In the early 1980’s I had a short-lived career in a cinema – a summer job at the local Cinécitta. I had been hired as a popcorn girl, to smile sweetly at the customers and exchange what was essentially salted polystyrene for unreasonable coin counts, baring just enough skin to earn tips whilst avoiding the suspicions of the PG-13 audience.

After a couple of weeks in the job, one of the projectionists was hit by a milk truck and hospitalised (just a few broken bones and a newfound lactose intolerance). I covered for him while he was away. To keep things interesting, I sometimes used to mix up the reels – I developed a talent for seamlessly swapping over just after the title credits. I never messed with the big hitters – people would have noticed if Indiana Jones had turned up in E.T. – but the smaller films, the ones people went to without knowing anything about, I would sometimes change, just to see what people did. I like to think the chill factor of Poltergeist is vastly amplified if your audience member thinks he’s setting himself up for a gentle comedy.

Needless to say, people didn’t like having this done to them. I was fired before the summer was out.