I have a problem. They say the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem.
So here goes…
(Deep breath)
I’m addicted to home improvement programs.
Flipping Vegas, Flip Men, Extreme Makeover Home Edition, Property Brothers….I can’t stop watching them.
There, I said it.
Phew, it feels good to get it out.
Yesterday my wife and I met some friends for a pub lunch.
On the menu they had a seafood dish called the ‘Fisherman’s Platter’.
I couldn’t help but mention that is sounded a lot like ‘Fisherman Splatter’.
At least they used the word ‘Fisherman’ and not ‘Seaman’.
Whilst walking in ASDA, I overheard a couple of the male staff members having a conversation:
Guy 1 – “Why don’t we ask Tracy to do it?”
Guy 2 – “Tracy isn’t working today”
Guy 1 – “Oh, right”
Guy 2 – “Thank God”
So that was nice.
On Friday I was made redundant and, to celebrate (or should it be commiserate?), we all went to the pub to have leaving drinks.
It was messy.
I must have had about 20-25 drinks before we decided to call it a night and leave London to get the train back to Crawley.
When we finally arrived it was midnight and a very inebriated wife and I thought it would be a great idea to have doner kebab meat and chips (with chilli sauce).
I think the word ‘great’ was a bit of a stretch.
After we’d eaten like pigs at a trough we each took an Alka-Seltzer XS (with caffeine) before we went to bed. This was an attempt to avoid the inevitable hangover that was lurking a few hours away.
In the morning I didn’t have a headache or anything, although my stomach felt all weird and trembly.
It must have been the caffeine.
Yes…definitely the caffeine.
One of the girls I work with always wears fake lashes. It looks like her eyes are wearing baseball caps.
The other day I dared her to come to work not wearing them, so today she’s done exactly that.
She looks…well…no different, actually.
Her natural lashes (which I believe I am saving from extinction) are long, so she looks just great without those massive canopies keeping her face shaded from the sun.
Goodbye fake tan.
Then she came out with this gem:
“I do feel like I’ve got bigger eyes today”.
Brilliant.
However, this isn’t the first time she’s come out with a random statement. In fact, one of my friends in the office who sits next to her is compiling a book of them.
Here is a sample of what he has so far.
“I have pissed myself before; I was under the influence”
“Why can’t I work from home? I couldn’t work from home because I wouldn’t work!
“Is the Caribbean in Thailand?” (We work in travel)
“What would 50% of the holiday cost be? Oh yeah, half!”
“What class are they flying? Pre minimum Economy?”
Her – “Are you still with the mum?”
Customer – “No, I’m not”
Her – “Aww, ok; are they still her kids though?”
“I actually think I’m in a music video today”
“I can’t wait to shave”
“When you say ‘Afternoon’, how weird is that?”
“Don’t you think oranges are weird? Like, the way they grow. The world is a wonderful place Billy”
“It’s the one bedroom apartment equilavent….equilavent…..EQUILAVENT!”
“About a month ago I shit myself. It was so annoying because it was just after a shower.”
“O.M.G., I think I’m getting fingered by a ghost!”
How can I compete with this comedy gold?
The interesting thing to note is that this girl is actually quite smart. She’s quick to learn and very inquisitive…she’s just a bit of a ditzy twat at times.
Bless her.
Tonight, as I was perusing Facebook in bed, I saw this post on my newsfeed:
Sooooooo friggin pee’d off with myself right now!!! Feel like crying!!! Bloody dropped, smashed, shattered and well and truely broke my tablet. So not a happy bunny right now!!!!
I felt the need to comment on this tragedy…and by tragedy I don’t mean the event itself, but rather the shameful use of grammar and the misspelling of the word ‘truly’.
I replied with:
So no more Candy Crush invites??
#silverlining
That will go down as well as her tablet did.
I do feel bad for her though.
Truely.
Here’s a shining example of a perverse incentive if ever there was one.
When my phone’s battery is dying, my phone decides to alert me by leaping into life and bleeping loudly whilst lighting up the big LED screen with a warning that my battery is low.
Yeah, that helps.
This warning then keeps the screen brightly lit until I acknowledge it by pressing the ‘OK’ button. Even then, it doesn’t switch to standby until I do it myself.
It’s like shouting “You’re being very quiet and stealthy!” to a ninja, mid-creep.
He knows. And now he isn’t.
Oh look, my battery has drained drastically in the last 2 minutes for some reason.
Oh look, the ninja has been stabbed through the face by the palace guards.
This sign has been up in the toilets at work for a while now.
I’ve mocked it enough. It’s time this was sorted out.
(I couldn’t resist).
There was a man on the train wearing a leather racing jacket with the words ‘Jack Goff Racing’ emblazed on it.
Jack Goff? Really?
Who next, Juan King?
This morning on the tube I saw a man eating a McDonalds meal like a man possessed. Well, I say ‘eating’; it would be more accurate to say ‘pushing his whole face into the burger that was resting on his lap’.
After he’d stop burrowing into his meal like he was bobbing for apples he emerged for air and I couldn’t help but smile; he had a piece of burger stuck to his forehead, just above his right eyebrow.
Hilarious.
But, after it had been sat there for a minute or so, I realised it wasn’t a piece of burger but a skin tag! This wasn’t your everyday skin tag the size of a rice krispie, no this one was almost an inch long; like a small penis!
I tried to avoid looking at it, but I just…couldn’t…stop.
Every fibre of my being was resisting the urge to do this:
I was in the break room at work making coffee when one of the senior managers burst through the door. He was quite flustered and started talking loudly to one of the customer service team who thought they were going to be having a quiet coffee break.
They were wrong.
He was talking (or half shouting) about an on-going complaint we’d received from a customer who had become seriously ill whilst on holiday.
“Apparently it’s semolina poisoning!” he half shouted.
I stopped making drinks, turned and smiled, “Did you just say semolina poisoning?”
He turned to me with a face of genuine, serious concern.
“Yes”
“Really? Semolina poisoning?”
“Yes!”
Ok then. I won’t argue. Your education probably cost more than mine.
One of the girls at work is feeling a little under the weather today. She has come out with some choice comments [1].
Firstly we had:
“What is sneezing, exactly?”
This was later followed up with:
“D’you know what? After this cold is gone, I’m really going to appreciate my nose”
Then we got:
“D’you know what I can’t wait to do tonight? Have a shower and blow my nose in my hands”
But the worst had to be:
“Oh my god, I feel like shit. I am literally dying”
Bad use of grammar always grits my shit.
She wasn’t literally dying. Not unless you count the fact that, technically, we’re all dying from the moment we’re born.
But, let’s be honest, she didn’t mean it like that
No, she was saying that her grim demise was fast approaching solely because of her cold.
This misuse of the word ‘literally’ really bothered me because it simply wasn’t true.
So I stabbed her.
[1] Bollocks
We’ve all called someone only to get their annoying voicemail recording.
A few of us will leave a message, but a majority will just text them instead. But if we don’t intend to leave a message, why do we wait until we’ve heard the entire voicemail recording before hanging up?
What are we expecting to hear at the end? The winning lottery numbers? A sonnet?
Being English, it’s entirely possible we don’t want to offend the recording by cutting it off mid-sentence so we wait until the very end before we hang up; just in case.
We don’t want to appear rude after all.
Please leave your comments after the beep.
..
..
Beep.
It’s been a while since I’ve written anything. To be honest it’s been a hectic couple of months which I will no doubt write about in the coming weeks.
Aren’t you excited?
Anyway, to ease myself back into the habit of writing, I just wanted to share an interaction I had the pleasure of witnessing on the Tube this morning.
There was a couple. I would say they were mid-to-late twenties and very posh.
How did I know? Well…
He had immaculately combed back (and yet thinning) hair with glasses and was wearing cufflinks. Yes, he was one of those people who actually wear cufflinks to work.
She had straight strawberry-brunette hair with enough make-up to choke a rabbit. You could still see her freckles which gave her that posh ‘England Rose’ look. Her handbag looked stiffer than a Scotsman’s drink.
They were both wearing those long expensive coats you only ever see in magazine adverts worn by good looking people walking and laughing under trees in autumn.
Anyway, as the train filled up I was herded in their direction until I was stood inches away with my back to them.
This, they had decided, was the time to engage in a very posh and plummy conversation.
“I say, what time will you get to work?” she asked him with a voice that emphasised the ‘h’ in ‘what’.
“Not long now”, he replied, lacking any hint of enthusiasm; “I am so frightfully tired”.
“Mmm, yes me too” she said; “I ordered some new contact lenses but I ordered the wrong ones and they’re actually making me tireder”
There was a pause.
I’m sorry; did she just say ‘tireder’? That can’t be right. Surely it’s ‘more tired’?
A few seconds passed.
“Do you know; I don’t think tireder is a word” she said, emphasising the ‘h’ in ‘word’.
I smirked.
Neither is ‘twattiest’, I thought to myself, but I think I’m going to use it anyway.
On the London Underground there were two black guys stood not too far away from me, both dressed virtually identically and both with shaved heads.
They weren’t travelling together, yet they had both hit the stereotype perfectly on the head with their choice of attire, hairstyle (or lack of) and the fact they were both sporting red Dr.Dre Beats headphones.
They were both casually bopping their heads to whatever they were listening to.
RnB or Hip Hop probably.
Is that a bit presumptive?
(Well, stereotypes exist for a reason).
We all got off the train and headed for the lift (elevator) to the surface, packed in tighter than a takeaway carton at a buffet.
The headphone twins both adopted the stereotypical swagger of someone with one leg shorter than the other, holding up their jeans with one hand and showing us too much underwear.
Like all lifts (elevators), it was deathly silent as we ascended, despite there being approximately 25 people in there. It was at this point I realised I could hear music coming from one of our ‘gangstas’.
In the silence I could make out what he was listening to.
Shirley Bassey.
As most of you know, I work in the travel industry.
There is a chain of hotels called ‘One&Only’, which actually consists of 8 resorts with 5 more on the way.
One & only, my ass.
Following on from parts one and two, here is the final category in why the cinema experience isn’t that great.
3. The Performance
Bearing in mind I left the comfort of my home to see a film, I still have some issues with the viewing experience. These are:
Retard Retail therapy
All the adverts.
SO many adverts.
The same adverts that we’ve seen on TV, but this time they’re the unedited, longer versions that we can’t avoid on the massive screen. Usually we’d ignore them at home by making tea, fast forwarding (if it’s a recorded program) or muting them entirely.
Not at the cinema.
Nope, here you have to endure it all in high definition with super loud digital surround sound.
Still boring.
In addition to the adverts for cars, yoghurts, perfumes, mobile phones and alcohol (seriously, what exactly IS the demographic here?), they have at least 3 or 4 adverts about the cinema experience.
Eh?
It’s basically 10 minutes spent telling us how great it is to visit the cinema and how much you should go to the cinema and what to expect at the cinema…..WHILST YOU’RE SAT IN THE CINEMA!
Surely these are the adverts that should be on TV? I really don’t understand the point of advertising a product to people who are already using it.
“Try Oxygen….it’s great!”
In addition, they advertise that “It’s not too late to grab a Coke from the foyer”.
This isn’t because you’ve forgotten to buy refreshments, but because you’ve already finished your drink during the 40 minutes of crap you’ve had to endure prior to the film.
Technical difficulties
Blurry screen, sound out of sync, all the lights staying on, lines and marks on the picture throughout, bad sound etc… I’ve experienced it all.
The daddy of technical fuck ups, however, was back when ‘Star Trek: Into Darkness’ was having its run back in 2013. I had already seen it in 3D, but I really wanted to see it again in IMAX so I decided to go to a late night showing [1].
The film got to around 10 minutes from the end when suddenly the screen went pitch black. The sound was still going on, but there were no visuals.
Never before has a film’s title been so appropriate.
After everyone in the cinema had heard the end of the film, a staff member came out and apologised. He then said they were going to restart the film from the place we’d lost the picture. We all breathed a sigh of relief and sat back to watch the last 10 minutes properly.
They started it from half way. The film is over 2 hours in length.
Bollocks.
I was getting tired, but I decided to Klingon until the end of the film.
(groan)
I eventually left the cinema around 2am.
“Khaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan…….ts”
The limbo moment
I hate this moment in movies.
It’s that span of silence between the BBFC film card…
…and the first bit of anything actually happening on screen.
The reason I hate this is because people are unable to put away their phones or stop their inane conversations until something actually happens on screen to distract them. They’re like fucking cavemen seeing fire for the first time.
“Duuuuuuh?”
Once something happens (dialogue, action, anything), their conversations die down and their phones (mostly) get put away.
It’s like distracting a crying baby with a set of jangling keys.
The only Limbo moment that I love (which always commands total silence in a cinema) is the one between the 20th Century Fox fanfare and the trumpet blast of the Star Wars opening Crawl.
That silence is gorgeous.
Then the ‘Lucasfilm’ logo comes up, sparkles for a bit and disappears, followed by the words: “A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away….”.
Without exception, I get goosebumps of anticipation every single time.
In fact, I’m getting them right now, just thinking about it.
I felt a pang of sadness when I heard that Disney had bought the franchise. Not because I think they’ll make it all childish (after all, George Lucas was responsible for Jar Jar Binks and Disney did a great job with the Marvel franchise), but because I was going to miss the 20th Century Fox/Star Wars crawl combo.
Will we get that goosebump moment?
I really hope they open with an X-Wing or the Millennium Falcon flying over (or through) the Disney castle at the beginning.
We’ll see.
Anyway, all this got me thinking about how I’d love the cinema experience to be. How would I run the cinemas if I was calling the shots?
Well, here are the rules and regulations I would put into place:
- No mobile phones allowed in the screens. They will need to be checked in with staff, or switched off and inserted rectally.
- Only quiet foods allowed, such as Marshmallows or warm soup (hot soup would involve too much slurping). All food will be served in bowls; nice quiet bowls.
- You can still have popcorn, but only as much as you can carry in your hands.
- Food prices will be reasonable, negating the need to sneak in your own (we all do it!)
- No talking. Snipers with tranquiliser darts will be deployed in all screens.
- No babies in the screens. Ever. Babysitting services will be provided.
- Children will be allowed. Snipers with lower dosage tranquiliser darts will be deployed in all screens.
- No adverts. Plenty of trailers and previews of course.
- Large, soft, reclining seats with footrests. Most will have vibrating massage features as standard. Plenty of legroom.
- Allocated parking. One vehicle per party. If there’s a lot of you, hire a minivan.
- Friendly staff. Preferably film lovers and nerds. All staff will be required to watch every movie with free food and drink provided.
That will do for starters, although I get the feeling I may have gone a bit too far here.
Oh well.
I don’t care.
At the end of the day, it’s all about the movies.
I love movies and I will always love movies. To be honest, I don’t think I’ll ever stop going to the cinema because, despite its shortcomings, it’s easy to forget all the hassle when you’re engrossed in a really good film.
One day I will find the perfect cinema experience (in a galaxy far, far away?), but until then my search will continue.
Fin.
[1] The best time to go to the cinema is for a VERY late showing, ideally around 11pm. Then it’s usually only you and some fat guy in a black t-shirt. On this occasion there were a small handful, just like the popcorn in rule number 3.
Following on from Part 1, here is the second category in why the cinema experience isn’t that great.
2. The People
I can tolerate the extortionate prices of the food and over-iced drinks. I can even tolerate the uncomfortably stained and sticky seats. It’s the people I have issues with. I could write shitloads about the people, but there’s only a finite amount of storage on the internet so I’ll break it down into categories.
Talkers
Why are you talking through the film? You’ve chosen and paid money to watch this film, so sit down, shut up and fucking watch it. Are you so incapable of not spewing utter bollocks for 2 measly hours of the day? If you can’t shut up, get out.
I have to go out on a limb here and include children and babies in this section. I realise it’s not their fault as they have yet to adopt social cinema etiquette, but come on! If your baby is screaming and crying, take them outside.
They’re clearly not happy being in a dark noisy room surrounded by strangers. After all, I’m not.
Take them outside. What are you doing in the cinema with a baby anyway? Either leave them with a sitter/friend/stranger or catch the film in a few months on Netflix. It’s not fair on the baby and it’s not fair on me, er, I mean us.
As far as kids are concerned, have a word with them beforehand about not talking or at the very least gag your little treasures.
I’m joking of course, but there is a degree of responsibility here on the parents. When the child is asking “Daddy, what’s Shrek doing? Daddy? Daddy? Why is Shrek shouting at Donkey, Daddy? Daddy? DADDY? DADDY!?”, maybe consider quietly answering them, followed by a discreet “Shh, watch the film” rather than just ignoring them.
You might be able to tolerate their incessant babbling and running up and down the rows, but we can’t.
Kick my chair again you little bastard, I dare you.
Texters/Facebook fiends
I hate this above everything. Get off your phone! If you’re doing it behind me, that’s ok (unless you haven’t muted the beeping/clicking sounds when you type), but anywhere else means I get a bright light in my face which can be as distracting as a punch in yours.
What is so important that you absolutely MUST send a message to someone or check your news feed RIGHT NOW? Then, when they’ve missed massive chunks of the film, they become a ‘talker’ and have to ask their friend what they’ve missed.
If I were the friend I would lie about it.
And punch them in the dick.
Or the vagina.
(I don’t want to appear sexist).
Loud eaters
Admittedly the cinema is somewhat responsible for a majority of this, but not entirely.
Firstly it seems ALL food packaging in the cinema is required to exceed the decibel level of a jet engine. It’s like bubble wrap being driven over slowly with a steamroller that launches fireworks and ball bearings out of its exhaust pipe, in a room with a lot of echo, during an earthquake.
Secondly it seems that most people wait for a really quiet moment in the film to rummage shoulder deep into their popcorn, taking ages to grab a fistful to stuff in their stupid fat mouths.
RUSTLE RUSTLE RUSTLE!!!!
CRUNCH! CRUNCH! CRUNCH! CRUNCH!
SLUUUUURRRRP!!!
RUSTLE RUSTLE RUSTLE!!!!
CRUNCH! CRUNCH! CRUNCH! CRUNCH!
Can someone get this prick a nosebag?
Or me a gun?
Seat etiquette
Don’t kick the back of my chair, or any chair in my row that’s bolted to mine.
Even if you’re gently tapping the back of the seat without realising it, don’t think I won’t gently tap your face with my fist without you realising it too.
Also, if you choose to sit with a space either side of you, don’t act like the victim and get all reluctant and huffy when my wife and I ask you to move over. Do you seriously expect us to share popcorn across you?
We’re still going to hold hands.
And kiss.
That’s happening.
Last In, First Out
What are you doing turning up 20 minutes into the film?
Considering there’s usually half an hour of adverts and trailers/previews, that’s pretty fucking late to be strolling in. Did you forget what time the film was on? Was it a last minute decision?
And now that you’re here, please feel free to take a further 20 minutes to decide where you want to sit, preferably half way up the aisle so you can block the view of those who WERE on time.
Sit.
The fuck.
Down.
Oh, you need me to get up so you can get past my legs? Of course mate, no problem; I wasn’t doing anything anyway. No, no, it didn’t hurt when you trod on my foot. It’s fine; adds to the whole experience.
Then, when the film ends and the director’s name appears on the screen, most people are up out of their seats and already halfway to the exit.
This makes sense if the film was truly over, but with some films there are extra scenes during the credits. However, the people who have already started leaving still continue to leave!
Fine with me.
It means I can finally let out that fart I’ve been holding in.
Aaaaah…..
It’s no secret that I love going to the cinema.
But, to be completely truthful, I don’t really.
I mean, I DO love going to the cinema to watch a new film, but I’m not a fan of the experience as a whole.
It all boils down to the fact that I’m not a massive fan of being around people, and going to the cinema means I have to share my movie experience with other people.
As I’ve become older I’ve discovered that my tolerance and patience for other people is smaller and more insipid than cinema nachos.
So here are some of the things I hate about going to the cinema, grouped into three categories: The place, the people and the performance.
1. The Place
Obviously if you want to see a new film you have to leave the comfort of your sofa, leave the house and drive all the way to cinema just for the privilege of watching it on a bigger screen. Once you’re out of the house it’s not so bad though.
That is until you get there.
Parking
There’s never a space in the car park anywhere near the cinema entrance.
If you do find a space you can be sure some other bastard will beat you to it by nanoseconds.
So you end up driving slowly around the car park like a prowling sex pest, cursing at the space that just opened up behind you which has now been taken by that person who arrived after you did.
Don’t get me started on the wanker who parks across two bays.
Note to self: come back and key that fucker’s car.
You can guarantee that the further away from the cinema entrance you are, the heavier it’s likely to be raining. I often have to park so far away that I need to catch a plane to the building.
Lobby
Once you’ve parked and walked the 20 miles to the lobby, you’re then faced with the massive queues of people waiting to buy tickets. These queues are usually full of people you hope aren’t seeing the same film as you.
They usually are.
Nowadays I buy my tickets online because I absolutely hate queuing. I just walk up to a machine and enter my booking reference. Having said that, there’s no guarantee I won’t get caught behind some dipshit trying to figure out how to use the touchscreen machine.
I admit that a big flashing button that says ‘Touch here to collect tickets’ can be a little vague.
Food and Drink
Once you’ve got your ticket(s) it’s time to buy your refreshments.
I’ve never understood the need to graze when you’re watching a film, but it’s the ‘done thing’. I once chose not to buy anything to eat or drink and was looked at with a combination of surprise, confusion, disgust and pity.
It felt like we were all stood in the lobby of a brothel and I’d declared I wasn’t going to use a condom, or that my penis had just fallen off.
It wasn’t because I couldn’t afford anything, nor was I planning to steal anyone else’s food; I just wasn’t hungry or thirsty. But peer pressure is a bitch and so I bought some popcorn and a drink. It cost more than the cinema ticket…for 5 people.
Why is cinema food and drink so crap expensive?
You can buy a 2 litre bottle of Coke for £2 in a supermarket, and yet my ‘medium’ Coke cost me over £4, 80% of which was ice. That’s frozen water, which is free.
At least the staff members who serve you are friendly. Oh wait, no they’re not.
Seating
These are mostly uncomfortable, stained and sometimes sticky.
More often than not the cup holders are broken.
What makes it worse are the fact that the seats are all bolted together along the row which means if seat 19A fidgets in their seat to scratch their arse, I feel it in seat 19M.
Very distracting. I often lose my erection.
Every morning I see this sign on the door to the control room at London Victoria underground station
Obviously this room is out of bounds to commuters.
But this sign also suggests the same applies to station staff and contractors.
So, who CAN enter this room?
Maybe only those people capable of using punctuation.
Head In A Blender 