They met in the rain. The Batman had been waiting patiently in his hardened, oversized armour, pointed ears pricked for any sign of the man in red and blue. Down he came, Christ-like from the sky, his red cape flapping as the storm beat down against his pectorals that bulged impossibly through the lycra. They locked eyes. Their moment had come.
But why had they come to fight? Nobody really seemed to know anymore. There was that annoying little man of course, Lex something-or-other. Yet that so-called genius spoke so fast nobody actually understood his pop-philosophy or whatever he was spouting. Something about a mother? Was that really what brought them together? Or was it something deeper, more carnal, more impassioned?
They had met before, of course, under different circumstances. One of those upper-class parties full of socialites, Batman dressed to impress in his finest suit, Superman masquerading as a reporter. Their eyes met across the crowded room, the younger man entranced by the suave confidence of his elder. They spoke using pseudonyms to maintain their pretence, outdoing each other with brazenly flirtatious put-downs. Yet both men knew, deep down, the secret of the other.
And so, in the rain, Batman had a plan of action. He readied that phallic kryptonian staff, the only thing that could pierce Superman's steely resolve. But before he had a chance to thrust, Superman flew at him with all his body weight. They fought in an eruption of physicality, two bears rutting, rubble, debris and fire ejaculating around them.
This moment had been inevitable. The two men had seemed so different. One an exemplary, godlike figure of masculinity whose chiselled jaw and exceptional abilities meant only one thing: confusing Christian metaphors. The other, a man of mystery who lingers awkwardly in the shadows of post-9/11 America, shrouded in seductive darkness and acting solely with his chin. This would be a clash of the titans.
And yet it was their similarities that brought these heightened pillars of masculinity together. Both had lost their parents. Both conveniently had mothers called Martha. Both had a penchant for rubber. And both were hiding a secret homosexual agenda. Superman covered his with a girlfriend - some journo-type called Lois who always stuck her nose where it wasn't wanted - but even she recognised that he was unable to truly be himself around her. Batman, a loner, spent his time tinkering with technology in a cave with only his butler for company, a butler who noted he was never likely to have children - at least, not with a woman.
Suddenly a new beastly foe had arisen - something to do with that Lex guy and the rubbish villain from the last film that somehow miraculously came back to life. It fed off the power of the two men, their combined force life-giving.
They were not alone in their plight, however, for another figure appeared on the battlefield, a heroine whose identity we'd all figured out hours earlier. Wonder Woman took on the beast alone with her magic bracelets - she don't need no man to save her, and of course every gay man needs a sassy independent woman to be his muse.
Love, however, conquers all, and Superman soon realised that to save his faux-girlfriend, the Earth, and the life of his beloved, he must offer the ultimate sacrifice. And so, just in time for Easter, the Jesus-wannabe gave his life.
Or did he? Because of course there's a sequel coming, a sequel that will combine these homoerotic heroes in some sort of league of justice; a sequel that will probably still attempt to humanise these ridiculous characters; a sequel that (fingers crossed) will actually attempt some sort of plot. It can't get any worse...can it?
Watch: Batman V Superman is out now.