Another one bites the dust...

Bohemian Rhapsody was every I hoped it would be.  Big teeth, a larger than life moustache, a lot, and I mean a lot, of black leather, and some cracking music.  Oh, and a few tears (I don't think I have ruined it for anyone have I?)

The husband had sulked for most of the journey to the cinema, as I had made the fatal error of booking the cinema which wasn't the one which sold rum and raisin ice cream smoothies.  Placating him with a hot dog and some nachos, we settled down in our (pre-booked) seats and waited for the Freddie-Fest to start.

As the trailers came to an end, all hell broke out in the row in front of us.  The couple who had simply plonked themselves down 'wherever' had already been moved on twice by people who had booked the seats they were in, but the third attempt simply pushed them over the edge.  When faced with a very quiet couple who asked them very pleasantly if they would mind vacating their seats, a full blown argument started, with the squatters stating very loudly that they would not be moving again.

Security eventually had to be called (two eighteen year old lads whose voices broke last Tuesday) and amidst much shouting and threatening waving of a walking stick, the Ticket-less Two were escorted from the cinema.

You'd think that after all that excitement that the actual film would be an anti-climax, but it turned out to be all we hoped, and it was one of the best two hours of my life this year.

The husband's grey jeans didn't fare too well though.  With all the pre-film excitement, he'd  been mindlessly chucking nachos down his neck, and the jeans were covered in dollops of mustard and ketchup as he watched events unfold.  He'd asked me three times if I had a tissue but I also was agog at watching the angry OAP's kick off.

But you know, the mucky jeans were a small price to pay for the pre-film entertainment...