Smuggler's luck

There are some people in this life who get caught if they do the slightest thing wrong, while there are others that have the luck of the gods and can get away with pretty much anything. And then there is my plucky friend Yazzle Dazzle.

You know how when you go to see a movie there are signs in the foyer that say something like "ONLY FOOD AND BEVERAGES PURCHASED HERE MAY BE CONSUMED ON THESE PREMISES"? Well that means nothing to Yazzle Dazzle. In fact, it taunts her - it challenges her! Pretty much every time we go to the cinema she ends up smuggling something in. It's usually nothing more innocent than a bottle of coke, but I don't think she does it because she actually wants a bottle of coke; I think she does it because she's been explicitly told not to.

This deviant behaviour has led to much hilarity on occasion. I think my favourite example of her - I think the word is – chutzpah, was when we went to a gig at the Shepherds Bush Empire a few years ago. I don't remember who we saw, but I do remember that Yazzle Dazzle stopped off on the way there to buy a bottle of Diet Coke with a lemon twist; it was a special edition at the time and she'd developed rather a taste for it. So anyway, after queuing for a few minutes we shuffle into the Empire where Yazzle Dazzle is stopped by security for a bag check (she carries a very big, very heavy bag stuffed full of lord-knows-what; I do believe she actually has a full set of cutlery in there). The security woman (and I use the term 'woman' very loosely) opened Yazzle Dazzle's bag, saw the bottle of Diet Coke with a lemon twist, and said in a gruff, decidedly unfeminine voice "Ya can't take that in there."

Yazzle Dazzle looked very unhappy about this, and told the security beast that she'd only just bought it.

The security beast shrugged and told Yazzle Dazzle that she'd have to drink it there, on the spot, or else just chuck it away, so Yazzle sighed, walked over to a nearby bin, took the top off the bottle, and with the security beast watching, took a mouthful. Satisfied that Yazzle Dazzle was doing as she'd been told, the security beast turned her/its attention to the next person in line. As such, she/it did not see Yazzle Dazzle pop the top back on her bottle, stash it back in her bag, and fish an empty coke bottle out of the bin.

"Yoo-hoo," she called out, waving the empty coke bottle in her hand. "I'm finished!"

The security beast nodded and several minutes later Yazzle Dazzle was comfortably ensconced in her seat, watching some great live music, and casually swigging from her bottle of Diet Coke with a lemon twist.

More recently, we went to see Watchmen. Our original plan had called for us to have a cup of coffee prior to seeing the film, but for some reason or another we didn't really have time. Now, we could've bought coffee in the cinema, but I know from previous experience that cinema coffee is, um, not terribly good, so instead we bought our tickets and headed across the road to Starbucks, where Yazzle Dazzle issued very precise orders to the barista about how she wanted a grande coffee in a venti cup because she needed the extra bit of room at the top. Knowing what she was planning, I ordered a Frappuccino because it's that little bit more solid, and I didn't want to be responsible for what I guessed would come next.

What came next was that Yazzle Dazzle fashioned a small compartment within her bag that was spacious enough to fit two Starbucks cups in an upright position. With her coffee and my Frap wedged inside, we calmly and innocently walked back into the cinema, took our seats, and enjoyed our beverages. Oh, and the film.

So, this whole smuggling thing has gotten to be quite exciting - proven by the fact that Yazzle Dazzle was most disappointed at the Jason Mraz gig when the security guy barely looked in her bag. "He only touched the bottom," she said, which raised a whole lot of other questions in my mind.

Anyway, this week we decided to go see a film, and my thoughts soon turned to what I could get Yazzle Dazzle to smuggle in. My initial idea was a small Albanian child, but as we were walking through Shepherds Bush I was rather taken by a diminutive middle-aged oriental woman.

"Get her," I said. "Put her in your bag - now!"

"No," scowled Yazzle Dazzle. "Although she'd definitely fit."

In the end, she resorted to the usual bottle of coke, which I felt was a bit of a let down. Greater disappointment was to come, however, as it seems smuggling stuff into the cinema is a dying art. Within seconds of us taking our seats some couple strolled in carrying two bags of food from the supermarket. By the time the movie started they'd already downed a chocolate croissant each and had moved on to a multipack of cheesy Wotsits.

We quickly decided that we wanted some cheesy Wotsits too.

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The movie we saw was The Knowing, starring Nicolas Cage. Now, I hate Nicolas Cage, but I was intrigued by the idea of this movie (in which a strange girl writes a list of numbers that predict when a series of disasters are going to happen). I briefly thought about turning away every time Nicolas Cage was onscreen, but realised that this would mean pretty much missing the entire film, which would be a waste of money. Turns out, though, that it probably would've been the more sensible course of action.

What a stupid movie.

As I said, the gist of the film is that some girl in the 1950s writes a list of numbers that accurately predict when a series of disasters are going to take place, which is then popped in a time capsule before falling into the hands of Nicolas Cage 50 years later. Shame she didn't predict the movie was going to be rubbish, because I'd sure like those two hours of my life back, please. What really made it stupid, though, was the fact that it was chock-full of hardcore Christian imagery. Now, I'm down with people being into their religion and everything as long as it doesn't a) hurt anyone, or b) get rammed down my throat, because lord knows enough of it gets shoved in my letterbox*. But this movie … geez. Talk about overt. I'm going to go into spoiler territory here, so I'll hide the following bit using my text-based cloaking device (highlight if you want to read):

The gist of it is that the Earth is going to be wiped out by a solar flare, and these aliens (who in their natural form look like angels - with WINGS and everything) come to save a bunch of kids so that the human race can continue on another world. No one stopped to think that they could use Nicolas Cage's massive forehead to reflect the solar flare. Anyway, at the end the aliens take the kids off on their huge spaceships, but leave Nicolas Cage behind, because there's no room on their massive spaceships for him and his forehead. They do let the kids take a rabbit each, though, and I do like the idea that the aliens value a rabbit's life over that of Nicolas Cage. Good times.

Anyway, the Earth gets razed by fire, and the kids end up on this beautiful paradise world where there is a single massive tree of life. No one is disturbed by the idea that the aliens are just dumping a bunch of kids on a planet with no homes, no food, and the expectation that they need to start going at it - like their rabbits will undoubtedly do - to repopulate the human race. Mark my words, if they ever do a sequel (unlikely, I know) that planet is going to be home to shitloads of rabbits and tribes of hungry, dirty, promiscuous teenagers.

And so you get the idea with that.

In hindsight, I should've just clicked on to youtube and watched this:

*Sparky Ma and Pa had some Christian propaganda put through their door a few weeks back that basically listed all the ways you can be damned to Hell, and inviting them to a local church to wash away their sins. I read the list and quickly decided I was guilty of the vast majority of these sins on a daily basis. As such, I'm stocking up on some mega SPF suntan lotion, because it's going to be hot down there.