Tramps melt in all the colours of the rainbow in this sporadically ambrosial foray into the slums and toilets of 80s New York/New Jersey. A liquor store owner finds a case of mysterious tonic then ballyhoos it the provincial scum; sequentially reduced to bubbling piles of shite upon sampling the brew. The acting/dialogue is unsatisfactiory even in unintentional comedy terms, though Bill Chepil’s cop is legendary (“Lady, I ain’t sure you don’t got a cock!”). An arduous sag of a middle is bookended by the muculent delights.