Supposing ... Subversive genius Banksy is actually rubbish

The Guardian, Friday 22 September 2006

Supposing ... Subversive genius Banksy is actually rubbish

By Charlie Brooker

Here's a mystery for you. Renegade urban graffiti artist Banksy is clearly a guffhead of massive proportions, yet he's often feted as a genius straddling the bleeding edge of now. Why? Because his work looks dazzlingly clever to idiots. And apparently that'll do.

Banksy first became famous for his stencilled subversions of pop-culture images; one showed John Travolta and Samuel L Jackson in a famous pose from Pulp Fiction, with their guns replaced by bananas. What did it mean? Something to do with the glamourisation of violence, yeah? Never mind. It looked cool. Most importantly, it was accompanied by the name "BANKSY" in huge letters, so everyone knew who'd done it. This, of course, is the real message behind all of Banksy's work, despite any appearances to the contrary.

Take his political stuff. One featured that Vietnamese girl who had her clothes napalmed off. Ho-hum, a familiar image, you think. I'll just be on my way to my 9 to 5 desk job, mindless drone that I am. Then, with an astonished lurch, you notice sly, subversive genius Banksy has stencilled Mickey Mouse and Ronald McDonald either side of her.

Wham! The message hits you like a lead bus: America ... um ... war ... er ... Disney ... and stuff. Wow. In an instant, your worldview changes forever. Your eyes are opened. Staggering away, mind blown, you flick v-signs at a Burger King on the way home. Nice one Banksy! You've shown us the truth, yeah?

As if that wasn't irritating enough, Banksy's vague, pseudo-subversive preaching is often accompanied by a downright embarrassing hardnut swagger. His website is full of advice to other would-be graffiti bores, like: "be aware that going on a mission drunk out of your head will result in some truly spectacular artwork and at least one night in the cells". Woah, man - the cells!

He goes on to explain that "real villains" think graffiti is pointless - not because he wants you to agree with them, but because he wants you to know he's mates with a few tough-guy criminal types. Coz Banksy's an anarchalist what don't respect no law, innit?

One of his most imbecilic daubings depicts a monkey wearing a sandwich board with "lying to the police is never wrong" written on it. So presumably Ian Huntley was right then, Banksy? You absolute thundering backside.

Recently, our hero's made headlines by sneaking a dummy dressed in Guantánamo rags into Disneyland (once again fearlessly exposing Mickey Mouse's disgusting war criminal past), and defacing several hundred copies of Paris Hilton's new album (I haven't heard her CD, but I'm willing to bet it's far superior to Blur's godawful Think Tank, a useless bumdrizzle of an album, whose artwork was done by Banksy - presumably he spray-painted it on a brick and hurled it through EMI's window, yeah?).

Right now you can see some of Banksy's life-altering acts of genius for yourself at his LA exhibition Barely Legal (yeah? Yeah!), including a live elephant painted to blend in with some gaudy wallpaper. This apparently represents "the big issues some people choose to ignore" - ie pretty much anything from global poverty to Aids. But not, presumably, the fat-arsed, berk-pleasing rubbishness of Banksy. We're all keeping schtum about that one.

 

Speeches Task

Girls:

Antigone

Yea, for these laws were not ordained of Zeus,
And she who sits enthroned with gods below,
Justice, enacted not these human laws.
Nor did I deem that thou, a mortal man,
Could'st by a breath annul and override
The immutable unwritten laws of Heaven.
They were not born today nor yesterday;
They die not; and none knoweth whence they sprang.
I was not like, who feared no mortal's frown,
To disobey these laws and so provoke
The wrath of Heaven. I knew that I must die,
E'en hadst thou not proclaimed it; and if death
Is thereby hastened, I shall count it gain.
For death is gain to him whose life, like mine,
Is full of misery. Thus my lot appears
Not sad, but blissful; for had I endured
To leave my mother's son unburied there,
I should have grieved with reason, but not now.
And if in this thou judgest me a fool,
Methinks the judge of folly's not acquit.

 

Boys:

Shylock

He hath disgrac'd me and hind'red me half a million; laugh'd at my losses, mock'd at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated mine enemies. And what's his reason? I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes?  Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions, fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh?  If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is his humility?  Revenge. If a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by Christian example? Why, revenge. The villainy you teach me I will execute; and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction.

Draft- Assignment 2

The Wasteland

The shuddering corpse opened with a shrill screech that pierced through my bleeding eardrums, rattling through my empty skull. The glowing embers that were laid in the scene left at me feet singeing the lifeless bodies strewn across the wasteland.

The pain-ridden sky had been covered in sleepy clouds. The city had burnt in hell; timid ribbons of light had floated down to the desolate barren wasteland. Why had these monstrous creatures set their intellects to destroy our coping society?

No one was able to understand why our race had been chosen. No rhyme, no reason. The human race had been nearly annihilated, left to decay by the superior Martians.

During the attack we, as the inferior race, attempted to gun down these magnificent life forms; hundreds of men died. Using.308 rifles and our primitive tanks they stood no chance against the superb machinery of the Martians.

The flames raged as if they had risen from the burning fields of hell, the spiteful anger watched all the people burst into flames; the night had turned a ruddy violet from the Martian’s destruction, it hid every child’s worst nightmare, enveloping the sky sulked above the smouldering field.

Every human now had to stand up for their right for life, most quivered in the other’s shadows while the alleged ‘brave’ ones went to fight: they never returned. Those that hovered in the back stood the greatest chance of survival, the humans had come to realise that they had to fight from the back-line, never searching for hassle from the aliens, merely trying to build society again.

Peoples skin turning red and blotchy as abyss’ ruptured through there skin, there screams pierced every brain in the miles vicinity, we stood no chance as the Martian’s murdering machines. I had looked up to the sky one night, dirt surrounded my face as the clouds were filled with ash, blood and death. Clattering sounds of murdering machines and daunting planes filled the atmosphere with purpose. I had sat there in uproar of the commotion. I crouched there, filling up inside with enmity and disgust of the travesty the Martian’s were causing. The planes were humans trying to save us from the destruction; there was no hope. All the planes thundered to the ground, in a matter of moments of being in sight. People’s blood turned into crimson paints as it cascaded through the cracks of the shattered planes. The bodies that had managed to tumble to the ground through the cracked windows of cars, planes and whatever other machines had surrounded me were pitched like rag-dolls. Single beads of sweat ran down my back as I had stood in awe and petrifying fear, silently gasping to myself at the destruction I had stood witness to those treacherous months. Peoples lives streamed out of chasms left in the guts, their entrails splattered like paint across what was left of the hell on Earth. The gruesome, grotesque world, horrified me day and night, the image still burns through my eyelids, I remember every second like I am still living it.

Every single piece of the life had ever known had been stripped from me, every person I had once known had been killed, they were all too familiar with the process of death. There had been nothing I could have done to save them as the heat rays of these ‘demons’ had conquered their bodies. They had taken over. Every body convulsed as they collapsed to the floor, no matter the age was no respecter, and colour was no bar. You were just another innocent figure in their path to destroy. In their journey of tyranny.

Every night streams of sweat flows down my furrowed brow as I cursed the hour the Martian’s had laid a mechanical foot on this Earth. I spent days in hovels and ditches hiding from the superlative Martians. The obliteration the Martians caused stood looking down on me for days on end. One night I had had to hide under a lifeless form, it drooped above my head, the stench was unbearable, I would spend minutes holding my breath, breathing was not an option when the Martians were near, they heard your every move and breath. I would shudder in apprehension, dread and anxiety took over my mind, every electrical impulse that was sent through my body was another second I dared to live with these atrocious beings existing nearby. Even if they’re one million light years away they would still be too close for my preference. As evenings passed while they were still inhabiting this Earth, fright and horror occupied every last humans mind, day and night, dusk to dawn and dawn to dusk. No human was unaware of the atrocity that was happening! It felt as though Armageddon was nigh.

Assignment 2-Draft

A Survivor’s Account: Living in fear

Death. Everyone I knew, my friends, my family, had gone through this process, but more painful than some. Those evil, cruel hearted demons who’ve brutally murdered hundreds of innocent people, taking mothers from children, husbands from wifes, families being torn apart or completely wiped out. Who do they think they are? Suddenly landing on our planet and thinking that they can just take over.

I cannot rid the image that has been burned onto my eyelids, the image of a child, no older than 5 or 6. Being boiled and burnt from the inside out, his bloodcurdling scream is still ringing in my ears, his limbs convulsing as he dropped to the ground as he appeared to be having a seizure. His horrifically pale skin was covered in purple blotches; blood began seeping through his once white, pristine shirt. His piercing green eyes were wide with fear, his mouth wide open as a silent scream escaped his pale lips. I stood paralyzed, in fear that the same would happen to me if I ventured out from the safety of the trees. His pale skin was beginning to turn blackened and burnt; parts of his skin and clothes had began to flake off and fly away with the slight breeze. His limbs laid still as I watched him draw his last breath. I stood there, as I watched his body turn to dust before these particles danced away with a gust of wind.

I began to run, sprinting, jumping over the tree roots who were trying to trip me up. I was no longer in the protection of the trees as I headed as far away as possible from the catastrophe on the common. I knew where I was headed to, the woods on the other side of Horsel where I spent the majority of my childhood making bow and arrows, climbing trees and making rope swings. I ran through the deserted streets, doors were swinging on their creaking rusty hinges, most likely due to the inhabitants in a rush to witness the happenings on Horsel common after curiosity got the better of them. The wind had begun to whisper its secrets to me as some dogs began barking for their owners. By the time I’d reached the edge of the woods the wind had started to howl at me, screaming it’s woes and problems to me. I ran further and further into the woods, recognizing the familiar trees I used climb and seeing the odd rope swing I used to play, those were the days where I had no troubles, no cares in the world, now look where I am now. Running for my life, away from my friends, my family and everything I had once known.

I sank to floor attempting to catch my breath, I gradually felt my breathing and heart rate slow. The gentle pitter patter of the rain hitting the leaves on the trees above calmed me, a shiver racked through my body as I realized how cold is was now. The rain was beginning to penetrate through the canopy, huge droplets began to splash on my skin and clothing. I reluctantly rose from the ground and began to look for shelter, a sudden thought came to me, there was a hollow tree on the side of the woods furthest from Horsel. I began walking in the direction which the tree was in, I knew this woods like the back of my hand. I collected some berries along the way, which were about the only edible thing here. The sky had begun to darken as I was walking along, I was worried that I wouldn’t reach the tree before darkness fell. I pulled my coat around me tighter as the wind howled harder and the rain fell heavier, I pushed my legs to go faster as I was determined to reach the tree before nightfall. These damned Martians deserve a place in hell for what they have done and what they have put people through, perhaps these things were sent by the devil, to punish mankind, but why Horsel? The people here are good and kind hearted, the complete opposite of these beasts whom have taken over and murdered the innocent people of Horsel.

I reached the tree just before it became impossible to see anything, I crawled in through the small hole at the base of the tree. I covered myself in the dead leaves and moss as attempt to keep slightly warmer. The events of today unfolded in my head even though I tried stop them. My future had vanished, I can’t be certain of anything anymore. I’m living my life in fear…

Pathetic Fallacy - Finn

The once resplendent Houses now glowed with the menacing, red haze of hatred. Hatred of the defilers that teared down great, gaping holes, ripping the life out of the building. But still it stood, before the weeping skies, a determined bastion of the old world.

Pathetic Fallacy - Eithne King

A rough blaze echoed the shape of the heaving walls and below the parched ground screamed  for the soothing splash of water. Twisting and twirling the smoke raced upwards in an eager torrent, colliding with tongues of hungry flames. Swirling clouds  forced themselves downwards, uniting earth and sky in a furious battle of conflicting elements.

Pathetic Fallacy

Post your examples of pathetic fallacy on the blog.  You are attempting to use this feature of writing in response to the image below:

 

Year 9 e1 and e2: Assignment 2

Assignment 2: imaginative, descriptive and/or narrative

 

The best assignments are usually those that come from a shared learning experience but are finally chosen by individual candidates; negotiation of assignments with the teacher is recommended (bearing in mind that these should be sufficiently challenging to stretch candidates to their full potential). For example, a class might study types of short story and their structures.

 

Candidates are encouraged to revise, edit and correct their work and may discuss the process with their teachers. However, teachers are reminded that their advice must not constitute correction and that candidates must be responsible for specific corrections of spelling, punctuation and grammar.

 

Length of assignments

• The component description suggests ‘between 500 and 800 words’ for each assignment. This is a sufficient length to attract the highest marks. Work that is significantly under- or over -length is likely to be self-penalising.

 

Use of word processors

• Each assignment may be either hand-written or word-processed. Electronic dictionaries and/or spell-checkers may be used.

• Candidates should be reminded of the importance of careful proofreading of all their work. Typing errors, or the use of a wrong choice from a computer spell-check or thesaurus, must be counted as errors, and shown as such.

 

 

Your task is to write a short piece of description based on the events of H.G. Wells' novel 'War of the Worlds'. Your piece must be between 500-800 words. Candidates that either fall short of the required minimal length, or exceed the length, will be penalised.

 

You are attempting to write with the flair and style of Wells, in the genre of Science-fiction.

 

You can either choose from the following suggestions or negotiate an idea with me:

 

 

1. The Attack of the Heat-Ray, witnessed by a journalist
2. A Survivor's Account: Living in Fear
3. The Wasteland
4. Death of the Martians

Graphic Description,

His skin began to prickle with a neat intensity, every inch of his body tingled at once, the gaping abyss in his body spurted the crimson red fluid. The clock was ticking for the next victim to be enveloped into the arms of the Martians. The radiation corrupting the lives of the innocent. The burning heat, scalding every inch of blistering skin, the red blotches covering the withering skin. Surrounded by lifeless corpses. Hell had opened on Earth. Shrill screeches rang never ending in my skull. The dull ache of life destroying my brain. The earth surrounding my scalded feet, torched with light, the smoldering heather dully glowing orange. 

The blood that was left in the limp corpse began to curdle as the weaponry struck down the latest victim. The body writhed and wriggled, as the bodily fluid seeped out of every crevice it could find, the entirety of the damage was not yet sustained. Brains went to as slush; as if a bomb had just been detonated the grass was singed to within an inch of life. Organs ejecting out of their original places. This overwhelming heat sizzling the weak, decaying arteries. Motionless bare skeletons strewn across the blackened earth. An irreparable tear in the skin leaked the stinging blood from an aorta, killing the defenseless human being. 

Every single body had been obliterated, no body laid untouched. Strewn across the common, no one stood a chance as they were weak and powerless to the Martians' heat ray.

Graphic Description

Graphic Description Homework

The tear dropped down her intimidated face, as the tremble of the igniting bomb stood in front of her. Dirt surrounded her face as the clouds were filled with ash and death, the clattering sounds of murdering machines and daunting planes filled the atmosphere with purpose. She sat there in open fire of hungry murders, she sat there filling her emotion up with enmity and disgust of the poverty and destruction man was causing.

                                                        

The bomb still loitering the hospital with the ambition to convulse the wellbeing of the woman standing in death itself. Her eye was filled with a dimness of black, with a torpedo of slim light aglows the darkness as the dispatch of a bullet shined past her eye. Off her fingertip came a stand of blood dripping down to the gloomy ground, colour to unknown world, another stand of blood.

Her world was now corrupted with death and darkness, her world was now turned into the present day.

By Danny Evans.

Graphic writing- by Nash Pountney

His skin began to prickle with a neat intensity; every inch of his body tingled at once. It was as if he was being stabbed with needles, repeatedly. Blood began to stain his white shirt, creating bright red blotches. He began shaking and fell to the ground dramatically; his limbs began convulsing, his eyes became bloodshot and wide with fear. His mouth was open, as if he was screaming but no audible sound could be heard. The skin that was visible became black and charred. All of a sudden, the shaking stopped. He lay limp and lifeless, embedded in a pool of his own blood. A gust of wind blew past and took part of him with it; his whole body was like a pile of dust. The tiny blackened remains of him danced in the wind, leaving a puddle of blood which was the only remains of the poor unfortunate victim.

Graphic description - ed

His skin began to prickle with neat intensity, every inch of his body tingled at once. The elegance of the blissfully-bright rays seeped through the remains of my withered emotions; silenced screams and pulsating movements from terror. As the wind began to enrole a surrendering whistle, my emotions spiralled into a depressed dream; I assumed that terror had persuaded me to freeze and proceed to the heights of heaven however my human instincts kicked in therefore I staggered towards the unharmed fishermen’s pub and seized with intensity.

The hallucinogenic rays ruptured through the pubs roof and obliterated the greasy skin on my left forearm. My white, silk top absorbed a substantial amount of this violet tampered blood; distant screeches began to alert my ears and my breathing became heavy and impatient. As I adjusted the position of my wounded arm, a signal from one of the foul beasts sent me into a powerful shock; my ligaments froze with a devastating effect. The creatures breathing was frantic and tormented; then he entered the barn and slivered towards me with the extra-terrestrial weapon in his foreign claws; he raised it up to my fore head, a sharp pain then silence. Darkness.

Graphic Writing

It was only a matter of time before the heat enticed weaponry had chosen its next victim. It just happened to be a nearby citizen. One strike from the extra-terrestrial device was enough to destroy him.

What seemed like deep crimson paint splatters cascaded their way down to the broken cement. His skin began to split across his torso and spread down to his charred feet, destroying each and every cell inside of his broken shell of a body. The sickening crunch of his veins splitting open was almost too overwhelming. The lost blood painfully oozed out of his neck and travelled down his irreparable body; his organs seemed to give up and decay within a matter of seconds. His punctured chest ejected all the sizzling blood it could muster. The sound of bones crumbling and incinerating into nothing couldn't help but sink into my ears. It seemed like his whole body had been obliterated into small discarded pieces, leaving nothing but reddened ashes and the smell of burning.

Graphic writing

His skin began to prickle with a neat intensity; every inch of his body tingled at once, and began to vibrate under the heat of the ray that had just struck him down. Every cell in his body began to mutate, like it was on fire. His body began short spasms, blood ran to the thin layer of skin just below the surface blotches of red began appearing all over his pale skin. It was like little islands in a vast ocean of nothingness. Where the ray had pierced his skin it began to crumble, dust particles were blowing away in the gentle breeze. He crumpled to the floor in a mass of limbs and he began writhing in pain as the heat ray ate him up from the inside out. Dust particles were now thickening the wind as more and more bodies crumpled and disintegrated, the floor was red with blood as it pored out of the crumpled heap. 

The next moment he stopped moving, the crumpled heap was no more than a sunken skull, the eye sockets were crumbling and all that was left of the eyes was little pupils the birds no longer wanted, the nose was slowly disintegrating just a cracked hole, the mouth was just a line in the sunken skull. All in all there was almost nothing left of this poor man, and many other people around him. Just then his skull burst into a heap of dust covering the blood splattered floor...      

Graphic Description

My grotesque story

Slowly, his body withered and crippled in response to the heat-ray. He released a moan of intense agony that pierced through the air. The flame burned from inside out. It felt like an eternity as the heat writhed it’s poisonous claws around its heart. His spine. His soul. Beads of sweat evaporated instantly once released. Fumes of darkness and shadow escaped every crevice of his body. Embers in the hundreds furiously fluttered out of his gaping mouth in alliance with screams of anguish. His eyes drew dark and emotionless as the life was drained from them. Thick pulsating veins consumed them, deteriorating his vision. His skin crackled and drew translucent and thin as paper. Tears of solitude and distraught ravished their way through his dry thin lids, emerging without warning, they glistened in the rage of the flame around him. Alone, he began to reminisce of the life he lived. However, not even the flame that had already taken so much granted him this one last hope: peace from dying. With one last swift movement the flames, without struggle, obliterated his body, or what was left of it, resulting in an explosion of a thick, dense plume of ash and dust that darted in every direction.

Carried by the wind, the plume left no record that his body was once here, wiping him out of existence. The only thing left that labelled his life was a single tear. A tear that now held a man’s dreams, hopes, joy and freedom. This, untainted being was the only thing that marked his life.

Soon, similar beings were being harvested in the same spot. The flames took their pure souls also and only the tears of them were left. The atmosphere was alight with glowing clouds of dust. No, not dust, but the thin flakes left of the petrified bodies. 

Graphic Writing

Sorry it's so short. I have trouble with writing. Being a grade C and all. 

All thoughts extinguished as the searing fire engulfed his body and mind. He hadn't even a chance to glimpse it before it wrapped its sweltering arms around him. In seconds, his once smooth skin ignited, blistered and cracked, flaking off into the night air. Tissue and organs set alight, no feelings in his bones but overwhelming agony.

   He let out a howl of anguish as his exposed muscles convulsed, burned and shriveled. His stomach burst, allowing the boiling acids to flow from within. The blaze tore through his flesh, crumbling his inner workings, leaving him hollow and empty. His still sizzling blood dripped onto the ground, forming a small puddle of steaming red fluid.

His lifeless form toppled to the scorched earth; his face rested onto the blackened grass. His soul had departed from its mortal body. The pain was over; it would bother him no longer. 

The Final Warning

The stench of putrid flesh, vomit and blood hit his nose, causing him to wretch. his electrifying blue eyes gazed around the common and what he saw made his blood freeze with intense fear. Masses of dead, decaying bodies were piled up high, as if they weretin cans on a store shelf. Some of the rotten bodies' skin looked badly burnt. The skin it'self still bubbled and boiled and blood still oozed out the giant boils, landing with small splashes on the grey, gravel, ground.

He was so lost in thought of what happen. Questions swarmed his mind. Who did this? Why did they do it? So lost in fact, his mind hadn't registered the terrifying scream rip through the cold night air and pierce straight through to his feeble heart.
He quickly whipped his head round (so fast he thought his might be ripped clean of his shoulders) only to face to face with a young girl around the age nineteen. Her once blonde curls, now hung in red stained tangles down her petite frame. Her dark green eyes were filled with fright and she clutched at her slim, flat stomach.

"H-Help...me." She Stuttered out.

He looked at her in confusion. Help her? How could her help her? Was she injured?
Wait! Did she know what had happened here?

"Miss, do you what happened here?" he, asked taking her gently by the shoulders.

Just as she was about to answer, her body began to sway and she fell into his warm, yet slightly alarmed, embrace. Lowering her to the ground, he began to notice the sticky wet substance on his hand. Blood. She was bleeding. His eyes scanned down her body and what he sae made him throw up the contents in his stomach.

His body arched, as the sickly yellow bile left his body and landed before him in a pile of sick. Beads of sweat began to form upon his brow and he weerily wiped them away. His auborn hair feel acroos his face and he turned back towards the violently shaking girl.

The young girlwas still attempting to hold in her entrails that were seeping through her baby blue blouse and her fingers clutched at the ground. Just as another scream of pain left her lungs, he swiftly picked her up and held her to his quivering chest.

"What happened here? Who did this to you?" he desperatly asked again. He needed answers He needed them now!

Her face was now a plain white. Her once blood red lips were now a purple, blue colour and her green eyes, which were once filled with fear and pain, only held a dull look now. She fell limp in his arms and with one final breath, she gave her final warning.

"Run! They're Coming!"

Graphic Description

                   As I looked at the rotating mirror device, I almost sensed what was to come. I began to turn and run, but before I knew it, my skin was tingling with such intense heat, unlike anything I had ever felt before. I toppled to the ground, confused and in pain. My cells began constricting with the heat. My body was defying what my brain was telling it to do.

                   My blood rose to the surface of my skin, turning my skin bright red. My legs were screaming with pain at me, and the rest of my body was just the same. The pain burned through my clothes, and turned my outer cells to cinders. My skin itself began to rip and shrivel, and my organs boiled inside me. My muscles seized up. There was nothing more I could do. I felt my appendages being incinerated, and my blood boil. I attempted to close my eyes, only finding that my eyelids themselves had been destroyed by this death. My remaining organs turned to dust. I allowed myself to fall to the mercy of death.

Graphic Writing by the amazing Sarah Harker

Graphic Writing

A puff of green smoke wafted in to the cool night air, luminous against the navy blue of the night sky. The large group of spectators stared at the shimmering rolls of black leathery skin, piled up on top of the enormous cylinder.

Unaware of what was rising out of the pit, the spectators stood staring at the Martians, as the green puffs of smoke rose higher and higher in to the sky. Observers face glowing green and were lit up with curiosity and fear.  

The small gun like object rose from the pit like a corpse rising from it grave. Suddenly it stopped and out of nowhere, trees all around started bursting into flame, and there were people screaming and falling dead on the spot. It was like a circle of death. The night grew hotter and hotter; the crowds grew smaller as people fell. This invisible ray of death was killing instantly. Clothes were tattered and ruined, as they lay on their burnt bodies of the former owners.       

Graphic Description- Katie

His skin began to prickle with a neat intensity, every inch of his body tingled at once. The heat permeated his body with an unspeakable severity. He could feel his blood boil and brood, perhaps curdle, beneath the flesh which encased his bones, now seizing and shaking. He let out no audible sound his eyes, however, grew bulbous and pulsated in a clumsy, random expression of fear. His hands convulsed and the convulsion became less. Flesh tore from his body, ripping from the very marrow-filled scaffold he was comprised of. His body flickered from side to side. His mouth dried; his lips drew into his mouth, as though a vacuum was installed in his throat.

His corrupted and broken body lay limp. Lain on the shallow grass, waning red puddles formed over his lose epidermis. Blood seeped from his hollow, soundless ear canals and the blood, which had risen to the surface, writhed and trickled, unsettling and cold, down his brow and lay in the furrows momentarily. Then, as if he were nothing more than a burnt log settled in a grate, his charred embers fell to the ground. Ashes- nothing more- in a small heap. The ashes danced across the Common and disappeared into the thick soupy darkness of the sky.

Graphic Description

I knew what was going to happen. With yet another blaze of heat, bodies were pitched like rag-dolls across Horsell Common but when they landed they were different: contorted and twisted in spasming shapes, wrapped in fiery shrouds, mouths stretched wide in silent screams.
            I couldn't tear my eyes from the nearest victim, but then the nearest victim's eyes tore, tore right from their sockets, and blood gushed superfluously onto the ash-black grass. Bones crackled sickeningly and easily as twigs, skin grated from the twitching corpses like zest from an orange. And as bodies blackened, coming rest on the unrecognisable common, the heat-ray ceased, but I could still feel the burning horror associated with the end, the very end, of everything.
            I rushed forward to one dilapidated body, if you could call it that, because now it was a grotesque mass of bones scattered around me. I heard an erupting roar and looked towards the cylinder's deep hollow, and as the heat-ray flared I knew I would soon become nothing more than the repulsive sight at my feet.
            Thrown back onto my writhing spine, I felt my veins sever, my skull shatter asunder, my burning apendages break away seamlessly, every cell in my body screaming in protest. My eyes were clamped shut against the disturbing views I knew I would see, and did, as my lids themselves were ripped away, and was forced to see the last sight, one of horror and atrocity, one of my body smoking and sinking to nothing

Graphic Writing Homework

His skin began to prickle with a neat intensity, every inch of his body tingled at once, getting bleaker as the seconds ticked. Sticks seemed strenuously digging into his pulse, unstoppable.  Chalky textured gravel covered visible skin. Blotches of clotted bright red blood smeared his clothes. He felt as if he was disintegrating, becoming invisible, wasting away in the heat of it all.
Scalding heat became standard; images appeared right in front of his eyes.  Smothering in his crust, fluids evaporated hastily. Ligaments were not malfunctioning, his head floundered as result of the temperature, uncontrollably his body refused to respond.  Although his soul had drained out of him, sucked up memories and knowledge, quick pulses of movement sprung into his body. Gestures transferred. Stewed skin simmered continuously until a pile appeared, almost like charred wood condensation. Still there were patches of somber red. The metal clip on his belt changed from glossy silver to a burnt grey charcoal color. The piles of ash and promptly changing color skull lay on the ground.

Graphic description homework, Jazz Burton, Year 9

His skin began to prickle with a neat intensity; every inch of his body tingled at once, it was as if he was being stabbed with the tip of a knife a thousand times. As he struggled in pain, it was as if an artist was painting a picture but the picture had a twist, the artist painted the man laying on the floor in pain as the water from thin membranes tearing the tissue at a microscopic level and expanding. The artist then painted blood trickling down his arm and the deep red liquid from his skin was seeping through his long sleeved white cotton t-shirt. But then the artist added yet another twist to the painting, there was a knife in the man's hand; the blood had seeped from the cuts on his arms. He became so terrified that him and everyone else in the common were going to be brutally murdered by the Martians. This caused him to use the knife across his body and bleed until he had taken his own life so he is in control of how he dies , not the Martians  The only thing left of him was his ashes . The man who caught sight of the troubled person laying on the floor watched as his troubled soul seeped from the body laying on the floor. A glare seeped from out the man's mouth as his soul escaped., there was a fizzing and a popping sound, the man's body disintegrated  The witness of this couldn't say anything he was speechless but the ashes on the floor were the remains of his brother, a tear trickled down his cheek.
Jasmine Burton, Year 9, Graphic Description Homework.

Graphic Writing. Homework

A single bead of sweat ran down her back. Her breath shallow, each one taken as if her last. Back hitting the cold, unfamiliar, wooden bark. Her ears desperately searching the uninviting air, looking for any sort of movement. Heart wildly pulsating in her chest; her mind was struggling to absorb the scene she had just witnessed. 

Her families' dead corpses lay at his feet. His face opaque, not effected in the slightest. His eyes black, cold and cruel. A snarl came over his brutish features. His sight of vision turned to her. She noticed the metallic glint clutched in his hand.His stare like that of a gorgon. Her feet became heavy with fear. His eyes gleaming,he motioned, slowly, cautiously, to move closer to her. Her feet, finally relieved of their enchantment, regained a new swiftness..

The image of her sister squeezing her mother's hand, clutching onto the last second of her young life, still haunting her. She urged her focus to remain on the problem at hand. He was still in that wood. He was still hunting her, like a hound would a fox. He who would strike without a flinch or second thought.

Graphic Writing - Eithne King

His skin began to prickle with a neat intensity; every inch of his body tingled at once. Collapsing, the man fell to his knees, watching his own flesh blister and seethe with a furious agony. Every muscle he had convulsed and tensed as his cells began to combust underneath his torrid skin. Smoke vapours spilled from his pores; a rasping sound escaped his arid throat. Quivering on the floor his white shirt fibres clung desperately to his feeble frame. Lacerations began to appear; jaggedly scoring slits across his taught body, dark pools of his curdling blood stained the ground beneath his writhing mass. Swollen capillaries flared angrily; threatening to burst forth. Everything inside of him blazed irately. Incensed with the alien technology that proffered such a brutal demise.

Wretched and scarred, the corpse jerked in a paroxysm of movement, the thud of his limbs connecting with the ground echoed dully. His skull swayed eerily as his body finally fell into a crumpled heap, motionless. Terror still etched upon his grotesquely distorted features.

Punctuation Hunt

Print off the extract from Chapter One of "Hard Times" (by Charles Dickens), below, and replace the missing punctuation.  When complete, email me for the answers.  I will send you the extract with all the punctuation missing below.

I've asked you to print it off as, if you copy it into a program on your computer, it may indicate the punctuation errors for you and then, of course, there's no point to the task.  Overall there is a score out of 28 for commas, a score out of 6 for full stops, a score of one for the speech marks and, finally, a score out of two for identification of the semi-colon and colon.

Record your score in the comments box below the post.

jps@budehaven.cornwall.sch.uk

 

Chapter I — The One Thing Needful

“NOW, what I want is, facts Teach these boys and girls nothing but fact Facts alone are wanted in life Plant nothing else, and root out everything else You can only form the minds of reasoning animals upon Facts nothing else will ever be of any service to them This is the principle on which I bring up my own children, and this is the principle on which I bring up these children Stick to Facts sir!”

[6 full stops have been removed; 1 colon and 1 comma from the first paragraph]


The scene was a plain bare monotonous vault of a schoolroom, and the speaker’s square forefinger emphasised his observations by underscoring every sentence with a line on the schoolmaster’s sleeve. The emphasis was helped by the speaker’s square wall of a forehead which had his eyebrows for its base while his eyes found commodious cellarage in two dark caves overshadowed by the wall. The emphasis was helped by the speaker’s mouth which was wide thin, and hard set. The emphasis was helped by the speaker’s voice which was inflexible dry and dictatorial. The emphasis was helped by the speaker’s hair which bristled on the skirts of his bald head a plantation of firs to keep the wind from its shining surface all covered with knobs like the crust of a plum pie as if the head had scarcely warehouse-room for the hard facts stored inside. The speaker’s obstinate carriage square coat square legs square shoulders, — nay, his very neckcloth, trained to take him by the throat with an unaccommodating grasp like a stubborn fact as it was, — all helped the emphasis.

[21 commas have been removed from the second paragraph]


In this life we want nothing but Facts sir nothing but Facts!

[2 commas have been removed from this line as well as the speech marks and a semi-colon]


The speaker, and the schoolmaster and the third grown person present all backed a little and swept with their eyes the inclined plane of little vessels then and there arranged in order ready to have imperial gallons of facts poured into them until they were full to the brim.

[4 commas have been removed from the final paragraph]

 

Graphic Description - Upon Horsell Common

His skin began to prickle with a neat intensity, every inch of his body tingled at once. The skin on his belly where the beam had punctured, ruptured and split, spewing forth his steaming fluids. Elsewhere on his now crippled body, blood blossomed to the surface creating patches of brilliant red against the white of his shirt. He collapsed and as he did so splattered the surrounding common with his entrails. His innards boiled as they streamed out from the gaping chasm in his gut; sizzling and frothing.

His very life poured from him, leaving him pale, almost white. He uttered a gut-wrenching cry before what skin he had left cracked and shrivelled, arid and dry. Still cooking, he lay, now completely white, wheezing as gases escaped the dried husk of his body.

Finally, he was still. Desiccated, blanched white in the red dust, stained by his blood, all around him. Eyes sunken into his skull, for it was just a skull now. Lifeless and barren upon Horsell Common.

Graphic Description: 9e1

Read the piece below. You can use the red opening to frame your own description of a gory and graphic scene based on Chapter five of 'The War of the Worlds'.

Post your pieces once you have joined the site.

 

His skin began to prickle with a neat intensity, every inch of his body tingled at once, as though he were under attack from a million needle points sticking him over and over. The cells along his arm expanded, the water held within the thin membranes expanding and tearing the tissue at a microscopic level. Blood seeped through his cotton shirt and red blotches floated to the surface, dark at the centres, like islands spreading across his limbs. His skin took on a purpled, bruised pallor and his mind roared from the freezing heat that bombarded his body. So severe was the strength of the heat-ray that struck him that he crumpled in an instant and his head rocked from side to side before tiny shoots of flame sprang out of his mouth, out of his eyes and the pop and splatter of destroyed organs filled his ears before they too were crippled by the heat.

 

His skin now black and ash-like, he toppled to the side, his head cracking against a stone and breaking like a china pot would. His body smouldered from the remaining heat. He was long dead, but his body jerked and shifted as the limbs slowly burnt away and the weight of his body gave in against its own pressure until he was nothing more than a burnt and blackened heap of ash.

 

 

 

Caption Competition

Use the image below from 'Zombieland' to either inspire yourself to write a caption, or speech/thought bubbles for the characters.  An example has been given.

Guns: not for children!

#1

Nerd: Remind me why we're not hiding.

Man: 'Cos how else am I gonna look so macho in front of the girls!

#2

Older girl: Don't worry honey, we'll let these two heroes blast away the zombies, while we run for it.

Young girl: Even the macho one?

Older girl: Especially him.