Yesterday me and the wife went to an outdoor screening of Slumdog Millionaire in an ‘amphitheatre’ near tower bridge.
I’ve been near tower bridge before, and had never spotted one so was intrigued. turns out it was some steps. Steps that went down to a large trampoline on its side with a projector splashing onto it and some speakers propped up on black and decker workbenches.
I hadn’t wrapped up, didn’t want to ‘hire’ a cushion and we got there early enough to mean that, film time included, I was to be sat on a step, outside, in September for three and a half hours.
Luckily there was some street entertainment before the film began.
A suspiciously well tailored man was trying to find a spot amongst the real people, but all the steps from which you could see the screen were full, aside from some people saving space for others.
Wearing a suit and probably having a dad in the RAF he saw those spaces as his and so sat in one. The man next to him was annoyed, as was the woman behind as he was in her way now.
I didn’t think anything was going to happen, this is London, after all.
But then suited lower jaw man sat IN BETWEEN THE LEGS of the other man saying something upon the lines of “I’ll sit here then”.
I was disgusted, and reluctantly impressed by his either nerve/childlike ways.
the man who was now straddling him against his will was slightly put out, as were other people around.
A security man came round, who found it very funny to be treating a man in a suit like a 6 year old (I started to wonder if this was a real life version of Big or Vice Versa).
the suited man relented and sat next to the annoyed man (but still in a reserved spot) and the entertainment was over.
Or was it? Suity must have carried on saying stuff as angry man started punching him and kicking him. Mr Suit didn’t retaliate or move, making him look like the victim to all those that hadn’t seen what a cunt he’d been.
Mr angry had had enough and stormed off. I felt for him as he wouldn’t now get to see a Danny Boyle film in the cold.
Suited man thought he’d won. Everyone around him hated him immensely, but I got the feeling he was used to that.
Then I stepped in with the crushing blow. Near the screen was a, not to be too harsh, slightly crusty/hippy/older looking gentleman looking for a seat in the now overfull amphitheatre/steps. He could not see one, until I attracted his attention and pointed out that there was now a space available next to the Well Tailored Cunt.
Checkmate.