Clubbing doesn't have to be a chore! Oh yeah, and we did some work.

HoKAY so in last week's tutor sesh, Sue gave us a brief for a little ten-minute-or-so presentation on a clip from a drama of our choice.
I was with Emma, and finally on Sunday (yes, we are THAT motivated) we got together in Cranborne for a wee chin-wag.
We chose a clip from Schkinssshhhh (that's Channel 4's 'Skins' to normal people), which was aired during the episode entitled 'Sid' in the second series.
You know the one. The one when Sid's Dad kicks it.
In fact, we chose the before-and-after scenes (that seems kind of sick) of that very event.
The problem with putting Emma and I together is this: we are both dynamite bullshitters.
Good for you, you say?
You're lucky you weren't in our latest tutor session.
Despite the tragic loss of my endless piece of prose worthy of Shakespeare himself that was originally meant to be notes for reference, we hopped up in front of our fellow Telly-ers and played our clip.
Then we talked.
Jesus, we talked.
About three-quarters of an hour later, D1 and 2 were very much aware of Sid's dad's oracle-like quality (courtesy of Propp's narrative theory), and the fact that the final chord of the non-diagetic piano music that fades in to underscore his contented diagetic humming at the end of the night scene is in fact not only a minor key, diverting from the tune's originally major format and giving a sense of foreboding, but is also an imperfect cadence, giving the tune an unfinished quality and therefore complimenting the slow zoom-out and the fade-to-black in giving the scene a sense of 'trailing off'.
Ahhhhhhhh.
So basically everyone got really bored and no one else got to do their presentation.
Lols.

Now. Next brief.
Non assessed: Three characters, three props, one location, character-driven script.
My idea - the favoured one so far: A waiting room in a clinic for people with phobias. The three characters are patients. The three objects are either items they are afraid of or instruments used to shield themselves from the subject of their phobia.
Should be amusing though perhaps a little non-pc. Got to love a bit of that.

Assessed: A scene in the style of a TV drama, basically.

On to the good stuff.
Sam's 19th totally owned mine.
We all dressed up as TV characters/personalities (my Phoebe costume crashed and burned, so I was suddenly a very accurate Paris Hilton. So accurate in fact that the woman in Tesco's thought I was a prostitute), and took Bournemouth by the balls.
Being a blonde is terrifying! Honestly, all I had to do was stick on a bleach-blonde Barbie wig and an industrial-strength push-up bra and I was leered over like a goldfish in a bowl plonked next to a cat.
Then, at the end of the night, I removed my wig and admitted to being a Northener, and suddenly nobody wanted to know!

We had some cracking costumes though. 2 Fonzies, about 87 Mistys, an Ash, a Pikachu, JD and Elliot, Frank Gallagher, Smurfette, Sweep, the Special K lady, The Moon, Jeremy Clarkson, two Simon Amstells (though only one with real hair), Russel Brand, Robin (of Batman and), Borat (who failed, I repeat, FAILED to stay in his mankini...chicken...), the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, Jack of 'Lost', and many many more.

This was the first night I'd had pure, unadulterated fun. Even my unforgivable dancing to Britney, S Club 7 and Bon Jovi go unregretted. And I'm not even tipsy!

Ha ha, Tesco lady. Ha ha.

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