Many surprises await you. Not really. We don’t have a basement. But as a carrier of chronic basement envy, I understand your disappointment.
It all happens in the basement.
Annie Wilkes almost killed off her beloved author in one in Misery. Yes, that was indeed the sheriff who met his untimely demise down there. Nasty. So it made a tense tale even more nail-biting.
Then there was Omar who took refuge in his sister’s basement when it mattered most. So it contributed to the necessary rehabilitation of one of TV’s most beloved characters before… well, before… actually, let’s not talk about it. It’s still too soon. And who could forget Elliot discovering E.T. behind the garbage cans in his. OK, me neither. So they also compel people to re-write scenes from perfect Steven Spielberg films. Still. No doubt the great director regrets missing that trick.
Occasionally, a basement will turn up in a song, and fans of this gem will recognise the reference. My new favourite thing is to drive around town with it blaring on repeat and master my air-drumming as we crawl through traffic. I discovered this retrospectively when I found myself lip-syncing the same chorus to the tenth person over the course of one journey.
Fans of Two-Door Cinema Club are probably aware that the group has a combined age of 8 and three-quarters. I’m certain they’re of an age that I could’ve given birth to all three, a fact I discovered when we showed up at one of their early gigs to be offered the only available seats next to their parents. One for the grandchildren. Oh no, wait, they were on the dance floor.
But few may know the origins of their name, which stems from a venue featured in the new segment of the blog. Welcome to Lesser Spotted Ulcer! Finally, the point of the post! Where every now and again, when I take the notion to remember, we visit one of Norn Iron’s hidden gems. No, really. 
First up, Tudor Cinema in Comber. A cute mispronunciation by a local boy inspired the moniker of his brilliant band. It’s privately owned by the lively Noel Spence, owner of 1000s of titles, which he will cheerfully allow you to scan through to book film and screen for a modest donation (no fees as such, or children allowed). Including E.T. and Misery. Donnie Darko, also. And The Blair Witch Project. Or any other film with a critical basement scene. He’ll even put up a personalised welcome message with the classic letters above the entrance. And if you’re lucky, he might give you a free copy of some native yarns and poetry in between performing his roving ice-lolly dolly duties. It takes a decent local map and frequent passenger-window-winding-down for directions to refine this map further, but it’s worth the recline into a red velvet seat when you do.
To Noel, my inaugural rosette. Go Noel (canned applause).
Tudor Cinema. (audience not pictured)
And that concludes this week’s edition. Tune in next time when we’ll be visiting the Stiff Little Fish Fingers factory.
department of speculation 
I love how your ramblings and deviations take one to an unexpected point of the post 😀 It’s a great wee song – and there was me thinking it would be a reference to Bob Dylan, nothing so commonplace for you! Those three guys are indeed awfy wee. Quite a contrast to yer Blue Nile man. Must admit though, I’d rather have an attic….the scuttling of mice and bones of swallows who didn’t make it home for winter….chests with padlocks too rusted to open….a dapple grey rocking horse creaking back and forth all by itself.
*gulp* Go on. What happens next? *noise in the distance* ARRRRRRGGGGHHHH. Sorry, it was just the bathroom window. You’ve got me all spooked up. Seriously, what’s in the chests? I like where you’re taking this…
I’ve no idea!!!! It just turned up when I started thinking about attics 😀 Probably just a way for me to continue avoiding writing a Proper Post – I’m leaving comments instead.
It’s the crunchie biscuits, isn’t it? You’ve hidden them away from me. Right, no pressure, but get your feathered arse into gear and get tapping. Draw us a picture even.
I am tapping, honest! Trouble is I’ve left it too long between posts and now I’m in that damned quandary where everything comes out shite. It’s so much easier to leave comments….
Oh, and please can I go to the cinema? Pleeeeeeaaaaase!!!
Of course. You must. Sure, what you’d pay for a ticket and snacks in the multiplex is probably more than the ferry ticket.
Who buys snacks at the multiplex??? That’s what the Giant Handbag is for!
Gotta say, this is the first time I’ve heard of this cinema, thanx for the heads up. I’m off now to find out more. Looks amazing.
It’s not very big, but definitely a little bit of magic where you’d least expect it. Thanks for sticking your head round the door – just had a look at some of your photos – the business.
I’m a big cinephile, so def wanna see that little place. Good to see Comber has more than spuds to make it interesting 😀
I too have been to a Tudor cinema club gig. I too felt very extremely old. Thanks for the reminder 😉
No problem, Tara. All part of the ramble. I’ve since discovered they’re now in their mid-20s. Shockin’ *pipe lip-smacks*
I passed a house today with a mega basement and I thought of you.
Honoured to have crossed your thoughts! But… it would’ve been even better had you taken a photo. Next time, tric, yeah? Good woman, thanks.