I sympathize, I really do. (Okay I don't. But my therapist told me if I want my henchmen to stop quitting I should at least try and fake it.)

It must be difficult going through life without that review filter that most people have in their brains that lets them decide whether to vocalise inner thoughts. It must be hard having words and badly formed sentences spew from your semi-dribbling maw the very second they pop into your brain. Particularly if you are afflicted by a very simple brain, as you are, so that the sounds you grunt out paint you as a fucking moron, accurate as this might be. But if you have this condition and as a result are unfortunate enough to be unable to SHUT THE FUCK UP when sitting with your similarly afflicted partner in a crowded space then please DON'T COME TO THE FUCKING CINEMA.

You probably have not pondered (pondering being mainly internal and with your inability to think something and not say it you are probably unable. Perhaps you soliloquized about this. But I doubt it.) that not only are you FUCKING DISTRACTING (as Mister Bale might say) when you talk but you also cause a tension in those around you even when silent. The anticipation (and internal debate whether it is worth telling you to close your gaping face-hole) of your next comment pulls people away from the film, ruining it for them for minutes after every banal mooing from your fucking flapping gob. Certainly the surprise on your slack jawed face as I hissed "Shush" at you after your semi-constant drone had been in evidence for ten minutes suggests an unawareness of your actions on those around you.

To your credit you did pipe down for twenty minutes. But this bliss did not last. Probably because you can't hold a thought inside your pea-brain for more than quarter of an hour. But, when your hateful voice again penetrated the consciousness of those around you, you shouldn't have been that shocked when my female arm-candy minion spat a well deserved "Shut. Up." at you. And yet you again seemed perturbed as you consulted with your idiotic partner - "She told me to shut up!", "Tell her to shut up!", before delivering the biting riposte- "YOU shut up."

At least the general opinion of you clearly penetrated as you at least fucked off after a further ten minutes of sulky noise making. But in future do me a favour (as I was rather tempted to blow my secret identity there and then for the pleasure of dissolving you with with my acid gun), do yourself a favour, do us all a favour- don't come to the flicks. Ever. Stay in and shout your inanities at the TV. It likes it.

Annnnnnnd, similarly; I like a laugh as much as the next man. More, probably. I'll laugh at things that many would consider upsetting or disturbing- that cleaver to the head bit? Hysterical. Any Superhero death? GOLD.

But, two girls and a girly-looking boy behind me, do you HAVE to giggle at every flash of naked skin? Yes, a giant blue glowing shlong is kinda funny. Once. But every time? And seriously, every buttock, every boob, every nipple? What the fuck are you, eight?

Never watch porn- you'll giggle yourselves into a coma.

Actually- do.