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Contents The Rib Cage

Page 3 - 11: Comment Page 12: Feature Page 13 - 14: Phaedra's Love Page 15 - 16: Our Country's Good Page 17 - 18: Whitehouse Institute Page 19 - 21: Tell Tales Page 22 - 23: Guidelines for Measures to Cope Page 24 - 25: Point Horror Drama Festival Chapter 5 Page 26 - 28: Crew/LOs Page 29 - 31: Back Pages Page 32: Credits


Andrew Haydon is Unwell

And an effort to be nice to people and non-grumpy, he opens his piece with "Hrumph". Brilliant. Hrumph. Having been subheaded "And he doesn't like someone else today" yesterday (it really wasn't "dislike", just a few questions, really), and with a plea out to the Tech team to build a robot Andrew Haydon on the grounds that "our early prototypes have all gone horribly wrong, savaging innocent Festgoers who have submitted perfectly pleasant and wellmeaning articles to the magazine" it's clearly time for something different. Just as well, since Noises Off is getting to that stage where it is much harder to disagree with most of it unless one has seen the shows / discussions / queues that are being written about. So, instead, tonight, I'm going to wax gutted. If I was at the Festival, instead of sitting in bed listening to Strauss's Elektra and writing this article, I'd be sitting in New Hall watching Ravenrock's production of Phaedra's Love. And I'm rather sad that I'm not. By weird coincidence, I first heard of Phaedra's Love at my first ever National Student Drama Festival. This was 1997 and the play had premiered only the year before in London. As a student at Leeds also, by weird coincidence, the alma mater of Ravenrock - and, prior to NSDF'97, one with only a passing interest in theatre, the play had naturally passed me by completely. Phaedra's Love was the brief answer to one of the quiz

night questions. The question was "What play opens with the stage direction, enter Hippolytus wanking into a sock?" (or words to that effect - I'm pretty sure it wasn't the correct stage direction). That's about the only thing I remember about that quiz night. But, for some reason I was

completely hooked on the idea of that play, so I got someone to write down what it was and bought it as soon as I got back to Leeds. I remember reading it and being as non-plussed as I was excited. Was this good, or was it a bit childish, petulant and footstampy when it came to dealing with God? It wasn't until I saw the play performed, again by students, in Cambridge in 2001 that I got more of a perspective. Dan Shearer's production probably still ranks in the top ten student shows I've ever seen. It was also pretty much the diametric opposite in terms of how it tackled the text, judging by the

photos and reviews of Ravenrock's Phaedra's Love. Where Ravenrock sound (from the reviews) and look (from the photos) like they've really gone for the visceral, Shearer's take on the text in Pembroke College's white-walled cellars was witty, post-modern and cerebral. In fact, it remains pretty much the most German thing I've ever seen a British student produce. Hippolytus was played by an incredibly beautiful young Asian man who wasn't in the least bit fat. The pre-show state consisted of a data projector showing photos of pop icons such as Darth Vader and Mr T with the caption "Are these not great men?" (or something). The cast wore mostly white and donned fluffy angel wings when they died. Not one drop of stage blood was spilt, and I don't remember anyone taking any of their clothes off. At a key moment, one of the female members of the cast, wearing fluffy angel wings, climbed up a step ladder, sat at the top, and played Leonard Cohen's (well, Jeff Buckley's version of) Hallelujah in its entirety. You get the picture. But, yes, to get to the point, I'm gutted not to be seeing another production of Phaedra's Love (one which one of my colleagues has just emailed to say I'd have really liked. Bugger again). Being away from the Festival has


COMMENT had the useful effect of focusing my attention on the reviews far more closely than when I'm editing the magazine. The process is very different, in fact. Rather than scanning quickly for a sense of tone and rather more carefully for grammatical hiccoughs and casual invective having of course seen the shows for myself - now I'm away from the Festival, I find myself reading for nuance. Seeing how much I trust a writer's opinion by how they justify what they're saying or the confidence with which they say it. Even textual clues are seized upon. Are writers flogging themselves to explain something quite dull, or so fired up that their words are tumbling over each other to get out? Phaedra's Love is the first time I've really picked up on that sense of excitement, this year. The other stuff sounds good, but like stuff I might have seen before, like stuff that the other reviewers might also have see before. Phaedra's Love sounds like it's of a different order altogether. The


size, the scope of imagination; it sounds like something that could only have been done by students (or Alan Lane) and it sounds fantastic. It's at times like this that one starts to yearn for a bit (a lot) more detail. How big was the band? What were the songs they played? How was the sex and violence handled? Was it gross out, genuinely squeamish, comic, horrific? Of course, selectivity is perhaps the reviewer's most important skill. And writing for Noises Off, you're generally in the position of knowing that virtually your entire readership has already seen the same play that you saw. Except, it's still crucial to explain to them what it was that you believe you saw. As the disparity of opinions on every show in this magazine goes to prove, while everyone might be looking at the same stage, not everyone is seeing the same thing by ay stretch of the imagination. It's also interesting to note the intersections and divergences between commentaries. Reading

Tuesday's set of Phaedra reviews, it is amusing to note, for example, the way that male reviewers' syntax seems to fail them when attempting to pin down the appeal of Rachael Shaw's Phaedra, who - reading between the lines sounds like she might actually have managed to pull off being sexy on stage. A feat infinitely more difficult than you might imagine, btw. Conversely, perhaps the most interesting of the reviews is Henry Ellis's discovery that he doesn't really like Sarah Kane's plays. Thanks to his admission that he's only seen one production each of only two of her five plays, the real curiosity is is it the productions or the writer? Could different productions have uncovered the 'human element' that Ellis has found lacking, or are these productions par excellence of a writer he definitely doesn't get along with? I can't say how much I am looking forward to reading the second tranche of reviews. But, more importantly, I am immensely grateful to everyone writing them for reminding me about one of theatre criticism's most vital functions: reportage. Telling people who aren't there what a thing is like. There are people outside the festival who aren't seeing the work and as one of them, I am very thankful that I'm you are writing about it. That said, theatre is ultimately a live medium, so the sentence that cheered me up most in all the reports on Phaedra was: "I think this show... has a future beyond Scarborough should the company wish it." Well? Go on. Please?


Group Therapy and the Death of Democracy in Our Micro-Society Help! Help! Thom May is being oppressed! I love the discussions. They contain broad compliments, sly, sideways sleights and occasionally verge on what a friend of mine has referred to as group therapy. The discussions are a triumph, because regardless of the regular barrage of sometimes unconstructive comments, the real flaws and successes of every show discussed so far have been exposed by the end of each debate. There are examples of this for all of the shows, but particularly the two discussed yesterday: Tell Tale and Guidelines for Measures to Cope. People pointed out with Tell Tale, for instance, that though the show was innovative, entertaining and wonderfully theatrical, few people really had a clue what tales were actually being told, per se. This point wasn't laboured, but appreciating that elephant in the room (or elephant in the round, sorry) allowed people to love Tell Tale - as many do - without deliberately ignoring its faults.

Even larger elephant Similarly with Guidelines for Measures to Cope, someone decided to raise the point about its similarity to the work of DV8. This was an even larger elephant, to continue the clichĂŠd metaphor, and one that both supporters of the show as well as people who disliked it have struggled with. To me, it seems a rather mundane issue, as all devised pieces can be traced back to the theatre that has preceded them; Bad House to Woman in Black; Tell Tale to the story-telling theatre that has been

so prevalent at the Edinburgh Fringe in recent years; even Four Bar and Rising to the Poor Theatre of Grotowski. But it was an issue that if left unaddressed would have marred many people's perceptions of a very accomplished show.

Literally no taste So the discussions themselves inevitably get to a point where the shows are laid bare, and a crosssection of views is heard. Our democracy has its Vox-pop, and all is well. Or all would be, if it wasn't for the rulers of our NSDF country: the judges and selectors. I am referring back to Sunday's introductory discussion. A very wise gent raised an issue that the 'professionals' seemed rather scared of: why is there not even one student judge? Without getting too revolutionary, I think the question was addressed rather abhorrently by the host, who asked whether we'd prefer a judge with years of industry experience, or (god forbid) one of our peers. The obvious inferred answer is: I can get students to review my work any time, this is a unique opportunity. But the effect of this answer, regardless of the intention, is to imply that students have literally no discerning taste of any value, the judges are doing us all a big fat favour because the shows that are here have exhibited their brilliance unknowingly, and us students require the judges to use their omniscient intelligent taste to tell us which are the best and why they're good.

He then quickly added that we have Noises Off as our means of expression. Now, I am ever impressed and grateful for Noises Off. But to extend the microsociety metaphor, the leaders have decided that their success has earned them their position i.e. Social Darwinism, and fobbed everyone else off with the press. If Gordon Brown decided tomorrow that there were to be no more general elections but we could keep The Guardian, we'd be pissed, despite the merits of said newspaper. We are, in metaphorical terms, disenfranchised and oppressed by the judges and selectors! Why should they go unelected and unmonitored when what they're claiming to know are objective truths about 'excellence' that just don't exist?

No right or wrong Obviously, obviously this is taking it too far. We are lucky that they watch the shows and express their opinions. But to assume that these are anything more than opinions is wrong, and in their reluctance to allow a student on the panel they have suggested otherwise. The much lauded clichĂŠ of art is that there is no right and wrong. The discussions are proof that the more voices there are, the closer we get to a truth that represents us as attendees of NSDF. Not the truth of three, albeit experienced, judges from another generation.



Shock Factor

But it'll take more than Kane to shock desensitised Dan Hutton 2009 was the year I lost my NSDF virginity, and what a great year it was too. We had Never Enough, a piece which broke the boundaries between dance and drama, Return to the Silence, examining through multimedia the effects of various mental illnesses and Tub, exploring the complexities of relationships through the medium of bath. The shows on offer were shocking, poignant and sometimes downright rude. Compared to this year's crop, however, they were childish; they were the Nuts to this year's PornHub. Over the course of the past three days we have encountered the oldfashioned "this production contains nudity and scenes of a sexual nature" sign three times. Each performance was successful in its own right; Phaedra's Love gave us an insight into how one man viewed his crumbling society, Whitehouse Institute made many a joke at the pompous modern art industry and Our Country's Good was visually stunning. None was without its share of rape and expletives and each tackled their subjects in their own ways. In a society obsessed with being 'edgy', however, is including these shock-factors still shocking? Ever since Sarah Kane exploded onto the theatre scene in 1995 with Blasted, her name has become synonymous with shocking audiences. Watching a baby being eaten on stage was far too much for some. Due to her plays are so well known, however, and are expected to be shocking, it seems that they have lost the


very thing that made them so controversial when first performed. It undermines the very definition of shocking, which is unexpectedness. Although Phaedra's Love was performed and directed with commitment, perhaps it would have been even more shocking if the 'scenes of a sensitive nature' were not performed but implied. Perhaps the image could be exchanged for text or replaced with movement. True, the original playwright's idea would have changed but a theatre which changes according to its time is needed in order to keep up with its audience. In Our Country's Good, the word 'cunt' is used a grand total of two times. Although shocking perhaps in 1988, this word has since lost its impact. It is a word used in everyday conversation and the overuse of expletives by comedians means that we are conditioned to be unaffected by them, even in the disturbing context of slave maltreatment. We are also used to watching rape on stage (or have at least become

accustomed to it within the past week) and it therefore does not seem to take us by surprise. The scene would be just as effective if we did not watch the rape directly but were given an account; the relationships and cruelty of the situation shocks us, not the actual act of rape. I am not suggesting that these aspects of production need to be scrapped. Indeed, they show how far we have moved as a society that we are able to deal with these issues and tackle them head on. It seems, however, that if the intention is to shock (which I know in many cases it is not), there are far better ways of finding this thrill. As in The Whitehouse Institute, for example, in which the shock did not stem from the nudity alone but in the context of a 'big reveal'. There aren't many things as satisfying as being shocked by a development in narrative. These moments are why we watch drama. That said, however, if anyone does want to make a theatre company devoted entirely to nudity, I'd be happy to lend a hand!


The Role of the Audience Ben Curthoys

It's easy to forget that making theatre is about more than scripts and directors and cast and crew. If you have all of that, and you don't have an audience, then it's not theatre, it's just a rehearsal. It has to be live, they have to be there, and it is the audience that close the circuit, that allow the energy to flow. Different shows engage the audience in different ways, from asking them to sit in seats and watch quietly, to giving them a role to play and to participate in the piece, as in Whitehouse Institute. I always try to be the best audience member that I can be. It is a role that I take seriously, and I try to rise to whatever challenge any show sets me. Engaging with extracting meaning from - a show, is like solving in a crossword. When the answers are handed to you on the programme, or when it's too easy, it's no fun at all. If it's too hard, you give up and walk away. But when it's it just right, you get that joy of recognition when you find the right and only answer that can fit in that space, confirmed by your earlier guesses, and slotting in to your understanding. The metaphor is limited, and many shows are flexible enough to admit multiple interpretations, but the point is that there is more to being a good audience member than sitting on your arse, not putting your feet on the seats, and not coughing. You have to think, and the more you put in, the more you get out. The audience in Whitehouse Institute were asked to play a greater role in the work than is

demanded in more tradititional formats. The space would have looked substantially less like an art gallery opening, had it not been filled with people looking at the art and hoovering up the free wine and canapĂŠs (well, I was, I hadn't eaten for about a day). Some audience members where

and Julian talked to us and treated us as if we were visitors to an art gallery. The protestors ignored us, and shook our confidence in our roles. If we had been asked to man the barricades (obviously the ones the protesters would not enter through), then it would have given us something to do, a

given even more participatory roles - to ask questions in the 'seminar', for example - and because it was clear what they were supposed to do, they filled them. Contrast this to the opening of Bad House - in the performance I attended, the first audience member called by the barman to sup the ale refused, because it was so unclear that this kind of particpation was expected, and someone else had to collect the pint from the bar. Whitehouse Institute's audience knew what they were supposed to be doing, which helped us to do it well, until the arrival of the protestors. Neil, Tracey, Felicity

role in the changed dynamic of a gallery under siege. We would have felt less left out, and less in the way as the protestors rushed past us to attack Tracey and Neil. As it was, when the fire alarm was activated, we were not "evacuated" but ushered out, jarringly dumping us back into the role of "audience". Tell Tale were less successful in conveying to their audience what was expected of them from the off. I was happy (delighted) to let it all wash over me, but I have spoken to several people who, metaphorically or physically, sat in the back row with folded arms, uncertain as to whether they


COMMENT would be permitted to act. If the show had been able to make it clearer what was required of people, little in the way of mystery would have been lost, and it would have been much easier to join in. I understand that the original production was in a much smaller space, without raked "theatre" seating, which would have been enough of a cue; transferring a production always brings difficulties, and this was one that needed more attention to be overcome.

If you can't zone in or if you zone out, it's not just you that needs to catch up. If you stop paying attention, by the time your focus returns to the stage, the cast will have missed you, and the energy of the whole performance will be lowered: it will be less good than it would have been had you been fully present. Yes, the show has a responsibility to hold your attention, but you also have to work too. As everybody knows, everyone's a critic. At this festival, in these

pages, everyone can be a published critic, if they can be arsed to write their opinions down. Which is another way of saying that here at least, there is no line between being a really, really good audience member, engaged and switched on and interested and articulate, communicatiing your opinions, understanding, and emotional responses, verbally or in print, to someone else who has seen the show or someone who hasn't and being a theatre critic.

When did the Discussions become a Camp Fire? Ben Lander ging gang goolie What on Earth were they thinking? The discussions are one of the most important parts of the National Student Drama Festival; they are a time for audiences to reflect on the pieces they have seen, to ask the companies questions about their work, and to raise points that can later be discussed outside of the official Festival itself. For the companies, the discussions are a time to receive feedback on their creations, and have a chance to respond to this feedback immediately and get a real discourse going, something which nothing else in this Festival, not even Noises Off, can provide. The format of the discussions has always stayed more or less the same; the hour long slot is divided equally between the companies in question, usually yielding half an hour


per piece. So to return to my original question, what on earth were NSDF thinking when they split the time of Tuesday's discussion evenly between two plays and a singalong? One of the best things about NSDF is the huge variety of workshops, as there truly is something for everyone. If a Fest-Goer wants to sing, there is a plethora of workshops in which they can do so. However, the one thing that can without doubt unite everyone

at the Festival is their love of drama. So how can we be forced to cut short our discussion of this drama for an inappropriate and out of place stunt? It isn't even as if the discussion had dried up and an awkward silence needed to be filled; there was a chap sitting in front of me who had a point to raise for Tell Tale's company since the beginning of the segment, but it was never picked up, and this was far from the only example. I would be intrigued to hear the logic of whoever made the decision to allow this. What did the festival at large stand to gain from this, and why should the companies behind Guidelines For Measures To Cope and Tell Tale be happy to give up five to ten minutes of feedback each? Responses appreciated.



Evil Winged Babies

Rebecca Dyson thought she was paranoid, but then her other flatmates started to notice They have so far been referred to as 'evil winged babies', 'shitmongers' and 'those bastards in the sky'. I'm starting to believe they are conspiring against us. The first inkling I had was in the opening ceremony where they were portrayed as the evil kidnappers of the NOFFice. My mind wandered while walking past the Grand Hotel; hundreds of them were circling around like vultures, looking for their helpless prey. The next day the situation got worse. I'm staying on the top floor of the Lawnswood Flats, where you can look out over the town. Every day, when standing in the kitchen, we see them glaring in, watching us. At first I thought I was paranoid, but my other flatmates started to notice. Tuesday morning, I innocently woke up. Some people had already gone out, and I was in the kitchen alone. A singular gull, sat

in the usual place, was watching intently. I viewed its abnormal and sinister behaviour. I looked to the left, it copied. Coincidence? No. Proving my point, I looked right, and was copied again. It imitated my every move in sync. I am under the impression that this isn't average behaviour. A few hours later, I heard of the poo (apart from the obvious excretions on the floor, windowsills and other convenient places, that is). Right on my friend's toast, an inch from her face, on the walk to the spa. Personal victimisation? I've had an extensive gap between workshops and shows today, so I've spent most time in the aforementioned kitchen, with my flatmates, where we were discussing the festival and accommodation in general. With my back to the window, I didn't understand why four of the six people started screaming, as if getting brutally murdered. We

were under attack by them! They flew at full velocity towards the window. Jo and I were, as she said, 'shitting ourselves'. Screaming was followed by nervous laughter as we anticipated further attack. On edge, I had so far refrained from peaking out of the window, only occasionally hearing the terrified whispers letting me know they were still there, looking. The ominous shapes in the sky are forever looking down on us, threatening us with ruining our food, clothes and hair with their little presents they unfortunately drop on us. So far, the incidents have got worse. Surely they will stop, but, until then, good luck, and maybe don't stand under a swarm of them for too long.



Calling a spade a spade

Cate McLoughlin is in three no trumps Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited to all we now know and understand, while imagination embraces the entire world, and all there ever will be to know and understand. -

canvas to work from, which fitted the piece entirely. Equally, the chaotic and imaginative props used within Tell Tale were also

theatre of performances of new work, without having to rely on my (often tired and a little hazy) imagination, or a photographic

excellently presented (a watering can as a camera? Genius.).

memory to record every single trinket used in a 'new and innovative' way. Every now and then, it might just be refreshing to see realistic props used in a realistic manner. And yes, I am writing this from a chair made of marshmallows and string - if theatre can do it, then so can I.

Albert Einstein, 1921

Within NSDF '10 so far this year, I have found quite a few recurring themes. By 'quite a few', I do, in fact, mean three. These are: nudity (think that moment in Whitehouse Institute), swearing to the extent of a troop of drama students after a few bottles of wine (See You Next Tuesday seems to be making an above average appearance) and a variety of staging initiatives. So far this year's shows have fallen into one of two production ideas minimalism, and excessiveness. I find it odd that modern theatre productions tend to rely on either an empty set, or a level of extravagance that would make a West End musical set designer weep. Okay, I may be exaggerating a little, however I think that the point remains that it should be acceptable for socalled contemporary theatre to use an adequate amount of props, without it being deemed as 'playing it safe'. Sometimes, an audience may actually want to see a plank of wood used as...well...a plank of wood. I am not discounting the impact that some theatre provides, regardless of which end of the production scale it is teetering towards - for example, I found the empty set used in Guidelines for Measures to Cope created a blank


I realise, of course, that this may simply be a change in the way in which modern and contemporary productions are evolving, and I am told profusely that change is a good thing. However, I would like to be content in the fact that I may be able to attend future


A riposte to 'Mr' Andrew Haydon Jon Brittain ripostes, parries, and thrusts. "This piece is clearly a cry for help" What an insightful viewpoint, what an interesting piece of 'analysis', what a singular point of view from our 'esteemed' 'editor' Andrew 'Haydon'. I'm definitely almost certain that you'll find the audience I saw the show with would probably almost completely disagree and I talked to them all so I know exactly what each and every one's

essential everyman yet global universality of the performance? My own opinion is that I thought that this show was a truthful, energetic and brilliant representation of a universal truth portrayed brilliantly and with energy by four young

Monsieur Haydon's 'gulag' nonsensical nonsense in it. It is fine for Mr. Haydon to have his 'point of view', as if subjectivity has something to do with it, but I think you'll find you give away what you really think my friend. Commandant Haydon himself

energetic and brilliant men who performed with a brilliantly truthful energy. It doesn't apply to just drama students, or just men, or just westerners. This show could be toured to South America and performed to the Yanamo tribe who I am sure would completely relate and not see any of The Right honourable

during his 'review' uses the words 'audience', 'imagine' and 'the' which if you add the word 'answer' to the end, supports my point of view, which is in fact, fact. Owned, and you know it Haydon, 'A cry for help?' I'm amazed we saw the same show at all.

Commandant Haydon himself during his 'review' uses the words 'audience', 'imagine' and 'the' which if you add the word 'answer' to the end, supports my point of view, which is, in fact, fact. Owned reaction was. My friend Mr. Haydon has not just grasped the wrong end of the interpretation stick, he has missed the show's boat and is standing on the shore of wrongness holding his stick by the wrong end and unsuccessfully flinging it towards the boat, and missing, and then picking it up again, but by the wrong end. '...being examined here? Why are we as an audience told...' My god! Doesn't he understand that the show is open to interpretation?!? What are we told?!!? We are all supposed to have created our own meaning, not the incorrect one he has. Comrade Haydon, you say this show is only applicable to Dartington college? perhaps you missed something, perhaps you did not see the



Phaedra Displayed

which is of little moment to her anyway - as little as Hippolytus's is to him.

Of the many challenges to be faced when staging Phaedra's Love and there isn't a stage direction that doesn't seem impossible on first reading - the greatest must be making the audience give a damn about what happens to Hippolytus. His character is so relentlessly, deliberately, remorselessly unpleasant that the actor cast in that role has his work cut out to explain why he is so popular. Rupert Lazarus exudes enough charisma to make everyone else's responses plausible. His Hippolytus is posessed by an irresistable need to distance himself from everyone who cares about him, to

The scene between Hippolytus and the Priest is again difficult; what could possibly motivate the Priest to end up fellating the fat, unpleasant prince? It was here the live band came into their own. Somehow, when Hippolytus' lines were shouted over Anarchy in the UK, the fierce, nihilistic joy of his utter freedom came across, and it became clear how this could seduce a Priest who had lived his life in rules and repression.

Ben Curthoys finds love?

PHAED-RAVE by Jon Brittain

Ashley Scott Layton is now surely bookies favourite for the director's award after this Sarah Kane penned tale of rape, castration, murder, selfmutilation, forced deep-throating, suicide and vultures. Kane's updated version of the Greek story is set in a modern world, featuring an overweight nihilistic Hippolytus and an assault that is psychological as well as sexual. There is a focus to Layton's direction that is remarkable for a show that features over 20 performers, live music and audience interaction, all working to draw the audience into this illicitly alluring nightmare world. This is a world dominated by sexuality and violence, a double act that rarely make solo appearances. In a sequence both hilarious and chilling, Hippolytus kisses members of the mob


form an invulnerable shell of unfeeling to protect him from ever being hurt again, but he does so in a good humoured way. He shoves people away with the savage necessity of selfpreservation, not malice. Consequently, it was understandable that Phaedra's equally compelling need to live through others, to find completion and fulfillment outside herself at whatever cost, would latch onto his insularity in a desperate burning hope to be the one that would break through and mean something to him, to make him feel again. Which she does, at the cost of her own life, baying for his blood, a mob that is only silenced when one of their number commits rape. A cold silence reverberates around the group as they are confronted with the knowledge that they have become that which inspired their hatred in the first place. Rather than let this deter them, they resume their lynch-mob activities and promptly remove Hippolytus's genitalia, and along with it, any power he had. It is a world in which love does not seem to be a powerful agent, even though it is Phaedra's that drives everything to this dark conclusion. Rather than focussing on Phaedra, Kane chose Hippolytus as a focus point, a move that this production takes one step further. Layton keeps Hippolytus centre stage throughout the opening scenes even when he doesn't feature in the script, a constant reminder of who the play is really about. Rupert Lazarus cuts a Pete Doherty like Hippolytus, alluring

And yes Andrew, Rachael Shaw's Phaedra actually managed to pull off the difficult feat of being sexy on stage. and oozing sexual confidence. He is hardly the fat figure described and looks like he spends more time pumping iron than his own member into a sock. He flirts with the audience, casting them glances, winks and nods, letting them in on the joke and luring them into his violent but seductive world view. To Hippolytus, honesty is all, he acts callously but never pretends not to. Layton invites the audience to sympathise with this cruel but honest character and it is not long before they do. There are few times when a character's voluntary sexual degradation draws laughs from an audience, but Phaedra's mix of sexuality, awkwardness, and persistence does when contrasted with Hippolytus's total disinterest. More worrying than the reaction to the rape were the woops and standing ovation this play received. Although it was an excellent piece of work such a


by Niamh Conway

Kane, explores the controversial issues in today's society bringing an old-style twist into the performance filled with immense energy, so brutal that it will make you squirm. A young man in his late twenties, Hippolytus, slumped on a sofa teeming with mounds of strategically placed mess; strewn laundry, dirty socks, lingerie, a pizza box and tissues can be seen through the dim lighting. He is masturbating. The audience watch on in horror as this man's obsessive sex life spirals into uncontrollable circumstances, eventually involving his step-mother Phaedra.

A thrilling peek into a disturbed prince's life laced with love, lust, anxiety and murder. Terrorised on entry by a rowdy crowd, the heavy beat of the band kicked in, creating a lively, exciting and cinematic atmosphere for the audience. This adaptation of a Greek myth, written by Sarah

Comical parts appear throughout the show during the very open and blunt discussions between the pair about sex, which build up tension for the audience as they look on with the curiosity as to whether the sick fantasy will materialise. Although Hippolytus seems uninterested and bored

reaction does not seem to be appropriate and raises the worry that the audience took only the surface and not the horrific depths. It is an incredible act of trust to assume they will scrutinise their reactions on their own but it is a trust that in an ideal world should always exist. This play is exactly what theatre should aspire to be, a journey for the audience as much as for its characters, my only worry is how quickly we reached our destination.


with the situation, a ripple of awkward giggles can be heard throughout the audience as the comedy borders on being crude. It then brings about rather graphic and heated scenes. This 'poor little rich kid's' disturbing character develops further throughout the show as the unexplainable suicide of Phaedra and her accusations of rape are discovered. This revelation shocks the audience as the blame is pinned purely on Hippolytus. The aspect of religion and strong faith in God is threaded through the piece to convey Hippoloytus' madness and lack of trust in anyone. Few people, including his sister Strophe, trust his mental state, resulting in his arrest and the spread of gossip throughout the city leading to horrific consequences that will make your stomach turn. This is definitely not one to watch with your parents.

Kane Unable

Love eludes Thom May Phaedra's Love is painful. It's hard to watch, and yeah, that's the point. But for me, it's not the graphic sexual acts which punctuate the play that are hard to watch; it's watching a bunch of obviously good actors struggle with a bad script. The language is awkward and clunky, unnatural and painful, occasionally striving towards being poetic while failing awkwardly. The structure, which for the first two thirds adapts the Greek myth of Hippolytus, and then for the last third just basically freestyles a few rapes, murders and suicides to conclude, is aimless and directionless. The characters

themselves are generic Kane characters exhibiting generic Kane emotions, and it's generically annoying. Leeds University's production, however, is a more mixed bag. The representational cardboard design seems meaningless and a tad cheap, in a set that is otherwise naturalistic. The square staging is almost decadent; a deliberate waste of a space too large to handle. The aesthetically displeasing placement of the band was also a problem, but the '80s soundtrack is bemusing and amusing. But the acting is, if anything, the

show's saving grace. Hippolytus played his character so well as to find a humour in the humourless, Phaedra and Strophe fulfilled their roles with innovative takes on Kane's awkward characters, and Theseus was really good at being angry and hurting himself (all his role allows). The sexual acts, as mentioned earlier, are all handled well, which is certainly a triumph for any director of In Yer Face theatre. I truly believe that if you insist on watching Sarah Kane, then you couldn't do much better than a lot of Leeds University's company. But I don't.



Art for Art's Sake Felix Pilgrim reflects

proved not only that 'all the world's a stage', but how exhilarating 55 minutes of one's life can become when the lines between reality, fiction, art and farce are spectacularly blurred. Although the performers essentially created a state of non-reality, whereby Tracey Hutcheson, the art curator and journalist's dialogue was clearly scripted, by the end of the evening I was left reflecting upon the absurdity of real life, as well, as examining my own attitudes: a mark of good theatre. By being served canapĂŠs by men dressed in polite tuxes and by being informed of the seriousness and poignancy of 'Orca', I was compelled to showcase my own intellect

"the lines between reality, fiction, art and farce are spectacularly blurred"

and remark too on the poignancy of 'Orca', essentially a dead crab and hollow 'art for art's sake'. Moreover, the audience/guests became performers themselves by embellishing the grand ideas behind the great Hutcheson's 'work', fuelling her mythical bearing. In fact the production allowed us to laugh at our propensity for hero worship. The only issues I had with the performance was that Tracey's art did not get more destroyed, and that there was effectively a limit to how rebellious the protestors were. I would have liked to leave, having seen Tracey hung by the lynch mob. Overall, however, the performance was ingeniously imaginative, the performers offering sharp comment on the nation's culture, which proved very funny.

Brighthouse Institute Hannah Dolan's expectations surpassed

What a sophisticated evening. An opening of an art gallery of all things. NSDF continues to surprise me. was completely brilliant. The finger food, the wine, the intellectual debate, critics, art and controversy. I had no idea what I was going to. I thought this Tracey Hutcheson was a real person. I thought that the protest outside the SJT was real. Completely in the dark - I was blind going into this piece and it made it for me. The 'art' in particular was moving and raw and the placards were totally hilarious. I was horrified when the protestors burst through the door and even more horrified to see two of my students in the mob of protestors. It was totally hilarious - when I asked one of the scallywags whether they were asked to be part of the mob afterwards and he said 'I was just enjoying myself so much I wanted to join in, so I did.' There aren't many shows in which you feel you can do that. Moment of the Festival for me.



How Very Tracey Keri Dearmer

Welcomed with glasses of wine and canapĂŠs (potentially containing nuts), the atmosphere of an art gallery opening instantly felt authentic. The central character, Tracey Hutcheson, was clearly a spoof of genuine contemporary artist Tracey Emin. The art-work displayed within the space effectively parodied several of Tracey Emin's works and were, from a History of Art student's humble point of view, very entertaining. For example the take off of Emin's being turned into , the quilt was referenced in a quilt called , and so on and so forth. The beginning was a little confusing, as once the audience had explored the space they were unsure what to do and were left standing just that little bit too long, meaning many people became bored. This period of unsure waiting recurred several times during the piece and was at points quite uncomfortable. The spontaneity of the interaction with the audience by the cast members was stupendous. When asked why there was no seating the curator, Neil BaileyJones retorted that they had originally had chairs, but that viewers thought they were an exhibit and would not sit on them. All of the characters were continually on the ball and responded well to interface with the audience. The character of BaileyJones was particularly commendable and was engagingly convincing as an art curator.

Especially as her work seems to centre around her incredibly overt sexuality. In the play, Hutcheson was apparently largely unknown before the exhibition surrounding , similarly to Emin who was virtually unknown until her 'My Major Retrospective' and her subsequent appearance on a television interview drunk and swearing incessantly. Both the character and the reallife inspiration are consistently vague about their influences and choose to exhibit some very bizarre objects. The end of the play was slightly confused as we were evacuated from the building to the sound of a fire alarm, but it was pleasingly unconventional in the use of a very well executed newspaper article distributed to the spectators by way of an explanation of the conclusion. It was a shame that some sections of dialogue were lost both because of the space and because people were divided into groups and told different stories; however that is the nature of this type of theatre and part of the excitement is that each person goes away with a different interpretation of the story which they will inevitably share with the other play goers after the performance. Furthermore this is the first play at the festival which has actually had a plot; but this is enough reviewing for now, off to play with the puppy (if you don't understand this reference you were clearly not in the NOFFice at 1am this morning - your loss).

After the performance, one spectator was overheard saying they thought it was "far-fetched" in reference to the protesters bursting into the unveiling. While this is a valid point, Tracey Emin's nomination for the Turner prize in 1999 was protested against (though a little less vociferously), and, is that not the point of theatre - to create something unlikely, to give a little exposure to the unrealistic and shocking? Speaking of shocking, the revealing of the mysterious new piece was certainly unexpected. If you missed the play, it turned out the work had been stolen and in its place was a naked woman (who should be admired for her courage). Some might argue that this is trying a little too hard to be shocking, but to counter this argument one could more appreciatively say: how very Tracey Emin.



Our Country's Awesome gushes Lani Issacs

Anyone who happens to be reading this article now, having missed the run of Our Country's Good, potentially failed to see one of the best pieces of theatre of this Festival. Granted, as multiple people keep mentioning, they are the Bristol Old Vic and one cannot expect anything less. Furthermore, a professional director, and full creative team are a defining factor in the wonderfully high level of execution, though perhaps they negate the 'student' aspect of NSDF. Regardless of these slight bendings of the rules, as a piece of theatre in its own right it was striking, affecting and highly moving.

"One of the best pieces of theatre of this Festival." The immense physicality of the piece was rendered beautifully through highly polished choreography, most shockingly depicting rape scenes that perversely could not help but captivate. With what appeared to be relative ease, actors tumbled, turned and were lifted clean into the air, creating moments of brilliant tension that illustrated the action being described. This immense sense of unity within the cast was constantly apparent here and in their musical interludes that hauntingly transcended the play itself, and gave a sense of atmospheric depth that was unparalleled. The use of songs was intended to create a link between the oral


culture of an indigenous tribe and the civilised military that boisterously lay claim to their land, according to the play's musical director, which was inherently captured from the inclusively collaborative nature of their music-making. The monotonous nature of the excerpts served to bind the play together, creating a definite structure as characters appeared above the audience to allow their songs to echo around the auditorium. The play blended subtle mixes of comedy with the harsh reality of late-eighteenth-century colonisation and captive situations which continue to resonate in the present day. By including the scenes depicting the Aboriginals, believed by some to be superfluous as they slowed the pace of the piece, the Old Vic continued to show awareness of the conflict and impending power struggles. This was further enhanced by the light-dark contrast and the use of UV light to expose patterning and imagery that was ever-present throughout the play but merely trampled by the British. Again, the minimalism of their costumes highlighted the perceived simplicity of what were repeatedly referred to as the 'savages', in contrast to the rich

"The play blended subtle mixes of comedy with the harsh reality of late-eighteenthcentuary colonisation."

opulence of the military personnel. Despite this overt affluence, the costume department sadly let down the production in failing to line various jackets, and allowing one

"The immense sense of unity within the cast was constantly apparant here..." of the characters to wear her corset upside down! Perhaps not immediately apparent to every member of the audience, but even those with a limited amount of costuming knowledge would have realised something was wrong... Despite this potential misgiving, which is inherently frustrating as this is where my training lies, the overall effect of such a wonderful piece of theatre was thoughtprovoking, without preaching, moving without being melodramatic and subtle rather than ostentatiously hard-hitting. Quite simply, this cast have very bright futures ahead of them.


No Our Country's Good For Old Men puns Jonathan Brittain [Disclaimer: Unfortunately, having stayed up all night to complete Tuesday's issue, I accidentally fell asleep. Only after Our Country's Good had started did I awake. This review deals only with the second half, I did not get a complete experience of the play, any conclusions I draw may be deeply flawed] There is very little to fault in Our Country's Good. The direction is confident, the cast is uniformly solid and it mixes a variety of techniques. Apart from a series of coughing fits from the audience and several performances bordering on caricature, this is a seamless production. It is this very seamlessness that makes the show stand out at this year's NSDF, but not necessarily in a good way. A lot of shows at the festival are

flawed in ways that they would not be were they made by more experienced practitioners. The student theatre makers haven't learnt the 'proper' way to do things. It's the audacity of people who don't know they shouldn't make certain choices that creates work so exciting, work that falls flat on its face or flies, work that often does both and work that divides people on passionate lines. Most importantly it produces theatre that is forward looking. This is a great production of the popular A-Level text, but it is interpreted and executed in a way that it could have been well before 2010. Even though it is one of the most consistent shows, it lacks a sense of risk, and in a Festival dominated by youthful energy and experimentation it can't help but stand out as anachronistic.

stereotypes and the prisoners theirs. I was unable to understand the significance of the movement done in the black light, so would love an explanation of this apparent aboriginal dance. The water trough in the play did not seem like it was used to its full potential, nobody fell into it and as far as I can tell it did not symbolise anything significant. The use of wooden boards however was clever and varied and allowed the set to morph into different locations with ease. The soundscape they used was also a valuable contribution to the show, but I did find that at times it distracted me from what was on stage, maybe this was because I was in the last row and was in very close proximity to them.

This said I did find the narrative dragging a lot and some of the techniques did become laboured and I found myself drifting in and out. Some of the basics, but not all, were solid. The acting, which for me was the most important part of this show was average, and therefore all other frills associated with it were lost on me. The NSDF is after all a showcase of excellence in student theatre and I find it hard to begin, and when it did I was believe that this show was among pleasantly surprised to witness the best things the selectors had competent teching and seen all year. convincible movement.

Our Country Needs A Change Of Government by Euan Forsyth

I eagerly awaited this performance having not seen Our Country's Good before. Having heard of its theatrical merit and legendary status amongst us thespians, I could not wait to see this show, despite its almost three hour running time. As seems to be the trend with all NSDF shows the actors were in position as we entered the SJT Round. I sat down and waited for the performance to

However I was left wanting in the acting department, not to say that they were poor, because they weren't by any means. It was just predictable and clichĂŠd, with the officers fulfilling all their



Up hill, down dale, William Tell, Winton Dale. Don't be too glum about your rubbish headline, Hannah Dolan After reading Claire Trevien's editorial, 'Guts' and attending today's discussion, I have felt inspired to write a short review/comment/general ponderment on why it is I have not written any reviews for any of the shows performed so far this festival. I have a tendancy to overthink and talk myself round in circles; I am terrible for failing to trust my initial response to a piece of work and feeling that my opinion is flawed because I didn't understand a piece. Claire's article in Tuesday's NOFF has encouraged me to express my initial thoughts on the only show I have seen this year that has caused me interest and disdain in equal measure. I saw Tell Tale on Sunday afternoon and felt like an alien in an audience of Festgoers who were speaking exactly the same language as the actors. They were enthralled and engaged, laughing and participating. I, on the other hand, was sat in the middle of the back row, isolated and completely at odds with what the show was trying to get me to do. Which, by


the way, I still am no nearer to getting.

were politely and playfully 'scolded' for staying in their seats.

I wanted so much to like this piece - it was playful and energetic, charming and open, but it got lost in translation for me. Did I miss a pivotal moment....? I don't think so, or perhaps I was the only one in the audience who put on their blindfold and the rest of the audience saw something that I didn't...?

This was an immersive performance, an experience for both the audience and the actors. My students created a similar show this year which was entered and watched by Alan Lane and Holly Kendrick. Alan's feedback was extremely useful in helping them to ensure that the immersive experience is one that is enjoyable for all, that it is inclusive and purposeful. His main comments were about inviting your audience to do things and then making it difficult for them by placing set or props in their way. Interacting with an audience and talking to them is not necessarily enough to get them to really engage and enter into the world of the play and in this case the act of playing. The moments of interaction for me seemed short lived and at times did not add anything to moving the piece forward. Watching a number of the audience hold up a sheet to make an amber tent for the actors was a lovely moment although I missed what was going

Perhaps the unfortunate seating made it difficult for the actors to break down. Speaking to director/writer and actor Sarah Davies before our workshop today I learned that the show was originally played in a smaller space and in the round, the audience sitting on cushions and interacting throughout. Although I was invited into the performance space on several occasions I didn't want to go. I feel this is down to two things; a) the actors did not establish a relationship with me on entering the theatre and b) there was not enough space on stage for everyone and those who did not move into the performance space

REVIEWS TELL TALE discussion and the production was the writer and cast did not make their intentions entirely clear to me...and dare I say it, others in the audience.

on inside and, slowly but surely, I was edging further and further away from engaging with the work. It's a shame that I didn't get the chance to see this work in its original setting; perhaps it would have had the desired impact. So after a day of umm-ing and ahh-ing, to-ing and fro-ing, over analysing and thinking that I am to be banished from the world of student theatre forever, I was dying to hear what would be said in discussion. I was eager to hear if I was the only member of the audience who felt detached from the piece and to find out how the company worked.

Dare I say it Listening to Sarah Davies in the discussion today was inspiring. Her approach to the work is evidently detailed, well researched, passionate and intelligent. Her commitment to the style and content of her work was totally engaging and admirable. I understood her intention for the piece and trusted that the company were all in on the premise behind it. My main frustration with both the

It was really interesting to hear Fest-goers commenting on the fact that not understanding the piece did not take away from their enjoyment of it. Don't get me wrong, I am all for making an audience think but there needs to be some signposts for me to follow, some clues to help me solve the puzzle. One Fest-goer in attendance at the discussion made comment about the clarity of the story-telling and the difficulty with which he had following the narrative - I nodded in agreement but remained silent. Were the cast hearing the comments, taking them in and processing them for their future work, or were they simply agreeing and commenting on the difficulty they had developing this during the process? Claire would have been disappointed in me...why didn't I follow my gut instinct, stick my hand up and share my thoughts...? Hearing about the process the company went through was also extremely surprising and offered me some insight into how the work was made and perhaps why I did not connect with some of the elements of the piece. It was intriguing to hear that Sarah Davies had written sections of the text before embarking on the devising process with her talented actors. Bearing in mind this is a piece about releasing our creativity in a world where we rely on technology to communicate, it was extremely interesting to hear that the work started as a script and with well known stories. I feel this affected the communication of meaning and was perhaps a

reason why the signposts were missing for me. If the cast had developed the short stories as a result of play in the studio during the process, this sense of freeing our creativity and imagination may have been completely immersive for the audience and the clarity of meaning crystal. For me, watching the actors experiment with props and stories appearing from the abandoned objects would have been magical and I suspect exactly what the cast wanted me to feel about their piece.

Blue balls Hearing the cast talk about a moment during the process where they sang Blue Moon after a blue ball was held above someone's head and the story of a spaceship and a voyage emerged was wonderful.... but why wasn't this in the show? For me, this was where this piece had the most potential; a rare opportunity to let us in on the process. I wanted to see the magic as the characters stumbled across stories and songs through playing with the objects as they moved through the play to find their way out of the room. I started today feeling detached from Tell Tale, indifferent even, but today's discussion and reading Noises Off has helped me to arrange my thoughts and finally get something down on paper. If you haven't been to discussions yet, you must. If this is the first edition of Noises Off you have bought and read relish it and learn from it. It might just help you to understand a piece you really didn't get; it might even inspire you to write about it.



Telling Confusion

Jasmine Woodcock-Stewart spoils the broth Tell Tale tells tall tales; a fusion of animal fables and nonsensical proverbs. In this case the old saying 'Too many cooks spoil the broth' springs to mind, but exchange cooks for theatrical devices. There are origami frogs, potted heads, shadow silhouettes, gymnastic displays, parachute games, guided tours, giant butterfly wings. There are oranges, balloons, coat stands, watering cans, crowns, and swivel chairs. They sing to us, play to us, blindfold us, feed us and hydrate us. Tell Tale comes the closest I've ever seen to chaos embodied on stage. I couldn't count on two hands the amount of times I thought to myself 'What on Earth is going on?' But it wasn't on this Earth, it was out of this world entirely. The general plot, lack of, or excess of plot, of which I am unsure (see the confusion) sees various strangers appearing from a dust cover disguised set, a seemingly blank space, an unspecified Beckettian time portal, gradually revealed to be a playground of 'seemingly' haphazard objects where the imagination can reign. Objects are manipulated, at times with real wit and originality, a little of Magritte about them; swivel chair helicopters, three-headed four-legged running silhouettes and a pirouetting water fountain; but these occasional moments of real invention are out of place, incohesive with each other, or lost amongst the junk. The cast must be commended on a brilliant energy and investment in the piece, and whilst Director and Writer Sarah Davies has some


way to go in guiding and, dare I say it, editing the piece, her natural presence on stage and flair for comedy is a breath of fresh air, supported by cantankerous porcupine, Jen Clarke. Prince and Davies' Kipling costumes too deserve a mention, a can-backed tortoise and a peg-headed hedgehog provoked into reality by the simplicity of a hat and backpack. Sometimes we can fall into a trap of saying 'yes' to everything, and it would be nice, I'm sure, to embrace every possible idea with open arms. I realise this is what a lot of people liked about the piece, that nothing was supposedly censored and there was instead a sense of freedom. But in that sense of freedom, the audience spread themselves so thinly that necessary moments are disguised by unnecessary moments. Similarly exciting moments disguised amongst mediocre ones.


Alice Boulton-Breeze An hour and a half has never flown by so quickly, but after watching Tell Tale the resounding feeling was that of being hit in the face with a child's story book. Don't get me wrong, that was a good feeling but the mess of colours, actors, props, juice and biscuits really did leave me smiling dumbly. The lovely tales and fantastic interaction with props delighted me and I feel the piece had a strong sense of progression - mainly established though the set. To everyone who didn't appreciate Tell Tale, or didn't understand it, I believe the most appealing and valuable thing to take away from it was the sense of complete joy.

stem from different stimuli and from within different contexts, it appears Massive Owl have observably approached their There is, perhaps, an interesting work with the mind set that 'less comparison to be drawn between is more'. In the case of Tell Tale, Tell Tale and 4 Bar and Rising. Both 'More is More'. More is too much. devised shows, both conceptual and expressionistic in style, but each at opposite ends of the spectrum. 4 Bar presents a bare stage, almost no props, minimal dialogue. Tell Tale sees a stage brimming with every prop known to man together with the nonstop ramblings of kangaroos and armadillos. Whilst Tell Tale appears frantically concerned with creating a new idea every second, 4 Bar's carefully selected fragments are repeated and honed with utmost precision and detail. Now, considering these two pieces


The Good, The Bad and the Guideline Richard T. Watson appreciates a scientific approach What happens when science meets performance - as with any clash of titans - is that one or both of them must sacrifice something to the other. After the tender and beautiful opening minute of Guidelines for Measures to Cope, it becomes clear that science has gained the upper hand. In a massive information overload, a textbook definition of Body Dysmorphic Disorder (BDD) is given via voiceover - no doubt interesting and informative in itself, especially considering the disorder's low profile in the UK. What BDD boils down to - and do take note, as this is is what Guidelines... is all about - is a disorder that makes (mainly young) people think their bodies look different to the way they actually are - too fat, too small, wrong colour, say. Think of all the time you spend in getting ready to go out and checking your appearance in shop or car windows - imagine having to do that all the time because had no choice. BDD can be like that, without the fun, forever. There are more sufferers than you might think, and it's a very private, introvert disorder that rarely gets reported.

individual, human story behind the condition if ever you want one. But in some cases, a straightforward narrative isn't strictly necessary (maybe definitive plotlines are overrated?) and it's interesting that other shows this year also have plots that refuse to be categorical yet this is considered part of their charm.

concern is to teach and educate, to raise our awareness of BDD in the world. In pursuit of that end, it can sometimes be helpful to think in terms of individual faces and stories (an anonymous mass of Holocaust victims tends to arouse far less sympathy than individual Anne Frank - bigger scale, but you get my point) - but Electric Shadows don't worry too much about that.

"The cast helpfully chalk notes up on the wall"

Instead they layer up experiences of BDD in a non-linear fashion, to demonstrate and dramatise that definition they had at the start. They don't dramatise a character, which could become implausible and suffer inhuman levels of stress, but dramatise instead the condition - as such, the piece speaks to each of us about an experience broader than ourselves.

Avoiding emphasis on a single character, the cast spend the rest of the show enacting and dramatising - in verbatim form the condition itself. Their stories and monologues of confession are real people's words and between them build a portrait of BDD, not of individual sufferers. But the piece is intended as an educational device, and as such its

If anyone missed the details of the definition (they probably did), then the cast helpfully chalk notes up on the wall as they go. Like lecture notes, these might mean something in the immediate aftermath of being written, but won't do so later. Every now and then they mark up individual rules BDD sufferers have adopted in order to cope - this is the



The Writing's on the Wall

Meanwhile, Jasmine Woodcock-Stewart doesn't I do need guidelines for measures to cope, measures to cope with Guideline's for Measure to Cope. Despite the distracting piece of doom-ridden paper, a programme with a whiff of GCSE 'issue' driven drama, my mind attempted to remain open, and my disposition optimistic. However, my greatest doubts were soon confirmed when facts about the disorder started being written on the black wall, against a cacophony of generic 'atmosphere' music... Perhaps this insight into Body Dysmorphic Disorder was solely created to educate, to create awareness, but does that alone constitute a valid theatrical intention? If that's all they planned, their target was achieved. I now know a little


about a rare disorder affecting the way we perceive our body. And yet, there was no angle weaved with the information. They - and we, had no view upon the material, apart from the obvious'this is bad'. What with blackboard and chalk already provided, we may as well have all been sitting in a science lesson. Visually, moments had potential. The repetition of dressing and undressing could have developed into something quite stylised and stirring, given the right choreography. A Munch-like image of a face and its stretched contours press through a t-shirt eerily distorted whilst much of their movement was competent and engaging. Unfortunately, other moments existed devoid of point; baked beans were smeared then wiped off straight away and

there's a toilet... on wheels. I can't help wondering if the cast of Guidelines... had attended NSDF the year previous because, within minutes, I felt like I'd stumbled upon a cross-bred production of Never Enough and Return to the Silence from the 2009 fest. The two-girl-one-guy trio experimenting with dance, movement and monologues to various electronic beats while changing costume smacked of Rashdash whilst the content, the story of an condition, communicated variously through physical theatre and writing on the walls smelt of Directive. This is most probably a huge coincidence, but the natural impulse is to compare, and ...Measures to Cope doesn't measure up.


The Rain is to Blame

Phoebe Alexandra Bourke isn't singing... On arriving in sunny Scarborough it was... well, sunny. The golden beams of light shone onto the Victorian architecture, highlighting its historic radiance, the gentle waves sparkling in the sunshine, children playing in the sea, couples sharing an ice cream. Along narrow cobbled streets, through secret passageways leading one to the seafront, to traditional fish and chips, arcade games, buckets and spades and charming ice cream parlours. Overlooking this English seaside haven, a mighty castle ruin with tall walls stands strong as the beacon of Scarborough's heritage. It was simply delightful and I felt an overwhelming sense of cultural wellbeing that I could enjoy such spectacular British tourism. Two days later this would all change. The very first drop of cunning rain had an evil scheme to change my perception of this town on a huge scale. This aggressive downpour transformed this endearing seaside town into a morbid, creepy crevice of melancholy and fear. The once triumphant castle is now eerie ruins and glares down on the sad beach like a scene from . The once inviting alley ways look like the perfect rape location for Jack the Ripper. The streets now feel crammed with tall terrace houses which fearlessly intimidate you whilst you attempt an afternoon stroll. The waves once accommodating to your beach-friendly fun now hurl themselves over the walls and into the roads, threatening you with salty poison. It's grey, it's cold and no amount of hot drinks or comforting soups will suffice, there is no consolation for this TERROR which infects the streets. This is SCCAAAARborough: the joy has been exchanged for despair and the laughter for tears and it all started with one drop of English rain.

"Overlooking this English seaside haven, a mighty castle ruin with tall walls stands strong"



Point Horror - Drama Festival

Holly Jazz Lowe shows us just how resilient thesps are in Chapter 5 Kitty and Zach were dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of their death was signed by the blonde punk clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the bearded doctor with a dog. Poor Kitty and Zach were as dead as a door-nail. "So" announced James Philips at the emergency-called meeting, in his Piers-Morgan-filtered-throughan-oil-slick tones, "it seems we have a serial killer at the Fest, chaps. It's a bad scene." Here, he paused, a look of puzzled sadness crossing his face. He sighed, then snapped into a smile."But! This is a DRAMA festival, is it not?! Even if we're sad and scared for our lives, we just have to ACT as if we're not! I say, THE SHOW MUST GO ON! AND GO ON IT MUST! WE MUST NOT LET THIS KILLER DRIVE US BACK TO OUR HOMES. WE MUST KEEP CALM AND CARRY ON. IF NECESSARY, WE MUST FIGHT IT. FIGHT THE FEAR, FIGHT IT ON THE BEACHES NORTH AND SOUTH BAYS. WE MUST FIGHT IT AT THE NEW HALL! WE MUST HOWL IN THE FACE OF IT AT THE WOLFE AND WE MUST FIGHT TO BE FREE AT THE SJT! THE FESTIVAL SHALL CONTINUE AS NORMAL!" The entire body of Fest-goers cheered and issued grunts and cheers of agreement like the House of Commons when Gordon Brown says something 'funny' about David Cameron's face. Madrigal, Bret and Leon were no exception to this. They


were all there, with brave but tearstained faces, shouting along. Outside the Ocean Room, the wind was whipping up a storm. The waves crashed over the side of the sea-defence walls and soaked a group of techies who were unloading something shrouded in a velvet cape that was guarded so heavily one could only assume it was something they

performace of White House Institute . You wouldn't even suspect, Reader that three people had been murdered at the Festival in the past three days. In the bar, waiting to go in, people talked about the weather, about blow jobs, about exchanging fluids safely. It was just like any other day. Leon met up with Madrigal and Bret who had taken the cliff lift and beaten him there.

'Another Day, Another Death' were working on for Technission Impossible. Slow thunder was rolling in from the North Sea. Clouds reared other clouds and mounted like gods above the town. Was having the Festival continue in the face of a serial killer an act of courage or in fact a display of hubris?

"Say, I didn't even know those things actually worked!" exclaimed Leon in reference to the vernaculars. See what I mean, Reader? Conversations about rubbish. Everything as normal. Everyone enjoyed immensely and well, I'd tell you more what happened there but I'm under a no-spoiler contract. Needless to say, somebody died and everyone thought it was part of the show. Even the actors thought it was an overenthusiastic audience member really getting into character. It wasn't. The killer was in everyone's midst. Another death, another day. this became the Festival motto and entire workshops were built around it. The audience is out there, and they're dying! with Richard Hurst. Don't think. Just die! With Chris Thorpe

Leon, pulled his collar up to the cold north wind, thrust his hands into his pockets and made his way up to the Holbeck for the

It's all in the dying! With Rachael Walton Noises Off started running a reviews' section on the killings.


'like a sausage roll down a gentle slope toward hell' It was nice that the audience got to feel a part of this murder - Henry Ellis It was as if I was actually doing a murder! Where else but NSDF does one get to experience that? - John Winterburn It's not that this murder wasn't well executed. It just didn't have the risk and audacity of some of the others Jon Brittain I liked the bit with the sausages Vronsky

not figure out what at first but then Madrigal looked up. The sky had cleared and was now beautifully alive with a hundred thousand stars.

the heavens. They remained in that pose in silence until it was broken by Bret said with the strangest hint of a smile audible in his words:

"It's stopped raining." She said, shaking down her hood. Leon and Zach looked up too, gazing into the night. They stood there, all three of them in the quiet of the dead of night with heads to

"The forecast, you forecasting snow."



The Festival ticked along and the next few days rolled into one another like a sausage roll down a gentle slope toward Hell. Late into the night, or early into the morning even, after a late one in the NOFFice, Madrigal and Bret were standing outside with Leon who was smoking. The wind was still fierce and they stood with their backs to it and their hoods up to shield the relentless rain. Suddenly, something changed. There was a shift in... something. She could

Did anyone else get dead upset about missing Glee on Monday night? 25


All You Need is Cake

Free Food

On arriving at New Hall for the NSDF tech day it was difficult to try and picture this basic school sports hall as anything other than a basic school sports hall, let alone an impressive black box theatre. However the technical team at New Hall achieved this astonishing feat in less than 48 hours and with a smile on every one of their faces. From every

If you fancy a free cupcake come and see us at the reception in the information room at the Spa! We will be giving out one self-baked cupcake when you purchase a copy of 'Raw Talent' for ÂŁ10 (RRP ÂŁ12.99). So, get one of the documentaries of the last 50 years of NSDF and treat yourself with a rare NSDF cupcake. We are looking forward to seeing you!

Ravenrock have something to say member of Ravenrock (Phaedra's Love' University of Leeds) a massive thank you for all your hard work and dedication, every time we eat a brownie we will think of you!

"Everytime we eat a brownie we will think of you"

Tina Heuer

NSDF 10 (Naughty Students Definitely Fornicate Ten Times) Steve Johnson asks for politeness I would like to begin by quoting from Lawrence Carter (LO) who wrote a comment in Noises Off a couple of days ago: "The LOs hear everything". This could not be truer.

"We made it especially clear in the FOH speech that food or drink was NOT allowed in the auditorium ...but did they listen? Of course not" I have a friend (yes, that's right), a fellow LO who was engaging in conversation with a member of the hard-working Technical Team, which consisted of her commenting on how knackering her day had been, to which the Techie had replied "You're knackered? Have you been shifting lights and poles across Scarborough all day?" (or something like that, I wasn't actually there). Obviously my friend was forced to answer "no",


perhaps to make her seem slightly insignificant, I'm not sure. Anyway, I would like to ask that Techie "Have you had to put up with the pure cheekiness of the students as much as us?" I would like to think that the answer is no. Let's review some examples... "Can I sign up for two workshops and just decide which one to go to tomorrow?" - A hopeful student at the workshop sign ups. At the Clive Wolfe yesterday, a few girls attempted to sneak into the auditorium before everyone else. When we stopped them, they enthused that they had been there for "ages" and they wanted to get good seats. Then, they told us that the performance at the Wolfe was actually their second choice and wanted to see something else but their taxi didn't turn up, to which I replied "Well then, I'll ensure you get excellent seats". Then they invited me to come see their performance (?) at the SJT, and I

had no choice but to reply with "Well I'll try, but I'm not sure if my taxi will turn up." Whilst FOHing at the Wolfe last night, we made it especially clear in the FOH speech that food or drink was NOT allowed in the auditorium ...but did they listen? Of course not. We caught a couple of people attempting to take glasses into the show so we confiscated them back into the bar. However, as soon as the show began after I sat in my seat, the man next to me discreetly revealed a full glass of Coke from under his jacket and took a sip. I turned to him and said "Excuse me mate, can I take that off you? It's just there will be audience participation in a bit and it might become a hazard." Kindly he agreed and gave me the glass, which I put down behind me under an empty chair right in the far corner next to the auditorium steps. A place I thought was safe. Unfortunately as the audience returned to their

CREW/LOS seats after the participation, someone stepped awkwardly on the step which flipped it almost vertically, knocking the glass over and allowing it to spill the Coke under the seat. Marvellous. However, I was thrilled this morning when a friendly student offered to help me clear up the space after a workshop. Such a delight! It's things like that that creates the magic of NSDF and brings us together, which ultimately is what a festival is all about. Many thanks to Charlotte Able! I have to say the highlight of my week so far was with one of my two favourite Duty Managers at the Clive Wolfe; Dan Rollings (Sam Sampson being the other one because they're both lovely). Whilst waiting outside during a performance we made some new student friends who we challenged to make a rap song about ham sandwiches, to which the outcome was...interesting. "Ham...ham sandwhich!" "I need a knife!" "Bread and butter!" They cried in a desperate attempt to be like the infamous Kanye West. Then in a rebound, they challenged us to come up with a musical about a pigeon. We took the challenge, we rehearsed, we met the demands and we were proud! Try to imagine these lyrics to the song Hey Big Spender... "The minute you flew in the joint, I could see you were a bird of distinction, a real big fluffer...." something something something something something... "And when you flew to the skies, you didn't even stop to say your last and final goodbyes. Goodbye Lonely Terry! (Bum bum bum bum) Can I come round for Tea?" A big shout-out to the cast of Tell Tale, who I bumped into on my


way down into town. They explain that their reviews haven't been kind, but in all honesty I Lynsey Kellock thought the performance simple The smell of fresh coffee circulates incredible. Nice one guys! in the cafeteria. Sat on reception, In conclusion, please be nice to you long to taste the hot, smooth the LOs. You may not think it, texture of the caffeinated liquid but we do work hard just like brush past your lips. you, despite what you may think. Don't attempt to take advantage Finally, the opportunity to sneak away to buy this cup of luxury comes around, and after every mouthful you feel strength and energy flowing through your body... COFFEE IS THE WAY FORWARD A PERFECT WAY TO START A LONG DAY!

A Day in the Life of An LO Kat Saunders

8am. Wake up... was supposed to wake up at 7am since I'm in at 8.30 oops... Proceed to finding screwed up orange/blue T-shirt on floor of of us; we're everywhere! ...And Mikel's room. Hmmm... should I be please do not assume that you OAP today? (Orange And Proud) will get a place in a workshop if or True Blue? Oh decisions, you just turn up to it, that is not decisions... the case at all. The LCs Becky The morning rush for workshop Goode, Sparky & Pam are doing sign-ups is perhaps the most an exceptional job at ensuring terrifying thing I have witnessed everything goes according to since being in Scarborough. The plan. Pam even had to work on wildebeest - sorry - RAGING her 21st! (Bless her) Happy THESPIANS crowd in. Birthday again Pam! Claustrophobia MUCH?! Just CHILL guys and don't run!!! Thank you for reading and keep on keeping on and having fun! Then it's off to supervise the ...And if you see Rachel King say workshops. We try and join in if we the words "Yabba Dabba" to her. can, even if we do look like plebs.

"Can I sign up for two workshops and just decide which one to go to tomorrow?"

The rest of the day is filled with, yes, of course, HARD WORK... as well as consuming gallons of coffee (even if the stuff in the LO room tastes of mud) and ways to occupy ourselves in times of boredom. Ideas to raise money for our last


CREW/LOS night party result in drawing pictures of fairy cakes. I get a phone call from Freddie from the box office and we converse in Welsh. Hugs for the LC's (Local Co-ordinators), we do adore them. WE HEART BOMP!!! xxx Then it's more workshops or Front of House duties. You'll know who Front of House are the classic orange/blue T and the constant bleeping/muffled sound coming from the radio... could easily be mistaken for some weird creature looking for Christopher


"The rest of the day is filled with, yes, of course, HARD WORK"

tough coming in after 5 hours sleep for a full day, but that's the life! Just provide us with cake and coffee and we'll keep on going!

And hopefully, we get to see some shows at some point! We are mainly drama students you know - got to bring out the inner Thespian sometimes! Despite our toil, we do love it we love you!!!! Well.... unless you start moaning or bite - enjoy yourselves!! It's a Festival! It's

Round 4: 4 vs. about a Million A response to Matt Judges article Firstly, allow me to say that we completely agree with your comment "the system for signing up for workshops should be changed, as it could be dangerous for many if something bad were to happen." If there was an emergency in which somebody required first aid, several of the LOs have first aid training (which is a good thing.) However, in such a manic and compacted environment, if any situations requiring first aid did arise then it would be incredibly difficult for one of these LOs to get to the affected person(s), if they could even see what was happening (which is a very, very bad thing!) We all want to see the system change to make it fairer and safer for everybody. However, the suggestions that were made in the organisation process have turned out not to be feasible for this year, and so the tried and tested method of first-come-first-served ticketing has had to be used again. We have several LOs that have volunteered in one or two


previous NSDFs who have NEVER seen it so cramped and busy. Yes, it has always been pretty busy, but this is the worst any of us have known it. We ourselves feel terrified and threatened and we are sitting behind a table! Yesterday (Tuesday) we tried to manage things a little better but were still overwhelmed having to use LOs for 'crowd control' and shouting ourselves hoarse to try and calm the mass of frenzied students. In short, there is not a massive amount that WE can do for the rest of this Festival regarding signups (although do not doubt that we will try our best - we will continue to try and come up with ideas to make the system we have now work better for the remaining sign-ups) but a few ways that YOU can hopefully help to improve the situation slightly are: 1) Don't run 2) Don't push 3) Only sign up for yourself, otherwise it's not fair for everybody else, and 4) Move away from the area as soon as possible -

don't stop for a conversation in the middle of the room. Surely these are reasonable requests that will perhaps help? Please understand that everybody is in the same environment, including the LOs who are there to help you as much as possible, and that scaring them to death will hinder the process instead of help. (By the way - we loved the drawing! It was very accurate.)


Puppy Barks Way To The Top Haydon overthrown by canine, reports Henry Ellis Today, the ghost of Andrew Haydon was truly "exercised," and replaced by a canine. In much the same way that Andrew used to rule the office utilising a combination of fear and nicotinefuelled debauchery, Vronsky the puppy has taken control through playful nibbles and being rather cuddly. In a similar fashion to Andrew, Vronsky is a fan of naps and going outside to tinkle, although she also enjoys a little wee on the carpet from time to time, which Andrew has weened himself off. However, Vronsky does have some qualities which set her apart from Andrew Haydon, and, in some ways, place her above our unattending editor. These include teething (hence why the bites are so playful), fooling around with tennis balls, and

walks on the beach. While Andrew is a fan of irregular exercise, Vronsky requires it in order to grow big and strong. Vronsky enjoys doggie treats, while Andrew is partial to a large glass of red wine and the odd cigarette. Finally, Vronsky enjoys being let out to play, while Andrew "enjoys," theatre reviewing.

NSDF: A Fitness Fad

Weighing it up, Diana Winpenny and Rachel Clutterbuck

So, as you may have noticed by now, NSDF spans the amazing geographical planes of Scarborough. We at Lancaster University Theatre Group have taken keen notice of this fact as we puff and pant our way between workshops each day (or NOFF has a (guest-editing) puppy rather hour). It is a fantastic for the night, and while she can't opportunity to strive for the great replace our erstwhile and absent looking legs you have always editor-in-chief, the fact that she is wanted and desired. On the flip so darn cute is softening the blow side, however, the easy availability of that high calorie fiend and somewhat. friend, alcohol, and consequently N.B. I wrote this before Andrew the magnetic pull of the late mentioned me in his article. I am night kebab shop means that all not comparing him to a dog of your hard work, the puffing, because of it, I wrote it because panting and general struggling up we all bloody love puppies. and down the hills of Yorkshire, is null and void. Technission Impossible If we'd known how easy it would be to replace Andrew withThe sad fact of a heavily modified MAC600, we would have done it yearsthe matter is that will leave ago. With the mind and evil glowing eyes of the editorwe replaced by a moving light (thanks to Stage Electrics),Scarborough the heart and soul replaced by a lovable puppy, and thelooking exactly the liver replaced by a titanium reinforced industrialsame, feeling a bit culturally filtration system (we're still ironing out the bugs inmore aware and vowing that bit; it keep shutting down under the load), the copy to save up for that is flowing like never before. amazing step from But with production fully automated and firmly undermachine control, the devil has been making work for idle hands,Argos. and the seven deadly sins (lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy and pride late copy) are running rampant throughout the Noffice. The corruption is spreading and we can do nothing to contain it. We need divine intervention. We need a grauniad. Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to bring us THE ANGEL OF THE NOFF.



Our Island's Good

Waving the flag, Peter Mitchell When seeing the logo for the NSDF for this year, we were pleasantly surprised to see the image of a donkey, as it is the mascot of our small island that we live on. Coming from a small island in the middle of nowhere, travelling to the NSDF holds just as much drama as the event itself. Yes! We were those people in the colourful hoodies shouting that we were from Guernsey! We were surprised at how much energy we had that afternoon though, as getting up on a Saturday morning at 5 o'clock to get on a plane is a time unknown to the average teenager. Guernsey is part of a small cluster of islands called the Channel Islands. It is located in

the English Channel and just off the coast of France. Haven't heard of it? Usually, when we tell people that we live off the coast of France, we get questions such as, "So do you speak French then?" even though we had just lectured to them about Guernsey in our strong accented and fluent English. In Guernsey, we have very few facilities for theatre and entertainment, so coming to the NSDF is a very exciting experience for us. From the quality of the performances, to the fact that there's a McDonalds keeps the students excited and looking for new things to do every day. Overall, we found that the standard of drama is very high in

Scarborough, so for us, we wanted to make the most of this very rare opportunity, as getting off the island costs a fortune and takes huge amounts of organisation. We can take everything we have learnt from the different workshops and different performances, and use all the information we've gained in our own performances and essays. Everyone has enjoyed the festival immensely and being some of the youngest students around, we've enjoyed speaking to and hanging out with other mature students who we can relate to. So on behalf of the students from Guernsey, we thank you all for the chance to attend this fantastic Festival.

It's a bit prettier than a certain seaside town... I love having an excuse to put this in the magazine


Lani Issacs

Vocab fail. Why now? Only fifteen minutes left. Please help me Phil, Please?


Sexy Night

Bringing Sexy Back: Phil Mann Tonight. In the NOFFice. Sexy Night. Once a year we designate one evening as sexier than all the others (and you all know how sexy correctly inserted apostrophies, well-laid-out columns and snappy sub-headlines are). Come join us

for sexy music, sexy reviews and let us know if you want to participate in Sexy Copy Deadline party - performing sexy songs for the entertainment of the baying crowd.


Twittiques!! noffmag


Tonight's issue is guest-edited by Holly Jazz Lowe's puppy, Vronsky

Masterclass is very jealous but hopes everyone's having a good #nsdf



@noffmag I have never heard the word 'cunt' used so many times in my entire life! Long live clean good old fashioned drama. #NSDF

Got the esteemed actor & festival judge Cyril Nri to record a very silly voiceover for our Press Gang tribute for Last Orders @noffmag



@noffmag Today I've seen five rapes, watched a man being dismembered and heard uncountable swear words. All in a day's work at #NSDF

Just finished filming a @noffmag version of the opening credits of PressGang with the lovely Delyth Thomas. So cheesy but fun.



Sexy edition @noffmag? Oh geezlouise, I wish I were there even more now.

so, one of our noffers is bleeding all over the carpet after injuring himself jumping off a chair. Journalism is dangerous.

SpiderEternity @noffmag the whitehouse institute : definately a play for actors. Without a persona i was just bored. Well acted tho mind_of_benzy People who talk during plays should face the death penalty. #NSDF SpiderEternity whitehouse institute : not sure what to make of this yet, thus far i'm thoroughly bored...

Adam_Zed Phaedra's Love was an incredible production. A real peak in the great theatre so far at #Nsdf hellis1989 @noffmag we've hit that point in the week where everything takes that little bit more effort. And we get two hours less sleep a night.

Vronsky's pooped

@noffmag Today I've seen five rapes, watched a man being dismembered and heard uncountable swear words. All in a day's work at #NSDF

so, one of our noffers is bleeding all over the carpet after injuring himself jumping off a chair. Journalism is dangerous. 31


The NOFFa Lisa

Attending a private viewing in the Noffice tonight were: Vronsky: "A Friend in Need," (Dogs playing poker) Phil Mann: Final Fantasy XIII Claire Trevien: Anything French Ben Curthoys: Spatial Concept "Waiting" by Lucio Fontana Jonathan Brittain: The Beano Issue #426 Holly Jazz Lowe: John Winterburn's tea making abilities Ben Lander: Exekias' "Ajax and Achilles" John Winterburn: DaliCrucifixion of St. John at the Cross Henry Ellis: Super Mario Galaxy Richard T. Watson: The Mini Cooper Will Bourdillon: The gaffer tape rendition of Holly Kendrick Aaron Cryan: Equivalent VIII Jasmine Woodcock-Stuart: The Son of Man Dan Hutton: Yellow Baby Liv Silver: Madonna of the Rocks Cate McLoughlin: You ;) Mikel Price: My own photography (of myself) Anna Himali Howard: "I am


Anna" Alice Boulton-Breeze: My body (it really is a work of art) Sam Hearne, Chris Jehan, Peter Mitchell: The art of breaking wind publically Keri Dearmer: Francios Gerard, Cupid and Psyche Lani Isaacs: Rodin "The Kiss" Hannah Dolan: The snack tray from Whitehouse Institute Stuart Crisp: Venus de Milo Martyn Andrew: Piet Mondrian Composition 10 Niamh Conway: Steve's stomach Katherine Tate: Vronsky Rachel Clutterbuck: Anything by Banksy Diana Winpenny: Stuff by Monet Amber Hine: The new NOFFice decor Ken Johnson: My photos Tim Coker: The Hippo in Walsall Pete Stormont: Bailey's label Ben Wall Sam House Nic Watson Richard / RVB: Angela Ellmore: Rodin - Hand of

God Neale Jotton: By the Bog of Cats & Tell Tale Stuart Houston: The huge NSDF donkey Abigail Richardson: The SJT Hardboard donkey Deb Jones: I can't remember what it's called but it's fab! Tom Lovett: Can of Beans by Lichtechstein Ben Crawford: Holly Kendrick, director of NSDF James Lamont: Final Fantasy VI Tom Halward: Watching RVB get up while unknowingly tied to metrodeck by a spanset!! Reg Scott: NSDF Gaffa Donkey Anthony Dovan: Dubai Fountain - centre piece of down town Burl Khalija Dave Larking: Lobster Telephone by Dali Danny Pisser: The Snail by Matiesse Rian Mowbury: Swan sex in A Minor

Noises Off - NSDF10, Issue 5  

Wednesday 31st March 2010

Noises Off - NSDF10, Issue 5  

Wednesday 31st March 2010