There have been all sorts of dramas played out on screen seven at the Odeon cinema in Leicester.

There's been burning, looting, raping and shooting in this dark, air-conditioned corner of Freeman's Park.

Yet the only storyline to make national headlines is the one involving the audience – a room full of pensioners, who made the news for pushing, shoving, queue jumping, pinching biscuits and harassing the staff.

Last week, the Odeon had had enough.

In a sternly-worded three page letter, the old folk who attended the Odeon's Senior Screen sessions were warned if their behaviour continued, the cut-price fun would come to an end.

The story appeared in the Mercury – and then, somehow, got a life of its own, appearing in The Mirror, The Sun, The Daily Mail, The Telegraph, Radio 4 and 5 and the national TV news.

Yesterday morning, a week after the story broke, the pensioners returned.

There were sheepish looks, a bit of "ooh, I can't believe all the palaver" chit-chat and a warm greeting from the Odeon's regional manager, a very friendly man called Simon Gudgeon.

"Hello everyone," he bellowed as the pensioners took their seats in screen seven. "Hello," they shouted back.

He then went on to charm and cajole the same audience that seven days earlier was being reprimanded for being naughty.

"The letter we gave you last week may not have been the best way to address the issues raised with us," he said solemnly.

"Oh yes it was," shouted one pensioner. "It was the truth," shouted another.

Mr Gudgeon was not for turning. Seven days, he said, was clearly a long time in cinema.

"I want to apologise to anyone who may have been offended by the coverage last week," he said. He finished his speech and the audience clapped.

We were all friends again. The lights dimmed and the film began.

The film showing in screen seven yesterday was Slumdog Millionaire.

In the cheap seats – and at £3.45 a pop, they're pretty good value – it was All Quiet On The Western Front.

Suitably chastised, there was barely a peep out of Leicester's bad boy pensioners. They came. They saw. And they barely said a word.

There was the occasional rustle of sweet wrappers and I've never seen so many members of a cinema audience nip to the toilet while the film was on.

One old chap near the front seemed keen to share his opinions with everyone near him – "Oh, ain't she lovely?" and "He looks like the bloke from the curry house, don't he?" and "It's Aramis. Aramis, I'm telling you" – but that was it.

There was no rowing. No rudeness. No bickering. No snogging on the back row. And if there were any biscuit pilfering pensioners, they had perfected their dark art so well that I didn't see them.

If you were looking for trouble, you'd come to the wrong place. There was little to see here.

Outside, however. opinions were divided.

"It's about time they did something about the behaviour here," said Judy Hickling, 70, of Wigston.

"It's gone from bad to worse. I've seen people saving seats, pushing in for tea. I've seen people with Tupperware containers, filling them with biscuits. I hope it will stop now."

Peggy Hickford,76, also of Wigston, agreed. "I was pleased they wrote that letter.

"The behaviour has been bad here for too long."

Shirley and John Gough, who had spent much of the previous week in the gaze of the national media, were unrepentant.

"There was no need to send such a strongly worded three page letter," said Shirley, 73 of Great Glen.

"If there was an issue – and I never thought there was – they should have just spoken to us. I've been coming for three years and I've never seen bad behaviour."

Whatever their views on the alleged bad behaviour of Senior Screen pensioners, the audience were agreed on one thing: the volume.

"Oh my goodness it's loud," said Peggy Hickford. "My ears are ringing. It was like being at a rock concert.

"I wish they'd do something about that."