Handbags On A Monday Morning

A few months back I headed to Sony to attend a screening of Extract and after sitting there for about 10 minues, one of Sony's people came in to tell us that we can't watch the film because they didn't have the print. Grr. I was working in house with the BBC at the time and took the morning off especially, so I was less than pleased to have wasted my time. But whilst I simply cursed in my head and left, some of the other writers went fucking ballistic and started attacking the poor Sony lady. Some of you may have read Incredible Suit's recent post regarding his first time at a press screening and a ridiculous "scandal" that occured before the film started. The only reason I'm taking you down memory lane is to demonstrate that occasionally film critics can be annoyingly precious and to set up this morning's events...

I caught Toy Story 3 in Edinburgh but wanted to catch it again to see if it survived the difficult second viewing. I rocked up in Leicester Square at around 10am, nabbed some biscuits, tea and my 3D glasses and got a prime spot in front of the screen. Half way through my double chocolate cookie, an entire family (mum, dad, grandma, 2 kids and another woman I assume was a friend/aunt) sat right the fuck in front of me. Great. Then the younger child starts screaming, crying and shouting "I DON'T LIKE IT!". Oh dear. Time to do the normal thing and move seats but before I do, a man in the same row as me, walks up to the dad and says...

"Seriously, why did you bring a kid here? I have to write about this and you bring a screaming kid in." *wanders away*

In order to feel like you were there, wail your arms a bit and roll your eyes. Really? Was that really necessary? I'm not particularly fond of watching a film with noisy kids but that's something else. It's normal to change seats, sigh, roll your eyes and stomp away but it takes a special kind of dick to walk up to a panicking father with the only screaming toddler in the entire cinema and make him feel even worse about himself. I felt like saying something but I'm not too fond of wasting my breath on a bespectacled, middle aged nonce who thinks it's so hard to watch films and write about it.

If you deem the above behaviour acceptable then congratulations, you have all the qualities needed to be a film critic on a national newspaper. Oh, and you're also a cunt.

P.S. I don't know why I used a picture of Daphne and Josephine. Those hot pieces would never be so damn precious.