Friends In Unlikely Places

…as he walked towards the town centre, he was overwhelmed with the feeling of relief and freedom that came with not having a tight leash around his neck, yet people still looked at him suspiciously. In fact, after a brief glance in his direction they seemed to move out of the way; making his confidence grow and his tail begin to rise and wag. There was no doubt that he was enjoying his power to split the crowd instead of having crowds of bratty children fighting to stroke, poke, jab and ruffle his fur.

I cowered in the shadow of an alleyway nearby, as I watched them scurry away, unaware of the delight I felt at their carelessness. I silently hoped for a hot chocolate and maybe a sandwich crust or two. Disapproving tuts fluttered around me as I dashed to, what I saw as, the gold mine. Yes! There was a lukewarm polystyrene ‘Starbuck’s’ cup right at the top! Eagerly, I picked it up and rattled it to hear the pleasant swash of leftover dregs – I love the fact that disposable cups come with lids nowadays so the last few inches of liquid remain in the container! With a surge of excitement, I yanked off the lid and sure enough there were at least two mouthfuls of warm, chocolate-y goodness lying at the bottom. My freezing cold bones couldn’t wait any longer and I downed the drink remains as quickly as I could. Spluttering at the shock of the harsh taste of caffeine, I grinned to myself, ‘mocha, eh? I got more than I paid for!’ With a final glance around, I took a last rummage in the bin, desperately hoping for a stroke of luck. But there was nothing else, just soggy tissues, empty wrappers and other unrecognisable goods.

The dog continued to trundle along, enjoying his new-found effect on passers-by. He was a stray, a danger, ‘stay out of his way!’ but as the crowd separated around him, they didn’t re-assemble a couple of meters after passing – they left a gap for another figure to walk through, towards the mongrel.

As I walked back to where my possessions were, the general murmur of the public around me was interrupted by the impatient rumble of my stomach. Ignoring this, I gifted people with a smile, perhaps a nod and sometimes a ‘hello’ but got nothing back, so I gave up and transfixed my eyes on the floor, promising myself that they just hadn’t seen me.

With great confidence, the dog tried to stay at the heel of his target, swerving in and out of the constant stream of other people to not lose sight of the man.

The soft sound of panting plodding behind me matched the rhythm to my footsteps. I was being followed! Every now and then I slowed down until the quiet pitter-patter of the perky dog amplified, meaning he had caught up. I turned around to get a proper look, but something caught my eye instead. A mother, walking along with a small child; she couldn’t have been older than about 3. Munching away at a sandwich, she suddenly tripped over and dropped it. Her mother sighed and tossed it into a nearby bin. My stomach outweighed the gentle plea of my dignity; one minute I was stood across the pavement, the next minute I was licking my lips in anticipation of the ‘gourmet’ sandwich in my unsteady hands.

I felt eyes on me. A stranger, an attacker – you could never be too careful! I must NOT hold his gaze; that would be the deadliest of moves. But he continued to sniff around my feet and as soon as my foot left the floor to give the sneaky beggar a warning kick, I caught sight of the mutt’s face. I never could resist a pretty face … Within a flash he had eaten the crusty edge without a morsel of crumbs left behind and I once again fell victim to the deadly temptation of his ravenous eyes.

The man carried on walking, smugly watching confused onlookers. “Why him?” they arrogantly wondered, “what refuge can that tramp give?” as they saw him waiting for the dog to catch up, chanting ‘here doggy! Come here!’ to the space behind him. 

Bystanders continued to watch the pair as they trampled along the cobbles and then met, with great dread, a group of ignorant teens jeering at him, adopting stances that made the man cower back in fear. “Don’t get involved, that dog looks dangerous,” strangers thought, trying to justify their passiveness as they hurried away from the dog, barking in protection; he was the danger, not  the youths, making death threats and humiliating remarks. The deep bellow of the protective dog quickly made the group dissemble without a final threatening word – a first for a man who had battle wounds from too many other encounters.

My dreams were tinted dark. A figure; a hand; a gentle pull on his scruffy tail; these nightmares blurred into one – the vision of waking up lonely.

Ignorant passers-by did not realise how much the man needed to be depended upon, as well as have something to depend on. As they hurriedly walked past him, literally and figuratively looking down on him; they wondered at his story. Cold, dirty and soggy from the splash of absentminded shoppers who traipsed through puddles all-too-enthusiastically, how did it happen? 

As the rainy night blurred into a crisp winter’s day, I wallowed closer into his soft fur. I heard the loud footsteps of a couple trample past, fresh pretzels in hand, making both me and my dog stir in response to the pleasing smell. I moved my arm to give him a gentle pat in reassurance to the promise of food and, at my release, he sprang into action.

With great confidence, the dog tried to stay at the heel of his targets, swerving in and out of the constant stream of other people to not lose sight of the couple.

His focus was clear – food, and nothing more.

"I'M A D-LISTER, GET ME OUT OF HERE!'

It happens every year around Christmas; much like the allocating of a secret Santa and realising that the person you have chosen is the only person you do not know, or the inevitable struggle to balance the star on top of the tree.  It’s also similar to these events in the sense that we try desperately hard to avoid them every single year, relentlessly vowing ‘I’m never doing that again!’, but somehow we always end up getting sucked into the whirlwind of the optimistic Christmas spirit and naively hope ‘this year it will be different’. Of course, I’m talking about ‘I’m A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here!’ (to those lucky ones who managed to break away from the wrath of Ant and Dec’s tedious jokes, you heard right; yes, it’s still on). Every year, we promise ourselves that evenings will be spent playing endless games of scrabble, singing round a piano and getting on top of the vast work load. But every year, the same idiot in our friendship group mentions the gossip of the jungle, and with a deep sigh, our promise of a bush tucker trial-free Christmas is quickly recomposed to the tune of ‘one episode won’t hurt’. Next thing you know, the festivities are amongst us; mince pies are on sale in Morrison’s, Santa is making his rounds to the school fetes and church fundraisers, yet the only concern in your life is the fact that the campers only have two out of eight stars so they only get half of a kangaroo’s foot to share for dinner.

Annually, whilst pretending to be doing something worthwhile online, we stumble across the ‘LEAKED I’M A CELEBRITY LINE UP’ article on ‘Yahoo! News’ . Pfft… ‘news’! With great disappointment, we realise that the producers are, once again, scraping the celebrity barrel. Clearly actual stars have more sense than these ‘wannabies’.

So what do you need for the generic ‘I’m A Celebrity’ group? Firstly it goes without saying that you need a heart-throb. A male heart-throb. One of those people of whom the parents will roll their eyes, the teenage girls will swoon over, and the boys will write sarcastic Facebook statuses about, whilst the rest of us sit back and wonder ‘but who is he?’  

Next you need an airhead. She and The Heartthrob are likely to hook up after he sees her washing in the nearby stream. Needless to say the same image of her will be plastered over certain newspapers (*cough* ‘The Sun’) the following morning. Of course, this ‘admiration’ is definitely due to her outstanding personality, not the ill-fitting bikini she sports which bares more of a resemblance to a plastic ‘Tesco’ carrier bag which has split under the weight of two melons being carried in it. Whilst fathers in the living room pretend to be reading the newspaper but, rather blatantly, gawp at The Airhead in her swimwear, the female viewers among us all collectively wonder how she, and the rest of the I’m A Celebrity ‘stars’ have such blemish-free skin and  smooth legs and underarms when luxuries such as make up and shavers are banned. Funny, eh?

You then need a handful of soap stars and old has-been sports personalities to fuel the fights, tantrums and arguments that will, rather dramatically, split the camp. Of these, one of them will be old and won’t want to get involved much (don’t worry, they will be voted out rather quickly) and one will be an American actor who nobody recognises. I hate to ruin the surprise, but if there is an old member of a boyband, it is 80% probable that they are going to win. From the very first episode, we will be able to tell this and they will be the general ‘nice’ guy that everyone gets along with. The main rule is that if they have swooshy hair, a nice face and haven’t exchanged harsh words with anyone in the first four days, you have your winner.

To be honest, watching the promo for the upcoming episode of ‘I’m A Celeb’ will give you as much detail about the happenings in the jungle as watching the whole show would. Don’t fall into the trap of being hooked by ‘tonight’s drama’ as the gushing tears and cat fights are as much as you will see on the advert, the only difference is that the TV programme runs for at least 57 more minutes, during which time, at least three of the celebrities will be trending on twitter after a nasty scrap. 

The bush tucker trials are, without a doubt, the most exciting part of the show. We all gag at the eating trials, and admire the poor soul that is so desperate for an ounce of fame that they will sit and eat various anuses and testicles in front of millions of viewers who are all urging them to throw up . There is also the one celebrity who, every year, provides us with genuine belly laughs at their reaction to a couple of creepy crawlies. What could possibly go wrong? The show would be so much more interesting with a proper element of danger; perhaps the possibility of one of the campmates being killed by a savage kangaroo (or at least a little bit poisoned by a scuttling spider). How do the celebrities get so worked up by these trials? ITV would, much to our disappointment, never allow anything remotely risky on their channel anyway.

Admit it; it’s true. The Jungle antics are the same every year, the producers have ‘copy and pasted’ every aspect of the show for the past ten years, merely changing names and the tone of the classic swear-word ‘BLEEP’ because they think we won’t notice. We do notice, however, so why do we watch it? Why did we give in and watch it last year? And more importantly, why will we give in and watch it next year? I’m An Addict, how do I get out of here?

Write an 'entertaining article' about which words you think might disappear within the next 100 years

There is never any ballyhoo when words in our language disappear.

Spot the odd one out. As great as it would be if ‘ballyhoo’ was used in our language today, it has disappeared so much to the extent that it took several ‘Googles’ to completely define its full meaning. There’s another one - ‘Google’. If we slipped it into a conversation 50 years ago, no matter who we were talking to, the guaranteed response would be a blank face. This word is so common now that the majority of people around the world understand it, yet it has only existed for a short time. But how do these words shift so much without us realizing? There wasn’t a set date when people decided to remove ‘ballyhoo’ from circulation, yet there must have been a reason that it was changed for more contemporary vocabulary such ‘commotion’ and, more recently, ‘hype’.

It’s strange to think that, in perhaps as soon as 50 years’ time, we will have a new range of words to get to grips with, and some of our words that we use every day might be forgotten or replaced, but which ones have sticking power?

Clearly with the invention of the mobile phone and internet (of which most of us confidently declare “I caaaaan’t live without it!”) there is a whole new dictionary of words that have become second-nature to the English language. When phones first developed the texting function, the dual-function keyboard meant that it took a while to type out a standard message, hence the invention of shortened words using acronyms, initialism and contractions such as ‘LOL’, ‘G2G’ and ‘coz’ (which are, like, totes uncool now). With the further improvements in this technology (such as the touch-screen), typing on mobile phones is merely a matter of *tap tap tap* before a long essay is synchronically sent to the recipient who awaits an almost immediate reply. In theory, this means that these words will disappear as there is no potential for them. Moreover, now that they are so widely used, they have an effect much like when your mum starts to listen to ‘Daft Punk’ or ‘Eminem’; they lose a lot of credit and the average age of their user-ship spikes.

Which words will disappear? From trends we have seen in the past, our swearword vocabulary is surely to, not so much disappear, but change in terms of what will become acceptable to use. The context of our future suggests that perhaps the casual use of racist terms such as ‘n*gger’, or sexist terms such as ‘c*nt’ – which are often referred to as ‘the worst’ swear words – are likely to become diluted with their over-use and the modernising society, much like religious terms such as ‘damn’ have become more acceptable to use since the decrease in the church’s influence. Having said this, it is likely to take a long time for older generations to accept this semantic shift – using the intensifier ‘bloody’ at the dinner table on Sunday afternoon is likely to go unnoticed by everyone except granny, sitting in the corner and choking on a roast potato as she declares, ‘if I said that in my day, I would have got a slap on the wrist’.

It’s hard to tell what words we will still be using in the future, but they are likely to be ones that are used by all ages, because they are less prone to becoming unfashionable with a currently wide and varied usage. Words such as ‘cool’ and ‘bloke’ are an example of this because, unlikely the travesties which are the words ‘twerk’ and ‘yolo’, they are already used by older generations, and people have thus accepted them as mainstream. Whereas the younger generation are likely to feel incredibly uncomfortably if their mum starts to shout ‘yolo’ or tries to twerk, because the words were implemented by young and credible figures, therefore they were never meant for the oldies.

Sci-Fi movie review for work experience

GRAVITY – WOULD THAT ACTUALLY HAPPEN?

From launch, the outstanding cinematography in ‘Gravity’ was breathtaking, evoking that overwhelming feeling of realizing how insignificantly small we are.  The constant build-up of tension; silent space contrasted with panicked breathing, had a startling effect; translating the emotion of the two characters to the whole audience.

What put a ‘downer’ on the movie was that it was too ‘Hollywood’, therefore predictable. Although the threat of ‘running low on oxygen’ is a massive spacewalk danger, it rushed the tensest moments; the main character couldn’t suffocate in the first half hour! It's ratings plummeted after Ryan met the ISS (International Space Station for you uneducated lot). The unnecessary involvement of three space stations, which all met similar endings, was laughable; why does Hollywood insist on over-using these tediously similar scenes?! Stone must have pretty bad karma to be within the demolition of three space landmarks in one day!

So … is space actually like that? Real images from the ISS capture it much closer to Earth than ‘Gravity’ suggests. This is only a little quibble, but what really fired up those space-geeks was that, according to Newton’s Law of Motion, ‘every action has an equal and opposite reaction’. Basically, with a little push and shove, the two protagonists could’ve both reached the ISS effortlessly.

In fairness, hats off to those techies who did a remarkable job of representing zero-gravity whilst on Earth. It was thoroughly convincing and a massive reminder of our technological advancement, and the extreme talent of individuals in this industry; their skill certainly paid off.

The hype about ‘Gravity’ is understandable, but the film is too clichéd. Will we remember it in 5 years? Probably not – it definitely didn’t meet ‘2001 Space Odyssey’ standard. The final scene of Bullock strutting about on land was disappointing – prior to this she uttered a fantastic line, ‘there are only two possible outcomes; either I make it down there in one piece and have one hell of a story to tell, or I burn up in the next 10 minutes’ – at this point, the movie should’ve met an overwhelming finish, plunging fans and critics into intense debate – would she have survived? 

On the 11th year of skiing...

There is nothing worse than standing at the top of an icy ski slope, wondering how on earth you are going to get down on the two strips of wood that the uncomfortable boots on your aching feet are clinging onto. Actually, the only thing worse would be the addition of an impatient instructor and a crocodile line of other peers watching from the 12 meters below. This was me – ‘the one at the back’ and I used to dread these holidays every year. The constant worry of how I was going to stand up if I fell over (It’s been 11 years and I still can’t regain my stance without taking my skis off). The faraway voice of the vaguely attractive instructor yelling in a thick Italian accent ‘LOUISEEEEEE, PARALLEL SKIIIIIS!’ as I, quivering from the top of black slope number 3 correct him for the 6^th time, ‘it’s Louisa’. Not to forget the undignified trek through the village every afternoon as I struggle to carry all of my equipment without dropping it; beads of sweat dribbling down my face like snowballs rolling down the mountain.

I always told myself that the reason for being ‘the one at the back’ was because of the accident I had 11 years ago where dad took us down blue number 14 instead of blue number 11, and I ended up rolling (head first) towards the cliff edge with a suddenly rather flexible knee lumbering behind me. That was year 1; torn ligaments, crutches, and not being able to go on the slide at ‘Avon Valley Country Park’ for 5 weeks because I was in a plaster cast.

Years 2 through to 6 were not much better. There were no more trips to the hospital but I was still adamant that, no matter how many snow-plough turns I did, I was not going to get down the mountain in one piece. 6 days a year of skiing had brought me anything but a talent for skiing. Every January I would realise that, in less than 3 months, I would be stood at the top of another unpassable slope, with yet another impatient instructor urging me down, and more bratty children snaking past me as my tears steam up my sunglasses. It would literally be the biggest dread of the year.

I will never forget the day my mum told me that we ‘weren’t going to bother with ski school this year’ rather casually as we sat in the car at some red traffic lights. I felt like a massive weight had been lifted, and my mum was actually really surprised at how relieved I felt. I always enjoyed the afternoons in La Thuile, skiing with my family and some friends, and it occurred to me that I now have nothing to worry about. My mum and dad would always wait for me, a couple of meters behind, to pick me up when I fall over.

11 years since I first squeezed a pair of uncomfortable, clumpy size 5 ski boots onto my feet, I have returned from yet another week of skiing in the sun – this time in Cervinia. As corny as it may sound, I absolutely love skiing now (and might I add, I’m now fairly good at it!). On day 2 of our holiday this year, I saw a tiny girl, she must have been about 6, fall over at the back of the group in her ski lesson. She couldn’t get up and if anything was going to metaphorically represent the changing of my enjoyment and confidence on the slopes, it was going to be a (cheesy) scene where I side-slip down and help her stand up and put her skis back on. I’m not self-congratulating or anything; it just made me realise that I have overcome this massive confidence issue that I once had about snow sports. I know that ski school is useful to build up skills and confidence, but often all somebody needs to pick themselves up, and brush themselves off is a little TLC.

Thoughts on 'Divergent'

Divergent is the love child of ‘The Hunger Games’ and ‘Mean Girls’ – you’ve got your strict governmental body who somewhat restrains the residents of the country in an effort to create a peaceful empire post-war, and then you’ve got the bitchiness of the clique-y factions, all of whom have 5 very different personalities. This doesn’t, however, mean that ‘Divergent’ didn’t bring something new to the movie world.

The intricate storyline was not only thought-provoking and exciting, but it was easily understandable and immediately provoked the audience to develop their individual theories and hopes for the plot’s continuance. The characters were well-developed and were far from the cliché protagonists that I would imagine. I loved the idea of having their fears tapped into, and it was very interestingly portrayed, making me think of what I would find in my hallucination (jellyfish, eyeballs and someone in the window as I pull back the curtain, I think!)

The downside of the movie, for me, was that some aspects of the story weren’t explained as much as I would have hoped. Now, perhaps this is because I haven’t read the books, but I would have liked to know more about Tris’s brother, Caleb, and why he decided to join the Erudite faction. It was a twist near the beginning of the movie which was never really quite explained. Also, I loved the catch that Tris’s mum was originally in Dauntless, but this could also have been elaborated more, but perhaps they’re saving it for a prequel!

Parts of the movie were pretty predictable, and the ending was disappointing because it was extremely cheesy! But despite this, I think I will give the books a go – I can see where sequels could lead to, and am pretty sure this will be a popular one of 2014!

Will you be following up the inevitable sequels to the Divergent movie? Tell me your thoughts in the comments!

Thoughts about 'Shrooms'

Tonight, I went round to my friend’s and was the first to arrive at his house. I naively asked him what movie we were going to watch, expecting (or rather, hoping) for a response such as ‘mamma mia’ or ‘you can choose, Louisa – as long as it’s a cheesy musical’. But no. With a smug grin, he thrusted a dreary looking trashy-horror film at me, and with disgust I read the blurb. I know you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover and all that, but it was called ‘Shrooms’ and was basically about a group of teenagers who experience a horrible trip after eating some mushrooms they find in the forest. Yeah, it’s as good as it sounds - find out for yourself here.

As soon as the others arrived, the host showed them the film and, typically, us girls all rolled our eyes and asked for the wifi code whilst the boys couldn’t wait to put it on.

As the film started, we immediately realised that the movie would bring more laughs than screams. At one point, it actually got a little bit good, when we were told about a ‘true story’ from the past which basically addressed the generic ‘something-bad-happened-now-people-die-here-and-are-found-mutated’ catch. It was actually quite scary, though (although I think this was provoked a little bit more by the fact that there was a really scary tree outside which kept swaying in the wind and making us jump).

As the climax built up, we gradually lost understanding of the storyline, although it wasn’t any good to begin with. Being a horror movie however, it had all of the right effects yet I don’t think these were executed to the best quality – the gore was very cliché and looked fake, and the ‘dark figure’ started off scary, but we saw too much of its face so it lost the mysterious and creepy element and the suspense therefore dropped. I think this was one of the main mistakes of the movie – showing the audience too much. Rookie error.

All in all, as far as trashy horror movies go, this was no different to the rest of them. One might describe the plot as ‘unique’ but to be honest, it was just stupid. Other elements of the storyline were actually quite gripping – such as the ‘horror story’ of the psychiatric men in the forest – yet the actual reflection of these in the film let down its potential. The film made us laugh a lot, particularly one of the characters who (we assumed) was supposed to scare the living daylight out of us. He was meant to be a psycho but my friend immediately saw a resemblance of Lennie from ‘Of Mice and Men’ in him, and from then on, none of us could take him seriously. Ironically, somebody spotted a dead rabbit hanging from the doorway of this character. I guess Lennie never got to tend to the rabbits in the end. The best part was the extremely unexpected catch right at the end. I won’t give it away but it did give ‘Shrooms’ the edge off other similar movies because it wasn’t as predictable as we had thought.

In summary, if you want a lazy night in with a couple of friends to have a laugh, rent this movie (don’t buy it – you probably won’t watch it again), but if you actually want a big scare and something to talk about for weeks after, I’d veer towards better quality horror films.   

What did you think about the film? Leave your comments below!

Pressure.

I stared at the keypad, trying to remember the correct code that had been drummed into me over and over again. “Twist the dial, type ‘2-0’, flick the sw— no wait,” what was it?

I felt the pressure. The pressure from my peers and everybody around me, dependent on my next move. But more importantly, the pressure from myself. I had to do it. I had a lot of energy at my care, but how was I going to control it? What was that code? I knew that one wrong step would deplete my chances, and a careless action would make the whole contents in that small box, which held no prisoners, explode and burn to a crisp. What a waste that would be.

C’mon! Think! I could drive a tank, operate a gun, navigate across the harsh Afghanistan desert, yet when my comrades needed me most; my mind had hit a wall. “Twist the dial, type ‘2-0’, flick the sw—“

‘YOU JUST TRIED THAT!’ one of my companions yelled, the stress and panic leaking out of his voice like water from a tap. ‘We haven’t got much time left’. In immense dread, I touched one of the buttons and, unbeknown to me, it bleeped and the whole box sprang into action, leaping and whirring as it eventually lit up. My last sense to realise what had happened was my touch. But I soon felt the immense heat radiating through my bones, like a wave of water drenching a sandy beach, seeping into every nook and cranny available and making me aware of it, as if it was just tapping me on the shoulder. Everybody around my flinched in anticipation as a harsh countdown started and I knew this was it.

10, 9, 8—“EVERYBODY GET READY”, 7, 6, 5, 4, —“IT’S GONNA EXPLODE!”, 3, 2, 1

*ping*

The popcorn was ready

Does anyone actually know the words to Auld Lang Syne?!

People always point out that ‘New Year’s Eve is always underwhelming’, making out like they are saying some kind of shocking, controversial opinion. Whoever they are telling then proceeds to agree, thinking it is the spookiest coincidence in the world.

Haven’t people yet noticed that New Year’s Eve is, in fact, nothing at all but an excuse for a good party? I mean what are they expecting? The clock strikes midnight and all over the world calendars leaping in the air off their own accord and transforming into pages plastered in the new date? Historical figures rising from the dead to welcome in the new year? Our true love actually arriving at the party and giving us seven swimming swans? The reality is that, when the clocks strikes 12, and our countdown reaches its climax, it’s over. Christmas is over for another year and we are just left standing, staring at our phones and watches to check that the date has changed. "New Year’s Eve doesn’t interest me really, I’m more of a Christmas type of person" says everyone. Who are these people who prefer December 31^st to the 25^th (and do they know it’s Christmas time??) Everybody has an idea in their mind that they are missing some kind of New Year’s Eve twist; that they are on their own in thinking that night is over-rated but do you know what I think? I think Christmas is gone, another year is over (a new one just begun) and we just want a good old moan at anything we can set our sights on. The clocks strike 12, the crowd disbands, we go to bed and wake up grouchy the next morning. That's all that's gonna happen. Deal with it.

Do you agree with me? Post your NYE views below!

The introduction to my autobiography...

I hate to say it but that fringe has only recently gone. I should've ditched it sooner

Now that I think about it, it’s actually really difficult to introduce my autobiography. I mean, how am I supposed to start - “Thanks for wanting to read about my life, but bear in mind it’s not very interesting”? I thought about starting it like one of those soppy videos, ‘a message to my 16 year old self’ and proceed from there, but bearing in mind I am only just 17, my advice would be less along the lines of ‘follow your heart’ and more along the lines of ‘don’t forget to take your toothbrush on holiday when you go to Turkey’. So here goes – I was born on a battlefield on the South of the Serbian border, whilst the enemy was shooting from both sides and my father was recovering from a nasty blow to the head; my birth was truly a miracle. Nah, just kidding. To be honest, my birth was pretty normal I think. When my mum went into labour with my older sister, Eleanor, my dad was late to the hospital because he had just scored 100 runs in an important cricket game. I don’t have an interesting story like that. I think that was the closest that Eleanor and I had ever been to succeeding in sport, much to our father’s dismay. The rise and fall of my football career came when, in year 5, I tried to impress a boy on the playground by kicking a runaway ball back to him, but it ended up plummeting straight for a wall and bouncing right back to me. Anyway, all my mum has really ever told me about when I was born was that the midwife on call was ‘fat, sweaty and grumpy’ and my timing meant that mum missed ‘Coronation Street’. It doesn’t get much more interesting; the majority of my childhood was spent sitting, alone, in our spare bedroom, waiting for somebody to come and buy a stamp from my makeshift post office. Nobody ever did. In fact, the biggest profit I made from it was when we sold it for £2 at a car boot sale last year. 

School homework - 'Write an introduction to a novel'

“It’s gonna be okay”. But it’s not going to be okay is it? People always say that, but how do they even know?

My friend Tara always says it, and then chuckles as I snarl, “you don’t know it will be okay”.  “God Georgia, you’re so pessimistic for a 15 year old! Lighten up a little,” she says it with a grin, but I know that when she uses my full name instead of ‘Gee’, she’s being serious. I understand where she’s coming from but it’s so difficult to lighten up when everything in my life is so dark. Nothing’s going to be okay for me; even Tara, my best friend, doesn’t understand this.

I don’t try to be miserable, misery just has a way of finding its way to me and making sure that I know nothing is ever alright. It snakes its way through even my happiest memories, tinting them with the doubt that relentlessly whispers to me ‘why should you have this happy memory?’ So when Tara naively tries to cheer me up, it is thrown back in her face as I remember why nothing will ever be okay again.

My thoughts are constantly flickering, like the sound on an old CD which jumps and stalls, but unlike track 6 on Take That’s first album, or the last track on ‘Now That’s What I Call Music! 24’, my thoughts always go back to the same place. I used to be a bright and happy child. Normal, I guess, but everything changed when I was 7…


Where do you think this story is going? Write the next part in the comments for me!

A piece of creative writing which includes certain given phrases

NOTE: The phrases which I had to include are in bold

As my pace quickened, my surroundings slowed. Every step, fuelled by the relentless rhythm of my heartbeat, seemed like an eternity. The silence was overpowering yet I could tell someone was there. The shadow of the trees? From the corner of my eyes they were creepy figures. The flap of a bird’s wings? These quickly became the pounce of the enemy. The darkness of the sky? I knew this was the spotlight in which my murder would occur.

Lost, scared and alone, I became two people. A shell and a consciousness. The frightened shell of a girl began to cry but I ignored her tears. Tears smell of vulnerability and vulnerability smells of danger.

Stay confident.

Stay brave.

Stay alive.

People say we only have 5 senses, but at that moment I had 6. He was there, I knew it and I guess, deep down, I knew my fate. I smelt the faint stench of his coffee-tainted breath, and his staccato pant was not even drowned out by the unforgiving harsh Autumn winds. The snap of a branch behind me could not be passed off as an innocent four legged animal, it could only be the aggressive stomp of his heavy boots.

My consciousness knew what to do; it took the fear and twisted it. Reshaped it. Used it. Fear became adrenaline which spurred on my legs to run faster. I whispered for my legs to help me, to speed on, to sense the danger. They had to rise to the challenge; it was their time to be heroes. I needed my legs to get me out of the forest, which would be quickly transformed into a taped-off murder scene by the morning. But they wouldn’t believe me, they didn’t sense the urgency. My adrenaline wasn’t enough for me to rapidly carry myself out of the forest. I tripped at every opportunity, each tumble bringing me closer to the inevitable.

I fought, begged and pleaded. Not only on that night, but on the lead up to it. “Don’t”, “Stop it”, “Go away”, “Leave me alone”. How many times can you say the same thing? I cried … again. Not from the pain, the pain came later on, but from the fact that he had, once more, succeeded. The most painful part was the sound of his laughter; it was the first time I had heard him laugh and this was when both me and him realized, as I lay tripped on the ground, that he had won. I wonder if he laughs at all of his victims.

I’m not sure where I was but I saw it all. I was now separated from my shell, who lay, waiting to be found. My memory appears in flashes.

The dog walker, not knowing that this would change her life forever. How can you forget the image of what lay in front of her in a muddy ditch?

The police, breezing over their emotions as they, naively, tried to piece together what had happened as if they had a chance. He’s done it before and he’ll do it again, don’t get involved. I should know. I got involved.

My father, having to make that transition from the anger over my overstepped curfew to the … well he doesn’t know what he feels. Perhaps he is still angry. Maybe he is just sad. I hope he stays strong.

My mother, crumpled in a heap as she receives the news, and later, (much later) arrives at the harsh reality that I’m never coming home.

…and Him. With no thought other than “so who’s next?”

In around 500 words, write either the beginning, 'magic moment' or endto a romance style novel. Include a variety of euphemisms and cliches

As the rain pattered against the rattling taxi window, she realised what she was losing. She didn’t know his second name, his favourite colour, how many siblings he had. She had not met his parents or been on holiday with him. She did not know him in a way that she knew her best friend or her parents, but in that second as he closed the car door and walked up to the train station, she knew one thing. She wanted to be with him. She loved him.

It did not take her long to realise what she had to. After forcing the driver to grind to a halt, she had never moved quicker, dodging past anonymous figures on the platform and fighting, begging and pleading with destiny to stop him getting onto the train. Raindrops splattered down, merely adding to the tears which tricked down her delicate cheeks whilst her panic built up.

“John! John! Stop!” she cried with sheer determination as onlookers jumped in confusion. He was an oblivious target in the distance, but somehow the only image that was focused in her eyes; he mattered and suddenly the argument didn’t.

Heart in mouth, she stumbled through the mob of people. It didn’t matter that she bumped into an elderly gentlemen, or barged through a couple, deep in conversation. They all loved people, they would understand her desperation if only they knew.

The train pulled in and people moved to get on. She was now desperate; her length of opportunity was being harshly monitored by the speed at which passengers boarded the train, which was impatiently waiting to depart. As hoards of people moved towards the train, she lost sight of John. The train left. And the crowd of people who had got off the train and spectators who had been saying goodbye to people began to disband. She never even got to say goodbye.

Heart in mouth, she stumbled to a wall and leant against it, suddenly letting the tears flow. She couldn’t support herself and collapsed onto the ground, not even caring that she was drenched from the puddle underneath her. The minute she had realised how much he was worth was the minute that she lost him. She sat there, head in hands and shivering from both the cold and the loneliness she felt. What was she to do now?

Suddenly she felt a warmth on her shoulder, with all of her hope based on this one sense, she looked up but her disappointment was reimbursed merely with a uniformed platform attendant telling her to move on.

As she stood up, wondering what to do next, she looked ahead of her, and that’s when she saw him. John. Sat on a bench watching her.

“I couldn’t do it,” he exclaimed, “I couldn’t leave you”.

Thoughts on The X Factor 2013

It's that time of the year again when families all over Britain snuggle down on a Saturday evening and prepare themselves for an evening of 'X Factor entertainment'. I love this show, and have done since Leona Lewis's victory, even though this meant staying loyal through the rougher days of Jedward, Wagner and (although I'll admit I had a crush on him) Frankie Cocozza. Although the auditions are my favourite part every year - giving us a proper laugh and something to talk about on a Monday morning during double maths, what keeps me hooked is the way we fall for an act and support it until it's (inevitable) last show - whether it be an ending in week 8 (I was a strong Chico supporter) or the grand final (I was one of thousands who were gutted when 1D came third!) we all love to follow their progress through the shows and backstage activities.

I cannot review this part of the programme yet as we have only just started the series and the acts are not long out of bootcamp, however from what I have seen, I am slightly disappointed with the re-vamped format this year. I love the room auditions as these provide us with the truly hilarious and outrageous auditions that everybody remembers, however why can the auditions not stop at these? I find the Sunday night 'stage' auditions very tedious and do not understand why acts need to be auditioned twice; as far as I know there have been no major problems with single auditions before? Furthermore the show is simply not the same without our own Simon Cowell. In his absence, the judges try too hard to fill his place instead of making their own mark on the show.

I look forward to seeing how this new format pans out, but at the moment I am not impressed with the X Factor 2013; it is turning into one of those programmes that stays on the Sky Planner for weeks until it builds up and we eventually delete a few odd episodes, and this is coming from a previously avid viewer!

A (very long) The Trueman Show (for a piece of school work)

We all felt a bit paranoid after watching The Truman Show. What is real life? As Truman Burbank (Jim Carrey- Bruce Almighty) suddenly realises all is not what it seems in Sea Haven, we play along with the game; desperate for Truman to see what his life really is- a TV show. Ed Harris plays the determined and controlling Christof, owner of the controversial ‘fish-tank-like’ programme following the life of Truman, a television idol since birth. As we see the audience glued to their screens watching Truman’s every move, we realise how much power the media has in our modern world; this was the principal moral of the movie. Peter Weir is the real director of the film and he makes us feel that we are the audience watching the show, with occasional imperfect camera angles, discreet clues about the real world and special effects to add feeling to each scene but still keep the star of the show ignorant to his fame. Without much information on the storyline, only knowing that it was a sci-fi drama based around a TV show, my expectations were quite modest and it completely exceeded my predicaments, due to the clever methods of filming the show and the originality of the storyline.

Truman’s apparent normal life is suddenly thrown into confusion when he pieces together the small aspects that don’t seem to add up in his world. We watch him trying to overcome the discreet manipulation that the TV producers use to turn his ignorance into a high-rated show. I found the film very interesting and gripping, despite being borderline predictable and having a slow start. The climax was exciting and kept me on the edge of my seat, pleading for Truman to be granted justice and the ability to get out of Seahaven.

Jim Carrey does a fantastic job convincing the real audience that Truman is clueless about the show. He plays the character well, using good actions and facial expressions to portray the idea that Truman is suspicious and paranoid about his life. We sympathise with him because we see how innocent and genuine he really is, and how he has been controlled throughout his life. Laura Linney plays Truman’s wife, Meryl- she does a brilliant job in portraying her character as a bad actress, making a few slip-ups in keeping the secret quiet from Truman. Her facial expressions are unconvincing, forever reminding us that she is acting as Truman’s wife, tactfully edging away from him and remaining professional around him, never looking very comfortable. She didn’t gain any sympathy as it was her decision to trick Truman for her own benefit; she manipulated him and never took him seriously. Ed Harris (Christof)’s character is ambiguous to Truman; at the beginning, he plays a God-like figure to him, creator of his world. However at the end, we see that he has watched Truman’s whole life and feels protective and paternal over him. In the end scene, when Christof reveals everything, we realise he is upset to see him leave, his voice becomes softer and his words to Truman are fatherly. We can understand how Christof felt, wanting to keep Truman in Seahaven for longer, but I don’t sympathise with him. He might feel a love for Truman now, but originally he did it for entertainment purposes. In an interview, the interviewer says ‘Thanks for giving up so much of your precious time to talk to us’, Christof acts like this is a generous thing for him to do, but Truman has given his whole life up and Christof doesn’t realise how differently Truman could have lived without being on the show.

The scenes are shot in a very natural and interesting way. The settings are beautifully lit, always very bright and colourful with plenty of detail. The cameras are cleverly positioned; many are from specifically low or high angles, giving the feeling that Truman is being watched. It singles him out and makes him look alone, the only one who doesn’t know the truth behind his life. Sometimes the angles make him look smaller and more vulnerable. Many cameras are hidden in the costumes and sets. To show this, some edges are blacked out, giving the effect of a button or desk camera. Sometimes, with these angles, the cameras are very jolty and have more noticeable zooms. This portrays people purposely watching him. During Truman’s life, the technology improves. We see him as a baby staring at a mobile above his cot with a camera hanging off; as Truman grows, the cameras get more discreetly hidden and the shots less ‘perfectly’ placed and captured. In the last scene, as Truman steps out into the real world, we only see darkness, symbolising that he has been watched his whole life and now he should be free.

The soundtrack to the film is very subtle and natural. It means that Truman is always in the spotlight. Watching the film, I didn’t really notice much backing music, but when I did notice some, it added emotion and atmosphere to the feeling of the scene. It draws people in and the simplicity and sincerity of the melody added to the innocence of Truman.

This film is topical in our age of reality TV shows and celebrity personalities- it is often compared to George Orwell’s ‘1984’, which is similarly about being watched and lack of freedom. As somebody who enjoys watching reality TV and often reads Hello magazine, I completely understand how Truman was manipulated into a celebrity-shaped TV star for the public’s enjoyment. The last scene really links to real life, where the audience (previously gripped to their screens throughout Truman’s last shows) switch to another channel and have nothing else to say about the show’s dramatic finish. It portrays that fame isn’t forever and media is always forgotten. It shows that the audience only wanted entertainment, and didn’t care for the effect it had on Truman. I would recommend this film to anybody older than 12, who enjoy reading about celebrities and reality-life, because it gave me a great insight into how a celebrity must feel, being watched everyday; however I don’t think anybody younger would understand the concept, or notice the film’s subtle details.

The Truman Show was extremely cleverly written, and the storyline was enjoyable to watch. I would rate it an 8/10, because I haven’t ever seen a film like it and I thought the extra effort taken to see the film from interesting camera angles improved it lots; it lost out on 2 points because sometimes, it was quite slow moving and confusing.

Teenage Swearing

When I say ‘damn’, you hear ‘suffer eternal punishment in hell’
As a 16 year old, I am more than confident in expressing my opinions or merely thoughts using numerous swear words, sometimes over excessively. As with many of my friends, we find ourselves saying phrases such as ‘fuck off’ or ‘that was shit’ and this is widely recognised by most people as, not only an insult, but a way of emphasising a point. However in the literal sense, these phrases sound ridiculously childish and don’t even make sense. According to the British dictionary, when my sister grabs the remote and switches channels, I tell her to ‘sexual intercourse off’ and after seeing the fourth Twilight film, I retorted ‘that was faeces’. Well clearly it wasn’t but the use of this language has developed in a way that one should take offence to these phrases. Furthermore, words like these are used so commonly that many people, mostly peers to my age group, have grown immune to them and calling your best friend a ‘whore’ is now seen as more of a sign of close friendship.

Having said this, people in the older generation do not react to the words in the same way. They are neither immune to the words, nor viewing them in the literal ‘Oxford dictionary’ sense. After telling my dad ‘this pasta tastes like crap’ and remarking to my mum that ‘my teacher is a bitch’ I was sent to my room and the wifi was turned off. Please note, when the wifi is turned off in my house, it is a big deal. In fairness, I do not think that my parents are naïve enough to believe that I don’t swear at all, I think that with teenage swearing, the parents first experience shock that their child finally knows these words and is choosing to use them, losing their innocence. Most parents do not teach their children these words, so it comes as a surprise when they pop up in conversation – how did she learn these? Naturally, the parents make it very clear that these words are unacceptable but as with anything, if one is told not to do something, ‘caution hot surface’, they will probably try to do it, ‘shit that’s hot’.

The parent’s despair comes from when they realise they cannot stop their children from learning these words. The frustration of taking time to monitor their teenager’s television viewing and reading to ensure these profanities are not taught to them, and then realising that someone at school has filled them in with the latest curses must be overwhelming. It is somewhat worse as the parent does not even know which words are in their vocabulary, and so every mother’s worst nightmare is their child spontaneously quoting Ron Weasley at Sunday dinner with the grandparents by exclaiming ‘that was bloody brilliant’. Perhaps the child does not even realise that this can be seen as offensive for people who were brought up to understand the word as blasphemous, and so when granny starts choking on her roast potato after this comment, the child is none the wiser, they have merely complimented her cooking.

Teenagers are forever trying to overstep the boundaries; I personally know that swearing will make my parents go ballistic at me during an argument, which is my exact aim. However similarly, I realise that my parents use the words too, just not as often and general. This means that even they realise it would be hypocritical of them to take offence at me using these words so the need for punishment comes when they are used unnecessarily or to purposely cause offence. I believe that people think teenage swearing is an issue not because nobody else knows these words, but because they are taught them by other people so they come as a shock, even though most of the time one is not trying to offend. The universal definition for swear words has been naturally changed so generations have different ideas on one’s intention after saying these words. 

A (fairly serious) article about an issue facing teenage girls today (school work)

One of the most prominent problems facing teenage girls today is the latest media technology that is available to them at their fingertips. Despite the fantastic changes it has made to society, it also has a more negative affect on some aspects of our lives.

Firstly, the invention of the contraceptive pill in the 1960’s enriched the lives of so many people. It meant that children were not born into families where they were unwanted or could not have a stable life, and it gave women a choice about what they wanted to do with their lives. However in these modern times, this easily obtainable pill has become far too common so more and more girls (and their partners) take for granted the fact that they can have sex without getting pregnant. This increases the pressure for girls to have sex in an unstable or new relationship.

Additionally, the development of media in the 21^st century means that role models to young women have dramatically changed. Whereas 100 years ago, girls would have looked up to authors such as Jane Austen and Louisa May Alcott, or their favourite characters from books, with the invention and success of the television, they now look up to the likes of the Kardashian family, people from reality shows like ‘The Only Way Is Essex’ and other such celebrities. This means instead of having realistic aspirations such as becoming a servant for a rich family or having a respectable and well-paid job, girls are now obsessed with mimicking the ‘model’ look and becoming famous. These expectations encourage girls to try and change their image to look like their favourite celebrities, which in some cases makes girls want to become super-skinny and painted in make-up. Young women do not have as much time, nor money, to achieve these looks so as a result, try to rush their appearance using crash diets and overpowering make up.

Furthermore, new technology such as digital cameras mean that girls are bound to be snapped anytime they socialize, so for them, looking good is a necessity. Networking sites such as Facebook make it so much easier to share photos, and also comment quickly and easily. This gives girls another insecurity; it is too easy for people to make comments or judgements over people they barely know, so girls are unconfident and self-conscious, forever needing to look attractive. In television, one style usually takes over the world of celebrities for a few months and so in this time, normal girls are expected to take on this image – girls who don’t are usually bombarded with offensive labels and stereotypes, such as being ‘emo’.

The recent progressions in the world of plastic surgery now teach different morals to young women; the fact that it is so easy to have a blemish removed, or body parts changed gives the idea that imperfections are not acceptable and we should all change ourselves to become ‘perfect’. Cosmetic surgery pressurizes people about their image, and celebrities whose surgical enhancements have been widely publicised advertise the fact that unnaturally changing the body is the ‘cool’ thing to do. Additionally, when girls eagerly look over the latest glamour magazines they see beautiful models pictured in articles, they do not realise that these have been airbrushed or photoshopped, so therefore they believe that they should look like this – this is a massive confidence breaker. With so many pictures of influential people looking perfect and fault-free, it is becoming an expectation that girls should look this way, when in reality nobody does.

I think technology has many fantastic advantages but as with many things, it also comes with a price. Our mothers and grandmothers would have been influenced by the Hollywood film stars of their day and would have tried to have copied their look and behaviour (like the craze of smoking). However, the difference today is the constant 24:7 bombardment of mass media and technology which makes it so difficult for young girls to be individual and stand out from the crowd. 

Use a line from a Shakespeare play as the title for your own piece of writing

"All that glitters is not gold"

As I stood on the platform, I reminisced about what I was leaving behind. I envisioned the look on my husband’s face as he woke up in the morning and realised that I was absent. I could almost feel his touch, every morning since we married he would, without fail, give me a peck on the cheek and play with my hair to gently wake me up. Standing amongst the city crowds, a tear trickled down my cheeks. It suddenly occurred to me that I was leaving everything. This was the first time I had a chance to consider my feelings, and for just a glimpse of a second, I wondered whether I was making a mistake. But I wasn’t, I didn’t deserve a family, not after what I had done.

I was brought up in the vast city of London. From a baby, I was surrounded by bright city lights and the madness of industry everywhere I went. My parents had brought me up as a city girl, they were a working couple. When I met my husband, I realised a busy life wasn’t for me. We settled for a peaceful life that focused on family values. I loved that about my husband; we wanted the same.

The happiest moment of my life was the birth of my son. Holding him in my hands, I saw him as a jewel- beautiful and precious. I couldn’t believe the intensity of the love I suddenly felt for something so small. Since that day, I have maintained a strong relationship with him. Family is important and I wanted to give him the gift of love and stability, which meant a lot to me.

A train whizzed past me, making the tail of my coat float up into the air. My memory flickered back to the long summer days we spent as a family. The endless glasses of lemonade we would devour during a picnic by the lake. This was undoubtedly bliss. I remember a dog running up to us, escaping from its owner. As a reflex, my son grabbed the bottom of my skirt, I guess he thought I could always protect him. I knew that, had my son been with me on the platform, he would have clutched on to the bottom of my coat every time a train rushed past, or a crowd flooded out of the ticket booth.

Anybody would wonder what could be so dreadful that would make me be at the platform, heading miles away on my own. You see, all that glitters is not gold; despite outward appearances, my life was not perfect. Throughout my life with my husband, I have always had a cloud above my ray of happiness. It has always loomed over me. That day. What I did. I will never forget it. And that’s why I have to go.

I couldn’t leave my husband and son without an explanation, I owed them a letter at least. It took me several attempts, trying to find the right words, trying to jot down my feelings amongst the sea of tears that kept splattering onto my note. It was finally done. The breakdown of my life was there on a page, and nobody would ever forgive me.  I got up in the middle of the night, lightly pecked my sleeping husband on the cheek and whispered my love for him. I then went to see my son, who was also sound asleep. A salty tear ran down my cheek as I kissed his head. When I went downstairs, I took a last glance around my home, the place that shared my fondest memories. I balanced my letter against the fruit bowl on the kitchen table and went into the black darkness. 

I sighed as my train came in and people started to pick up their luggage, barging to the front to ensure they got a seat. I glanced at the wedding ring on my finger before taking it off and hiding it in my pocket; I prepared to board. A ticket man ushered me onto the train and as I took a step forward I heard someone calling me. A familiar voice. I look around and saw a figure running towards me. I watched his slender body push his way forward. His feet tripping as he weaved between the busy crowds.  His hands were poised in a determined fist clench and his eyes, shining with the moisture of his tears, narrowed as his gaze met mine. He finally reached where I was standing and looked up at me with that face I knew too well. There he was. My son.

A school task - 'Write A Rant About Anything'

The first cinema was built in 1919 and people used to go in their fineries to watch and marvel at this unique exhibition. Oh how times have changed. Cinema etiquette has rapidly decreased.

Don’t get me started on the people 4 rows down who can not watch a 2 hour film without having to go to the loo- why can’t they go beforehand? Or what about the people behind me who resort to kicking the back of my seat throughout the entire duration. How about the group of girls sitting at the front who, admittedly have their phones on silent, but do not consider that whenever they check their messages, the glow on their phone lights up the 4 rows behind them and distracts the whole audience. Can’t they wait 2 hours without outside communication? Honestly. The cinema used to be an extremely fashionable and grand night out. Now it is nothing more than a play school for bad habits and utter rudeness and disrespect for fellow cinema goers.

I’ll start with the latecomers. The average cinema ticket is already overpriced at £8 for an adult ticket. If somebody is willing to pay that amount of money to watch a film, they could at least be on time for the start of it. I am sick of settling down to watch the movie, lights are off and everybody is silent in the anticipation of what the film will be like and then…*shuffle shuffle shuffle* Late. Not only do they whisper to their friends as they awkwardly try to find their seat amongst the already crowded cinema, they can never find their seat in the dark. This results in having to get an attendant with a torch to show them to their designated place. Annoyingly, the latecomer will almost certainly find their way to your row and you will have to let them past as they clumsily block your view, they mutter ‘sorry, sorry, excuse me, sorry, thanks, sorry’ as they edge themselves past each person in the row, distracting others further and creating more of a nuisance of themselves.

Next, we have sniffers. I would like to watch this film without the risk of being seriously infected by what most be the sickest person in the world. The women next to you spends the whole 2 hours of the film routinely sniffing in a fashion that distracts you from the happenings of the movie every time. After about 45 minutes of the film, you glare at her and she realises that she is being annoying. First, she blows her nose which grabs the attention of the whole theatre. However after about 5 minutes, the sniffing starts again. She realises her dilemma and resorts to even more annoying and frequent staccato sniffs. This frustrates me so much that I feel inclined to call a doctor or tell her to go home and rest until she is better. For everybody’s sake.

I do not for the life of me understand why cinemas sell popcorn and other such disgusting foods. The boy in front of me sits there with a jumbo sized box of salty popcorn, which probably cost him £5, almost the amount of a child’s ticket. Despite this high price, at the end of the movie, I peer over my row and see that he has left half of it on the floor. Throughout the film, I have seen him constantly flicking popcorn at his mate, dropping handfuls of it onto his lap as he tries to eat too much at one time and wriggling about in his seat so much that he spills his tub onto the sticky, greasy floor. Of course, the boy waltzes out at the end of the film, oblivious to the mess below his seat, and taking it for granted that somebody else will clear it up. Would he do that at home? Nope. May I also add, why did the family sat behind me choose to bring a family size pack of chocolate éclairs to munch their way through? I am sick of hearing the rustle, crackle and crunch of the noisy sweet wrappers throughout every piece of dialogue in the film. Back to the popcorn, to be honest, it is as much as the cinema’s fault as it is the audience’s fault; cinemas are already greedy with ticket prices which cost almost the amount of a DVD anyway. Yet they still think of other ways to rip us off. They sell cheap popcorn and impractical sweets which are distracting to everybody around its consumers. It would take the cleaners half the time it takes to clear a cinema, if they didn’t sell such ridiculous, messy food.

I also want to mention the incredibly selfish people who choose to occupy more than their allocated amount of seating by draping their coats and bags over them. If they want an extra seat to use as a coat hanger, they should pay for one! Not to mention the common obscurity of people resting their feet over the seat in front, that is just plain rude- nobody wants dirty, greasy shoes in their face as they snuggle down to watch the over priced film. It shouldn’t have to be mentioned- it is common decency that people should know to keep their feet on the floor! And not only that, why do people leave a gap in between each group whilst choosing where to sit? It means that, come the start of the movie, the last few people coming in dribs and drabs can not sit together.

If I owned a cinema, I would force all late-comers, toilet-goers, nose-sniffers, popcorn- throwers and seat-stealers to eat every single one of the smelly, greasy jumbo hotdogs in the cinema, and then single handedly mop up the floor with a toothbrush until the floor is clean enough to project a film onto. 

A monologue from the point of view of one of the four seasons

I hate him. He just does it to spite me. I have my time and he has his. He just chose to do things differently. (shrug) I try my very best to brighten up the country, I don’t hide away the sun, I know how she hates that, (whisper) she’s sensitive. He, of course, loves to cause trouble and routinely hides her away, gets his colony of clouds to stand in front of her and spoil the elegant atmosphere she has helped me to create.

It was Mother Nature who elected me for the summer holidays, best time of the year because everybody can enjoy the goodness I spread. Well, he hated this! But, I mean, its not like he just got half term like Autumn, (sniggers) he was given the Christmas holidays. Though if you ask me he has ruined them- I could do a much better job! What’s the fun in sprinkling a hint of snow and making the public expect more? Getting their hopes up, only for them to receive a weeks worth of splattering raindrops replacing the delicate snowflakes they were expecting. He’s selfish. He saves it all for himself.

Look at him! (points) All high and mighty sitting on a chair of snow over there, who does he think he is? And then to steal the leaves off the trees…well that is pure evil, how would he feel if I went over there and stole his earmuffs?

When Mother Nature briefed us about our jobs, me, Spring and Autumn all understood. But as soon as she leaves us to control her children, those monstrous little tornados, all hell breaks loose and Winter decides to freeze the whole place. Now why would you do that?!

He’ll get what’s coming to him. Take Spring for example, she is always late, leaving Winter to conduct even more gloominess around the UK but, boy did she suffer from that! Mother Nature was furious when she realised how late Spring always was. She banished Spring to under the ground and now all she can do is push flowers up from under the soil. Not a good life if you ask me!

Now if you’ll excuse me, I am needed to go and persuade the sun to heat up the country. Ha! That will get on Winters nerves!