Automons, fatboys and operettas

Went to see amiable, slacker rom-com by numbers Run, Fatboy, Run (rom-combers?) at the Doncaster multiplex. Seems the cinema, a charming 80s monstrosity, has been taken over by Stasi Entertainments. Making a phone call in the foyer before the film began, we were asked: "Are you here to see a film". "No, fool, I choose this slate grey bad attitude complex next to a Wimpy to make my calls". Then, the same jobsworth is charged with taking our tickets tells us we are missing one of our stubs. We tell him we don't have it, have never had it, but, hey, here's a receipt. He then, with cold dead eyes, says "I'm not saying what you do or don't have, just what you SHOULD have". And left us in the queue for about 10 minutes while ushering others through. Half expected him to bang a stick across the aisles while the closing credits rolled as well.