Sheer, calculated silliness

On Friday night, I was lucky enough to snag a last-minute invitation to something I've always, always wanted to go to: a murder mystery party. My delightful housemate Ross was going, and there was a last minute cancellation. I'm not sure whether I'm proud or embarrassed of this, but I was able to throw together a costume in twenty minutes, and became Babs Crayfish: ex-nightclub hostess, aspiring actress, and girlfriend of an infamous gangster - complete with false beauty spot and glittery platform shoes. Along with the insatiable Oliver Steed, thespian and sleazebag (commonly known as Ross), we wandered across to our host's house (Brian Sewer, wine critic for the Times and general toff). We were joined by Charlie 'Champagne' Bunsen, aforementioned gangster boyfriend; Terence Shrimp, East-End wideboy and photographer; Tamara Fara-Bucktooth, socialite and girlfriend of the soon-to-be-deceased Lord Michael Jaggard; Mary-Jane Faithless, international pop-star and ex-girlfriend of said Lord; Martin X, American political revolutionary; and Kitty Killer, ruthless journalist and biographer.

Babs Crayfish and the insatiable Oliver Steed – and his painted nails (photo by Andrew)

We spent the evening around 80% in character, and everyone made a fantastic effort – wine flowed (a LOT of wine, if my head on Saturday was anything to go by), we had a fabulous three-course dinner, and worked our way through the evidence and dialogue provided. It was exceptionally hilarious, with some truly questionable accents (mentioning no names, Shrimp) and plenty of exaggerated gasps and vocal accusations. Having never been to this kind of thing before, I wondered how into it people would really get, and whether our natural, British uptightness would get in the way. I was absolutely blown away – everyone hurled themselves into it and milked the characters for all their worth; I haven't laughed that hard in a long time, it was a pure delight. And, triumphant host that he was, Andrew/Brian Sewer escaped unaccused and got away with murdering the Lord Jaggard – nobody suspected the stuck-up wine critic, despite his lack of alibi!

Through muggy hangovers, Ross and I spent a good deal of Saturday morning reflecting on just how fantastic an evening it was. Inhibitions were cast aside, embarrassment forgotten and everybody just went for it. It ended up being one of the best nights out we'd ever had. It was so refreshing, we remarked, for a group of us to just be so silly together for hours and hours.

It reminded me of why I love things like fancy dress parties -- it removes a lot of the pressure from social gatherings. I love spending time with people, but I'm often conscious of the way I look, act, and come across. Fancy dress and murder mystery parties remove that pressure, that weird sexualisation of events; they put everyone on an equally ridiculous playing field and make sure the night is fun and frolicksome as soon as it kicks off. It's odd, how I feel more comfortable in fancy dress than in my own clothes, but there it is. I just relish the opportunity to be silly.

This whole thing links into one of the best plot points from my favourite play/film: The History Boys. In Hector's general studies classes, his pupils learn the French subjunctive, the poems of Auden and the songs of Edith Piaf. However, they also learn the ending of Brief Encounter off by heart, and can perform a sterling rendition of When I'm Cleaning Windows. When explaining it, Hector says "it's an antidote; sheer, calculated silliness".

I love that. Taking the time off from the important stuff, the deep stuff, the grown up stuff like exams and bills and politics to just be silly. To recapture that giddy feeling of being a kid and not giving a toss what people thought, not caring about tomorrow. Putting on a silly costume, singing loudly and dancing wildly, cartwheeling in public. Particularly in a time where this exhausting 'ironic enjoyment' is depressingly prevalent, where it's only okay to enjoy certain things in a post-modern way, listing them as a 'guilty pleasure', I feel like time to be silly is necessary.

Admittedly, I am much more silly than a lot of people. I dance in public with alarming frequency and have mainly been listening to Little Mix's album on repeat in the last few weeks. But regardless, I feel like it's important to take the time to be immature again, to be silly, to not take things so seriously. Growing old is mandatory; growing up is optional, etc. I know being mature is important, but it's just as important to let go. Be a bit stupid. "You're only young once, but you can be immature indefinitely" - Ogden Nash.

On that note, I bring this back to my latest silly endeavour: A Series of Escalating Dares for Comic Relief. I've had a few great suggestions for dares so far, but I still need more! Some examples, for inspiration, are below:


-- Dress as a bear and find 50 strangers to take growly, bearface pictures with you.
-- Dress as a Viking and undertake a raid of York complete with (carboard) Viking long-ship/dress as an Anglo-Saxon/Roman and defend York against all comers from the walls.
-- Treat any journey you undertake as an obstacle course.
-- Act like a cod Cold War-era spy (trenchcoat, sunglasses, shifty eyes, non-sequiturs, speaking only in code)
-- You can't speak, only sing. Operatic rules apply.
-- Spend a day speaking only in One Direction lyrics.
-- Narrate your day as if you're narrating the happenings of the Big Brother house. 
-- Go to work in your pyjamas.
-- Walk backwards. All day.
-- Travel around all day using increasingly ridiculous forms of transport: unicycle, rollerskates, hula hoop, cartwheels, etc.
-- Serenade One Direction with their own songs (obviously this would require the presence of One Direction)
-- Walk around all day in white clothing and carry pens, allowing everyone to graffiti anything they want on you/your skin, and you have to keep it on all day.
-- Dress up like a cat, possibly in your Top Cat costume, full face paint, ears etc and go and buy cat food and milk, you must meow at the person that serves you as you are being served.
-- Stand on a bench in a busy place, city centre or something, and sing "I'm a little teapot" as loud as you can, with actions of course.
-- Go to a pole dancing class dressed as a pole....completely covered in tin foil...and offer to be the pole.           

Any other suggestions? Let me know! I'll be posting the polls for people to pick their favourites soon, and then...roll on March 11th! Sheer calculated silliness: the charity edition.

End of year 2012 -- feelings and joy

So, 2012, in many ways, has been an absolute shitter. Like, the worst. 2012 can basically go and fuck itself, all told. HOWEVER, I really don't want the crappy parts of the year to be the things that stay with me, as there was a huge amount of joy too, and I'm still incredibly lucky. I learned a lot, had some brilliant adventures, and generally enthused about a lot of stuff. And so, to finish the year in the only way I know how: a sentimental blog post about the things that were great about 2012.

My family
For obvious reasons, it's been a really tough year for the Leaches. But it's important to take good things from bad situations, and if there's anything I've learnt from all this shite, it's how to properly appreciate my incredible family. I know they say you can't choose your family, but even if I could, I would absolutely pick mine again and again. They strong and smart and fun, supportive and sweet and ridiculous, and the most wonderful stone cold pack of weirdos I could ever hope to ever share my DNA with. It shouldn't take family disasters to make you realise how much your parents and siblings mean to you, but I'll take it.

Pop music
I don't have a particularly 'cool' taste in music and never have, but 2012 was the year I finally, properly said 'balls to that' and decided that I don't give a shit any more. There's a longer, more ridiculous blog post in the offing on this topic, but in short, I could not care less that I love pop music. McFly are one of my favourite bands. Call Me Maybe is one of the best songs of the year*. One Direction's album is pretty damn excellent. Stuff it all - I'm a teenie bopper for life and I care naught for judgement. (Ohhh, you just wait for my soundtrack of the year. Consider yourselves warned.)

One thing pop music is good for is remembering that somewhere inside us is the potential for unvanquishable joy." — John Darnielle

The Olympic and Paralympic Games
I didn't really have anything above normal Olympics-based excitement before it all kicked off, but as soon as I watched that magnificent, barmy showstopper of an opening ceremony I was hooked, and swept away on a tidal wave of sexy patriotism and crying over medal ceremonies. The celebration of working class Britain, the of endless dedication to a cause, of sportspeople not swathed in scandal and corruption. Wiggo's sideburns, Rutherford's fingers, Farah's Mobot and a veritable army of fierce, fantastic ladies doing themselves, their families, and the nation proud. It was a summer of staggering world achievement, Britain in the spotlight and a kind of enthusiasm and community spirit that's been in decline lately.

image source

I'm going to attempt a brief top-five Olympics highlights, but it's really just five brilliant Olympics moments off the top of my head and there are probably a million I've forgotten. But anyway:

1. PAPA LE CLOS
2. Tom Daley's medal celebration
3. Epke Zonderland's bonkers-incredible high bar routine
4. Mo Farah doing the lightning bolt, and Usain Bolt doing the Mobot
5. Obama and McKayla Maroney doing the 'not impressed' face

Also, the Olympics brought us the joys of Ryan Lochte's twitter and general existence, which I will never not find entirely hilarious. WAKE UP AND SMELL THE GARDENS.

Stoke-based epiphanies
Better explained in this waffly business here, it's been wonderful to find a kind of purpose for my academic future. I want to analyse the shit out of Stokie speakers, their accents, how their speech is entwined with their cultural history, and I want to do it forever and ever amen.

Thinking about things
As has been evidenced in a fair few ranty blog posts, this year has been one for me having feelings about things and issues and serious business stuff. Well, I always have feelings about things, but 2012 has been a year for paying attention to what people are saying and writing, learning from them and trying to take it on board, as well as trying to speak up when I feel the need. The Internet is full of informed, sensible, tolerant and smart people, and I can't even begin to list the articles which have made a difference to my opinons about a wide range of topics. I hope 2013 continues the trend of reading everything, evaluating my beliefs and opinions, and trying not to be a dick.

Colours!
It's an odd one, but those of you who know me will know I have the fashion sense of a colourblind clown, aka. ALL THE COLOURS ALL THE TIME. This has...escalated this year, and my cornea-burning fashion sense has gotten more and more ridiculous. And I love it. I honestly don't feel myself when I'm not wearing some kind of obscene colour combination. It's actually gotten to the point where excellent friends will tweet/text me when they're wearing a particularly colourful outfit and it's marvellous.

Enthusiasm
Seriously, the only thing that has got me through this monstrous year is being able to be enthusiastic about little things - a new episode of Doctor Who, a trip to the beach, a pub quiz. I'm so grateful for the fun stuff I get to do, for the opportunities I'm given, for the people I get to spend my time with. I'm a lucky bastard, all told. Thanking everyone individually would be time-consuming/self-serving/boring, so I will just go for a blanket THANK YOU to every single person in my life. I love you all. Yes, even you. And especially you.

Here's to 2013, all!

*This justification of why Call Me Maybe is the song of 2012 is absolutely brilliant. "This is what pop is for, right? A Canadian Idol refugee nobody ever heard of conquers the planet with a diabolically brilliant blast of teen lust"

Pop culture 2012

Ah, here it is - the most vacuous of my end-of-year blogs. Actucally, scratch that. New year's resolution: stop being embarrassed about being super into television and films and people and stuff! Here's a pop culture roundup of the year, featuring FEELINGS and mild objectification.

Telly of 2012
I know my tellyfeelings can often be a little rambly and ridiculous, and I've covered them already at several points throughout the year. Therefore, to shake it up a bit: TELLYFEELINGS HAIKUS.

1. The Hour

have faces ever
been so excellent? never.
shut up, i can't cope.

intrigue! sexiness!
glorious fifties fashion!
please just watch it. please.

2. The Fabulous Baker Brothers

hey herbert brothers
that is not how you sibling!
but ... keep on keepin' on

3. The Great British Bake Off

sweet middle-class folk
in a tent, with mel and sue
AND CAKE. count me in.

4. Elementary

jonny lee miller
and also lucy liu. that's
it. that's the haiku.

5. Teen Wolf

not as bad as the
name suggests. in fact, it's a
darling of a show!

yes it is about
teenage werewolves, but just give
it a try. go on.

6. The Thick of It

oh! what a gift, this
delicious coalition.
fuckety bye, show.

7. Fresh Meat

when did i begin
caring about these pissheads?
oh, found families.

8. Being Human

vampire; werewolf; ghost.
new faces, new feelings, and
long-held excellence

9. The Class

shows that are cancelled
in their prime, and so i cry:
case in fucking point

10. Me & Mrs Jones

more cancellations
this time depriving me of
robert sheehan's eyes!!

Oh god, this is the worst method of recommending TV shows. But seriously, these were all fab, and you should watch them if you get the chance. Highly commended: Parks and Recreation, Horrible Histories, Cougar Town, New Girl, 30 Rock (It got good again you guys!), Modern Family, The Mindy Project, Rev.

TV moment of  2012
WORLD WAR II BOYBAND PILOTS aka, Horrible Histories do a brilliant song about RAF pilots and I expire a little.



Gentlefolk of 2012

L-R, by row: Tom and Henry Herbert, Dylan O'Brien, Ben Willbond, Ben Whishaw, Jonny Lee Miller
Bobby Hicks, Jean Dujardin, That Boyband (don't look at me)
Will Featherstone, Andrew Gower, Mat Baynton, Larry Rickard

(well now, 2012 was a handsome year, wasn't it?)

Gentlefolk of 2012: the Olympics Boyfriends edition

Greg Rutherford, Marcel Nguyen, Jonathan and Alastair Brownlee, Jason Kenny, Louis Smith
Pierre Yves Beny, Michael Jamieson, Fabien Hambuchen, Epke Zonderland, Tom Daley
(medals are sexy, okay?)

Lady heroes of 2012

Amy Poehler -- I just love bossy women. I could be around them all day. To me, bossy is not a pejorative term at all. It means somebody’s passionate and engaged and ambitious and doesn’t mind leading, like, “All right, everybody, now we go over here. All right, now this happens.”

Lucy Liu -- It feels really good to be always breaking down walls and starting something new and trying something new. You never know – it’s hit and miss. It’s nice to be able to portray an Asian-American on camera without having an accent, or without having to be spoofy. And I think that’s a big step forward, because there are still representations of people that are more comedic. And that’s not what I’m playing. I’m just playing somebody who represents anyone else who would be living in America or outside of it, who is just a regular person. 

Charlene Kaye -- Okay, no quote here because I can't find one, but everyone in the world should purchase Charlene's album, Animal Love, as it's absolutely stellar. I saw her live this year and it was practically a religious experience. 

Emma Stone -- You're only human. You live once and life is wonderful so eat the damn red velvet cupcake.

Mindy Kaling -- I’m the kind of person who would rather get my hopes up really high and watch them get dashed to pieces than wisely keep my expectations at bay and hope they are exceeded. This quality has made me a needy and theatrical friend, but has given me a spectacularly dramatic emotional life.

Zooey Deschanel -- I’m just being myself. There is not an ounce of me that believes any of that crap that they say. We can’t be feminine and be feminists and be successful? I want to be a fucking feminist and wear a fucking Peter Pan collar. So fucking what?

Emma Pallant -- Again, no quote here. I just wish I could show everyone her Seven Ages of Man speech. Because SERIOUSLY. 

Romola Garai -- I am passionate. I’m passionate about everything - people, art, politics, life in general. People find passion embarrassing. It’s more acceptable, generally, to be amusing.

*Fun fact! This is not the first time I've used my 'haikus' tag. I am so sorry that this is a blog you guys read.

Theatre awards 2012

I never see enough shows to do proper awards, with more than one contender per category, like the pros do. Instead, my theatre awards are an excercise in a) trying to remember what I saw this year, and b) ridiculousness. So here you have it - Hannah's theatre awards 2012!

The 'move, bitch, get out the way' award for scene-stealing
Usually reserved for James Garnon: scene stealer extraordinaire, he this year bequeaths it to another Glober (well, two of them, actually). I've already written at length about how much I adored The Globe's Taming of the Shrew, and there really wasn't a weak link in the cast. However, messrs Tom Godwin and Jamie Beamish snatched the focus of every scene (and a few hearts, I'll wager). The phrase 'rakish charm' could have been invented for Godwin (who you may recognise from previous starring roles), and his lanky physical comedy was an utter delight, while Beamish's outlandish, wild-eyed Tranio was hilarious to the point of hyperventilation.

Best pigeon impression
Having bought tickets for She Stoops to Conquer mostly owing to an absolute need to see the entirety of John Heffernan's ouvre, it was Harry Hadden-Paton who made the biggest impression. An absolute master of preposterous posturing and peacocking, his Marlow was nothing short of glorious, and made it more than worth seeing twice more. He has since been known as Harry Hadden-Pigeon, with good reason.

Most adorable corpsing
Of course, I couldn't shun The Heff from these awards, deservable of his own mention as he always is. This year, his tender yet bawdy Hastings in She Stoops was a delight, but it was the last-night corpsing that I remember with most affection. Was a person ever so charmingly pelted with orange peel? I think not.

Aforeawarded Hadden-Pigeon and Heff (from Harry's twitter)

The 'ahhhh, push it' award for most swagtastic dance moves
Myself and the cohorts with whom I most often attend the theatre share a fondness for background acting, and thus frequently leave shows more in love with minor characters, supernumeraries and orchestra members than the leads themselves. Taming of the Shrew was no exception, with several excellent background actors working their best adorable reaction faces. We were particularly enamoured by Robert Heard's booty wiggle during The Cuckoo's Nest song - both for its extreme adorability, and it's merits as a warming device when watching an outdoor play in the cold.

Best incorporation of a capella renditions of pop songs
Posh was rightly raved about, and having missed out on seeing it the first time, I was super excited to see this year's cast -- having lost Harry H-P to She Stoops, I still got to see Tiny Hamlet (Joshua Maguire), Tom Mison and Leo Bill, so I was on board. It absolutely loved it - full of bile and pomposity, it was an exaggerated yet unsettling look at entitlement and poisonousness in the upper classes. And, aside from all that, it has a capella renditions of Sexy and I Know It. Tiny Hamlet sang at me at one point. It was a good moment.

Favourite returning characters
If you've met me, chances are I've mentioned The Globe's touring production of As You Like It from 2011. Because of how it is the best play I've ever seen. The show was revived this year, replacing its two leads and choice others, but retaining a good half of the cast. I was a tad sceptical, knowing how much I loved the ensemble as a whole last time, but was very pleased to see the new cast were just as dynamic, quick and tight as the original. I was charmed by new additions Deirdre Mullins and Will Mannering, but it was a particular treat to be able to see Will Oxborrow, Emma Pallant, Beth Park and John O'Mahony reprise the roles I so loved them in the first time.

Favourite nicknaming happenstance
Upon finding out that Will Featherstone - our background favourite of choice from The Globe's 2011 season - had landed the role of Orlando in 2012's As You Like It, my best girl Emma and I subsequently flipped out. A lot. Frantically discussing the dreamy prospect of a Northern Orlando, I decided that he should henceforth be known as Geordlando. As became tradition with the Tiny Hamlet Saga of 2011, songs were writ, tweets were twote, and poor Will was dutifully informed of our nicknamification. Even better, a fansite bearing the name appeared, the phantom owner of which is yet to be revealed (though we have our suspicions). Geordlando himself was a gorgeous, goofy, TALL delight to behold, and I can only hope and pray we haven't pissed him off too much with our stupid nicknames.

Geordlando and co.

The 'thanks for that, asshole' award for life-ruining playwright
Remember when Philip Ridley wrote adorable children's books I loved, like Scribbleboy? I do. Remember when I thought seeing his plays would be a similar trip through charming storytelling? I do. Remember when it turned out that watching Ridley's raw, visceral, heartbreaking plays was like rubbing sandpaper on my heart? I DO. God this man is a marvel. I saw Shivered and Tender Napalm this year: the former actually had Emma worried I might pass out in the interval, gut-churning as it was, but I've never been gladder to have stayed thanks to its beautiful climax; while the latter saw an hour and a half of two people on stage with no props or set dressing pass in minutes, leaving me feeling like I'd barely breathed throughout. I can't describe Ridley's writing styling well enough; his words are sharp and cutting and soothing and perfect, and I would thoroughly recommend seeing any of his plays. Just take tissues.

Most pleasant surprise
Although One Man Two Guvnors was a huge sellout and monster hit, my closest theatre pals were less enthused. Their opinions being the ones I respect most, I didn't see it ... until longtime fave Ed Bennett was announced for the touring cast, and I absolutely had to. I can see why many weren't keen, but I very much enjoyed it - Bennett was predictably wonderful, tall tired frog that he is, while Rufus Hound was a surprisingly charming and adept lead. The real treat, of course, came from the music: live sixties jazz played by four guys in quiffs and burgundy suits? Yes please.

Most aptly rainsoaked
Rob and I got stellar front-row seats for York's Mystery Plays, a production of extreme scale and wonder which was deservedly raved about. (Un?)fortunately, our seats were some of the few not to be covered by the roof, and when a downpour of suitably Biblical proportions occurred, we were royally drenched - as were the poor cast. It was actually rather brilliant -- a floodlit rainstorm over a manger scene is quite, quite beautiful (shame it wasn't over the ark scene, mind). Despite it getting progressively colder and damper, the show was a joy, and the cast coped with the poor weather incredibly well. Ferdinand Kingsley's performance was something really special.

Performance of the year
You know when you see a person in a role they were born for, and when you see it a second (third, fourth...) time you can't think they can't do it any better, and yet somehow they do? This could be The Emma Pallant Story (if it had a nattier title). Her Lady Jacques in AYLI 2011 was nothing short of magnificent, and I was so excited to see her reprise the role this year. Somehow, she managed to be even better - her melancholy sharper, more biting; her snark more vivid and burning; her Seven Ages of Man speech even more heartbreaking. Seeing that, and her feather-adorned Titania in Playing Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream in March, were unnecessary yet extremely welcome reminders of Pallant's talent

Show of the year (show of my life??)
I've neglected mentioning Matilda this far, much as it could have stolen any number of these awards. I didn't think anything could pip AYLI 2011 from the top spot on my 'favourite productions ever' list (and it's extremely close, as that show has incredible memories for me), but the sheer range and intensity of emotion I felt while seeing Matilda has catapulted it to the top of the list.

Rob had sent me the soundtrack early in the year, and I was instantly in love. Tim Minchin's playful, whip-smart melodies and frantic piano were the perfect accompaniment to Dahl's suprisingly dark story, tugging both hilarity and raw emotion from the plot. The mischievous tip-toeing of Naughty, the swell of children's voices in When I Grow Up, the utter beauty of Quiet - I listened to the soundtrack on loop for weeks and learned every word. I was honestly a bit nervous it wouldn't live up to my expectations when I finally saw it.

I needn't have worried a jot. It was a magical, charming, hilarious, heartbreaking, overwhelming theatre experience that filled me with more joy and exuberance than I could have ever hoped. The vivid set, the childlike yet kick-ass choreoraphy, Bertie Carvel's magnificent Trunchbull. Oh god, I could wax lyrical about it forever, and this is already getting away from me, so I'll stop. It was a wonder, and if you get a chance to see it I implore you: go, and feel what it's like to be a child again.

And one extra award: The 'LOVE YOU' award for tip-top friends and theatre cohorts
Though the stigma is waning a little, having Internet friends is still seen as a bit odd. I just want to put people who roll their eyes in a room with my web-based pals and let them see how fantastic they all are. Then they'll see. Gabriella, Emma, Sophie, Izi and Julia have been long-term theatre buds, and I was of course grateful to spend lots of time in their company in 2012, but this year in particular belongs to Jan, Rhian and Rob. Still quite new friends of mine at the start of the year, I was lucky enough to see many shows with them, and spend a good deal of time in their company, sobbing/enthusing over various shows and people. You're all gorgeous and hilarious and I hope you know how much I love you. Thanks, guys <3

Autumnal list-based enthusiasm

In quite a stark contrast to my previous post (which you were all lovely about, you darlings), I thought I'd go for a lighter one this time. Also, I like listing things. Therefore: here are some lists of things that have been particularly excellent lately.

Five tip-top TV shows
Ah, autumn. It's so generous and thoughtful of the television networks to stack the schedules with fabulous shows when it's too cold to go outside.

The Hour

HEY EVERYONE, WATCH THIS SHOW. Series 2 started on Wednesday, and oh sweet lord how I have missed the magnificence of this programme. Set in a 1950s BBC newsroom, it follows Bel (Romola Garai) as head producer of a weekly news show, balancing her commitment to presenting the balanced truth with the pressures of management and the network's restrictions. Her frontman, Hector(Dominic West) is caught up in the whirlwind of new celebrity, while Freddie (Ben Whishaw) - sparky, irresponsible, idealistic journalist; Bel's right hand man, partner in crime, soulmate, etc.- is back from finding himself abroad, sweeping into a co-host role, giving The Hour back its zest.

Series one was staggeringly good - tense, smart, tuned-in, incredibly well-observed, and the three leads have the most preposterously brilliant chemistry. Series two adds to the mix Peter Capaldi as the enigmatic new Head of News Randall Brown (with a gloriously suggestive history with Anna Chancellor's fabulous Lix), and sexy lion* Tom Burke as Bel's rival producer. It's sumptously styled, gorgeously shot and staggeringly well acted, and basically you should all watch it, k?

Parks and Recreation

Anybody who knows me will most likely be sick of me evangelising about this show, but sweet lord it's just the most delightful, charming gift of a TV show - like sunshine distilled into 20 minute bursts. It follows the staff of the parks department of Pawnee city goverment, but basically just deals in awesome friendships, idealistic community work and heart-breakingly gorgeous relationships between adorable bureaucrats. What more could you want?

Fresh Meat

I can't believe I missed out on this show the first time around - I'd heard people taking about how great it was, but only got round to watching series one this month. Which, of course, I fell in love with and binge-watched with hideous speed, before moving onto series two. AT first I thought it was just a silly teen comedy show, but BAM there go the feelings, what with JP's posho daddy issues and everybody starting to lean on each other like a constructed family and oh god I just love these drunken idiots.

Elementary

Elementary is brilliant. It's not a Sherlock rip-off, and deserves none of the derision it has received from certain circles. It's a procedural, but it's smartly written and beautiful to look at. But, of course, the Holmes/Watson dynamic is what matters: and, oof, it's good. Lucy Liu's Watson is unapologeticly herself, taking none of Holmes' shit, and Holmes slowly starts to appreciate her instinct and emotion. Holmes himself is darker, more broken than other interperetations -- he's overwhelmed by his own mind; he's fragile and occasionally callous, but he's learning. Jonny Lee Miller is a marvel (and just preposterously good looking, it's gross).

Guys with Kids

A daft comedy about three dads and their kids? Yeah, it's hardly groundbreaking, but it's fun and sweet and, you guys, Jesse Bradford has a career! You can't imagine how happy this makes me - formative crush Jesse Bradford, on my telly once a week!

Runners up (aka. watch these things too): Modern Family (S4 is stellar so far); The Mindy Project (so charming!); New Girl (just keeps getting better); Me and Mrs Jones (don't talk to me about my Robert Sheehan thing).

Five earworms

McFly -- Love Is Easy. The perfect dreamy pop song (plus a wonderful video).

Charlene Kaye -- Hummingbird Heart. My favourite album track changes almost daily, and it's currently this.

Zooey Deschanel -- Who's That Girl? The sunniest song to ever exist.

The Reindeer Selection -- Whodunnit? Thrown my way by Ed, bringer of all the Scottish-accented goodies.

One Direction -- Kiss You. Shut up.

Five interesting and excellent articles/pieces of writing

Chelsea Fagan, 'I Will Always Care Too Much.

riotrite on Tumblr, 'Misandry Isn't Real, Dudez'

Jen Dziura, 'When Men Are Too Emotional To Have A Rational Argument'

Steven Thompson of NPR, on music snobbery.

Ryan O'Connell, 'The People You Will Fall In Love With In Your Twenties'

Five chunks of eye candy

Yeah, this wouldn't be a proper Hannah blog post without some mild objectification.

Jonny Lee Miller -- situation: critical. He keeps making faces like this and this and I am powerless.

Ben Whishaw -- sexy elf king, talented bastard to boot. Just the most wonderful actor.
Louis Smith -- sambaing me into incoherence. Thank God Sophie is here to share in the #winterofhypocrisy.

Jesse Bradford -- purveyor of formative sexy teeth cleaning; still as handsome and charming as ever.

Dylan O'Brien -- pushes every one of my buttons. Every. Single. One.

Five slices of all-round excellence

-- The Lizzie Bennet Diaries. A video-blog retelling of Pride and Prejudice. Bear with me: it's properly excellent, and everyone is charming and adorable. You'll get addicted, I promise you.

-- This photo of Obama and McKayla Maroney doing the unimpressed face. I just. Beautiful troll president!

-- These poems. Thanks, Sophie <3

-- Nobody hates Twilight more than Robert Pattinson: a roundup.

-- A 24-hour KITTEN CAM I shit you not.

*SUCH A SEXY LION.

On 'political correctness', and trying not to be a dick

"Rape culture is a culture in which people who have survived a violent crime are asked to laugh about it because other people think it’s funny" - Anon*

This post has been kicking around my head for a few months now, changing format and gathering ammo from the dozens of brilliant articles tackling similar issues (no doubt far more articulately than I will here). It's probably going to be full of mistakes and won't be by any stretch of the imagination conclusive, but I needed to try and write things out somehow.

A fair number of my friends take this piss out of me for being Politically Correct. Overly so, apparently. It's got to the point where people will introduce me with 'this is Hannah, she's really PC', and will say questionable things to try and get a rise out of me. Whatever, that's fine, I can deal with that. This blog post isn't a self-piteous "oh man, people are so mean to me when I try to do good, life is so hard", because that would be ridiculous. This is, I hope, my reasoning for being the way I am. I don't want a cookie or a gold star, nor do I deserve one; I just want to have some kind of coherent explanation.

I'm pretty sure political correctness is bullshit, as a concept. People frequently state that, when they're called out on questionable and problematic language, it's "political correctness gone mad", and the culture we live in today is too sensitive and people get offended too easily. BULLSHIT. As this excerpt explains far more eloquently than I can, I see the use of 'PC' language (i.e. not using terms that are racist, sexist, ableist, sizeist, ageist, classist, homo- or trans-phobic, plus other -ists I am no doubt forgetting**) is basically realising that, hey, these words are offensive, and maybe as a person in a privileged position I shouldn't be throwing them around willy nilly. It's not censorship, it's not a violation of freedom of speech, it's the world standing up for itself and asking not to be treated like shit.

Using these words perpetuates a culture in which it's okay to malign minorities; regardless of the intent behind the use of the word, its use still has an effect. Just because you say a word and 'don't mean it in that way' doesn't erase the cultural history of the word actually being meant in that way. Take the Ricky Gervais debacle -- Gervais insisted that his use of ableist terms was harmless, that he was reappropriating a word, that he didn't mean it as an insult. Nope: Gervais isn't in the position to reclaim a word's meaning, and regardless of how clear his own conscience is, it's still using an offensive term where you needn't, and by doing so, implicitly saying that it's okay to do so.

I read Richard Herring's blog post on the whole shebang and rejoiced as he explained my single, overarching opinion on this and similar matters: why not just NOT say the word? It's not a monumental fucking sacrifice to not use a term that a) has absolutely, unequivocally been offensive in the past and b) can and does remain offensive to some people in the present. Don't say it, use another word. It's not that hard. It's not hard AT ALL. We don't lose anything by not saying these words, by not making the inappropriate joke or generalisation, but we might gain an insight into what it's like to treat people fairly, and not contribute to the never-ending shitstorm that so many people face in everyday life.

The usual reaction to this kind of argument is 'but FREEDOM OF SPEECH, I am being CENSORED'. Your freedom to say the douchey thing remains entirely intact, but this does not entail a freedom to do so without people reacting to it, calling you out on it, or being offended. Freedom of speech is incredibly important, but I happen to think that 'don't be a dick' is a better #1 rule. Not being a dick is super easy, and in a small way might make the world a bit nicer - sounds pretty swell to me.

I found this online about two hours after making this post, and just had to add it. (source)

(I see the same argument all the time when people call out -isms in popular culture, too: "oh it's just a TV show/film/book, stop overanalysing it", as if the media culture with which we are saturated has no effect on what we think, say and do. BULLSHIT. Media doesn't exist in a vacuum. Culture matters. Representation matters. Not being a dick matters.)

A good deal of recent articles have dealt with this in reference to rape humour. This article on Jezebel - which I would quite like to etch permanently across the ozone so everyone can read it - articulates the same argument perfectly. See also the quote at the top of this article (when I first read that, it was like a punch in the gut). I have not been sexually assaulted, and therefore it would be twattish of me to joke about it, particularly knowing how frequent sexual assault is, and not knowing whether anybody in the vicinity might be a survivor. This is why jokes about abuse, Jimmy Savile hallowe'en costumes and casually using the word 'rape' in everyday conversation sucks - because the crime itself is a violent, hideous one and, for some people, hearing that could be horribly, horribly triggering and distressing. Same goes for other offensive speech terms.

JUST DON'T SAY IT. IT'S NOT THAT HARD.

Oh god, the more I read this back, the more it really does look like I'm asking to be lifted on high for being morally superior. I promise that is not the case; white saviour-ing is patronising. By trying not to say certain words I'm not better, I'm just trying to be less of a dick - trying being the most important word. I am still a dick. I still use offensive terminology, I still laugh at inappropriate things, but I listen when people speak up, realise what a dick I've been and make an effort to stop. It's not miraculous behaviour, it's basic human decency. I'm not losing out, being censored, or sacrificing anything.

This article about the use of more savvy, less offensive symbols in British Sign Language explains things quite well, too, and highlights the final point of this whole business. Another reactionary argument is "well my [insert minority] friend says that all the time". So they should; as a person in a privileged position (white, middle class, straight, cisgendered) I don't have the right to tell a person in a minority how to behave, but they have the right to tell me, because they're the ones who have suffered. I don't know better, and they do. If someone in a minority isn't offended by a minority-specific term and wants to use it themselves, awesome, but if they are I'll change my behaviour. The onus of responsibility shouldn't be on the victim to not be offended, as suggested by some assholes; it should be on the person in the more powerful position, who is thankfully free from the weight of centuries of oppression to not perpetuate it***. Because it's not a sacrifice for us, it really isn't. It's easy.

It's tough when someone calls you out on being a dick. It sucks. But it sucks much less than constantly hearing offensive and cruel language that can just as easily be not said, and having to consistently explain why it sucks to hear/read such language. Just because you used a racist term doesn't make you a racist, but it also doesn't mean you can't listen when someone tries to explain why using the racist term is pretty awful anyway. So suck it up, say sorry, and make a bit of fucking effort to be less of a dick. 

And that's why I can be prickly, annoying, whiny, whatever you want to call me. I'm a dick, and I'm trying to be less of one.

"Using a word which you know to be politically or socially volatile, and then saying ‘pff, it’s just a word, cool down guys’ is a bit like letting off fireworks in the high street and going ‘hey, it’s just explosives, it’s not my fault if someone gets in the way’" - Mark Watson

[This post doesn't nearly cover everything I want it to, but hey if anybody wants to talk about this more, hit me up - talking things through is amazingly good at helping me realise exactly what my opinions are any why.]

EDIT: as a friend rightly pointed out, the original version of this post used the word 'lame', which is ableist language. I really am a dick. I've now removed it, and I am so sorry.

*and by 'Anon', I mean 'one of those quotes that circulates on tumblr so I don't know who said it first'. If you do, let me know and I shall happily credit it.

**And by PC language, what I DON'T mean is the ridiculous insistence that "you're not allowed to sing Baa Baa Black Sheep in schools any more" and othersuch straw man arguments. We all know those instances are absurd and rare, stop bringing them up.

***This explains things quite neatly. 

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A few more links that may prove interesting, and are related to this whole topic here, here, here, here, here and oh god there's thousands I can't link to them all but everything is super interesting and important and just read everything, k?

Baby's First Conference

WELL. I thought post-dissertation life would mainly involve luxuriating in front of the TV watching endless repeats of Murder She Wrote, but it turns out to be even busier than before!

Alongside PhD applications, conference abstracts, and discussing potential teaching opportunities, I have started a new job; I'm now Project Officer for the Temporal Co-ordination in Communication project run jointly by York and Cambridge universities. My role sounds far more fancypants than it actually is, but basically I am working on gesture and rhythm in speech, and analysing audio and visual data in various ways to investigate how participants negotiate communication using both their voices and bodies. It's SUPER interesting, and I'm enjoying it immensely - I learn about eight thousand new things a day, and working on an actual linguistics research project is the most amazing opportunity.

Wednesday saw my lovely bestie Becky visit Grand Old York, and we had a fabulous time getting spontaneous piercings, exploring the city and the Minster and such (I love any opportunity to go Full Tourist; despite living here for a year, it never gets boring), and kicking through bright autumn leaves like the big kids we are. Subsequently joined by Ed, we all later prepared my house for a Hallowe'en party which went off wonderfully*, with costumes ranging from the typical (ghosts, skeletons, etc.) through a-typical (Caeser, Alice Cooper), to the quite magnificent (a zom-bee, from an apiologist friend). My offering was Daphne from Scooby Doo**:

Jinkies

Following a fantastic few days (and a discombobulating trip around Illuminating York, which you honestly couldn't have thought up unless you were in some kind of trippy fever dream), a different Becky and I headed off to Manchester for the New Researchers Forum in Linguistics, where we would both be presenting our MA research.

I've never been to a conference before, let alone presented at one, so the whole experience was terrifyingly exhilarating. I learnt a staggering amount (with several of the talks being directly relevant to my work, which was incredible), met some truly wonderful people I very much hope to see again, and according to Sam, did my first conference 'properly' i.e. went out to the pub the night before giving my presentation.

My talk had run long every single time I did it, but I think the nerves of the day brought out my usual, jabbery self and I garbled my way through it just on time without missing out too many important points. Questions were helpful and not too intimidating, and people were wonderfully lovely about the whole thing. I know I have a tendency to a) ramble and b) flail about, so it's good to know people got the jist despite my ridiculousness.

Giving it my best presentation face (photo by Becky).

I think the best bit about the weekend was just being able to casually chat about, amongst other things, linguistics and language with like-minded, lovely folk who are just as keen-beany as I am. Glorious. I can see why conferences are so addictive!

One final thing that came from the weekend was a sprawling Twitter-based game of #linguistmovies, which spread into #linguistsongs, and got so fun I decided to collect everything together here - a page which will no doubt be constantly extended, as we continue to furiously procrastinate from our real work by making terrible/excellent puns. Hell yeah, linguists.

*even with the presence of a Jimmy Savile costume, despite my assurance that I wouldn't let anybody in if they were dressed up like him. Not big or clever, guys.

**I'm more of a Velma myself, but my hair is the right colour for Daph.