Everyone thinks they know the tale of Little Red Riding Hood yet everyone tells it slightly differently, a detail added here or there. Still, no one is anywhere near the mark. No one seems to know the real story, the truth behind that scheming, hooded character and her wood-cutting backing band. That’s right! Little Red was part of a pop group and to the best of my knowledge there was never a Granny involved in the story! My name is Mr A. Wolf and I’m here to tell you the REAL story.
     Let me take you back to once upon a time, at the height of my singing career.  You may be thinking “I’ve never heard of this so called rock god” but that’s because I used a stage name. Patrick Wolf? Well, anyway, thanks to my rock star image, I couldn’t walk down the street without causing a rampage of screaming birds! My album ‘Forest Sounds’ went straight to number one, knocking Simply Little Red’s off the top spot. That’s where it all started. You know; the thirst for fame? Nevertheless, let’s get back to the story. As you may know, my movie ‘What Big Teeth You Have’ had just been released and turned out to be a box office smash, a thrilling tale about a serial-killer dentist. This didn’t go down well with Red’s band: their movie released just two weeks before was a flop. I guess that was the final straw.
     So there was this one day I was taking a walk in the woods. Now you may be thinking, ‘what is a world famous wolf like him doing in the woods?’ Well I’ll tell you, I needed some time, some space, some air. It was a hectic lifestyle and sometimes you just need a bit of ‘me’ time. So there I was, walking along, absorbing the cloudless sky through the green canopy overhead. I heard a squeal and all of a sudden there was a small, red thing blabbering away, paws clasped tightly around me! Another fan; I thought. Wonderful! That was when I realised it was a young girl about 18 or 19 holding on to me. She had a beautiful face, something familiar about it, but I couldn’t work out what it was. She slowed down and I began to catch a fraction of what she was saying.
     Lola-Rose. She was prettier than any picture I’d ever seen! Thick, threads of golden hair flowed down past her waist her blue eyes piercing mine, deep as oceans. She was telling me about how she had seen my movie with her Granny and how much of a fan they both were! So eventually I agreed to pay a visit to this Granny who was such a fan. Turns out she was sick too. I mean, who can say no to a sick granny? As we walked we talked about my career, my house, my life, my family. I asked about her but she blushed and claimed she had nothing to tell. So we continued: my success, my secret dreams, my new movie. She was particularly interested in that and suggested we act out a scene from the movie for her poor Granny.  I found myself agreeing. I felt like myself around her. I struggled to find that feeling anywhere else.
     All of a sudden she came to a halt.
     “I should pick some flowers for my grandmother” she explained.
     Giving me directions and promising she would see me there in a short while, she glided off in the other direction, her red cape floating in the breeze. She was gone. I stumbled along the trail, thoughts of Lola-Rose clouding my mind. I’d taken a wrong turn. I could hear a thud, thud, thump a short distance from me. As I automatically began wandering towards it, I heard hushed voices. A bellowing, victorious laugh rang through the trees and the sounds came closer. I scarpered in what I hoped was the right direction. I didn’t want the person whom the wild laughter belonged to thinking I was eaves-dropping!
     Eventually I found my way onto the right path, only to be joined seconds later by Lola-Rose.
     “I thought I told you to wait at Granny’s house?”
     I immediately began apologizing and explaining the story of my going astray. Her face softened. She was deadly curious about what I had heard of the voices in the trees. I was about to tell her I couldn’t hear a word they said (I was much too far away) when a rustling sound from behind disturbed the conversation. The air was immediately too still for the forest. My ears twitched intuitively and my eyes scrutinized the scene, searching for the source of the disruption. Lola-Rose reached out for my paw and her baby blues bore deep into mine.
     “What was…?”
      I never finished that sentence.
     “We’re here”; she smiled and she breathed warm perfection onto my face.
     “So umm, let’s go in?” I murmured.
     As we crossed the threshold, she relaxed her grip. A gust of wind blew through an open window, momentarily clearing my mind. Something was strange: The story was right but the setting was wrong.
     “My Granny must have gone for a walk.” her musical tone danced across my mind.  She wanted to rehearse a scene we could show to her Grandmother, the death scene.
     “Isn’t that a bit scary for a sick Grandma?” I asked.
     “Oh no, it’s her favourite part”; she replied, so smoothly.

     I should have realised something wasn’t right. Just as we were getting to the main part of the scene, there was an almighty crash through the front door. The wood-cutters, backing band for Simply Little Red, were first through the door followed by paparazzi, police officers and publicans. All they caught was my line of “All the better to eat you with”. Angry shouts swirled in a ball of confusion inside my head. Flash lights burned my eyes, and then a light bulb went on in my head. Lola-Rose, she was Little-Red. It was a trap, a plan, all along. That conversation I heard in the woods, that was her, cunningly laying a trap. She had lured me there with her smile, her scent, the blush in her rosy cheeks. And all the time it had been her. She was wearing that little red riding hood.
     Over the next few weeks, the press had a field day with stories of Patrick Wolf, star or stalker? The newspapers screamed my guilt, Little Red’s innocence… They figured a ‘Big-Bad-Wolf’ sold more headlines than the turning of everyone’s sweetheart Little Red. From then on, my album sales fell faster than those of the Village People’s second album! But eventually I got my peace and quiet. I moved out into the woods with no neighbours in sight. I happily lived out the rest of my quiet life from this here house. Every morning I get up, go to the door and read the paper. You can imagine my delight when I read the music review by a Mrs G. Smith stating that a certain band member had been dropped from the band we now call Simply Red. Happy ever after anyone?


The home I grew up in… wasn’t the grandest or the greatest. It didn’t have the best views or the most fashionable decor. At one point it didn’t even have a TV. But I miss the days of sitting around playing games and actually getting to know people, not just their facebook avatars. Time moved on and so did we. Still, the old house hosts more memories than you can remember, more laughter than you can forget and more trips to A&E than you can shake a stick at.

If I could change one thing about myself… I wouldn’t change a thing. Everyone is made individual so why change to be like someone else. I have my idea of perfect but that’s not a reality and truth be told: I quite like being me.

My secret crush…
Tom Cope my personal tutor! Though it’s not that much of a secret since I’ve been telling everyone how good looking he is. Okay so a secret one… I have way too many, Patrick Dempsey for a start. In fact, just the whole male cast of Grey’s Anatomy, minus the chief of course. I fancy the pants of Jasper Whitlock Hale from Twilight. And the last but not least (actually probably the most) worrying edition is Dexter. He is a fictional character from the TV series. He is also a serial killer.

At night I dream of… the craziest things. My subconscious is an undiluted, uncontrolled version of myself. Sometimes it could just be bright colours but most of the time when I sleep, I just pop along to Topshop.

I wish I’d never worn… Christian Louboutin heels to prom. Shoe love is true love but even dancing the Macarena in three inch heels equals death to feet.

A book that changed me… was ‘the book of bunny suicides’. And I was worried about the things I think about…

The last album I bought or downloaded…  was Regina Spektor’s new album. It’s ridiculous how few people have heard of her. She has such raw talent, an amazing range and a supernatural, breathy voice. Have you heard it? Download it now please and prepare to be amazed. Spectacular.

The person who really makes me laugh… is my best friend Mathew Finch.  He knows me inside out and back to front. He reads me like a book and can manipulate my emotions in the space of twenty seconds to make me smile. Impressive? He knows the secret; I’m terribly ticklish!

My favourite item of clothing… Hello? Favourite item, as in singular? Get lost. I have three wardrobes!

You wouldn’t know it but I’m very good at… Performing. I’ve studied classical ballet since the age of three, and no I am not a stuck up snob thanks.

You may not know but I’m no good at… cooking sensible food. I aced my food technology exam, I can bake you anything from cakes to cookies, tortes to tarts, but suggest a sensible meal and pop goes my cookery skills. Pot noodle anyone?

My room… is my haven. It’s not overly tidy but certainly not messy. The walls are white but not spotless. Childhood memories cover acres of space, the term ‘photo wall’ being taken quite literally. The opposite side is simply a large bookcase filled ceiling to floor with every book I’ve ever read. My covers lie in a heap on top of my bed.

Movie heaven… for me is; salted popcorn, not sweet, my best friend, a hot lead role, the comfy, red sofa and my pink furry blanket. That’s as close to perfection as you will ever get.

My life in six words… exclamation mark, exclamation mark, exclamation mark.

To say I hate reality TV is an understatement. Those two words alone force every negative image imaginable to invade my mind. I don’t just hate it, I loathe it. I despise everything reality shows stand for… whatever that might be! Year after year they turn out one hit wonders and media trash. Oh sure, there are exceptions, but trust me; these are few and far between.
     As I flip through the hundred or so TV channels that I own, I realised, it’s all ‘reality shows’. X Factor, Big Brother, I’m a Celebrity, The Bachelor and another dozen showing on every channel. Seriously though, who actually likes reality TV? I mean really. I genuinely know about three people who could call themselves fans (one of them was my English teacher). Most people just watch them because that’s the only thing showing at the time. I’m sure I would be just as entreating to sit an watch a blank screen. If (by some genius wave of common sense) the powers that be cancelled reality TV tomorrow, who would be care? Though it would limit the awkward conversations by the coffee machine to just hellos and goodbyes. Still, I’m not complaining!  
     For most, the world of reality TV breaks down into two collections of viewing: The X factors of the world and the Big Brothers. As for the X Factor there is so much I can say but I’ll keep it brief. The talent is always on the short side no matter what the judges try and tell us. Jedward cannot sing, they cannot dance, they have awful hair and what makes it worse is there are two of them. I’m over it. The judges! High pants, open shirt, slick hair and you have Simon Cowel (SyCo as I like to refer to him). High pants, closed shirt and less hair and you have Louis Walsh. Big hair, short dress and that’s Cheryl Cole. Big dress, short hair and that’s Dannii Minogue. Add a few sob stories into the mix and that’s basically all there is to it, though it comes back year after year in different shapes and sizes. The X factors of the world are the likes of Pop Idol, American Idol, Britain’s got talent, America’s got talent, Strictly come dancing UK, Dancing with the Stars USA. I’m starting to see a common link here…
     It’s America! America really pushes my limit. Where in society did anyone call for a series called “My Big Fat Obnoxious Fiancé” (A spin of series of My Big Fat Obnoxious Boss)? They all want become a size 0, become a millionaire or become world famous. Seriously, if they got up of the sofa instead of watching reality TV they might just lose a few pounds in weight, not money or brain cells! One show I have to mention is Beauty and the Geek. I like to call it “The Battle of Who Could Care Less.” The purpose of this show is to humiliate guys who might happen to like watching star trek and playing halo on a Friday night in front of dumb girls who only know it’s Friday because that’s the night they “party hardest”. It is a shame. There’s a button on my TV remote that says brightness. But no matter how high I make it go, the people in these shows just seem to get dimmer and dumber.
     Reality isn’t random whackos off the street put in a fancy big house and given free food, just to doss about and make a fool of themselves on British television. Reality isn’t all those anorexic teenage girls of the world bitching and fighting to be the next top drunken page three model. Reality is me sat here trying to write a whole article about that junk and you sat their reading it when in reality you should probably being doing that work presentation that’s in for tomorrow (sorry for reminding you). I mean, these ridiculous ideas’s and prizes… their probably someone’s reality somewhere, just not mine. In fact I’d bet a pretty penny it’s not your reality either. Of course, insignificant things like TV don’t usually bother me. Reality TV however, has proven to be the exception.
     So I tried to watch them. I honestly tried. I thought maybe there’s something I’m missing… Turns out that something is some idiot singleton getting overly friendly with four dumb blondes. Of course he then goes on to spend about four minutes in the hot tub and chooses his wife for life. I’m so sure. To be honest, I really don’t care who had the loudest mouth on ‘Big Brother’, who cried about the bloody spiders in ‘I’m a Z list Celeb who used to be on TV ten years ago’ or who became Extremely made over on Living +1.
     To end all arguments about reality TV, the last straw is scripted reality. Yes, you heard. It’s like new AND improved. Let’s just take a minute to think about it, it can’t be reality TV if it’s scripted… can it? No! It’s one or the other. Reality TV like The hills often comes with the line “some scenes have been created for viewing purposes only” So much for reality. That fact is they are so far detached from reality they should be called idealism shows. Or just terrible…
     I hate reality TV. I hate the idiots who take part. I hate the networks that chose to play this rubbish. I hate the producers who make this rubbish. I hate the likes of SyCo for promoting this rubbish. I hate the way the media have a field day with the ridiculous antics of the idiots who take part. I hate how talented writers are out of a job as more and more of this terrible unscripted (good one) TV is taking the place of decent dramas. I’m sure Big Brother was still great after series one but nine years later and it’s still going… I’d rather sort out my sock drawer or stick pins in my eyes. Don’t get me wrong, if you like reality TV, no one is stopping you. Just make sure you get out into the REAL WORLD once in a while eh?

when my mother woke me up at twenty to nine instead of twenty to eight this morning, things went from bad to worse. You could say i metaphorically got out of the wrong side of bed. Though literally, this is impossible unless i could walk through walls.
Never the less, the wrong side of the bed? As i scrambled around to get ready in twenty minutes, i threw straighteners and allsorts at myself. What a panic!
My first piece of advice, look at what colours your using before you apply eyeshadow. I caused people to ask me if my eyes were okay all day. Though highly amusing, i wiped it off after looking in the mirror.
After forgeting my phone and standing twenty minutes waiting for my mother to pick me up from college, I did eventually get home to some supernoodles and an episode of glee, which made things much better : )
Also, my recent obsessions with Marina and The Diamonds is quite nice!
I’m obsessed with the mess thats america jsut like her!
In fact i love cheryl cole also. They have my whorish love.
I wonder if you can have a hedgehog as like a pet? I’d have a slaghog to give my whorish love too
and on that nood goodnight 🙂

“In pound stores and bus stations, people talk of situations, read books, repeat quotations, draw conclusions on the wall.”

If I had a penny I would lend it to you, for an adoring memory and let you keep it as mine so you could remember me by. When you would look to the bus stop, you would see the spot where er would sit, converse and love whilst awaiting our ride and retreat to our homes. We’d lose ourselves in words of others that we would never again speak, but you would dare to tell me of summer days and golden sunsets. Inquisitively, we would pay attention to the rare tales of books written long ago and envisage them all between our thoughts. Whenever this would happen, we would sacrifice all common sense and you’d whisper and quote across my should “take what you have gatherd form coincidense”. But why ever did you leave, you gave your matches to me and we were to make a fire in the sunset, just you and me.

I wanted to give you my penny, but the last penny i gave out got throw into a lake. I’m afraid you to will throw my penny into a lake.

Would you like to go swimming?

Hello World : )

MY NAME IS LUCINDA. i think its right cool. i like it becuase it’s different. it’s one thing that my father did right. I’m a bit diferent and special 😉 for instance I always use a fork to eat cake. I’m not that fond of spoons, there not symetrical. I like symetry and patterns though sometimes i do some random things. things i have too many of are clothes. i love clothes but i love people more. More isn’t always good. More chocolate cake makes you sick. More money makes you greedy. But more love is always good. i have good days and i have bad days. i like to talk about them to my favourite people. I chit chat on LucindaKate@hotmail.co.uk. The UK is pretty small and there are plenty more places that i’d like to go. i like the word Go. It’s better than stop. Sometimes i like to stop though, stop and think. I think about things alot, so i don’t sleep much. I’m not that fond of sleep but i like snoozing. Snoozing and reading. It’s quite suprising. I like suprises but only the good kind. Kind is a nice thing to be. I like just being. I like to bake cakes 🙂 but i cant cook; not unless you include noodles of the super or the pot variety!

me? i like performing and i like ice lollies. i love laughing and messy days. i’ve done bad things but i’ve done some things right. i’m trying my best. It’s Winstanley doing english lang, media, psychology and performing arts. i dislike psychololagy but danny makes it fun. Next year i’m  taking away psychology and adding photography but not maths. I have all the time in the world to take photos and my new camera is bitchin (L) i would be lost without my friends. i need them to read directions. you never can trust sat nav. theres alot more to me. be curious and ask. I don’t think you can really tell someones story in a little box but it appears we’re taking a shot. I like shots. Who am I? I don’t really know. I guess I have things to ponder.

well there you have me, at least, a little bit. But then again, I’m only 5ft4 🙂