Gold as StandardI've just had the best cinematic experience of my life.No comparison.For the past two months I'd been salivating over the chance to enjoy the luxury of PVR Gold Class, vaunted as the premier cinema screen in the whole of Delhi. I didn't spend two years on the Bigger Boat Film Quiz circuit to be denied the opportunity, and I took my chance with what promised to be the Blockbuster of the year, The Dark Knight.I chose an afternoon to maximize my chances of getting ticket and simultaneously minimising the chances of a fellow Gold Class punter talking on the phone, conversing with their friend or doing something else which would have me adopt a Batman-like attitude to petty crime. As I descended the jet black stairs from the main foyer, I entered into what can only be described as a lounge bar: red velour seats partnered by side tables topped with large, empty cognac glasses, all running parallel with a red neon back-lit bar. The atmosphere was dark and expensive. For those looking for more literary ways of waiting for their chosen film, individual seating stations (again, in red velour. Classy!) created a narrow corridor towards the auditorium, each flanked by a book laying on a small wooden table. I was already late for the film so I had to rush in. I'd missed the first few minutes of the film, but that didn't matter as I sank into the largest, reddest Lazee Boy I've ever seen. Sometimes being short is great. Don't get me wrong, there was plenty of room for a big 'un, but as the attendant lifted up the foot pedestal, I was enveloped in comfort. Now I know how a slice of perfectly sized salami feels when it is gently laid upon a fresh, soft white bap, never spilling over the edge of the bread, no matter how flat and large you try and lay it out. Beautiful.The attendant handed me a glass of sparkling grape juice and laid it on the table beside me. Next, she quietly pointed out the red (God, they love red here), flashing call button with which I could summon her or one of the others at any point. 5 minutes later I ordered a sandwich. It was brought to me. It was good.Don't know how I ever survived in Showcase.Half way through the film and I needed to visit the little boy's room. Before you think anything, no they did not bring me a jewel-encrusted goblet and pull a curtain round my seat. They did, however, provide a handy intermission, which admittedly they do anyway, but it was so well timed this time.My expectations were high at this point, and I have to confess that I was a little disappointed that a tastefully red palanquin (well, I wouldn't want to contrast with the colour scheme) was not on standby to ferry me the 20 metres to the toilets.Using my own manpower, I managed to make it. It wasn't that different to the ones they have in the pleb section upstairs. Same white sinks. Same black, sparkling marble, which looks like the same marble my parents have installed in their kitchen (probably sourced from the same company). The only major difference was a wooden coathanger that rested on the hook on the back of the cubicle doors. You see it's small touches like that which set this place apart. Upstairs expensive suit jackets will crease on the two hooked prongs, almost giving the V-sign to your carefully tailored garments. Down here, the contours of that jacket are in safe hands. Not in my hands obviously because I like mooching around in t-shirts, shorts and a messy haircut. Or as my landlord once put it, "like you've just come out of a rugby scrum".At least I keep my nipples to myself, Dr P.And how much did all of this cost? Less than Rs 500, or around 7 pound in sterling. It may be 4 times as much as a regular cinema ticket, but what price opulence, you say?7 pound, I say! Tony forgot to mention something: Dark Knight is very good.

Even better if you have your own Lazee Boy!