tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29348159450548444042024-03-05T15:18:52.011-08:00Aaron Loughnane's BlogUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934815945054844404.post-83923023171932988562011-04-14T05:45:00.001-07:002011-04-14T05:45:22.234-07:00Funny’s funny but is 99 years too soon?<p>I read on the interweb that the Titanic hit an iceberg 99 years ago ergo next year is the centenary. </p> <p>I thought maybe the BBC had run out of things to talk about so they ran this story a year early.</p> <p>Also, by this time next year everyone will be going mental about the Olympics so the Titanic story might pass like a ship in the night.</p> <p>Oops.</p> <p>Anyway that was just the tip of the erm…story.</p> <p>The photo they used to thrust forward the non-story was of the crew members presumably just before they boarded.</p> <p>Now forgive me for being insensitive but some of them had funny faces.</p> <p>It tickled me so much that I pressed the print screen button on my netbook and whacked the resulting image into paint where I used my extremely rudimentary editing skills to create hilarious captions.</p> <p>It did get me thinking, is it too soon to joke about it? 99 years is a long time but people died and that sort of thing never goes away.</p> <p>It was funny to me though, so that superseded any guilt I was feeling.</p> <p>Worryingly easily actually.</p> <p><strong><u>Fig. 1 – LOLZ</u></strong></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4CrqpIdHomZTQWV1zjbX8RT9jFK87jx7AuS5wtrPNWOcutdoxh5L586BTEkZIOlATW_RYWuYO1ee9EmgdcHbZvB0L2ZuC_T6TfYi6SHE_eW05VxcQiuB86GP2RUwxkXYqwYHJiXi3-HI/s1600-h/knew%20something%5B4%5D.png"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="knew something" border="0" alt="knew something" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0n3sVBN9p59oIS_KyhL1CytUmFw-IqZucLWwzBt6edkKCCGCgZrFbYa1ugrdWIk_YCjfhNkETdzSO_s-UocNkrknQuUFLFai7eqZyWjms3b_WwNFVbJhsy_RF2ETvRghfJuZOzomuyZg/?imgmax=800" width="605" height="229"></a> </p> <p>Disclaimer: It just seemed like he was shitting himself.</p> <p><strong><u>Fig. 2 Chairman ROFLMAO</u></strong></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht_KTENm_db3S0_LMyvMr0RTDzJv_KMCJ9onfZ_9_RJZhtJTGPqHAjW4jE-3Fea-J6vrxoeVsynJVWEhEutjJr6tzvGvOT91RoLCafWx4nnnw7KGc2rAwzNLaCHAZXtk_c4MzMphyMBNA/s1600-h/culprit%5B13%5D.png"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="culprit" border="0" alt="culprit" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV-vbTxnAikdrTiBSufwUcSudjzyjSh7dm693qGnKmKWjnMC_AO0BL9yd5R4UKb9K71hxsSzpCX4RElrWAyQeXEvzK7DVRLseN6x6UJEH0cWN8y1ebTsqkn1qLOh-sxPDEM60M9dhwZ-c/?imgmax=800" width="611" height="223"></a> </p> <p></p> <p></p> <p>Disclaimer: The eyes are shifty and he looks like he has a tan. Not the standard look for cabin crew aboard a gigantic vessel. More a man with mafia connections. </p> <p><strong><u>Fig. 3 What iceberg?</u></strong></p> <p></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbDkj-puraY2l350j4wYbuRvDVNVtTOF-Y5ytnHlV2KTSTxF45UAz5XFvIrCvJ2GdfTUTmcyyGAdMsd9V5X3ktNfsEYyp_XwLTtLnYAH5CPVpWO_P91fgMROEs0cY7EyY3gaBET6GmbFA/s1600-h/cross%20eyed%20burk%5B4%5D.png"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="cross eyed burk" border="0" alt="cross eyed burk" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Js_5FBVlPGf2DglUBynSPAAR4i82iBQNl3nwipp9Lf54vP7Siu3RMGHz26DR9w0tx_gmV0_1bq7DgCMpsXWWyusRxFPSUcKwXhcduSK4w_5sDSreFkG9v8C7FvmDmtPeNTW_mgTMxpo/?imgmax=800" width="602" height="226"></a> <p>Disclaimer: The caption says it all really. </p> <p>P.S. Lol!brow humour has been employed to get a cheap laugh. All spelling mistakes are intentional and a function of the aped medium.</p> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934815945054844404.post-86634148447952345402011-04-03T08:25:00.001-07:002011-04-03T08:25:20.941-07:00Self Help<p>He looked at me, suggesting I'd <br>Just spilled my coffee on his mum<br>A woman who had lately died<br>From drinking too much knock-off rum <p>I hadn't had I? Who's to say?<br>I surely thought it were not so<br>But I had drunk a lot today<br>So wasn't sure that I did know <p>These are the perils, thought I then<br>Of making friends with drunken fools<br>You follow blindly these daft men<br>(Become disorderly in schools) <p>Are asked to leave, then ordered so<br>And walk away feeling ashamed<br>Until a court says you must go<br>Where you are told you're not to blame <p>'Stand up son and tell us now<br>What it is, your name has been<br>For all the years you've been allowed<br>To wander through these pastures green' <p>Responding as you have been bred<br>You give the answer that they know<br>But all the caffeine you've been fed<br>Encourages your legs to go <p>You chance to sit but are encouraged<br>To explain your present stage<br>(A yellow t-shirt stained with porridge<br>Surely gives those facts away) <p>'I've come along a good old way'<br>You tremble as you tell this lie<br>'And I am happy as I say<br>I feel as though I might be dry' <p>The gathered group muster applause<br>Too bleary eyed to catch you out<br>You go to sit, a pregnant pause<br>Suggests there may be one in doubt <p>An older girl, as red as you<br>With vodka lips and rummy stare<br>Can see a way, in fact right through<br>Your story as it lingers there <p>She leans right in and whispers so<br>(In doing this, she wets your ear)<br>'There's only one thing to let go'<br>She says 'And that my love is fear' <p>Now as you ponder this advice<br>Under such cacophonous shouts<br>You think at least she weren't your wife<br>And you're not father to these louts <p>She was the one who understood<br>But matrimony never came<br>It wouldn't have done any good<br>For both of you were drunk and lame <p>But in the time you spent with her<br>You never ever met her sons<br>It took her return to the earth<br>For you to see why she chose rum</p> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934815945054844404.post-625972386006140822011-04-03T08:03:00.001-07:002011-04-03T08:03:32.868-07:00Far Away Man<p><em>Unhindered by syllabic obligations, these poems in the A-B-C-B-D-E-F format will introduce you to a world you'd never want to visit. </em> <p><em>The world of Far Away Man</em> <p><em>When I was in secondary school I wrote a poem in a study period during which I was sitting next to a friend of mine, Leo Baines. He and I found the ensuing poems hilarious. I wrote some, he wrote some, we laughed till we cried and were then chastised. </em></p> <p><em>I don’t know where the original poems are now but I have occasionally continued to write Far Away Man poems in the same format.</em></p> <p><em>Below are 11 poems. The first poem is an introduction to the series and the following ten are a selection of some I have written over the years in an attempt to amuse myself.</em></p> <p><em>I hope you too are amused. </em></p> <p>There's a man I have heard of<br>In a far away land<br>Nobody hates him<br>For no-one knows this man<br>He is lonely<br>He has no friends<br>But he's actually really really nice <p>Far Away Man<br>Has a boot for a body<br>He has no faith<br>You can't say he's godly<br>He passes his time<br>By station walls<br>And sometimes goes to the cinema but not often <p>Far Away Man<br>Once went abroad<br>He sailed in a boat<br>And when it was moored<br>He leapt out in joy<br>With his hands in the air<br>And three men beat him up <p>Far Away Man<br>Went to a party<br>It was fancy dress<br>And really quite arty<br>When all of the judges <br>Had made their decisions<br>He came 43rd out of 100 <p>Far Away Man<br>Misses his parents<br>They live just next door but<br>They're hidden by their fence<br>It's no mistake<br>They raised it on purpose<br>Because they are embarrassed by him <p>Far Away Man<br>Doesn't like trouble<br>Unfortunately though<br>He lives not in a bubble<br>So anywhere he is<br>There's always the chance<br>That someone will frame him for something he didn't do <p>Far Away Man <br>Is as short as most midgets<br>A boot for a body<br>A face and 5 digits<br>Those are his toes<br>And contained in his boot<br>Although removing the boot would kill him <p>Far Away Man<br>Has a book full of people<br>Standing by churches<br>In shadows of steeples<br>Some of them are priests<br>Some of them bishops<br>Some aren't members of the clergy at all <p>Far Away Man<br>Is the friend of a squirrel<br>He first met the rodent<br>In England, the Wirral<br>He's been up to visit him<br>Once, maybe twice<br>But he rarely sees a squirrel he can be sure is definitely the same one <p>Far Away Man<br>Has a guitar and banjo<br>He loves old George Formby<br>And has his own fan show<br>It was on TV<br>In England and Wales<br>But it received too many complaints from pianists <p>Far Away Man <br>Has an evil twin brother<br>Far Away Malcolm<br>They have the same mother<br>They also have <br>The same father of course<br>But his identity is not 100% certain</p> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934815945054844404.post-55965911215769657802011-04-01T06:49:00.001-07:002011-04-01T06:49:16.218-07:00Another extract from Bench Club…<p><em><strong>Preamble</strong> – Jed Croft is an amateur film-maker who has some celebrity connections. He is making a documentary about the obsession we have about ‘the body beautiful’. His documentary is taking place at Bench Club a gym run by a man called Steven Bryers in the year 1999. This exchange takes place after Jed asks Steven whether he would allow anyone to join the gym if they weren’t that interested in benching.</em></p> <p><em> </em><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-bidi-font-family: mangal">STEVEN:<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>We have two toilets at bench club.<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 6"> <br> </span>JED:<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 4"> </span>(confused)<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 2"> </span>Right...<br><br><span style="mso-tab-count: 6"> </span>STEVEN:<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>One, is labelled Men, the other is labelled Men<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>who bench. <br><br><span style="mso-tab-count: 6"> </span>JED:<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>OK. What are you saying?<br><br><span style="mso-tab-count: 6"> </span>STEVEN:<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>The Men's toilet has been out of order for two years.<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 4"> </span>(sinister)<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>We haven't called a plumber.<br><br><span style="mso-tab-count: 4"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 2"> </span>JED:<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>I hadn't noticed that.<br><br><span style="mso-tab-count: 6"> </span>STEVEN:<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>What do you mean?<br><br><span style="mso-tab-count: 6"> </span>JED:<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>I didn't notice what the toilet's said on them.<br><br><span style="mso-tab-count: 6"> </span>STEVEN:<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>Well why would you have?<br><br><span style="mso-tab-count: 6"> </span>JED:<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>I mean, when I went to the toilet, I didn't notice.<br><br>STEVEN is leaning forward squeezing his wrist trainers<span style="mso-tab-count: 4"> </span><br><br><span style="mso-tab-count: 6"> </span>STEVEN:<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>You must have noticed it was out of order.<br><br><span style="mso-tab-count: 6"> </span>JED:<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>W...well, it wasn't really? I don't...maybe I used<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>the one that's not out of order?<br><br>STEVEN is staring at JED.<br><br><span style="mso-tab-count: 6"> </span>JED:<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>I must have done.<br><br><span style="mso-tab-count: 6"> </span>STEVEN:<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>That's not strictly protocol. You must surely have<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>seen the sign on the door.<br><br><span style="mso-tab-count: 6"> </span>JED:<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>Well, I don't recall.<br><br>STEVEN puts down his wrist trainers and leans back.<br><br><span style="mso-tab-count: 6"> </span>STEVEN:<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>Right, one door says Men the other says Men W B<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>right?<br><br><span style="mso-tab-count: 6"> </span>JED:<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>Oh! Yeah. I saw that but I thought that meant like...<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>water basin or something.<br><br><span style="mso-tab-count: 6"> </span>STEVEN:<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>Men – Water Basin? What's a water basin?<br><br><span style="mso-tab-count: 6"> </span>JED:<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 4"> </span>(embarrassed, stressed)<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>Well I don't know! <br><br><span style="mso-tab-count: 6"> </span>STEVEN:<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>Well what did you think the other one was?<br><br><span style="mso-tab-count: 6"> </span>JED:<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>Women? I didn't read it.<br><br>STEVEN puts his head in his hands.<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 6"> <br> </span></span><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-bidi-font-family: mangal">STEVEN:<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>Women? This gets worse. It's just not protocol.<br><br>STEVEN points at MARCUS.<br><br><span style="mso-tab-count: 6"> </span>STEVEN:<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>Did you go to the toilet?<br><br><span style="mso-tab-count: 6"> </span>MARCUS:<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 4"> </span>(amused)<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>I go in the morning at home. Sometimes in the <br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>café across the road at lunch. Never here though.<br><br><span style="mso-tab-count: 6"> </span>STEVEN:<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>Even if you didn't need it I mean. <br><br><span style="mso-tab-count: 6"> </span>MARCUS:<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>Why would I do that?<br><br><span style="mso-tab-count: 6"> </span>JED:<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>Yeah, why would he do that?<br><br>STEVEN picks up his wrist trainers and squeezes them.<br><br><span style="mso-tab-count: 6"> </span>STEVEN:<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>I don't know, maybe to film him.<br><br>STEVEN points at JED.<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 6"> </span>JED:<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>Whoa. Come on, why would he do that?<br><br><span style="mso-tab-count: 6"> </span>MARCUS:<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>I'd draw the line there.<br><br><span style="mso-tab-count: 5"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </span>JED:<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>Well I wouldn't ask you to would I?<br><br><span style="mso-tab-count: 6"> </span>MARCUS:<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>Probably not.<br><br><span style="mso-tab-count: 6"> </span>JED:<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 4"> </span>(annoyed)<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>Definitely not!<br><br>STEVEN rubs his head. He looks as much perplexed as he is annoyed. <br><br>STEVEN stands up. JED flinches. STEVEN walks to the door and beckons to JED.<br><br><span style="mso-tab-count: 6"> </span>STEVEN:<br><span style="mso-tab-count: 3"> </span>Come with me.<br>FADE OUT:</span></p> <blockquote> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm" align="left"> <p style="font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none" align="left"><font face="Arial, sans-serif"></font></p></p></blockquote> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934815945054844404.post-65437323887172565882011-03-25T09:47:00.001-07:002011-03-25T09:47:32.185-07:00Miss Scarlett are recording…<p>As you may know already, Miss Scarlett is a band for which I provide the lyrics, vocal melodies and back up guitar parts which the other guys appreciate so much.</p> <p>At the moment we are in the middle of recording an album, the first we’ve ever done and are doing so in an act of self-funded folly, you may say.</p> <p>We’re almost certainly good enough to get a record deal but we haven’t chased one down with any great fervour. </p> <p>We figure that if we can record an album off our own back, find the right means to distribute it and reach a wide enough audience it puts us in a good position to remain true to our artistic selves for the rest of our anticipated career as we’ll always have that independent achievement to give us the confidence we can make the right decisions.</p> <p>We all enjoy working together very much and we’ve been dedicated both to the artistic side of creating music and rehearsing to deliver polished performances live for long enough now to declare that the time is right to capture an album which is both viscerally energetic and spiritually moving.</p> <p>I’m sure you’ll be the judge of that.</p> <p>We’re learning a lot as we go and we’ll definitely keep you informed of our progress. </p> <p>We don’t really have a huge presence on social networking sites (or even on our own website –www.wearemissscarlett.com) I think generally because we got into music to make music and stir people to move uncontrollably or lie, alone on their bed listening to our songs, immersing themselves in a different dimension, just like all the bands that so inspired us and anything beyond that would involve communicating in a way that doesn’t come naturally.</p> <p>The difficulty will be in capturing a sound which places us in and above what’s being heard today – to separate ourselves from the background noise if you will – whilst retaining our creative voice and emotional energy in order to create something which has a timeless musicality and feeling.</p> <p>I’m confident we’ll achieve that.</p> <p>We’ll tell you when you can get a copy and what the RRP is. </p> <p>Recommended by ourselves obviously.</p> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934815945054844404.post-70553474213461669362011-03-14T07:13:00.000-07:002011-03-14T07:13:48.309-07:00Scene from future BAFTA award winning script 'Bench Club' by Aaron Loughnane<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><u><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;">INT. COMPETITION GYM – LATER</span></u></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;">FELIX is struggling with a rep. The bar is going sideways the jeers are overcoming the cheers. FELIX is sweating profusely. His eyes look as though they're about to bulge out of his head. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;">STEVEN comes over and helps the weight back on to the bench. FELIX sits up, desperately disappointed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;">The ADJUDICATOR blows his whistle and waves an arm over the bench.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 6;"> </span>ADJUDICATOR:<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>Benched out! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;">The benchers from Rise of the Machines all cheer.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;">EDDIE SILVER comes forward and squares up to STEVEN.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 6;"> </span>EDDIE SILVER:<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>Five's not bad. I'm no mathematician but I'd say </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>that's about five more than I expected from one <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>of your Bench Bums.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;">EDDIE SILVER'S benchers laugh. EDDIE SILVER raises a hand to silence them.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 6;"> </span>EDDIE SILVER:<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>I'd also say it was a good 2 repetitions shy of <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>what Brad here can knock out. Which makes it<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>71.4 percentile of what my man can manage. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>Which makes your guy 71.4 percentile of the<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>man that my guy is. Or if we take another view</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>that my guy can do 2 more repetitions than <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>your guy it means he can post an additional 40</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>percentile on your guys total which makes him<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>40 percentile more of a man. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;">EDDIE SILVER looks around expecting a rapturous applause. He gets nothing save for a few affirmative noises from his benchers.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;">He doesn't seem to mind and returns his gaze to STEVEN.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 6;"> </span>EDDIE SILVER:<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>Oh looky! I am a mathematician!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 6;"> </span>STEVEN:<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>Maths counts for nothing in this gym. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 6;"> </span>EDDIE SILVER:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>That's just as well.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;">EDDIE SILVER looks over at COOKIE. COOKIE is kicking a weight along the floor.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 6;"> </span>EDDIE SILVER;<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>Hey retard! What's two plus two?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;">STEVEN grabs EDDIE SILVER by the lapels and thrusts him up against a wall. The benchers from Rise of the Machines all spring to life. The benchers from Bench Club look on powerlessly waiting for it all to kick off.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;">STEVEN realises he has lost control of himself and lets EDDIE SILVER go.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;">EDDIE SILVER straightens himself out and stares at STEVEN.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 6;"> </span>EDDIE SILVER:<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>I could have this competition voided for that and<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>declare us the winners.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;">The ADJUDICATOR steps forward obligingly to void the clipboard he is holding.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;">EDDIE SILVER holds up his hand to stop him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 6;"> </span>EDDIE SILVER:<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>But I want this to be a victory for the machines. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>So we're going to settle this as agreed. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Arial", sans-serif;"> </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934815945054844404.post-20091775621086467182011-02-26T05:23:00.000-08:002011-02-26T05:29:30.826-08:00West Coast Easy - Monologue for Performance<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">CYRUS is in his 40s, medium build and humble looking. He is looking slightly uncomfortable and stands looking straight on, with a slight twitch. When he speaks, we hear he has a deep southern USA accent.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 6;"> </span>CYRUS:<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span> I used to think there was no rain I couldn't handle.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>Drizzle didn't bother me; sluicin' dredges washin' away<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>loose sediment on the sides of roads and drivin' women</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"> and children inside was my kind of weather. I'd stand<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>stock still in it, hands wide apart welcome it down. I used <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>to fantasise about what other folk thought of me. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>(imagining)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>You seen that Cyrus? He's a brave man huh? Standin' <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>stock still in the centre of the street, rain whippin' his <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>strong features, not movin' a muscle. That Cyrus is a <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>man. I saw him the other day standin' alone looking like<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>the mighty prophet Moses. Usherin' down the rain. <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>Welcomin' the rain. Drinkin' it in like he was sunbathin'<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>in San Fran.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>(stops imagining)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>Old San Fran seems like an awful long way away from<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>my town. And I ain't just talkin' geographically. I'm talkin' <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>of fortune. They call it the Golden State, California. The <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>San Francisco 49ers, named after the gold rush of 1849 </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>no less. It sure seems like that gold rush never stopped. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>All sort of loose, excitin' characters treadin' the streets in </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>San Fran, talkin' excitedly about how one day a tremor's </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>gonna come so big its gonna split the city in two. Well </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>they can dream about that day. That Armageddon. They </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>can dream the dreams that sustain their west-coast-easy<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>livin' lifestyle because I've seen it. I've seen the rains.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>I've seen nature's rough sickle swingin' through my<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>town and I don't like it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>(he grits his teeth)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>I used to think there was no rain I couldn't handle. But<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>this was a rain so fierce it made me think I hadn't never<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>even been rained on before. And you knew. You knew<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>as soon as it started that it wasn't gonna stop. Folk, they<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>could feel it in the air. A new precipitation. Like no-one's</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>never seen in their lifetime round here. Like no-one's<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>never talked about, or heard about. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>(he breathes a deep breath)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>One second we were lookin' at each other holding each<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>other, each man woman and child comin' to their own<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>realisation about what was about to occur and the next<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>second we were all gone. Gone from each other, gone<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>from our damn selves. When it hits you, you don't know<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>what to do. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>(enacting)<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>If only I had a bucket, maybe I could rescue old John <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>Treasy from his shop.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>(he laughs)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>Fool! Ain't no bucket big enough to tackle what came <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>that day! Ain't nothin' big enough to tackle those waters. <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>Waters in our familiar streets, washin' away our sins, <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>changin' everythin'! It felt like being punched in the <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>stomach by God himself. If that's not a blasphemy. Heck <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>if it is. I've served my punishment for all my sins and <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>all my children's sins on this here earth. I've nothing left<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>to pay.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>(he stops and wipes his nose)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>I used to think there was no rain I couldn't handle. Now <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>I wouldn't mind if I was buried alive in death valley. <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>Happen it would have the effect of spinnin' a dizzy chick<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>the other way. Redress the balance. I've seen my share <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>of rain. I've seen mine.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">He grits his teeth and breathes heavily. As the lights fade he starts to sob.</span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"><br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934815945054844404.post-83355267071141740032011-02-23T07:08:00.000-08:002011-02-23T07:09:03.869-08:00New York<i>The city of New York</i><br />
<i>It never fails to raise the spirits</i><br />
<i>Every time I see it sprawled </i><i><br />
</i><i>Across my screen I long to visit</i><br />
<br />
<i>From one big city, London</i><br />
<i>To the next, across the pond</i><br />
<i>My eyes and ears assaulted</i><br />
<i>As I'm briskly moved along</i><br />
<br />
<i>It's such a hectic harmony</i><br />
<i>To which I do aspire</i><br />
<i>It stirs my soul with ambient</i><br />
<i>Invigorating fire </i><br />
<br />
<i>The streets are lit with destitution</i><br />
<i>Buildings float on power</i><br />
<i>A wanton juxtaposition</i><br />
<i>For hour after hour</i><br />
<br />
<i>It forms a kind of beauty</i><br />
<i>On such unfamiliar lines</i><br />
<i>I'll never be a stockbroker</i><br />
<i>Nor tough street baller I </i><br />
<br />
<i>I'll never belong in that city</i><br />
<i>A tourist's all I'd be</i><br />
<i>But somewhere in my heart</i><i><br />
</i><i>I feel there is a missing piece</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><i>Maybe were I born and raised</i><br />
<i>In Brooklyn or Manhattan</i><br />
<i>I wouldn't spend my precious days</i><br />
<i>On Google maps in Staten</i><br />
<br />
<i>Wishing I were there for real</i><br />
<i>The home of liberty</i><br />
<i>The port from which the outsiders</i><br />
<i>Can reach the brave and free </i><br />
<i><br />
</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934815945054844404.post-50273245422268834122011-02-18T08:19:00.000-08:002011-02-18T09:38:21.588-08:00Hip and Knee - Monologue for performance<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">MEHMET an elderly turkish man is sitting in a chair reading a newspaper. He drops the newspaper to the floor and laughs. He raises his hand to his head and rubs it in amused bewilderment.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 6;"> </span>MEHMET:<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>Amazing! Truly amazing!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>(he leans back in his chair and exhales)<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>On Tuesday night I was watching the television. Well I<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>say watching, I was simply flicking through the <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>channels hoping to come across something that would<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>excite me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>(he suppresses some wind in his chest)<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>And that's when I saw it. Incredible! I dropped the </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>remote because I was trying to conjure up an exciting </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>image by jabbing it as I changed the channel.<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>(he demonstrates and laughs)<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>Funny really, it never makes a difference but it amuses<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>me I suppose.<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>(he muses on this statement)<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>So you see I didn't mean to see it but I'm very glad that I <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>did. She was beautiful, just going about her business in <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>the background while a man, a little younger than me <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>(he knits his eyebrows)<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>was giving a report about cuts; financial cuts, from a <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>hospital! It wasn't exactly about physical cuts, that I could <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>understand! <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>(he laughs, with little trace of amusement)<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>But it was her I noticed, in her yellow blouse and navy<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>blue skirt. She was out of focus, but then again everyone<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>is to me!<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">MEHMET bellows out some laughter and starts coughing. He takes out a handkerchief to cover his mouth and wriggles in his chair to get more comfortable.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>Two seconds she is there for, maybe two and a half.<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>(he struggles to his feet)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>She comes on screen like this.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>(he plods on the spot to demonstrate)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>And she passes a junction on her...</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>(he closes his eyes to remember)<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>On her right and then she stops! Very suddenly with the <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>poise of an athlete and she twists her hips and pushes <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>with her knees in the direction she was supposed to go. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>(he lowers himself back into his chair)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>All the time this man keeps talking, he isn't to know what<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>has just happened behind him but it was a moment. A <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>moment of real beauty.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>(he stops and nods)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>Because on the sign by the man who was delivering this <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>sad report read the words 'Hip and Knee' with an arrow in <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>the direction of my lady's junction. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>(he takes his handkerchief out and wipes his<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>face, smiling)<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>She wasn't to know. <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>(earnest)<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>That's why it was beautiful. It was the poetry.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">MEHMET picks up his paper and continues to read it as the lights fade.</span></div><span style="font-family: "Arial", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"></span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934815945054844404.post-52839771992087534062011-02-18T07:22:00.000-08:002011-02-18T10:39:25.639-08:00Aaron's Spicy Chilean Quorn Surprise<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b>For the romantic vegetarian or the greedy fool.</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Serves 2</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">You will need:</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i>1 x Tablespoon Olive Oil</i></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i>1/2 Bag Frozen Quorn Chicken Pieces</i></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i>3 x Teaspoon Wagamama Spicy chilli men stir fry sauce</i></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i>1 x Tablespoon Butter</i></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i>2 x Clove Garlic</i></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i>1 x glass Chilean Pinot Noir </i> </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i>Sprinkle of Chilli Powder</i></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i>Sprinkle of dried Thyme</i></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><ol><li><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Pour the olive oil into a large frying pan and add the half bag of Quorn chicken pieces</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b>Hob setting: Medium</b></div></li>
<li><div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">Once the Quorn pieces have browned add three teaspoons of the stir fry sauce and toss the Quorn pieces until you achieve an even coverage – Cook for 5 minutes<br />
<b>Hob setting: Medium</b></div></li>
<li><div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">Add the garlic to the butter – use a garlic press – and add this mixture to the frying pan<br />
<b>Hob setting: Medium</b></div></li>
<li><div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">After the butter has melted into the Quorn concoction add the wine in one big splash<br />
<b>Hob setting: High</b></div></li>
<li><div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">Allow the mixture to bubble away and reduce until such a point that most of the liquid has evaporated<br />
<b>Hob setting: Medium</b></div></li>
<li><div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">Sprinkle over the chilli powder and toss the mixture a few times to achieve even coverage. Allow this to cook for a further minute and add the thyme.<br />
<b>Hob setting: Medium</b></div></li>
<li><div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">Once you are satisfied that all the ingredients have cooked and the flavours have nicely melded together remove the pan from the hob and spoon the contents onto slices of freshly buttered toast.</div></li>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b>Enjoy!</b></div></li>
</ol><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">Note: The carnivore amongst you can also add chorizo for a meaty edge!</div><ol start="8"></ol><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934815945054844404.post-29907117214808763702011-02-18T05:49:00.000-08:002011-02-18T08:54:19.223-08:00Ants and Lovers - Monologue for performance<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">MELANIE</span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"> appears from stage right and tentatively makes her way towards centre stage. She smoothes down the fabric of her dress and stares at her feet.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 6;"> </span>MELANIE:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>Carried away by an army of ants. <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>(she looks up)<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>That's what the coroner's report said. No mention<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>of what they did to him. Just that he was carried<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>away. He wasn't seen again.<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>(she smiles and looks down)<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>I'm not smiling at the obvious comedy within that<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>statement. I'm smiling to fight the tears. <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>(she looks up)<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>You don't fight fire with a burning torch, you use <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>water. For grief; laughter, until that laughter turns <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>to tears. He was mine was Eric. We were each <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>others. Swept away by the romance of each <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>other's eyes. The secrets we shared. The private <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>obsession with Brideshead Revisited that we <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>were playing out that day by picnicking in our <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>whitest linen clothes, basking in the glorious, camp <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>sunshine. Admiring each other's creases, the plait <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>of my dress excited him. It was the finely handled <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>linen against my smooth skin that inspired him to <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>pick a strawberry from our basket and delicately </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>rub it on my cheek.<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>(she touches her cheek)<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>An excuse to lick of the residual juice.<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>(she smiles)<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>Any passers by wouldn't have baulked at this. <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>Wouldn't have batted an eyelid</span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">.</span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>(she stops)<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>Oh but the thrill I felt; his soft lips on my warm <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>cheek; sweat mixed with strawberry pulp - an <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>animal vegetable passion. And then I decided to <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>halt him in his throes, to take a walk alone over to <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>an apple tree so I could still my beating heart and <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>find the inner strength to return his all consuming <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>love. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>(she turns around and looks </span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">back</span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">)<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>They call it the lovers break. It intensifies the <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>passion. <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>(she turns back around)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>I leant against the old apple tree, rejoicing in the <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>shade; savouring my solitude, knowing that the <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>ache would be swiftly quenched by his eager hunt. <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>A game of kiss chase between two. Though I <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>wasn't running. I was waiting. And then he was <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>gone. Nowhere to be seen. For ten seconds it <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>gave me an electric thrill. To think he would allow <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>my lonliness to be drawn out for even longer, I <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>anticipated his rough, unannounced arrival. But it <br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>never came. Carried away by ants they said. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>(she wipes away a tear)<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>They're stronger than you think.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">Melanie lowers her head, turns around slowly and exits stage left.</span></div><span style="font-family: "Arial", sans-serif;"><span lang="en-GB"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0