in which I (eventually) demonstrate my superiority to Clive Owen

Amanda's ex was getting married in the field next to where she and Mat now live; not only that, it was going to be a 'gypsy wedding' like on the TV. Mat was threatening to 'rent a long lens'. I went round to have a look, and was welcomed by Sam burning me alive and Christopher chopping me up into pieces. Not literally, of course - these feats were accomplished with a plastic sword (Christopher) and some kind of elaborate gun-like weapon (Sam) - and, as the cloying voiceover on some American TV show might put it, 'a whole lot of imagination'. In Sam's case the imagination extended to fitting his weapon with a hose, so that he could put the flames out before I was dismembered by Christopher. These are well-brought up children.

The wedding - 'big fat greasy wedding' as Mat put it - proved less lively. For a start it wasn't right next door, but in a nearby marquee, and there didn't seem to be much action going on in the car park. In fact, so little was happening that at one point we were going to ring the police because it was 'too quiet'. Had Amanda been there, and sufficiently drunk, perhaps she might have been persuaded to don her bridal gown (possibly dyed black) and make an entrance. That would have livened things up. Unfortunately, she was at Christine's hen night, and I sat down with Mat and the kids to watch Gnomeo And Juliet.

This was one of those films where you just know they came up with the title first. It reminded me of The Dark Knight Rises in that it features Michael Caine, contains a small thermonuclear explosion that does no significant damage - and also in that it's, well, you know, OK. Three stars. TDKR is probably funnier. There's something about gnomes that compels people (I'm thinking of David Bowie here) to indulge in bad puns. Hence, when someone requires glue in this film, it comes from a bottle marked 'taming of the glue'. Ouch. You might imagine that Shakespeare would be turning in his grave (a task easily within the capability of the animators, I'm sure)  - except here he is, in the form of a statue with Patrick Stewart's voice, tacitly giving his blessing to this latest version of his creation.

Although the main presiding genius here is not Shakespeare at all - it's Elton John. Elton is all over Gnomeo in the way that Hans Zimmer is all over TDKR. But whereas Zimmer's thunderous score is an attempt to remind us at every moment how incredibly earth-shakingly IMPORTANT Christopher Nolan's film is, Elton is just reminding how important he is - he put up the money for this, after all. I'm not sure whether Saturday Night's Alright For Fighting is the ideal accompaniment for a lawnmower chase that takes place in daylight, but it's probably better than Tiny Dancer or Daniel. Still, couldn't he at least have changed the lyrics? He did it for Diana, why not some computer-generated garden gnomes?

The next day presented me with Clive Owen on the front of one of the Mail On Sunday's supplements proclaiming: 'I never wanted to be a movie star'. Well, funnily enough Clive, neither did I - but in my case, I have managed to avoid doing so. Loser!