I saw this angel, she was dressed in leather

Sex, drugs, parties and cute English accents, what more could you ask for in a cult television show. Fuck new level, Skins take teen dramas to a whole new dimension.

I CAME ACROSS this God-scent of a show one lazy Friday night channel-flicking session. Adolescent attention caught, I watched. Forty-five minutes later I had to turn the telly off and just sit there in the dark to absorb what I had just witnessed.
Seemingly antithetic to the dubious and fabricated sob stories explored within 90210, Gossip Girl and others alike, Skins offer a whole new take on teen dramas. Basic storyline involves the youth culture in Bristol, London with a heavy, HEAVY emphasis on sex, drugs and all things decadent. Know not only are the father-son BAFTA* award winning duo, Brain Elsley and Jamie Brittain on my “People I must meet before I die” list, but also Mr Edward Gibbon – the all mighty, all knowing, all divine show stylist.
Providing style flavours to suit all your tastebuds, Gibbon bestows a fashion fiesta of all the threads you wish you were brave enough to wear. The fore-mentioned angel in leather is no more than the enigmatic and elusive Miss Effy Stonem. Rocking the grunge look, I have never seen anyone look more beguiling and beauteous. With a colour range of black to dark blue, one would think options are limited, but by golly I have never seen such a selection. Juxtaposing stiff leathers with lacy legging, androgynous looks with feminine statement jewellery, and heroin-addict makeup with beautifully trashed frocks.
If the whole “I don’t give a fuck” look doesn’t rev your engines, there’s another two whole sets of cast members to pick from (they completely re-cast for the “second generation”), where no character is analogous. Whether it is Cassie in a retro spiral, Freddie dominating the “I never shower, but I can still pull chicks” demeanour, Cook the archetypal James Dean model or Pandora, the naive virgin who appears to get dressed in the dark but still look adorable.

I should also point out that the show is currently boasting 5 seasons, however unlike a decent red wine, the show did not get better with age. Reagrdless, come one, come all, take your pick, I guarantee whatever your fashion fetish is, it will be in Skins. So check it out on http://www.surfthechannel.com/ and I pledge my soul you too will become addicted

poop, guns and a whole lotta ranch

You know what? I'm just going to dive right on in here.
A kid pooped in the pool.
Yes.
Poop. In the pool.

It was a scorching hot summer camp afternoon and i was sitting high and dry in the lifeguard chair watching all the kids break all the rules we just went over. Ah to be young and ignorant. Next thing i know, Dawn is screaming, shrilling more like it.

'GET OUT! GET OUT!'

Thirty something dripping wet miniature bodies start hurling out screaming, frantic, fearing for their lives.

'POO! THERE'S POO IN THE POOL!' Dawn declares

Everyone was screaming. Finally, after everyone was shuffled from the life threatening poo and back up the hill did one of the campers fessed up. Having previously been given a time-out for throwing a rock at another campers head for no apparent reason, said camper decided to give a little pay back, primative style. Little bitch.

Post camp, Derby and I ventured down to San Diego, her new home and upon return I was meant to stay the night at Dawns house. All in all, it go to be about 2 in the morning with me standing in camps car park after sitting in a hotel lobby getting hit on by creepy yet charming old fellas and a 40 minute vacant hotel search in a cab with it's meter running. Ouch.
Standing in the car park deciding whether or not the owner will take pity on me (she lives on site) and not beat up up for coming a-knocking at God forsaken hours. Bugger it. Knocked on the door to nothing except dog barks. Shit, this means i've got to curl up in a ball under a tree for the night (for those unaware Northern Cali is super cold at night).
While making my choice out a few potential tree trunks i hear the unmistakable sounds of rubber on gravel. I poke my head out from behind the trailer i had strategically masked myself from sex predators.

'WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?'

An elderly man stood with a massive shot gun, barrel down right at me.

'WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?'

This would of been a tad more intimidating if the man had more on than his tightie whities and a singlet on.

Turns out is was the owners pa, who lives just up the hill and whilst i was apparently 'banging away' the owner was lying down in her bathtub, handgun at the ready, shitting her pants.

Luckily, she burst out laughing when finding out the serial killer was me, then pa started laughing, so i joined in.

And yes, i did sleep on her couch. Best sleep i'ld had in a long time.