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A lonely obese boy everyone calls "Butter" is about to make history. He is going to eat himself to death-live on the Internet - and everyone is invited to watch.

An adopted girl discovers her talent for butter carving and finds herself pitted against an ambitious local woman in their Iowa town's annual contest.

Shin and Pongkwan have a cute daughter. which corresponds to that of Grandfather Or Shin's father had hoped for it. because of Shin's brothers They all had sons, but Shin still had some anger with his father. therefore refused to return home Still living with his girlfriend Pongkwan. Even though the father has already forgiven Causing the father to decide to send people to take his granddaughter The chaos in this battle has begun.

The story of 'Khunnai Dokrak', a sinner who wears a mask of merit. Floating in society To gain honor Fortune, praise and benefits that satisfies their own sensual desires Even if it has to be exchanged with the shame of other people's lives.

With Jam, the TV follow-up to his Radio 1 series Blue Jam, Chris Morris focuses more on unease more than the satire of Brass Eye. Indeed, it's a moot point whether Jam can actually be categorised as comedy at all. Each sketch is steeped in a heavy brine of dark, ambient music (including Bark Psychosis, David Sylvian and Brian Eno), grainy imagery, fast-cut editing and slo-motion. Its mirthless, Kafka-esque scenarios feel like an attempt to morph into some new species of post-comedy that is more like the stuff of nightmares. The credits, in which Morris stalks the moving camera, uttering Lear-esque words of foreboding immediately announce that this "sketch show" is a galaxy apart from The Two Ronnies. 　　The appalled look on actor Kevin Eldon's face in the opening sketch of the series, as a young couple invite him to endure being buggered by a mutual acquaintance ("I need a break"), sets the tone. Rape, chemotherapy, wanton urination--as a naked "Robert Kilroy-Silk" goes insane in a sketch full of detestation for the oleaginous TV presenter--and recurring sketches involving callously authoritarian NHS doctors, all go to make up these annals of the bizarre and perverse. 　　Ultimately, Jam doesn't quite work, not on TV anyway. The repetition of the same, small cast over and over, broken up too briefly by Morris' own appearances (as a "country gentleman" living outside his house, for instance), coupled with the gruelling treatment of the sketch material makes for a psyche-probing, jaw-dropping experience--but in parts also a nullifying and strangely predictable one. Morris's "failures" are far more interesting than most people's successes. --David Stubbs

With Jam, the TV follow-up to his Radio 1 series Blue Jam, Chris Morris focuses more on unease more than the satire of Brass Eye. Indeed, it's a moot point whether Jam can actually be categorised as comedy at all. Each sketch is steeped in a heavy brine of dark, ambient music (including Bark Psychosis, David Sylvian and Brian Eno), grainy imagery, fast-cut editing and slo-motion. Its mirthless, Kafka-esque scenarios feel like an attempt to morph into some new species of post-comedy that is more like the stuff of nightmares. The credits, in which Morris stalks the moving camera, uttering Lear-esque words of foreboding immediately announce that this "sketch show" is a galaxy apart from The Two Ronnies. 　　The appalled look on actor Kevin Eldon's face in the opening sketch of the series, as a young couple invite him to endure being buggered by a mutual acquaintance ("I need a break"), sets the tone. Rape, chemotherapy, wanton urination--as a naked "Robert Kilroy-Silk" goes insane in a sketch full of detestation for the oleaginous TV presenter--and recurring sketches involving callously authoritarian NHS doctors, all go to make up these annals of the bizarre and perverse. 　　Ultimately, Jam doesn't quite work, not on TV anyway. The repetition of the same, small cast over and over, broken up too briefly by Morris' own appearances (as a "country gentleman" living outside his house, for instance), coupled with the gruelling treatment of the sketch material makes for a psyche-probing, jaw-dropping experience--but in parts also a nullifying and strangely predictable one. Morris's "failures" are far more interesting than most people's successes. --David Stubbs

Adapted from Blue Jam, a late night radio show, Jam consists of six shows featuring dark humour and unsettling sketches unfolding over an ambient soundtrack. From the mind of Chris Morris.

Dissatisfied with the dishonesty they see in dating, strangers Naima and Sergio make a pact to spend 24 straight hours together in an attempt to fast forward their relationship.

Dracula and back! The urgency of having to go to Transylvania as fast as possible to bring back the remains of his own father turns out to be an adventure of a different kind for Martin. What he thought would be a short trip becomes an extended odyssey through the former east block country. Instead of Count Dracula, Martin meets a Romanian couple, Imre and Agi. Involuntarily bound to each other, they start the search. Through Transylvania, through prejudices, mundane worries and emotions, Martin's German bookkeeper sensibilities come face to face with the simplicity of Hungarian-Rumanian life.