via a Hamilton-Alonso one-two finish in the United States Grand Prix.

There are three big races each year at Indy: The 500, Nascar’s Allstate 400, and yesterday’s F1 race. Each draws a completely different audience, each dismissive of the demographics of the race that came just before theirs and the one that comes after.

That’s the dynamic upon which Ferrell’s Rick Bobby and Sacha Baron Cohen’s irrepressible F1 convert to Nascar Jean Girard play. They rightly play to howls of laughter.

Ferrell’s and John Reilly’s Cal Naughton, Jr. (even the name is perfect) hilariously draw out the bisyllables of Southern Fried culture. Even their motto – ‘Shake and bake!’ – is uproariously Southern.

The movie’s humor is a bit crude and may push the boundaries of the PG-13 rating of the in-theatre version.

But it really doesn’t get any funnier than this.

I’m gonna say it!

The funniest movie I’ve ever seen …