THE last place to watch a film is the cinema. It’s ruined by the phenomenon that spoils everything … Other People. Texting, yakking, yawning, sneezing, breathing stentoriously, bobbing up and – at times – down, they think not of others but only of themselves and of making an ignorant, burbling noise with a straw on reaching the bottom of their humungous drinks cartons.

This behaviour is caused by a decline in standards and not having an inspiring Prime Minister, such as Sir Harold Macmillan, running the country.

I will not expand on that point, as I fear I cannot sustain it, but what I will lecture you about this week is a new phenomenon at our public film venues: the Gentleminions.

As you may have guessed from the name – not you, madam, on your third sherry already this morning – the phenomenon relates to Despicable Me spin-off, the Minions, and their latest movie The Rise of, it says here, Gru.

Minions are small, capsule-shaped creatures who speak an unintelligible language. Sort of like MSPs. They’re popular with children and other inadequates. Alas, showings of the film have been disrupted by groups of suit-wearing teenagers – the Gentleminions – who shout, mimic the characters, and throw food about. The disruption is filmed and put out on TikTok, if that is the name.

During the mayhem, bairns get upset, greetin’ an’ a’ that, with outraged parents calling for the Gentleminions to be banned, which they have been in some cinemas. One venue in Worcester paid out £1,300 worth of refunds in a day to complaining parents.

I hesitate to say this is an outrage. But not for long. True, it’s always good to see new cultural phenomena created spontaneously by the young. The Gentleminions look impressive in their costumery, and are at least an upgrade on the Orwellian woke, that grim, psychotic bastard spawned by my lot’s liberal leanings two generations back.

And it could be argued that the Gentleminions provide a valuable life lesson for the children: everything is a disappointment. All is spoiled by … the Others. In future, their expectations will be low, their outlook pessimistic. They will then be ready to join the adult world.

But, on mature reflection, I cannot condone noise and disruption at the hellholes that cinemas have already become. It would be more radical to sit quietly, without fidgeting or texting, and to ingest nothing more than boiled sweets sooked quietly. That would make a most amusing TikTog film.

Thought not

WHAT do you think about overthinking? What d’you mean you’ve never thought about it?

According to Birmingham-based counselling psychologist Lalitaa Suglani, overthinking affects mental health. But everyone does it, she says, getting “too deep in [their] head about things”. Yep, bad place to be. Yet somehow I always end up there. All roads lead back to your head. I wish I could remove mine sometimes. Another design fault by the Great Creator.

The trouble with overthinking, says Dr Suglani, is it affects how you experience yonder world, “preventing you from making important decisions, keeping you from enjoying the present moment and draining you of the energy you need to handle daily stressors”. Hey, I ticked all these boxes. In red ink.

But what exactly is overthinking? Well, Dr Suglani says the signs include wanting to “read” people and feeling stressed when you can’t, asking several people for advice, and fretting about why someone did something.

Other signs include worrying over blunt replies, vividly recalling embarrassing moments, planning out conversations, fixating on things you can’t control, imagining the worst case scenario, and second-guessing your decisions, replaying perceived mistakes.

Crivvens, I bet most people identify with most of these, as was confirmed by online commenters. I’m not sure about some. I want to read people but don’t get stressed when I can’t (I simply record, “Another Earthling nutter”). I don’t think I plan out conversations or fixate on things I can’t control.

I do ask people for advice before making decisions, but believe that judicious. All my friends now know that if they just say, “It’s up to you”, they’ll be cut out of my lottery-based will.

I constantly imagine worst-case scenarios, and vividly recall embarrassing moments. The takeaway from Dr Suglani’s analysis is that overthinking causes distress by preventing decisions that aid growth. Yep, my life in a nutshell (Reader’s voice, after Basil Fawlty: “Case, more like”).

Dr Suglani says a classic decision-making worry is: “What if they don’t like me?” One boon of growing older is you care less about that, though you still do a bit, such as when young people titter at you in the street, an everyday occurrence when I lived in rude and trendy Embra, though I never knew the grounds. Hair, clothing, complexion, my top hat?

No use worrying about it. Who gives a fig? In the meantime, Dr Suglani has given us much to think about. Personally, while agreeing that overthinking is bad, I’m not sure decisiveness is good. If politicians didn’t decide anything, we’d all bumble along fine.

Every major decision I’ve ever made has been disastrous. I urge you to follow the wu-wei of the Tao: do nothing and everything will work out.