A cold day. Too cold. A coldness that pierces the very core of my being.
I walk to the cinema to see a film called Justice League about a group of men and women who wear brightly coloured costumes and do battle against some elaborate special effects.
What cosmic crime I am doing penance for, I do not know.
The cinema foyer is wreathed in the vomit-like stench of popcorn. A small child sits on a step staring in wide-eyed horror into the void.
I take my seat and am immediately assuaged by entreaties to purchase a variety of cars that would, for some reason, give me license to surf, climb mountains and have attractive companions.
There follows a variety of advertisements for forthcoming films. All seem to feature more men and women in brightly coloured costumes doing battle against faintly different elaborate special effects.
I fail to discern any difference between them.
The film begins. It is loud and colourful. Painfully so. It is akin to being shouted at by the characters on a child’s cereal packet.
People surrounding me seem enraptured. What is wrong with them? They are damaged, broken. Why this noise? Why this colour? Why, God, why?
The film stops. The lights go up. Everyone stares at me and I realise I have been loudly articulating my thoughts.
And have stood up.
And am screaming and crying.
I am ejected from the cinema and make my way into the cold, cold evening.
Screen Idle star rating *** The Flash was funny and I liked Wonder Woman’s costume
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