Having overindulged in some top Indian nosh on a recent trip to the big city, the wife and I had an hour to kill until the doors opened for the comedy night we had gone to see.
Did we pop into a quiet pub for a seat by the fire or nip into a coffee shop for a latte and a bit of a chat?
The minute we stumbled upon Dread – a live action zombie attack experience at a semi-abandoned building in Renfield Street – on the way to the venue we were supposed to be heading for I knew the way the night was going to go.
“Why don’t we give this a go?” said Jayne, who has a soft spot for the undead. “It’ll be a laugh.”
I’m known for my miserable anti-social disposition, but I had to admit, when the dust had settled and we were all still alive, it was indeed a laugh.
And thanks to the four Glaswegians who dared to enter the ‘laboratory’ with us it was the funniest night out in many a moon.
Having read Stephen King novels from an early age and once watching a full episode of the Incredible Hulk, I was never actually scared – but with all the running around I was frightened I would say goodbye to the meal I had just shelled out for.
I just wish Hollywood horror films could capture the real sense of terrified indignation I witnessed from the one of the Glasgow gang when, following the first zombie attack, Professor James – for that was his name – asked her to move away from the rest of us and stand guard on her own in a dark corridor.
Her shrieked response, not fit to repeat here, would certainly provide a pure dead brilliant slice of reality to any scary movie.