Writing Right with Dmitri - Results of the Mash-Up Challenge
Created | Updated Sep 1, 2013
Writing Right with Dmitri: Mash-Up Entries
A few weeks ago, I threw down the gauntlet by issuing a challenge to 'mash it up'. Specifically, I encouraged our writers to do violence to the fictional space/time continuum by shoving two or more genres together.
Well, my friends, they came up trumps. For this reason, I'm going to yield the floor this week to our intrepid mash-up artists, and let you share in the fun.
Orwell Meets Alan Bleasdale
By Freewayriding.
Most large organisations develop, over time, their own unique slang and subcultures. The Armed Forces and Police are prime examples of close knit comrades with shared experiences, fears and in some cases prejudices working in an often dangerous environment, evolving a language that outsiders simply cannot comprehend. It is obviously against the Law to allow such archaic and tribal behaviour to threaten the Glorious Peace.
A squat grey three storey building stands at the outskirts of a 1960s housing estate, just enough space left around the perimeter to mark it as an unwanted but necessary addition to a long-forgotten city planners dream. Cold grey rain pelts against the frosted and wired windows, a bleak outpost: just one small subdivision of one small constabulary somewhere in the Federation of England.
It's 1984: a dimly lit office with the legend 'Cons Writing Room' echoes to the clack- clack of an ageing typewriter and frequent curses as the ribbon runs out of ink or the carbon paper drawer is empty again. Officers squint through the haze of cigarette smoke and smell of cheap coffee and cheaper disinfectant.
Two officers are chatting over their respective cuppas.
" Got dizzed again last week, some rubber heel with a collar number like the population of China says a Jack’s gone bandit and bubbled me for staffing some oxygen thief. Wouldn't mind, thought he was a just a sim acting suss up in legoland, bails on us, bit of a scramble, even the Hobs responded and the buck gets chunkied. Turns out he's a mush trying to roll a cow and does one when he sees the panda..."
His colleague visibly shrinks, a grimace frozen on his features as the
Auditor Programme recognises forbidden phrases, the main wall screen glows an eerie green, the colour of an infected wound, as AP clears her electronic throat and addresses the room.
“Officer 79003, you are in breach of Equality and Diversity Protocols 12, 14 and 57b. Your salary will be docked 45 Shillings for each breach; this fine has been filed with Professional Development and further violations will be reported for re-education at HQ. That is all.”
The wall screen dimmed. The officer muttered curses in his mind, curses against the AP that were just too dangerous to even whisper.
Social realism plus Orwellian doublespeak? Oh, yes. We like.
David Attenborough and the Raven
By minorvogonpoet.
David Attenborough is standing in a quarry in Anglesey, watching a large black bird fly overhead and land on a rock ledge
The raven is a remarkable bird. It is the largest of the crow family, bigger than a buzzard. In the UK, they are found in mountains and moorlands, where they nest on rocky outcrops like this one. They usually eat carrion but they would be capable of killing small mammals and birds – so farmers worry about them taking sick lambs. Because of their size, their black plumage and hoarse cry they are often regarded as birds of evil omen. This seems rather unfair on the raven.
The camera zooms in to show the raven on its nest, tearing up a dead rabbit and feeding it to an ungainly chick.
Like all the crow family, the raven is a very intelligent bird. They can easily learn to mimic a range of sounds including human speech. There are all sorts of stories about ravens warning humans of danger.
The oddest one concerns a man who was working in his study when he heard a tapping sound. He opened the door and found nothing. However, the tapping continued until he realised that the noise was coming from the window. When he opened the window, a raven flew in and landed on a bust of Pallas above the door. The man tried talking to the raven, who kept repeating the word ‘Nevermore’. The man, who was grieving over the death of his beloved, grew seriously alarmed. He was convinced the raven was saying he would never be reunited with the lady in heaven. In the end, he became so depressed he was admitted to a lunatic asylum. No-one knows what happened to the raven.
Although the story sounds far-fetched, there is a possible explanation. A wild raven would be most unlikely to fly into a room, so this must have been a tame bird. Probably, the previous owner taught it to say the word ‘Nevermore’ to obtain food. Perhaps he had a ghoulish sense of humour and wanted to scare his friends!
Although ravens declined, and retreated to the mountains of the north and west, they are beginning to extend their range. I certainly would want to see this magnificent bird taking its proper place in the British countryside.
Well, I never…er, more. Amazing how those two ideas go together – nature documentaries and the poetical Poe.
This just goes to show you – er, something. I'm not sure what. Oh, yeah: that inspiration can be found in the oddest places. That's it.
I hope our mash-up artists have inspired you. If so, leave us a message. Or write (or draw) your own mash-ups for the Post.
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