Robbie Coltrane proved himself a gentleman twice over after walking out of Nightmare on Elm Street – Susan Morrison

Back in 1984, I was an assistant manager at the ABC Cinema on Lothian Road. It was part of the film festival then, and we were slated to do a late night run. It was the first Scottish showing of Nightmare on Elm Street.

Robbie Coltrane, who has died at the age of 72 (Picture: Ian Gavan/Getty Images)

The producer or the director was in attendance, I forget which. It was a full house, with a lot of well-kent faces, Robbie Coltrane among them. The whole staff were in attendance, and after we'd got the audience in, we all gathered in the upper foyer for a seat and a fag. You could smoke anywhere those days, remember.

It wasn't going well for 'Nightmare...' We heard the seats slapping up as film fest people left. They drifted past us tutting and shaking their heads. It all went quiet for a bit then suddenly the door smacked open again and there was Robbie Coltrane, striding out and announcing in that voice of his "Ah've hud ENUFF o’ these films that have scantily clad lassies getting slashed and murrrdered”. Then, straight at me, "AMAHRIGHT?"

"Oh, gosh, yes, Mr Coltrane," I babbled back. Disclaimer: I’ve never seen the film. Too scared.

Then he looked around the foyer. "What are you all doing here?" It was a midnight showing, I explained. All the staff were needed, yadda yadda. I felt like some sort of royalty was booming questions at me and I was answering in that ‘Introducing Prince Edward to staff’ manner. You know the sort of thing “This my assistant projectionist, my chief usherette…”

He nodded and looked a bit thoughtful and then said, “Where's the nearest chippie?” It was the Kingfisher, along on Bread Street, as I recall. It was good back then, and more importantly, open. I thought he was looking for a late night bite.

He turned around, gave me a handful of tenners, and said, "Send somebody along. Get everyone a fish supper. Don't forget the Irn Bru.” Then he strode off down the stairs, fishing his fags out of his pocket and still muttering about women as victims in films.

Robbie Coltrane. Gentleman.