I was at least expecting a red carpet

Toyota Carina minicabs and custard factories. Last night found us travelling in one on its way to the other. You should be able to work this one out for yourself. If you can't, I'd recommend inhaling a little less deeply in future.

As the precision Japanese engineering motored its way through the hooning rain and jubilant Birmingham City supporters (a rare 3-1 win against an apparently below-par Manchester City), we were treated to the driver's choice in music, the banging choons of Galaxy FM. Niiice.

I bet Brad and Angelina don't have this sort of experience when they get invited to film premieres.

A friend of ours, Chris, has spent much of the last twelve months or so putting together his latest epic. He's written it, produced, it, filmed it and played one of the key roles. All he needed to do was write the theme tune and sing the theme tune, and he'd be the next Dennis Waterman. Or something.

The Custard Factory in question is an arts centre in Digbeth, just outside the city centre. Amongst other spaces, it has a 100-seat cinema that can be hired out to film-makers like Chris, so they can have proper premieres. Yay!

The film itself is, Chris keenly admitted, not the important part of the deal. Just before the screening, he told us the reason he did this was about the "process rather than the product". He puts it this way on his own site:

It's not just a silly movie - it's about getting friends together, having some fun and being kids again. We don't take it too seriously and the premier nights are always a good knees up.

Which, in these cynical and fashion-conscious days, is a very appealing sentiment. The film itself was a hoot. We laughed at the antics on screen, and indeed, no-one took it too seriously. Mission very much accomplished.

An admission to you, dear reader. I used to be a little bit of a thespian but gave it up when the demands of boring normal life meant that learning great big stonking scripts for the stage got a little too much. I miss the buzz of showing off in front of audiences, if I'm honest, and events like last night brought it home to me. Will have to see if Chris has a part for a lardy bloke in his next film.

After the showing, we decamped to the oldest pub in Birmingham, the Old Crown*, which dates back to somewhere between 1450 and 1500. Or just before 3.00pm, if you like.

(*Bloody hell, Wikipedia's doing well from links tonight...)