Contains no plot spoilers
We love the movies. Used to go 3 or 4 times a week in London, when we didn't have a telly.
So, we go to see District 9 yesterday, Orange Wednesdays style.
& whilst we think we've got real good seats like, in comes 4 pick 'n mix twenty year olds who plonk in front of us, and now render our good seats as the black spot.
They continue to talk and talk ................. & talk. But it's the adverts.
So they continue to giggle - rather falsely I feel - during the film clips.
Now I like the film clips as it helps me decide on the next films to see. But no Gill, be cool, it's not the main feature yet.
So the film starts - and a jolly good Peter Jackson one it is too. A smashing film to go and see, but it's odd, eh.
& they are trying to disguise it, but they are still talking. For people with the attention span of a goldfish, they've certainly got my attention.
So I kick - one, two, three times - at the back of each chair. & as they each turn round to confront, my eyes flick sharpishly up to the screen. My sense of timing is impeccable. And they do indeed shut up.
But what's this? Oh man! One of them is flashing their mobile phone round. I can't keep my eyes on the film & I'm inconsolable.
So I lean over and deeply whisper from behind ................... "I've been watching your mobile phone for the past 5 minutes & I don't like it, shut it off"
Snap! it's away faster than a Nigella speedy speedy supper.
As the film ends and the lights go up, they look round to see who their assailant is, but my eyes aren't connecting with them.
It's not often in life I get the opportunity to tell such deserving people to shut-the-fuck-up!
Ah! That felt good.