Sadly the people in Hollywood didn’t realise because the wave of nostalgia flooding through the projectors for that most decadent of decades is enough to make MC Hammer choke on his parachute pants. The A-Team, Karate Kid, Expendables, Predators, Hot Tub Time Machine, Pirahna, every single one churned out like a Soda Stream with no consideration of whether anybody wanted any of it.

The box office would back up this argument. The A-Team tanked (no pun intended), Hot Tub wasn’t anywhere near the sleeper hit MGM hoped for (incidentally massively promoting a film that you hope will be a ‘sleeper’ hit negates said title) and Predators barely lasted two weeks in cinemas this side of the Atlantic.

While The Karate Kid re-make admittedly has managed to be something of a hit for Columbia (and in turn be a none too shabby little film in it’s own right), everything about it screams 2010. Modern soundtrack, hip young star, China/US politics. Not a single reference to anything circa the mid-80′s.

The thing that sucks the most about this influx of 80′s films is just how cynical every one of them is. Every film is designed for the sole purpose of cashing in. “Wait!” I hear you cry, “All films are designed to make money!” Well, yes of course they are, but there’s usually the smallest modicum of artistry to most film-making. Every film listed above has, like the decade that instigated them, only the bottom line in mind.

This weekend sees the ultimate 80′s action heroes unite in The Expendables, a film studios hope will play the ‘so bad it’s good’ card to attract audiences. This worrying trend for making crap films in the hope they’ll have some kitsch value is as 80′s a concept as you can get. For evidence of this not really paying off in recent times look no further than 2006′s Snakes On A Plane or 2010′s MegaShark Vs Giant Octopus. Yet, somehow, we’re only weeks away from Pirahna 3-D.

Thankfully one welcome addition to the cinematic calender is bathed in the 80′s. Wall Street 2: Money Never Sleeps sees the return of Gordon Gecko a posterchild for everything downright shitty and opportunistic about the Maggie and Reagan years. Maybe, just maybe, Oliver Stone’s sequel will once again open people’s eyes to why the 80′s sucks. Greed and nothing more.

That and people overly using the word ‘sucks’.

I can see in my mind’s eye, your brain racing, synapses firing full throttle trying to think of a superior pair and maybe you can. Or at least you think you can. I intend to prove you wrong.

Many tits are larger than Pam’s certainly. Some rounder, some more pert. Many are lighter/darker, and hence equally superior depending on one’s individual preferences. Therein lies the rub. How does one take into account personal preference when attempting to establish the finest example of natural titage? Your idea of the perfect boob might be larger or smaller than my own, in exactly the same way that my idea of the finest painting may contain (or not) a more vibrant use of colour than your favourite masterpiece. One attribute alone, being superior even if undisputed is not enough to win the game outright. You couldn’t claim the Mona Lisa is a bad painting because it doesn’t contain any melting clocks and it would be equally mad to suggest Dahli is the best simply because of them.

Many attributes must be taken into account to demonstrate “beyond reasonable doubt” that Pam’s hams are the best.

These are a follows:

Size: As previously discussed personal preference makes it impossible to suggest there is a perfectly sized breat. This does not mean that size is an irrelevance. After all, almost all humans (excluding a handful of individuals with, to put it nicely unusual or rare tastes) dislike both “nat bit” or “bee sting” boobies (tiny, tiny tits you might expect to find on a slightly overweight boy child). At the other end of the scale “udders”. (you all know what I’m talking about, and if you don’t type bbw into google. Warning: this can be a very misleading acronym) This has lead many to believe that a sort of middle sized tit is the best, a tit that may not be ideal for either the large or small tit enthusiast, but is at least acceptable to all. Doesn’t that sound like a fair compromise? No it isn’t. The “mid tit assumption” as it is most commonly known relies on there being roughly the same number of large tit fans as there are small tit fans. This is not the case. Proof can be easily found by logging on to the popular porn site (amongst many other places on the net I’m sure, but this is my personal fave) pornhub.com. Click on the categories tab and you will find a staggering 9,293 “big tit” videos, compared to a rather paltry 2939 “small tit” videos. This hard data clearly demonstrates with only a modicum of analysis that there is nearly a 3 to 1 swing in favour of big tits over little ones. Now we’re getting somewhere. As there is a clearly observable favouritism towards larger cans it’s only fair that we reflect this in our appraisal of Pam’s offerings and conclude that Pam’s are indeed superior to at least all small tits.

Hue: from darkest Nigerian to palest Scandinavian, I love em’ all. A tits a tit as far as I’m concerned regardless of race colour or creed. And if you don’t you’re a racist! So stop reading this and fuck off. A persons colour is an irrelevance. Having said that, Pam’s African American ancestry can still be considered a plus point. How? You may ask, simply as I’ve heard a number of older black people remark “black don’t crack”. I’ll resume this area of discussion in the longevity section.

Pertness/ shape: nobody likes a saggy boob, fact. Pam’s aren’t, there lovely and firm. This is best demonstrated “in motion”. When boobs are in a fixed position without external forces influencing them they are in what is referred to as a “dormant” state and can be very misleading if not properly understood. When dormant a tat can appear more pert or shapely because of either. Deliberate female seat positioning (D.F.S.P) the act of the “tit-bearer” manoeuvring herself into a carefully practised position (possibly involving both arms) to lend her chest a particular shape not necessarily befitting it’s worth. Or even more commonly via the use of “trick bras”. Only when boobs are “in motion” and have forces exerted upon them (from multiple angles, (this is very important to stop inherent parallax errors creeping into the experiment) can the rigidity, (ability of boob to retain its standing or control shape) pertness or can be properly analysed.
Fortunately Pam has a huge back catalogue, and huge front catalogue, (is that a joke? I’m not sure) of video evidence that proves when “in motion” pam’s breasts most defiantly retain their rigidity. Far better than any other I’ve been fortunate enough to observe.

W.H.A.A.T.T.R:
(waist, hip and arm to tit ratio)
The whaatt-ratio is generally regarded as the most important of all boob based attributes, as it considers more than just the tit itself but crucially how it interacts with the other adjacent body parts. Again Pam does not disappoint. The combination of her slight figure; thin arms, firm narrow waist, when joined by her exquisitely large frontal propositions creates an awe of wonders when seen for the first time. The onlooker is left wondering “how is it possible that such a delicate frame can support and produce such amazing structures” in exactly the same way anti-Semites are unable to grasp how the Jews were able to build the pyramids, when they’re so physically week.

Longevity: Tits don’t last forever. As I’m sure most (especially women) know they tend to droop or loose there shape. Ruining tits as discussed in the “pertness” section. Just look at Liz Taylor’s, she used to have a lovely pair plump pink puppies. Now alas ravaged by the endless and inescapable passing of the sands of time, I wouldn’t touch them with yours! It’s for this reason Pam’s portions require yet further special appreciation. In 1970 Pam’s protuberances first burst onto the silver screen filling the roll (or at least the bra the roll demanded) of “forth woman” in the rather raunchy Beyond the Valley Of The Dolls and she still hasn’t put them away! That’s 40 years of quality tit & they still look amazing. Ask yourself how many tits can you think of you’d like to motorboat at both age 21 and 51?

To conclude: as we have seen in the text above, I have demonstrated using clear scientific method that Pam Grier represents breast excellence (bre-xcellence) in all of the key categories and has clearly the finest tit’s to have graced this earth.

Responses welcome

Jb

The idea itself was met with a certain degree of cynicism, the main argument being, “Who the fuck are you to put words in Hick’s mouth?”. I agreed. What kind of a self-important, arrogant dick thinks he knows what a dead man thinks?

So I wrote my own piece. Because I’m a self-important, arrogant dick. But one that hopes you enjoy these words…

WHAT WOULD BILL HICKS SAY? MONOLOGUE FOR STAGE

A large framed man, 33, dressed in a bright white trench-coat, bright white jeans and bright white cowboy hat emerges into a spotlight. This is the late BILL HICKS.

He stands on a vast open stage. A single bar stool sits next to a table with a glass of water on it. He walks over takes a sip of the drink and places his hat next to it.

BILL
“I used to be a comic. I used to be a dark little poet. I used to be a preacher. I used to be a blowtorch, an excavator, a soothsayer some would say. Richard Pryor said I was a dangerous and brave truth teller. He told me that again yesterday. That kinda thing could give a man an ego. Here, I’m just another douchebag with some opinions.”

Bill paces and looks around.

BILL
“Its weird just how much this place is like we imagine. Or maybe its not weird at all, just another construct of a mind too powerful. Lonelier though. It’d be nice to be able to control it more, bring my friends here, see my folks again. Its a bitch waiting to see my mom. Waiting for that lecture on the masses of pornography she’ll find in my apartment. She’ll find some under the bed and frown a little. Then she’ll find the boxes in the back of my closet and start to freak. When she finds the attic full of ‘Anal Vixens’ 1 through 53 it might be what tips her over. Maybe I’ll see her sooner than I think.”

Bill looks at his clothing.

BILL
“For a man who dressed in black all his life this is a hell of a change. No pun intended. I suppose they’re trying a whole aesthetic thing.”

Bill pauses a while. The quick fire smart mouth replaced with something more reflective.

BILL
“I don’t understand why I get to see you all yet you can’t hear me. I get to see all the major fuck ups you’re doing over and over and over again and even if I scream and shout you pay no attention. What have I been dead for the last ten years?”

Suddenly animated.

BILL
“Bush though! Seriously, Again! Did y’all not get the fucking clue in the name people! Well I suppose some things never change. And now you guys are poised to give another family a second go. When the fuck did Washington D.C become inbred? They had thumbs when I left. Fuck. So what else has changed. Another Bush, another war, more manufactured pop and ‘reality’ tv, more fear, more advertising, more marketing and yeah what else have I missed? George Micheal turned out to be a fag.”

Bill puts on a faux shocked face.

BILL
“Who’d a thunk it?”

Bill pulls a pack of cigarettes out.

BILL
“At least there’s no danger of lung cancer now. Dodged that bullet!”

He lights up.

BILL
“Its strange how big the desire is to come back. Not just because I miss you guys. I do, if you’re wondering. Its more to just let you know you don’t have to run around crapping in your pants. Panicking to early graves if a man with a backpack says hello. The boogeyman is a myth ladies and gentlemen. And death, the biggest fear of all? It just about beats the alternative.”

Bill leans over the side of the stage.

BILL
“One question though? This climate of fear. Are you people so dumb as to not see through it? Do you not see how by wasting your lives worrying about every person you meet, every bus ride you take, your missing out on the important stuff. How about concentrating on the climate of change instead. But then again, fuck it. The only thing that will lose out when we destroy the planet is us. The earth will still be here. The cycle will continue. Its just over the next million or so years there won’t be people. Great. I’m cool with that. So the next time someone stops you in the street to ask you to help save the planet tell them to “quit being so selfish”. Mother earth will do fine without us.”

Bill flicks his cigarette onto the floor.

BILL
“Filthy habit (beat) its nice that a few of you are carrying on some of the shit I said. But, will you do me a favour? For your old pal Bill? Don’t put words in my mouth. Put them in your own. If something is pissing you off speak up. If you can make a joke out of it all the better.”

BILL
“Y’know before I left I was still changing, still thinking, still evolving. I’m sorry if I left you with what you thought was a dogmatic set of rules. That wasn’t the idea.”

Bill lets out a despondant sigh.

BILL
“I get the impression this isn’t the final place. Maybe its just the next step. The next level of Sonic the Hedgehog if you will. Still quite a way to go before we face the end of game boss and explode into a single ball of energy, and peace and love. Still got a lot to figure out before I can really rest easy. Before I go I’ve gotta let y’all in on my biggest regret though. Telling y’all that you could suck your own dicks. Its a myth guys. I’m sorry if I fooled ya. Watching y’all try so damn hard is pretty funny tho. But the pity in your eyes as you lay flat out after another failed attempt evokes a guilt I really don’t have time for. Seriously give it up. I was lying. Decide for yourself if I was lying about anything else. Before I was bluffing a bit, but now I can speak a little from experience. Maybe I didn’t speak loud enough before which is why I’m still only on Level 2. I’d love to come back and let you know some more but I don’t think they’re gonna let me have a day release anytime soon.”

The lights go down and a harp version of ‘Purple Haze’ by Jimi Hendrix starts up.

In honour of this wonderfully British mentality of putting ourselves in second place (see also the Brits) here’s a fun game for all the family to play come the 21st of February.

1) First up, drink a shot of your choice in rememberance of what a great host Stephen Fry was. Take another when you remember how fawning Jonathan Ross was to all the audience members on his chatshow, talented or otherwise.

2) Drink a Bailey’s if you find yourself IMdb-ing Saoirse Ronan’s age. Then take a long hard look at yourself in the mirror. You dirty, dirty thing.

3) Donate 10p to charity every time someone mentions Haiti. Donate £100 if no-one does because, after all, it hasn’t been in the news for weeks.

4) Punch yourself in the face if Jonathan Ross mentions his ‘relationship’ with the BBC. Punch Jonathan Ross in the face if he mentions the ‘Russel Brand controversy’.

5) In honour of ‘Withnail’ down a mug of lighter fluid for every British winner not in an exclusively British category.

6) Down a grape soda and vodka if anyone makes an HIV, poverty, incest, down-syndrome, abuse, illiteracy, paedophillic, obesity or race joke about Precious. Yes that film actually contains all of those things.

7) Throw a pint of shit at the screen for every Angelina Jolie/adoption joke.

Down a bottle of white wine, then a bottle of red wine, then a bottle of white wine if Carey Mulligan doesn’t win the Orange Rising Star award. NB. An American friend of mine actually did this whilst we watched all three Terminator films back to back, one bottle for each film. Two things struck me as funny about this. One, the arrogance of him being sure that he could not ever getting in the way of whether or not he should. Two, that he saved the red wine for T2, because, and I quote, “Terminator 2 is a classier affair.”

9) Down a tequila for every time the camera cuts to an American not getting the joke that the host makes. Make it a double if it’s a shit John Terry joke.

10) Drink your own piss if you manage to listen to every word that the Outstanding Achievement winner says without passing out.

There you have it, a perfect night in for you and the kids.

Remember drink responsibly.

He’s approved by Nelson Mandela!
At a press conference to promote Mendela’s memoir, Long Walk to Freedom, someone asked Mandela who should play him in the movie. “And he said he wanted me,” says Freeman. Endorsement given, Invictus filmed.

He owns the best voice in the world!
Okay so it’s probably not him but the fact that someone can impersonate him well enough to have you doubting makes him an icon in anyones books.
Morgan Sings One Week On YouTube
His laugh in The Bucket List is also well worth checking out. The only great thing about that film, but still when I die I’d like to go to the sounds of Morgan having a chuckle.

He’s known by the kids!
According to the late, great Steve Irwin (courtesy of the filth-wizards of South Park) a Grizzly bear has “the strength of over ten Morgan Freemans”. According to Stewie Griffin, Morgan Freeman is, “who all the young girls like”. According to me being referenced in South Park and Family Guy makes you the honey-makers, bendy part of a leg.

He’s not a racist!
Not in a “he has loads of white friends, so he can’t be” way but in an “actually this guys got some fucking good views on racism” way.
Morgan Talks Black History Month On YouTube
As someone who’s only ever had to defend false accusations of Judaism (not that I do, I kinda like people thinking I’m Jewish), I’ll never really know what it’s like to be discriminated against. But there seems to be a helluva lot of logic in not constantly pointing out to people what colour their skin is. They probably already know.

He’ll get you off drugs!
Like Russel Brand, I HATE talking about my massive drug problems. I will, however, share with you all just how I managed to give up my £1,000 a day crack habit.
Morgan Tells You To Give Up Crack on YouTube
Thanks Mr. Freeman!

He’s God!
If anyone is going to play God, Morgan is your man. The film may be a little sickly but at least it’s no Evan Almighty. Morgan was in that too? Shhhhh.

He gives great speech!
From Shawshank to Se7en to Unforgiven to this. If you want some words to have meaning, call MF.
Morgan Gives Good Speech On Youtube

He starred in the Greatest Movie Of All Time!
He was in Se7en, which most rational people that don’t “sit around reading guns and ammo, masterbating in their own faeces” will agree is one of the best things to ever happen to human beings. But I’m talking about everyone’s favourite film. In polls from Empire magazine to the Imdb top 250 Movies, yes, Kanye lemme finish, Of All Time, The Shawshank Redemption is the mack daddy. Numero One. Let’s enjoy some of it now shall we…
Great Morgan in Shawshank On Youtube

Invictus is released in the UK on 5th Feb 2010.

First, Sandra Bullock became the first actress to have a film reach $200 million at the box office based on her name alone (The Blind Side, the first female to do so. Second, and as recently as this weekend, Kathryn Bigelow became the first female to win the prestigious Directors Guild of America award for Outstanding Directorial Effort In Feature Film.

Is this the glass ceiling of Hollywood being broken? Don’t bet on it.

While I may not be a bra-burning man/lesbian and I’m certainly not the most politically correct person in the world (see the use of “bra-burning man/lesbian” contained within this very sentence) I do find some of the statistics to come out of Hollywood regarding the fairest of the sexes to be at best questionable, at worst downright offensive.

1) The percentage of women writers in Hollywood is 18%.
2) Only 6% of directors are women.
3) No woman has ever won the Best Director Oscar.
4) Only 3 have ever been nominated.

When a women makes a good film it’s an event rather than just someone clocking into their job and excelling. The Hurt Locker is not only one of the best films of last year, it’s quite possibly the best film made on the subject of Iraq. As intense a film as you’re ever likely to see, but what are the majority of magazine features about ‘The Hurt Locker’ concerned with? Chiefly, in asking, ‘How the hell did a woman make an action movie?’ And ‘Didn’t she used to be married to James Cameron?’

So behind the scenes women get a bum wrap, shock horror. How about in front of the camera? You only have to glance at some of the women-centric films of the past couple of years to feel like you’ve just squeezed a baby out of a very small opening without the aid of aspirin.

Sex and The City, P.S I Love You, Confessions Of A Shopaholic? Wall to wall ‘Shoes and Cock’ every last one of them. The most offensive offering was probably the most well-intentioned, coming in the shape of the completely female-driven The Women, a re-make of the classic Norma Shearer, Joan Crawford starrer. It too went with the idea that fashion and fucking are the only things on women’s minds. If I had a vagina I’d consider it permanantly closed as protest. Then again, I think my beard might put most men off.

So is there hope, is there an inclination that balance may tip from bias? Not if this memo from Warner Brothers written in late 2007 is to be believed.

Thankfully the majority of non-males aren’t giving up easily. Just a glance at the cinema-listings shows a healthier than normal amount of ladies taking their fair share. Nancy Myers (It’s Complicated), Sam Taylor Wood (Nowhere Boy), even Alvin And The Chipmunks The Squeakuel is directed by one Betty Thomas (although I’m probably not helping the cause by mentioning that last one).

Two of the biggest literary adaptations of recent times have come from female authors (Audrey Niffenegger and Alice Sebold). And the Best British Film of the year, Fish Tank, was written and directed by Andrea Arnold, probably the most promising film-maker from our shores since Shane Meadows. And that’s the point I suppose, one day she may be thought of as a great British film-maker or better still just simply a great film-maker, no longer prefixed by the word female.

So here’s to Katheryn Bigelow on Oscar night. In the most unpatronising way possible, You go girl!

But that isn’t the intention. If anything, I strongly believe that film can used as an educational tool. Not in a ‘Triumph Of The Will’ propoganda, way but in the same way that novels are used to open dialogues about morals and ethics. But as I sit projecting the latest ‘Terminator’ film to children, who can only be described as knee high to a grasshopper, I start to think this 12A thing is getting out of control.

It should also be noted that this isn’t a “think of the children, for God’s sake think of the children” liberal wank-fest piece. For starters liberal wank-fests don’t usually have the phrase liberal wank-fests in them. More importantly I don’t really care about the children, I care about the movies.

Violence
Picture the scene, The Joker is surrounded by hoodlums, all twice the size of him. He’s on his own, and has to show he means business. He pulls a pencil out and magically makes it disappear. In a henchmen’s eye socket. The cinema goes wild! All but a six-year old girl whose crying her eyes out, “Where did the Crayon go Daddy?”. The counter argument is that the dad shouldn’t have taken the child but what parent wants to deny their child the awesomeness of a Nolan Film? Meanwhile a few seats up, I’m crying at how this is one of the coolest scenes in the world and craving that the Dark Knight gets truly Dark. But this is as Dark as it gets. A real ‘adult’ Batman is still a way off.

Swears
Before ‘Terminator Salvation’ aired and was seen as more than acceptable, the one thing that bothered me (apart from McG) was the idea of another sanitised 12A Cyborg killer. I needn’t have worried too much, as TS has not only a state execution, but features a near rape (although again the certificate takes away the tension), caged ‘holocaust’ survivors and a man/robot with his insides on the outside. Yet no matter what the characters encounter at no point does anyway exclaim anything along the lines of, “HOLY TITTY FUCKING CHRIST! LOOK AT THE SIZE OF THAT CUNTING ROBOT, WE’RE ALL COMPLETELY TWATTED!!!”, like I would. Because horrific Violence is acceptable for kids now, but swearing is still very, very naughty.

Sexy Sex
To be perfectly honest I don’t really care for rumpy pumpy on the silver sreen. All it does is remind me how much I miss it. It’s also usually superflous to plot, laughably unrealistic (“He’s gone on for at least two minutes, that’s ridiculous!”), and cringeworthingly embarassing if you’re with family members. But as the 15 Certificate ‘Milk’ proved earlier this year there is still a horrific double standard within the BBFC. Straight Action = Fine. Gays = Not in Our House. What’s the year again?

Then there’s drug use, content, smoking on screen, etc, etc. It can’t be an easy job and it’s not one that I’d particularly want. And I don’t think the blame lies entirely with the BBFC. A director will be told if he cuts, “here, here and here” he’ll achieve a more ‘audience friendly’ rating. To keep the studio happy, they’ll butcher their films worse than John Wayne Gacy Jr would.

The solution? Well, there isn’t one. The studios will always want as many people as possible to be able to hand over their cash and nobody, not even the artiest of directors, will stop them. A possible alternative is bring back the straight 12, but I’ll still moan that the ‘grown up’ films I want out of the blockbuster season aren’t grown up enough. Cos I’m a violent fucking sex pest. Rated 18.

What do you guys think? Anything in the cinema shocked you lately? Is the 12A fine? Do you ‘think of the children’? If so, seek help.

For those that don’t know, I work as a projectionist. I won’t say in which cinema as I’ll either be pestered for sexual intercourse all day by my many, many fans (just look at that picture top-left, Jewish chic, phwoar!) or, more likely, I’ll be lynched by some Dane Cook worshiper for calling him a talentless, unfunny, example of what is wrong with this world. And as a projectionist, 3-D scares the shit out of me, for the following reasons.

1. “If there’s a steady pay cheque in it, I’ll believe anything you say”
To put this article, rant, whatever, into context I am looking at this new technology through biased eyes. For the last couple of years I’ve been waking up in a cold sweat at the thought of all films going digital, thus rendering my purpose in life pretty much obsolete (what else am I gonna do, write ‘professionally’? Ha!). If 3-D takes off, or Real-D as it likes to be called, then 35mm is gone the way of the Dando. Along with my job.

2. “Think of the movies, for God’s sakes think of the movies!”
My other major worry is that films will suffer. Now I love films, really quite an unhealthy amount, and the reason I love films is not for their ‘oooh’, ‘ahhhh’, ‘shiny’ factor but for their stories. Stories have been around since for-bloody-ever and it just so happens to be that in this short space of time that I’m alive, cinema is, in my opinion, the best way to tell a story.

(For all you book lovers, I like books too but it takes me years to get through them and they don’t have Natalie Portman in them, unless they’re books about Natalie Portman). Yet, this focus on technology seems to be jettisoning the script in favour of the importance of the image. Just look at the examples, ‘Journey To The Centre Of The Earth’, ‘Beowulf’, ‘Scar’, ‘My Bloody Valentine’, the up-coming ‘G-Force’. Picture first, script last.

3. “Oh the pain! The pain of it all!”
Not to sound too much like a whingeing baby but… “It hurts my eyes!” While not quite Thom Yorke-esque, one of my eyes is ‘rugby ball-shaped’ and a hell of a lot weaker than the other. This means whenever I put on glasses, be it sun, 3-D or night-vision (don’t ask) my focus goes all funny and my head hurts. Me and Thom can’t be the only ones this affects (although it would be a nice conversation point if he ever caught me outside his house with my night vision…) and I’ve got enough self-induced problems without adding an actual disability to the list.

4. 3-D is funding Nazis!
Okay it isn’t but it is giving Disney even more money. And while I’m happy for Pixar to reap the benefits, the fact that Hannah Montana and the Jonas Bros earn more cash through these 3D concert movies to buy more unwanted babies on the black market which they then put into juicers and drink to keep their youthful good looks is just wrong. Very, very wrong. Its also wrong that it feels like they’re right in front of you, within punching distance. I almost ripped my back in half swinging at the little fuckers.

5. It’s all a conspiracy!
3-D is rubbish, everyone knows it’s rubbish but you can’t download a 3-D film. Yet. As soon as you can, Lucas, Spielberg et al will forget the third dimension as quickly as they remembered it. This is, quite possibly, true.

Recently I watched ‘Coraline’, what I believe to be the first truly great 3-D film. But once I’d taken off the glasses and stepped into the bright shining light I couldn’t decide whether the film was improved by this new technology or lessened. The only thing that mattered to me was the film was interesting and, in parts, original. It had well-drawn characters, some genuinely scary moments, all-in-all a cracking little kids film. Did it matter that at times it looked like stuff was coming out of the screen? Not to me, no.

Technological drives will never be abandoned, and I hope they never are (for at this very moment some boffin might be working on a way to have your balls gently tickled whilst watching the latest Morgan Freeman flick). I do, however, hope that it doesn’t affect the heart of the product. What makes a film, a film.

This is just one man’s opinion, and while it is right in every single way, feel free to state any opposing views below. I will attack you for them. And feel free to state views that agree with me. Although I’ll just label you ‘bandwagon jumpers’ and mock you mercilessly.

I’m not on a crusade to drum up cinema business, but to quote the advert, for me, it really is the only place to watch a movie. No matter how big your plasma screen is, how much gold-plated cable your HD has connected to your sub woofer via your donkey flange, it’s no match for 24 frames of 35mm on a screen the height of three buses with wall-to-wall speakers. So, and I know this isn’t just for me, here is a guide to how to watch a film without annoying your fellow man and inspiring tendencies of a truly homicidal nature.

SHUT THE FUCK UP!
Here’s the rule. Talk during the adverts. Whisper during the trailers. Shut the fuck up during the film. If you are indeed too dumb to follow a film, then you shouldn’t really be allowed out. If you feel the need to explain the film to everyone around you then you really shouldn’t be breathing. If you want to discuss your private life go to the fucking pub. Don’t come into a dark, quiet room and chat about how Darren was fingering Toyah, behind Stacey’s back. The cinema-going public doesn’t care!

QUIT YOUR RUTTING!
Speaking of fingering, could you not fuck all over the cinema seats. This is more for my good usher friends, who don’t want to pick up used prophylactics – but it’s also a word of warning for you horny little devils. There is a big window at the back of every cinema where the projectionist sees all. Unless you want to be uploaded onto redtube, stop fucking and watch the movie. Kissing and copping a feel is fine. Aww, I do have a romantic side.

RESEARCH YOUR MOVIE!
Nobody likes to know too much about a film before they go in, trailers are bastards for giving away too much, but genre, stars and whether or not it’s subtitled should be a pre-requisite of information. For you illiterate types (there are many in Norfolk where I live) if you find out it does have subtitles and that you forgot how to learn to read, leave the cinema, pick up a book and start at square one.

COMPLAIN EARLY!
No matter what the problem with the film, noisy cunts, subtitles, picture half off the screen, the earlier you complain the better. The staff will either sort the problem out or refund you. Guaran-bloody-teed. If on the other hand you watch the entire feature and come out at the end and rant that the air conditioning is one degree less than you like we’ll probably tell you to go fuck yourself.

THREE COURSE MEAL!
If people don’t buy popcorn I don’t get paid so I’m no going to sit here and complain about food. You eat so that I can. But a modicum of respect whilst grazing on your tub of corn is essential. Try the ‘eating when it’s a loud bit’ game. This was my sole source of enjoyment watching The Mummy 3.

BLADDER OF AN INFANT!
I simply cannot complain about people going for a piss during films as I urinate more than an 80 year-old with a catheter and a nappy. Just try and do it quickly and subtly. And use the toilet not the screen. No film is bad enough to warrant that kind of dirty protest.

BERET WEARING CUNTS!
I am a pretentious man but watching arthouse films with the masses puts me on an intellectual equivalent with Wayne Rooney. You know how I know this, because I only laugh at things that are funny, whereas the average Beret-wearing twatbag laughs at everything that is clever. We get it you understand what the characters are talking about. Get yourself a fucking choc ice!

So there you have it, be quiet, don’t fuck, learn to read, don’t slouch, eat your greens and I won’t impale you on my cock of cinematic justice. If anyone has any more grievances post them below, and maybe someday soon we can reclaim the cinema as a holy place like a church or a synagogue, or my bed. Well, lots of people yell out “Jesus” in my bed. And then follow it with, “that is a tiny penis”.