The Lions are up 2-0 against the Cambodians on the stroke of half-time. I am unequivocal in my assertion that Casmir is in the pay of the opposition. The Cambodians have substituted their keeper whose middle name must either be "buttered-fingers" or "greased palms". I need three more goals from the second half if I am to get any returns on my sizeable investment.
I am currently watching Les Choristes for the fourth time in a week, which bears testimony to the boring life I lead. The books are gathering dust from almost two months of neglect and I have yet to put pen to paper for about the same time. Yesterday was spent playing pool with the scion of a nouveau riche family who delights in masquerading as a heartlander with no desire for the finer things in life. I was up 4-2 by the hour mark, but the tables soon began to turn when I gifted him an early Christmas present, striking home the black ball with my first turn at the table (no pun intended). Eventually, we settled for a draw at 6-6. The bon vivant had an incredible urge to live vicariously through a superhero film but due to the the incompatibility of the timing with his schedule, I had to return home tired but happy.
Since such an episode may never be paralleled in my lifetime of catching films on the big screen, I must record a nouvelle experience that I had while patronising the cinema at Cathay Cineleisure just yesterday. Arriving at a what I thought was a hotspot for teens, punks, Slyvester clones and veterans who refuse to admit that they are past their prime, I was taken aback to see floor after floor of gleaming glasses and polished marble, without a single soul in sight. Perhaps, it was the time - about ten in the morning. Grateful for the empty row at the box office, I purchased a ticket for Monsieur N at eleven and checked to see if I had brought my ezlink card since proof of age always seems obligatory for someone like yours truly. Little did I know at that point in time that I had no need of either.
At the stroke of eleven, when the sun had almost reached its apogee in the sky, I headed towards the cinema, ticket in hand, and saw no-one. So I strolled my way through a narrow corridor and past a red curtain to see that the entire complex was inhabited, for the time being, by a very old couple of Caucasian descent. They stared at me. I looked at my seat number and sat next to them. For the next two hours, the three of us enjoyed a restful and uninterrupted screening of a critically-acclaimed picture that happened to be rated NC16. It was one of those rare occasions when I could have treated all my friends and acquaintances to the movies without digging into my pocket.
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