In case you can't tell, and I don't imagine you can, that thing in my hands is a puppet, fashioned from bright yellow bin liners and the travel cushion I bought. It has two heads which, if you have incredibly fine eye sight, you will notice are fashioned from barbecue tongs and a pasta strainer.
Yes, we made puppets. And this was the general quality of them. I jest: Andrew's and the other's were much, much better. Which may be why mine ended up being the predator of the puppet world: theirs were much easier to relate to (there was one which had no legs, and a Glasgow smile, poor thing). So, yes, we made a narrative about an abandoned side show freak who is set upon by a hydra which then tears itself apart in fear when its dog is killed...I guess you had to be there. But I was the hydra.
The next day we made even more puppets and I decided I was going to make a jellyfish, which then turned into God. It happens to us all on occasion. Meanwhile, Andrew made cup bunnies, and we essentially made Bambi, with more fucking and Godlyfish. It was fun.
We also tried our hand at scaring each other with only bin bags (Andrew has a fetish); I won't speak of what happened, but there was a lot of choking, blindfolds and burying alive. You really can't imagine the horror.
The next time we met, 'twas just Andrew and I, and we decided to make a music video. I'll post the video below: I'd explain the logic behind it, but I've always felt director's commentaries ruined films.
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