It was last night's pre-opening reception for the Planet Hollywood restaurant in Dublin and things looked like they were about to turn ugly. Arnold Schwarzenegger, star of The Terminator and shareholder in the movie-themed restaurant chain, had just entered the suite in the Conrad Hotel when a passerby unceremoniously bumped him.
Arnie, the tendons on his neck standing out like those of a well-preserved Galapagos tortoise, watched as his enormous smoking cigar sailed through the air and landed amid a forest of feet. As he knelt to retrieve it, he gave the offending party the kind of look he gave the alien in Predator before he bashed its head in with a log. The last person who did something like that to Arnie had his arms ripped off.
The strain of the whole affair was already beginning to tell. The press had clashed with the stars' security earlier in the evening, leading at one point to the press corps being locked into a room with a metal gate. Even Sylvester Stallone, Arnie's fellow shareholder, who strived to remain good-natured, looked unhappy.
"I can't drink any more of this," moaned Sly queasily as he posed with yet another pint of Guinness. There was worse to come, as the stars - Arnie, Sly, Wesley Snipes, Jeremy Irons and Mike Myers - found themselves posing with Bertie Ahern like a Fianna Fail cabinet from some alternative universe.
After that, it was off to the restaurant itself, safely cordoned off from the great unwashed with strategically-placed barriers and bodyguards. For this was not just a restaurant opening. This was an event. Welcome to Planet Hollywood, the city's only burger joint with unresolved ego problems.
Even the High Court injunction which required the stars to regulate noise levels so as not to disturb the performance of The Merry Widow taking place in the nearby Gaiety theatre didn't trouble Arnie and his pals.
In the end, though, the noise levels were kept under control.
All of which served to blur the fact that Planet Hollywood is just a diner, albeit one decorated with copies of objects famous from cinema masquerading as memorabilia. Would Michael Collins himself want to eat in a restaurant with his bicycle hanging from the ceiling? And there is limited appeal in viewing props from Judge Dredd, Waterworld and Jingle All the Way, three films which stank so badly cinema-goers passed out in the aisles.
Incidentally, the food is ho-hum at best and at £8 for a burger your meal should come with a share certificate. Still, Sly and Arnie would appreciate your custom.
Not your company, mind you, just your custom.