News Real 8 – Issue 32

CULTURE AND ENTERTAINMENT

I CAN FEEL FOR MYSELF

Sophisticated, kinetic cinema seats are proving a comfort too far for some film fans in Dulwich.

The select row of chairs in the Poxy Cinema that seek to enhance the tactile appreciation of the cinema experience have upset a number of punters, who, it turns out, do not like to be coerced into enjoying the film in their own way. The chairs, which are so sensitive they grip wrists, stroke the watcher in unwelcome ways, and even induce melancholy and tears where prescribed, have proved most unwelcome.

The latest remake of Horace Pintamilk’s gripping drama, The Profligate Janitor, was accompanied by the chairs moving and doing things to people which the viewer found distasteful. There was much shifting around by the audience as the special ticket holders became increasingly discomforted with the shenanigans of the furniture in the cinema.

At one point, the chair I was sitting in moved in such a way that it induced a hurtful memory from me that I had been successfully repressing for years. I cried and cried and made my popcorn soggy. My continued sobbing clouded my view of the laconic and ironic humour in what is a thrillingly staid drama. I definitely don’t want to go through that experience ever again; I’d rather stand,” said a visibly shaken Alph River, holder of a monthly ticket and a personal pair of 3D glasses.

“We were only trying to relate all the existential nuances of a complex drama to the audience. There was no pun intended,” said the cinema’s project manager.

“It’s lucky they didn’t come to see Woodro Alien’s latest, Sentimental Spin Cycle: the chairs spun really fast in an attempt to render the turning upside down of the film’s protagonist’s absurd angst when learning of his girlfriend’s emotional infidelity with a clothes horse,” Anna Notherone added.

It certainly seems likely this picture house will use stationary furniture in future and allow its audience the privacy of its own thoughts.

 

TURNTABLE TABLES ARE TURNED

A young salesman was admitted, after many advisory phone calls, to a medical facility last month.

The eager fellow was suffering from a large splinter in his engorged member. Apparently, he had fallen foul of his emotional attachment to a naked-pine kitchen table he was entrusted to sell at the large furniture outlet. Sadly, for the amorous, servile industry minion, the very expensive wooden kitchen table was not as smooth as suggested in the advertising blurb. As he was displaying his affection for the four-legged beauty, he’d rubbed himself against the natural grain and had exclaimed like a howler monkey as his ardour was inadvertently rejected by the pine table, which, if truth be told, was much closer to the four chairs in the display. The table always allowed the chairs to get their legs under it.

After a lengthy operation to remove the splinter, the patient’s member was dressed and surrounded by a cat-collar to prevent any chafing. It will be at least a week before he can be up and about and looking for another job: he was sacked for lewd sales pitching and gross personification of pieces of wood.

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