Buoyed by my recent switch from briefs to boxer shorts and the emergence of hair in places there had previously been no hair, my 12 year old self decided to he was man enough to watch 'Dawn of the Dead'. I don't think I slept for about 3 nights after.

I watched the same film on Saturday for the first time since and failed completely to understand how something so silly looking (yes, it was innovative for 1978, but not 1998 and definitely not 2008) had illicted such fear in me.

See also; the wolf in 'The Never Ending Story' and 'Gremlins', which I first saw at the tender age of 5