When I was a kid, we had this babysitter who would sit there reading horror novels. I remember seeing one with a really epic cover depicting this scabby evil looking rat. Anyway, one time she left it and I couldn't resist. James Herbert's The Rats was awesome and these rodents seemed like the coolest animal ever! Intelligent, fast and lethal. They could strip people to the bone in seconds. I had to have some pet rats. They could be trained as a rat army, my own personal, unstoppable, agents of death! I would feed them on raw steak and liver, without the onions!
Bruno Mattei's Rats: Night of Terror, features these homicidal landlocked piranha and pits them against their post-apocalyptic-Mad-Max-Style-punk-rock human counterparts. It's deadly scavenger v deadly scavenger. And It's great! And the ending has to be seen to be believed. In the gob-smacking "Noooooooo!" stakes it takes Chuck Heston's discovery of the Statue of Liberty in Planet of the Apes, eats it, poos it out and eats it again.
Anyway, I eventually got some real pet rats, which I named Sturm and Drang. I think they may have been faulty. For a start they were more interested in making nests out of old loo roll tubes than chowing down on raw meat! What they did eat ,mainly carrots, grain and nuts (though, they did like a bit of lard), they singularly failed to rip and shred in a frenzied orgy of teeth and spittle. Instead, they picked it up in their little ratty hands and nibbled! They didn't even attack each-other like male hamsters. Come to think of it, they weren't even as nocturnal has hamsters.
So either my rats were defective or this slice of classic ratsploitation is as ridiculous as Night of the Lepus. And I know for a fact that my Gran saw a rat as big as a dog.