Here in America (read: New York City) when we want to know movie showtimes we dial Moviefone, and have to endure the cold, almost metallic, barely humanoid shouting of the Moviefone Guy. "HELLO! And welcome To MOVIEFONE," he yells at us with his melted plastic voice—and we take it because what else are we going to do? Use Fandango? Have you seen those grating hand-puppets with their floppy yarn hair and their disconcerting googly eyes—why would anyone entrust the great responsiblity of something like movie showtimes to those things?
The truth is we've lost an important personal touch to our movie going experience. We've forgotten how nice, how charming, how human it is to hear a bored teenager or heavily accented theater manager rattle off showtimes in an exasperated, put-upon tone in an outgoing message. But you know who hasn't forgotten that? The Irish. (Probably because they were too busy with the Potato Famine to build the schoolhouse where a yound boy would go and develop an interest in communications thus kickstarting the butterfly effect that lead to their very own version of Moviefone.)
Aw. They cut him off before he told us about Ice Age 3. "Look, there's a part in this movie where a pair of penguins fall down. You have been warned. Do not come cryin' to us if you find adorable cartoon cuddly tings fallin down disturbing."
Dry. Funny. Lilting. Can this guy become the new Moviefone guy? I'd rather listen to his jokey warnings about movies than "If THIS is your selection press ONE NOW."