The inspiration for Mad Max, no less. A pubescent Don Johnson ambles across a barren wasteland with a haughty telepathic sheepdog, which speaks to him with a voice strangely reminiscent of Knight Rider’s KITT, constantly correcting his grammar and berating him for his overactive libido. Looking for a bit of the other, Johnson stumbles into a fallout shelter containing a semi-functioning micro-society based around some kind of Stepford Wives distillation of homely, all-American, village fete-holding wholesomeness. Despite the odd homicidal clown-faced hick, Johnson decides this is better than scratching a living on the surface, where crumpet is somewhat thin on the ground. He soon changes his mind, however, when they tie him down and attach his nob to a milking machine. Adapted in part from a Harlan Ellison story, this downbeat and daft tale is certainly not your average apocalyptic actionfest, though that didn’t stop the producers trying briefly to market it as such by altering the title to the meatier-sounding Psycho Boy and His Killer Dog.