A trip to the cinema still excites me. Sharing a film with a bunch of film nerds and the overpowering smell of stale popcorn has never been enough to put me off going to see a nice big, fat, phaser drenched blockbuster.
Last night I trotted off to exchange body odours at the latest Star Trek movie.
A long time fan of the Star Trekking series and films I was a little worried that this one would fall on its ass before me ice cream melted. Going back to the beginning and resurrecting the original cast in new bodies was going to be a hard one to get my head around and just how were they going to capture the infinite cheesyness of James Tiberius Kirk, Bones, the grumpy bastard in sick bay or the engineering ("I'm giving it all she's got, Captain") madness of dear old Scotty.
And should I have been worried that the collective age of the crew only put them a few light years ahead of High School Musical (a film I know nothing about, I hasten to add)?
No, no worries at all. This was cracking film from the breathtaking CGI'd docking station that felt like 3D to the re-invented, facially tattooed (rather sexy) Romulan baddies. Thingy Wotsit, the director, got it spock on and even the uniforms brought on a familiar feeling like an old, comfy pair of lycra slippers.
I am left with a) an aching need to see it again, and b) a wish to hop on a plane and get the next one finished as soon as possible.
For the time being I will content myself with trying to fathom why I am now hopelessly in lust with the deliciously pointy attributed features of young Mr Spock....
.......beam me up, baby!!