If you know me personally, you will be fully aware that I tend to cry like an eight year old with a skinned knee during films.

Particular highlights include bursting into tears while simply describing the funeral scene in “Cry Freedom” to Kid A, borrowing a stranger’s tissues while watching “Philidelphia” (I can’t be bothered to look up how to spell it correctly) and – well - simply sobbing for the entire duration whenever I watch ”It’s A Wonderful Life”.

The BBC news website has an article on males crying during films here. It’s quite interesting.

But my favourite bit is this comment:

As a man who “gets something in his eye” at the end of Terminator 2, even I demand that Mat gives his bloke licence back.

‘Mrs Doubtfire’ and ‘The Santa Clause’?

AND HE WATCHED THEM AGAIN?!?

Once was enough for me. I put it to you, Mat, that you weren’t crying over the emotions the films brought to the surface but more the fact that you realised that this was at least 6 hours of your life you were NEVER GETTING BACK.

“I still can’t watch them”.

Neither can I, Mat. Neither can I.

Because they’re rubbish.

When he says “fortunately the situation they had never happened to me”, I presume he meant losing a custody battle rather than dressing up as an elderly woman or becoming Father Christmas?