At some point in the future, Stephenie Meyer will revisit her sullen, boring vampire world when she's got sick of sitting on her giant throne of gold. She might resist it the same way JK Rowling inevitably will until someone offers her millions to stop trying to be a grown-up writer, but eventually we are going to see the eternal battle between necrophilia and bestiality rear its ugly head again as Bella, or some other pasty, miserable teen falls improbably in love with a frosty, disco-skinned rubbish vampire and someone makes his undead sperm jolt back to life, or something. Hollywood must make a stand now and vow not to entertain this inevitable attrocity. It might not happen in 2013 - in fact it probably wont, but at some point in the future the Twi-hards will all dust off their Team Edward T-shirts, now just too small to cover the post-college belly-swell and line up for hours overnight to catch a glimpse of several actors who will never make any memorable films ever again. Do we really want to go through that again? I think not.