Last month, on a Thursday I found myself alone in Manchester. I had time to kill so I did something I haven’t done before; I went to the cinema alone, in the middle of the day and it was bliss. It’s something a lot of travelling comics do to avoid the car park that is the rush hour on the M6 or to distract them from their own thoughts; one of the two, anyway it was about 2pm when I made my solo trip to the Odeon in central Manchester.

I’d opted to see Deadpool, a film which I heard a lot about but hadn’t really shown much interest in. It’s another one of these Marvel comic book adaptations and I must admit I really enjoyed it. I wasn’t prepared however, for just for how violent and non-family friendly it was. I understand how it’s subverting the superhero genre and is knowingly self-aware, I just I didn’t expect to see brain matter spattered across the screen 20 minutes into a superhero movie; I’d barely started tucking into my popcorn.

It got me thinking about some of the cinema experiences I have had, both as an adult and a young movie goer. So here, in no particular order, are some that are the most memorable, for various reasons:

Terminator 2 (1991) Wakefield ABC Cinema (Now demolished) Certificate 15

I was 12 years old when Arnie hit our screens, in arguably his greatest ever performance. As an Austrian body builder, with zero acting range, playing a cyborg that is unable to covey any emotion; was always the role he was born to play.   I remember the hype around this film, everyone at school wanted to see it, some had indeed claimed they already had. This was 1991, the era of the first ever pirate videos. There was always a lad at school who claimed he had already seen all of the blockbusters years before. He had an uncle in America who had a camcorder and sent back recordings to his dad hidden in the belly of a Care Bear on a British Airways flight into Leeds Bradford airport. You have to remember that this was in the days where camera technology wasn’t very advanced, they were massive for starters, they looked like something you’d win on bullseye. Getting that into the cinema would have been a challenge. Smuggling a family sized bag of Malteasers is one thing but a 3 foot Sanyo camera that weighs the best part of a sack of gravel would’ve been impossible. It was a false economy anyway; £10 to watch the back of a blokes head, and the awkward moment when he whispers that he needs the toilet and you are forced to watch a director’s cut of him taking a leak.

Now Terminator 2 was a certificate 15, I was 12 and I looked it. This was a problem. I remember when I ventured into the world of underage drinking, the barmaid in the local boozer (where people were served in school uniform) confronted us all once in the booth in the corner of the pub, as we were plucking up courage to go and buy a round, and pointing at each of us in turn, like she was selecting players for a football team said: “I’ll serve him, her, him, her” and pointing at me, “not him obviously, look at his face!”

Anyway, my dad was taking me and a friend to Terminator 2, he was also 12 but he was lucky enough to have a face ravaged by the effects of puberty. Lying about my age wasn’t new to me but it would often be in the opposite direction. My brother and I had both been classed as “under 3” for years by my thrifty father whenever we went swimming or travelled on a bus. Surprisingly getting me into a certificate 15 wasn’t too much of a challenge; I just tucked in behind my father, strode confidently and remembered to keep puffing on the cigarette. There was a sticky moment when an attendant asked my father for my date of birth and I thought he would be rumbled like Gordon in the great escape, but he nailed it.

The film was brilliant, it’s a classic. The high point was where Arnie was in pursuit of the T-1000 and my friend and I got a bit carried away and shouted “Go Arnold, kill him! Kill Him!” we blew our cover as moody 15 year old teenagers in an instant, but we didn’t care, it was the best film we’d ever seen and we were transfixed.

50 Shades of Grey (2015) Leeds Odeon Certificate 18

It was one of the most anticipated films of the year and nearly two hours of my life I will never get back. My wife suggested that we should go and see this as she was a fan of the books. I was concerned, not because of the sexual content I’d heard about, mainly because I’d been led to believe that this Christian Grey fella had converted is own basement into a dungeon. Frankly DIY isn’t my forte, It took me two weeks to put up some shelves so I think a dungeon is probably beyond me. Also that’s not the sort of project I could ring my dad to ask for help with. She said to not be so ridiculous, we were all adults and that we were going to go on a double date with my brother and his girlfriend, which was not at all awkward in any way? We decided to sit in couples, to make things less uncomfortable, because the last thing you want during the sex scenes is to look to the left to see your own brother trying to bury his head in his popcorn just to avoid eye contact.

Incidentally I had another worry during the screening due to an earlier mishap. I am a person often afflicted with an involuntary muscular spasm; I think it’s quite common. It mainly affects me at night as my body starts to relax, I’ll often kick out in bed just before I go to sleep and it’s like my last little fight to see the day off. Well, we were at the concession stand and I was buying my wife and I some popcorn, as I was about to pay I had a muscular twitch and proceeded to throw about eight quid of loose change into her popcorn. I was mortified, I just said to the guy on the counter; “Just take it out of that pal” and walked away ashamed. It made things tense though, every mouthful she took I was worried she was going to choke on a pound coin and pulling off the Heimlich manoeuvre during in erotic thriller would have been awkward to say the least.

The film is dreadful, turgid and probably one of the most confusingly misogynistic films I’ve ever had the misfortune to see. The message seems to be, if a blokes obscenely rich, good looking, takes you out in a glider, buys you a car, then happily sign up to be his slave. I’m sure the attraction to Christian Grey wouldn’t have had the same level of potency if he was a middle aged balding lorry driver from Wigan who took you into his mum’s conservatory when she was at Bingo, to spank you on the bum with a Greggs’ Steak Bake.

I know it’s popular, I’m not been a miserable old prude. I’m old enough to remember the controversy when the film Basic Instinct came out; in fact my wife and I will still often recreate the infamous legs crossing and uncrossing scene, although she thinks I should just buy a dressing gown that actually fits.

Marley and Me (2008) Nottingham Showcase Cinema

Many films are classed as date movies, which often means a film which I have no interest in seeing but will go along to appease my wife. The weepfest that is Marley and Me was one such movie. Starring Owen Wilson, a man with all the charisma of a dish cloth and Friends star Jennifer Aniston, or was it Iggy Pop? I can’t quite recall. It was a film about a family who buy a dog, the dog becomes part of the family and then the dog dies. I am sure I am simplifying the plot but essentially this is the main thrust of the story. Now we have never owned a dog, we can’t I’m allergic, but we’ve never planned on owning a dog, yet my wife was inconsolable. Even my offer of some chilli nachos or a hot dog (arguably not the greatest suggestion on reflection) could distract her from the all-consuming grief she had for this family and their canine bereavement.

I’m not totally unfeeling don’t get me wrong. I understood why she was moved to tears. There are many films which often turn be into a gibbering wreck with puffy eyes;  Planes Trains and Automobiles, (particularly the ending when John Candy confesses his wife has died), It’s a wonderful life (obviously) and Sylvester Stallone’s’ heartfelt speech at the end of Rocky 4. Clumsily delivered, with over the top anti-Russian sentiment and blundering American pride, it often makes my want to grab a flag of the stars and stripes, order a burger and weep like a baby.

The Lion King/Big Hero 6/ (kids films in general)

Going to see a children’s’ film at the cinema quite an experience. Before I had children of my own I remember taking my brother, who is 10 years younger than me, to see The Lion King. It still remains one of the most stressful and intense two hours of my life. I don’t think I was prepared for the carnage that is a screening rammed full of 6-7 year olds, high on Haribo and unable to hold their bladders for more than twenty minutes.

I think the cinemas vastly overestimate the concentration span of young children. To this day, with my children, I try and avoid going to sit through the trailers. Some screenings have trailers lasting forty five minutes. They are as good as gold for the forthcoming releases, BMW adverts and the Pearl and Dean music, but as soon as the feature starts you turn round and they have disappeared under the seat in front and are trying to make a den out of used popcorn holders.

There is also the trend of many of these films having a theme of death in the storyline. The Lion King, Big Hero 6, Bambi all feature relatives snuffing it within the first half hour. It can leave children traumatised, they don’t see it coming. At my daughters age (6) death is an ongoing fascination for her, I have to answer constant questions about the mortality of the human race; but it’s not something I want to have to explain at length for two hours in a Pizza Express on a Saturday afternoon.

Saving Private Ryan (1998) Curzion Cinema Loughborough

Netflix may be the beginning of the end for the humble cinema. Let’s face it, it’s not as cheap as it was, (especially without a Yorkshire dad to smuggle you in for free) and it’s a hassle to organise baby sitters and make the effort to get there. However what Netflix can’t recreate is that sense of excitement and tension when a full auditorium of cinemagoers is spellbound by the power of a movie.

When I was a student the local Cinema in Loughborough would offer a student night where you could go and see the latest releases for £2.50. We practically lived there, it was amazing value. I remember the night when we decided to go and see the new Tom Hanks war film, Saving Private Ryan. I recall it was about 8 of us who decided to have a night off from our studies (drinking) to venture into town to see it. With most films I’ve seen there is always that frisson of excitement before the film starts, the chatter and excitement during the trailers and as the lights dim. This night was no different. We sat there passing down snacks, which we’d smuggled in one of the girls’ handbags, and then settled down as the film started. Now those first twenty opening minutes, I don’t know if you can recall, are probably some of the most raw and visceral things I’ve ever witnessed, they took your breath away. It came completely out of the blue and was such a contrast to the jovial atmosphere that preceded it.  I remember looking round at that packed cinema and noticing one thing, absolute silence, we were all transfixed and remained so for the entire film. That’s the power of cinema and in a room full of people all sharing it together, it can take it from a simple passive medium into a total immersive experience. I love it.