Brassed (off) Man

TODAY I set out to take my stepson - Captain jnr - to the cinema to watch the sci-fi delights of Iron Man.

Imagine my surprise then when he announced rather grandly he'd rather go out with his friends than me.

What are teenagers coming to when the attractions of a trip to the cinema with a 36-year-old geek are so blithely cast aside? What is it about youngsters today when an afternoon gulping alcopops and sniffing glue in the park is somehow more entertaining than Jon Favreau's masterpiece?

It's almost as if he is ashamed to be seen in public with me. I mean, my Iron Man costume had been specially polished for the occasion - my codpiece was gleaming!!

The upshot of this rather pathetic rant is that I didn't go. (altogether now - aaah)

My friends were in work or out and Mrs Captain would rather sandpaper her retinas than watch Iron Man, or any film that doesn't star George Clooney tilting his head at the camera and squinting.

Damn it all.

So, that means I am looking for a posse to watch the man who is Iron - any takers?