Slumdogs And Millionaires

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Things didn't bode well for this new film version of Downton Abbey when I found myself sat next to a little old lady that had wandered to the cinema to watch the thing alone. “Don't mind me”, she said before cracking open a massive fucking bottle, “but I can hardly watch Downton without a Prosecco”. I've never seen a single fucking second of the show but it seems that even its fans need to get themselves fucking ratted to sit through it. I didn't even think it looked that good to begin with, so I figured that I'd need something stronger than a Prosecco to get me through it. I've never done cocaine in my life and I have no clue if it makes films more watchable but as the granny to my left proceeded to get herself twatted it seemed like now might be a good time to find out. Alas, the trailers had already finished at this point and I live such a sheltered life that unless Al Pacino had walked in with his Scarface costume then I wouldn't know what the fuck a drug dealer looked like. As the film went on and I found myself bored to fucking tedium I concluded that I was now faced with two options. I could remain sober and risk the film being so dull that my mental health might never quite recover or I could make a fucking move on the old lady and attempt to get pissed off the alcoholic fumes of her Prosecco-laced breath. 

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