HE has accompanied you to the cinema to watch an adaptation of a Jane Austen book which does not even have corsets in it. This is what is going through his head:
‘What are they on about?’
The characters are speaking English, but not recognisable English. Nor, even when you’re past the archaic formulations and long words, are they talking about ordinary things like Flamin’ Hot Doritos or noise-cancelling earbuds. If you fancy her, ask her out; if she says no, ask her less attractive sister. No wonder everyone in the past died.
‘When will something happen?’
There appears to be no hero, half-an-hour in. Just sisters in dresses that even charitably can’t be described as sexy bemoaning their failure to get married. No teams of special forces have been silently killed and no giant reptiles are crushing cottages. Consequently there is nothing you could describe as a narrative.
‘When will it end?’
There are at least two hours to go, which will feel like 12. More than one toilet break would seem suspicious. I should have brought beers. What beers did they have back then? Probably only basic ones, like Boddington’s and Samuel Smith’s. I could drink that ruffle-shirted fop under the table I reckon.
‘What did I eat earlier and what will I eat next?’
Ah, lunch. Chicken fajitas. Fantastic. Wish I’d brought nachos in here. What have we got in? Can’t ask my girlfriend, she seems to think this bit’s emotional even though it’s the same as the others. We could get a lamb Rogan Josh on the way home. I could claim it’s because the film was so good it made me hungry.
‘I’ve got to get my powered handsaw back off Ewan’
Nice bit of scrollwork over the door, that. Quality workmanship. That reminds me that Ewan’s still got my saw and you don’t want to leave him with stuff. But I can’t text him until this is over. I need to remember to message him when this torture’s over. Sense and Sensibility, sense, fence, garden fence, garden gate, mate, Ewan, saw. Sorted.
‘What if aliens landed?’
Earth would be f**ked if they’d invaded whenever this was. All they’d have to do is keep their hats on in chapel and the men would ignore them for having bad manners and the women would faint.
‘Please let their be shagging’
An hour and a half and f**k all’s happened. I’ve given up on nudity but there should at least be a knee-trembler against a sturdy oak. An evening wasted watching toffs chat shite. They should have called it Nonsense and Nonsensibility. Wait, what did she say? I’ve seen this before with Kate Winslet in it. Oh for f**k’s sake.
