I didn’t like Scott Pilgrim.

Wait, wait, wait don’t go! Believe me, I’m more disappointed in myself than you are of me. An esteemed jury of chewers have decided that I can remain on the boards but they are keeping an eye on me.

You don’t know what it’s like, being on the outside looking in. That Scott Pilgrim fella is throwing a hell of a party. People are having a blast in there. There’s music, games AND Pee bars. It’s the party of the year but I wasn’t invited. Now I’m out in the rain.

Sure, every once in a while someone will come out for a cigarette. They’ll politely entertain my problems with the film, their eyes glazing over as they desperately try and make an excuse. Eventually, they stop trying, turn on the spot and go back inside. Leaving me walking away like a hairy, lanky Bill Bixby.

The worrying thing is this has happened before. Remember Inglourious Basterds? Tarantino’s return to form? Didn’t get it. And man alive was I murderised for it. “It’s his masterpiece!” people howled at me, “He even says so at the end! Get it?”

Why does this happen to me? Is my taste in films out to sabotage me? With Scott Pilgrim vs The World it only hurts so much because I should have loved it, Lord knows I wanted to. “Come on Crossey, snap out of it” I muttered as the credits began, “Todd took out the Moon just like Tetsuo in Akira, that was cool for crying aloud!”

What I’m saying is don’t shun me. I’m like you, just different. The first step is admitting you have a problem right? Let me in. I’ll be polite, I won’t even say anything.

It’s cold out here.