Juniors

1. Ffion
I wish I was our Sammy,
our Sammy’s nearly 10,
He's got two worms and a catapult
and he built an underground den.
But I’m not allowed to go in there,
I have to stay near the gate,
Cos me Mam says I’m only seven,
but I’m not,
I'm nearly eight!

2. Sophie
I sometimes hate our Sammy,
He robbed my toy car ya no,
now the wheels are missin and the tops broke off
and the bleedin' thing won’t go.
An' he said when he took it, it was just like that,
But it wasn't it went dead straight,
But ya can’t say nottin when they think your seven
AN' y' not y'nearly eight.

3. Jonas
I wish I was our Sammy,
Y'wanna see him spit,
straight in y'eye from twenty yards
an' every time a hit.
He's allowed to play with matches, and he goes to bed
dead late,
and I have to go at seven even tho' im nearly eight!

4. Erin
Y'know our Sammy,
Y'know wot he sometimes does?
He pees through the letter box
of the house next door to us,
I tried to do it one night,
but I had to stand on a crate,
cos I couldn’t reach the letter box....
But I will by the time I'm Eight!!!
Seniors

Mr. Frank
Anne’s diary. (He opens the diary and begins to read.) “Monday, the sixth of July, nineteen
forty-two.” (to Miep) Nineteen forty-two. Is it possible, Miep? . . . Only three years ago. (As
he continues his reading, he sits down on the couch.) “Dear Diary, since you and I are going
to be great friends, I will start by telling you about myself. My name is Anne Frank. I am
thirteen years old. I was born in Germany the twelfth of June, nineteen twenty-nine. As my
family is Jewish, we emigrated to Holland when Hitler came to power.”
“My father started a business, importing spice and herbs. Things went well for us until
nineteen forty. Then the war came, and the Dutch capitulation, followed by the arrival of
the Germans. Then things got very bad for the Jews. You could not do this and you could not
do that. They forced Father out of his business. We had to wear yellow stars. I had to turn in
my bike. I couldn’t go to a Dutch school any more. I couldn’t go to the movies, or ride in an
automobile, or even on a streetcar, and a million other things. But somehow we children
still managed to have fun. Yesterday Father told me we were going into hiding. Where, he
wouldn’t say. At five o’clock this morning Mother woke me and told me to hurry and get
dressed. I was to put on as many clothes as I could. It would look too suspicious if we walked
along carrying suitcases. It wasn’t until we were on our way that I learned where we were
going. Our hiding place was to be upstairs in the building where Father used to have his
business. Three other people were coming in with us . . . the Van Daans and their son Peter .
. . Father knew the Van Daans but we had never met them . . .

Henry V
KING HENRY
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more,
Or close the wall up with our English dead.
In peace there’s nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, conjure up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour’d rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let it pry through the portage of the head,
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o’erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O’erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill’d with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit
To his full height! On, on, you noblest English!
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof;
Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought,
And sheath’d their swords for lack of argument.
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you call’d fathers did beget you.
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeomen,
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game’s afoot:
Follow your spirit; and upon this charge
Cry, “God for Harry, England, and Saint George!” .

Sheila:
So I’m really responsible? I went to the manager at Milwards and I told him that if they
didn't get rid of that girl, I’d never go near the place again and I’d persuade mother to close
our account with them. I was in a furious temper.

When I was looking at myself in the mirror I caught sight of her smiling at the assistant, and I
was furious with her. I'd been in a bad temper anyhow. It was my own fault. (suddenly, to
Gerald) All right, Gerald, you needn't look at me like that. At least, I'm trying to tell the
truth. I expect you've done things you're ashamed of too.

I'd gone in to try something on. It was an idea of my own – mother had been against it, and
so had the assistant – but I insisted. As soon as I tried it on, I knew they'd been right. It just
didn't suit me at all. I looked silly in the thing. Well, this girl had brought the dress up from
the workroom, and when the assistant – miss Francis – had asked her something about it,
this girl, to show us what she meant, had held the dress up, as if she was wearing it. And it
just suited her. She was the right type for it, just as I was the wrong type. She was very
pretty too – with big dark eyes – and that didn't make it any better. Well, when I tried the
thing on and looked at myself and knew that it was all wrong, I caught sight of this girl
smiling at miss Francis – as if to say: 'doesn't she look awful' – and I was absolutely furious. I
was very rude to both of them, and then I went to the manager and told him that this girl
had been very impertinent – and – and – (she almost breaks down, but just controls herself.)
How could I know what would happen afterwards? If she'd been some miserable plain little
creature, I don't suppose I’d have done it. But she was very pretty and looked as if she could
take care of herself. I couldn't be sorry for her.

It didn't seem to be anything very terrible at the time. Don't you understand? And if I could
help her now, I would---

It's the only time I’ve ever done anything like that, and I’ll never, never do it again to
anybody. I've noticed them giving me a sort of look sometimes at Milwards – I noticed it
even this afternoon – and I suppose some of them remember. I feel now I can never go
there again. Oh – why had this to happen?

[To Gerald] When did you first get to know her?

Was it after she left Milwards? When she changed her name, as he said, and began to lead a
different sort of life? Were you seeing her last spring and summer, during that time you
hardly came near me and said you were so busy? Were you?

Yes, of course you were. (laughs rather hysterically) why – you fool – he knows. Of course he
knows. And I hate to think how much he knows that we don't know yet. You'll see. You'll
see.

The Pitchfork Disney

Phillip Ridley
Presley
1991

I saved my pocket money for three weeks. I didn’t buy anything. No comics, no
crisps, no sweets. I went to a pet shop and bought this tiny green snake instead. A
grass snake they called it. When I got home I played with the snake. It felt warm and
soft. I was scared but I still had to hold it. I liked the way it wrapped itself around my
fingers like an electric shoelace. And then… then I realised. I could never keep it.
Not as a pet. Where would it sleep? What would it eat? Where would it go when I
went to school? It was a stupid thing to buy. So I had to get rid of it. But how? All
sorts of things occurred to me. Flush it down the toilet. Bury it. Throw it from a tower
block. But all the while another thought was taking shape. A thought so terrible it
seemed the only thing to do. So I got a frying pan and I put it on the gas stove. I put
a bit of butter in the pan and turned the gas up full. The fat started to crackle and
smoke. I dropped the snake into the frying pan. It span round and round. Its skin
burst open like the skin of a sausage. It took ages to die. Its tiny mouth opened and
closed and its black eyes exploded but… oh, it was wonderful to watch. All that
burning and scalding and peeling. I got a fork and stuck the prongs into its skin.
Boiling black blood bubbled out of the holes. When the snake was dead I put it on a
plate. I cut the snake into bite-size pieces. I tasted it. Like greasy chicken. I ate it all
and licked the plate afterwards. When Mum got home she saw I’d been cooking and
hit me. She didn’t know anything about the snake. All she was worried about was the
scorched patch on the frying pan. She said, “I’ll have to buy a new one now.” But she
never did.

Yoga Fart
Gabriel Davis
Amy

I farted in Yoga class. It was loud. And I didn't die. My heart started pounding but it
did not explode. I thought I would be devastated but I was not. Instead something
unexpected happened. I laughed. At first a little giggle and then a full blown belly
laugh. In fact, I laughed so hard that I farted again. And again, and again.
Embarrassing, no? No. No.

I could feel people staring but I didn't care. I thought I would care. Feel my palms
grow clammy, my chest tighten. No. I felt a lightness, wonder, awe. Who knew I
had so much air inside me. My body had deflated but my spirit had inflated! I
waited for the self-loathing to come. But there was only... Stillness. Silence. Then
in that silence, a little voice. I love you. Your body is amazing.

I realized, this was why I'd come to yoga in the first place. No, not to fart publicly.
To fart publicly and survive it. I know, it's unladylike. But in the depth of this
indignity, I had found my greatest strength. Here I was looking my fear in the face
and believe me, I had feared this moment. I had played it out in my mind. And it
always ended with all the ladies around me pulling hidden rocks out of their
lululemon attire and stoning me mercilessly. But not much happened. Here I was
staring fear in the face and realizing...it was a bunch of hot air. And I could release
it!

I breathed in deep, so deep another loud exclamation of my new found freedom

erupted from my behind. "Excuse me," the woman behind me said. "But could you
step outside for a moment. Some of us are trying to practice yoga..." This should
have destroyed me. It should have sent me whimpering out of the room. But I felt
my calm breath, heard myself say: "Excuse me, but I am practicing my fartnassanas
thank you very much."

Then something amazing happened. A little noise erupted from another corner of
the room. A few other people giggled, then laughed, and then more noises erupted.
And it was beautiful. A symphony of fartnassanas. I was free, they were free. And I
realized in that moment...I was free of you, too. You can't hurt me anymore.