When movies bomb
(pearoast)

Working in a cinema in Northern Ireland in the mid-nineties was always eventful. Since my beloved, inbred hicksville country is about 400 years behind the rest of the UK we often had to put up with things like Ian Paisley and his merry band of Free Presbyterians picketing the lastest releases. Showgirls incurred the wrath of the righteous (Flesh! Fornication! Could lead to dancing!) and going to see In the Name of the Father was a tense waltz past the placards.

It was The Devil's Own that proved most controversial though. A film worth picketing for Brad Pitt's dodgy accent alone, it did not escape the attentions of the Loyalist factions who saw it as some kind of glorified IRA recruiting vehicle (perhaps they were peeved at the implication that Republican terrorists are strapping blond Holywood hunks). Anyway, I was selling tickets for that evening's showing when the call came in.

Norn Irn in the mid-nineties had a well-established system in place for all things Troubles-related, so codewords were used to confirm that bomb threats were legit - as legit as a bomb threat can be, anyway. We were told there was a bomb in the cinema in one of the 10 screens. We heard the code word, and we responded. The evacuation procedure sprang into place and we began herding people out of the multiplex. I held the door open and cheerily reassured the customers that it was just a precaution as the RUC Land Rovers raced up outside.

Then, and I am astonished looking back at this but at the time it seemed perfectly normal, our managers appeared and asked us to search the cinema. Yes. We, who were getting paid under £4 per hour and had to wear dreadful uniforms into the bargain, were told to go and search each screen for suspect devices. The deadly, lethal, bomb-y sort.

I got cinema 2. As I approached the front row I saw a sports bag peeking out from under a seat.
"Um, John..." I said to the security guard who was tentatively poking around the back row, "there's a sports bag here..."

"Get out NOW," was his immediate response and the pair of us legged it to the door and into the foyer where we alerted the men with guns to our findings.

I then had to go outside and ask several hundred people if anyone had left a sports bag behind. None had. Bag was removed, found to be harmless, everyone trouped back in and the film was restarted. I left Norn Irn a few years later on the basis that it's an inbred hicksville country about 400 years behind the rest of the UK.
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Thu 7 Jul 2011, 13:50, 11 replies)

On the other hand it’s a great place to live if you like a good march

( Ring Of Fire A petty, drooling belming butthurt retard., Thu 7 Jul 2011, 14:00, closed)

Or a wee riot.
Although I moved to Bristol and the Tesco riots were just down the street so I don't feel too homesick.
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Thu 7 Jul 2011, 14:01, closed)

Awww, that was good of them.
Isn't it nice when the neighbours go out of their way to make you feel at home.
(SpangoTheWonderBadger is brewing beer, Thu 7 Jul 2011, 15:03, closed)

I'll never forget what my Irish grandad had to say about Paisley and his band
"What a bunch of fucking idiots"

...and that from a bloke who lived his entire life in the respectable end of Belfast
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 7 Jul 2011, 14:40, closed)

Ha! Yeah - like Belfast has a respectable end.

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 7 Jul 2011, 14:42, closed)

They kept moving further and further east...
...and they nearly made it as far as Bangor
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 7 Jul 2011, 16:28, closed)

My parents did make it to Bangor
in fact so far east they almost made it to Groomsport...
( Wifey, Thu 7 Jul 2011, 16:36, closed)

!!!!
Nye! Get out, right nye!
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Thu 7 Jul 2011, 14:45, closed)

Ha! Uncannily accurate.

( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Thu 7 Jul 2011, 15:51, closed)

now then
What I've never understood is how how the code words get agreed?

Did the Police get together with the IRA every now and then and hand over a a couple of sides of A4

Also - and I'm fascinated by this - what was the codeword? Was it "bigfuckingbomb"?
( rofl harris, Thu 7 Jul 2011, 15:55, closed)

I was in the cinema at Staples Corner in West London
in the early 90's when an IRA bomb went off less then a 1/4 mile away (it got fuck all press coverage due to lack of death and it was the same time as the Canary Wharf bombing). Shook the whole cinema causing a fuck ton of crap to fall from the ceiling.

Wasn't so bad, I seem to remember that the movie I went to watch was total arse and got issued a voucher to see a better movie the following weekend.
(ParaSitius is an Optimistic Pessimist, Fri 8 Jul 2011, 11:02, closed)