U.P.P? Yeah You Know Me

In days of old when knights were bold and Poles still lived in Poland, I'd get my arthouse flick fix at the Duke Of York's Picture House in Brighton. These days it's the Watershed Cinema in Bristol and the modestly-named Ultimate Picture Palace in Oxford.

The first film I saw at the U.P.P. was Hidden, with Daniel Auteuil and Juliette Binoche. At first we thought the cinema was closed until the manager ran over from the cafe where he was watching the World Cup and opened up just for us. There was nobody else in the auditorium so we commented on the action just like we were at home.

Our next visit was equally entertaining. While waiting outside, Alice and I became the target of an old drunk's abuse. I think we disturbed his sleep! Alice got some racist nonsense and I got the fighting talk. (Most people leave well alone when they see how tall I am, but every now and again someone takes it as a challenge.) I was riled enough to steal the old boy's walking stick to teach him a lesson. Of course, I didn't do it. I'm a nice boy who was brought up not dragged up.

Inside and two rows in front, a white-haired man was muttering to himself and twitching. He looked a lot like God. Once the film started he behaved quite normally - proof, if proof be needed, that escapism is good for your state of mind. The film was Brick. It was suspenseful and noir-ish.

Since then I've seen the wonderful Little Miss Sunshine and little else "in theatres". I'm tempted by the new James Bond though my instinct tells me it's just another turd with gold paint on.