I'm just back from an outing to a local picture house to see the talkie entitled Dodgeball, and I'm sure you don't need me to tell you how very enjoyable it is.
And I'm sure you wouldn't need to ask the twenty suprisingly well-behaved five year-olds together with the noble parent/guardian, revelling in the masses of extreme slapstick violence. I dread to think what playground games they'll be trying after this! I just hope that the lewder stuff (such as the brown "moustache" on the pub-sign for the "Dirty Sanchez") went over their heads...
But I wouldn't ask the four surly teenagers sitting on the back-row, who spent the ENTIRE film chatting non-stop. Thankfully I was close enough to the front not to make out any of their conversation, but I really felt sorry for the poor sods sitting closer to them. I just can't understand why four people would spent £5.70 each only to ignore the focus of their expenditure, surely knowing fully well that they would be destroying the film for everyone around them, knowing but not caring. That's what I hate about this upcoming antisocial slacker generation that we've fostered. Never in the field of British society was so much ruined for so many by so few, as Winston Churchill would probably have it if he hadn't died 39 years ago. But then he'd be 130 years old by now, so maybe he'd be keeping his sentences shorter to preserve breath anway. I think this analogy has run out of steam, time to bail out. Laters...