Lock Stock and Blockbustered

That time I took you to the Ritzy

‘Cos all your friends were doing it

Trying to blag our way into a movie

Some unseen authority claimed

We were too young to see

And we got as far as the  counter

With our carefully hoarded coins

Then you forgot your fake birthday

But they thought I was the one trying it on

To sneak in underage,

As if!  Outrage shone on both our faces

For the three year plus gap

Yawned in the other direction

I wasn’t even that spotty

But your suave blonde dye job

Carried the can far more convincingly

At the age of twelve

Than my mousy brown timidity

At fifteen.  Stymied by

Sensible shoes and conservative hemline

An embarrassment of youth

Despite the bus pass they swore

I must have found somewhere

For once the system worked

And we had to settle for ‘Grease’

Subtitles

Your much lamented dyslexia

Was the bone of contention

You used to beat me down

When choosing between early Almodovar

And the Nouvelle Vague.

We each spoke one language

But reading between the lines

Proved impossible.

Follow the yellow brick road

We both knew all the words

To each of the numbers

And most of the steps

But neither wanted to be first

To break into song

Cowardly as the proverbial lion

Surrounded by the judgement

Of our peers and their puerile

Forays into social exclusion

At a dumbed-down video sleepover

Where MGM was not associated

With Leo or Slats,

Black and white was ‘boring’

And they had never heard of

Noir, or the Studio System

But could recite the calorific content

Of black coffee, chicken soup

And the price of keeping

On their uppers

Slim Pickings

I cannot watch another film

Filled with wispy heroines

And their ‘to die for’ figures

Those dreams were snuffed out

Alongside Diana’s candle in the wind

Like Havisham’s Estella

They are conceived in spite

To break lonely hearts

No, give me a fat-hearted flick

With plaster food on every table

And I will feed my soul

In comfort