Will it be "Twilight Eclipse" or "Predators"….

…will it be salad or frozen peas?  Will it be mushrooms?  Fried onion rings?  You’ll have to wait and see….

Two big franchises.  Friday night.  Two clear lines at the cinema.  Two vectors of destiny.

To one’s eyes, there was a clear visual distinction; that of gender.  In lines where the dominant sex was female, a small number of males shuffled uncomfortably, looking forlorn, sullen and embarrassed; often trying to make eye contact over to the male-dominated queue. “Help me”.  “I’m sorry”.  “Take me with you” the silent glances said.

To one’s nose; Roses on the right, horse shit on the left.  Impulse on the right, Lynx on the left.  Mango on the right, beef dripping on the left.  Menstrual blood on the right, Stella Artois on the left.  Body butter on the right, baby gravy on the left.

To one’s ears; the queue dominated by males had the occasional lone dripping sound.  A subtle clicking maybe, or clucking.  Definitely a soft exhaling.  A disapproving exhale.  A solitary female disapproving exhale, clucking, tutting “i wish it was my choice this week” under the breath kind of a tut-cluck-mumble-whisper.

I was in the male dominated line.  It stunk of man.  Reeked of it.  It was dripping off down the walls, thick, black like treacle. Salty.  Beefy.  God (male) said it was good.

God was in the our queue too.  God had the large Pepsi.  Full fat with nachos.  He didn’t pay for it.  Us males knew this and “it was good”.  The girls in the other queue, clutching a regular-sized diet Pepsi, did that fucking tutting thing I took so long to describe earlier.

God approved of “Predators” and gave it 9 out of 10, vowing to smite lower reviews. He didn’t finish his Pepsi.  He only got it because the regular size was only a tiny bit smaller.

He also said that, “not only was it the most perfect, sympathetic and relevant sequel to the original 1987 cult classic”, it made him “forget about the shitstorm that was P2, AvP and AvP2.”

Before he left he also stated that “this is for those who don’t push pencils for the CIA, who listen to Little Richard and have the middle name of either Dutch, Mac or Poncho” going on to say “anyone whose middle name is Glover best get the fuck out of my faces”.

God laughed at the Orange advert, talked through the A-Team trailer and tutted like a girl at the Inception teaser.

Ooohhhh it “Predators”, it’s “Predators”!  We hope it’s “Predators”, “Predators”! We hope it’s “Predators”, “Predators”!

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