Hell is other people

Yesterday my agent, Bernie Shimshelwitz, sent me on a doomed mission to audition for a low brow theatre tour of The Usual Sexpests. Typically they’d already cast Adam Woodyatt in the part I was up for before I got there so I found myself at a loose end in East Anglia. Stuck for something to do I decided to go and watch Drag Me To Norwich in Hell, or should that be…
The film is top notch and nothing pleases me more than old ladies vomiting on nubile blondes so I was enjoying myself immensely right up until the last two minutes of the film when a mobile phone rang directly behind me. A little annoying, but nothing when compared to the fact that, not only did the Arthur Mullard looky-likey answer it, but then he proceeded to engage in a full volume, one-way conversation about haemorrhoids and cinema seats. By the time he got to the all too familiar line of “Until you’ve had them, you don’t know what it’s like” I’d had all I could bear. “Excuse me” I projected for the whole auditorium to hear, “but if you don’t cease that hideous conversation immediately I’ll shove that Blackberry so far up past your dangleberries you’ll be dialling your sister-stroke-wife every time you apply your Preparation-H”. The ovation I got from the cinema audience took me back to my closing soliloquy in ‘Kiddie Fiddler On The Roof’, Maidstone, 1985. Now, if anyone knows what happens at the end of the film I’m all ears. I need to know before the sure-to-be-released Drag Me To Hell Too.