Bums down, feet up.

After another pretty much non-eventful weekend at home with only one specific outing to go out and buy some particularly expensive new hair products, my blogging material grows ever more thin.

Before long, I'll begin blogging about the life of my Yucca plant, Steve.

Anyway, today's blog is to vent a bit of frustration at cinema-goers with a seemingly bottomless pit of money versus a seemingly shallow pit of interest and self-control.

The average cinema ticket for an adult is around five pounds. They aren't cheap. So what posesses people to pay five pounds for a film that they intend to talk through?

More importantly, this isn't your lounge, so why are your feet up? A more appropriate question might be "What makes you think that this row of seats is the coffee table you're so used to putting your feet on at home?"

I didn't grow up in war-time Britain, but come on. Things weren't like this when I was a lad.