WIXLIB

Section 1 - Choric Speaking Grade 4-6(A) Set Piece: A Selection from Thelma the Unicorn by Aaron Blabey(B) Set Piece: The Visitation by AF HarroldA Selection from Thelma the Unicorn by Aaron BlabeyThelma was a donkey, a lovely little grey.She roamed the fields and cropped the grass, content for most the day.But soon she felt a little sad. In fact, she felt forlorn.You see, she wished with all her heart to be a unicorn.And that was when she saw it. A carrot on the ground.It gave her such a great idea, she squealed and jumped around.She took that simple carrot and she tied it to her nose.“I’ll SAY that I’m a unicorn! It might just work who knows?!”Well, as she did, a truck drove by. The driver rubbed his eyes.“Good grief! Is that a unicorn?!” he shrieked in great surprise.As Thelma watched the swerving truck, it very nearly hit her.Would you believe that truck was filled with nice pink paint and glitter?Oh, Thelma looked amazing! She WAS a unicorn.“I’m special now!” she cried out loud. And so a star was born.All across the whole wide world her fans would cheer her name.Thelma loved it! Every bit! The fame, the FAME, THE FAME!Thelma was a superstar! Her dreams had all come true.But soon she found that so much fame was kind of tricky too You see, her fans were mad for her. They’d scream and cry and laugh.They’d chase her everywhere she went to get her autograph.And so with that she changed her mind, this lonely unicorn.She cleaned off all her sparkles. She ditched her magic horn.And then she walked right past the crowd. They didn’t even notice.She thought how nice that it would be to see her dear friend, Otis.And when he asked about her trip, beneath their favourite tree,she simply said, “Oh it was fun but I’d rather just be me.”

(B) Set Piece: The Visitation by AF HarroldThe Visitation by AF HarroldWe were trying to get to sleepWhen we saw the flashing lightsAnd we heard that high pitched hummingDescending from the heights,And the windows started to rattleAs the roar got ever louderAnd then there came a crashAs dad’s shed got turned to powder,We tip-toed down the stairsAnd peered out the cat flapAt the interstellar transportThat had squashed the garden flat,And now a figure was emergingFrom a bright white glowing hatchAnd it had two arms and had two legsAnd had two heads to matchAnd it pointed a finger at us,It must have seen us all along,‘Are you Master Jargle Flackenfrex?’‘Not us, ’we said, ‘You’ve got it wrong.’‘Wrong? ’he said, ‘Oh bother,Oh blast, I’ve done it once again.I’m sorry to have troubled you.’Then before we could explainHe climbed back in his spaceshipAnd left the garden with a roar,And all we wanted to tell him wasThat Mr Flackenfrex lives next door.

Section 2 - Choric Speaking Grade 1-3(A) Set Piece: Don’t Think About A Zebra by Kenn Nesbitt(B) Set Piece: We Tried To Find A Dinosaur by Kenn NesbittDon’t Think About A Zebra by Kenn NesbittDon't think about a zebrano matter what you do,for if you ever think of one .then soon you'll think of two!And, after that, you'll think of three .And then you'll think of four.Then five or six or seven zebras. .Maybe even more!And then you'll think of zebra herdsstampeding down the street,and zebras wearing tutus,disco-dancing to a beat.You'll think of flying ninja zebraspracticing kung fu.And zebra clowns from outer space.And robot zebras too.And zebras in pajama bottomsbouncing on their beds,and maybe even zebraswearing gerbras on their heads?!You'll wish you'd never thought of them,so do it starting now:Don't think about a zebra.Only think about .a cow!We Tried To Find A Dinosaur by Kenn NesbittWe tried to find a dinosaur.We started in our yard.We dug and dug for days and days.The work was long and hard.We dug through dirt and mud and muck.We dug through rocks and soil.Our arms grew sore. Our legs grew weakfrom all the sweat and toil.We shovelled tons of gravel out.We moved a bunch of stones,until, at last, to our surprise,We found some fossil bones.We put the bones together inour bedroom on the floor.When we were done, those bones hadformed a half a dinosaur.Our parents weren't too happy whenwe told them of our goal.We found a half a dinosaur,but then they found the hole.

Section 3 - Speech Championship 14 - 18 yearsSet Piece (Prose): Third Witch by Jackie French or Villain’s Version by Kaye UmanskyA Selection from Third Witch by Jackie FrenchOver by the door, the queen whispered reassurance to the king. At last he turned and tried tosmile at us - as successfully as a rabbit might try to fly. The moment lengthened as we waited forthe king to sit. But suddenly he cowered back against the wall.“Quit my sight!” He shrieked. He raised his arms as if to ward off a blow, muttering words wecould not hear. No silence now. Men muttered. Women whispered.The king shouted, “Take any shape but that and my firm nerves shall never tremble! Hence,horrible shadow!”He had gone mad. No .one couldn’t say the king was mad. One couldn’t even think it.At last he sank into his chair. No one spoke, or even dared to catch his neighbour’s eye. The silencegrew even deeper, as if our chatter had fallen down a well. But tongues would speak daggerstonight. I fought the word away but it came back to me. The king was mad.What had made him so? The answer came like an arrow, so swift I could not dodge it. He hadheard a witch promise him that he’d be king. I gasped, as if the arrow had been real. The pain feltreal too, an agony that spread inside me. What was done could not be undone.Macbeth had killed the king. And his wife had urged him on. But they had not dreamed such a plotuntil I spoke it.A Selection from Villain’s Version: The Stepsister’s Story by Kaye UmanskyThat morning, my feet were all blue and wrinkled. They looked like prunes and my toes were frozentogether. I could hardly limp downstairs. Angula’s were the same. We sat in the kitchen, moaninglike mad.“Even if I get the shoe on, I won’t be able to walk in it!” said Angula.There came a knock on the door and in came Prince Florian, still handsome. With him was a servantwho was carrying the shoe on a red cushion.“Right!” said Prince Florian. “Let’s get this over with. Which of you ladies is first?”“ME!” We both yelled. “Meeeeeeeee!”The servant took the shoe from the cushion and knelt by Angula’s feet. Angula closed her eyes andcrossed her fingers but she couldn’t even fit her toes in! The little glass shoe just danced on theend of her big toe. Angula kicked the shoe off, fell to the floor and promptly had one of hertantrums.Then it was my turn. I knew with just one look that all the ice cubes and butter in the world weren’tgoing to do the trick! I went into a sulk. And then “Excuse me,” said a sweet little voice from the doorway. “Can I try it on please?”

Set Shakespearean Excerpt: Helena or Henry VChoice (Female) - ‘Helena’ from ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’Lo, she is one of this confederacy!Now I perceive they have conjoin'd all threeTo fashion this false sport, in spite of me.Injurious Hermia! most ungrateful maid!Have you conspired, have you with these contrivedTo bait me with this foul derision?Is all the counsel that we two have shared,The sisters' vows, the hours that we have spent,When we have chid the hasty-footed timeFor parting us,--O, is it all forgot?All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence?We, Hermia, like two artificial gods,Have with our needles created both one flower,Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion,Both warbling of one song, both in one key,As if our hands, our sides, voices and minds,Had been incorporate. So we grow together,Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,But yet a union in partition;Two lovely berries moulded on one stem;So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart;Two of the first, like coats in heraldry,Due but to one and crowned with one crest.And will you rent our ancient love asunder,To join with men in scorning your poor friend?It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly:Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it,Though I alone do feel the injury.

Choice (Male) - ‘Henry V’ from ‘Henry V’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 manAs 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-favoured rage.Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,Hold hard the breath and bend up every spiritTo his full height. On, on, you noblest English,Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof,Fathers that, like so many AlexandersHave in these parts from morn till even fought,And sheathed their swords for lack of argument.Dishonour not your mothers; now attestThat those whom you call’d fathers did beget you.Be copy now to men of grosser bloodAnd teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman,Whose limbs were made in England, show us hereThe mettle of your pasture; let us swearThat you are worth your breeding – which I doubt not,For there is none of you so mean and baseThat 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 chargeCry ‘God for Harry, England, and Saint George!’

Section 4 - Set Girls and Boys Poem 14-18 years(A) Desk - Dave Calder(B) Lightbringer - Joseph CoelhoDesk by Dave CalderIt was stuffy in the classroom.He put his hand inside his desk,feeling for a pencil. It was cool in there,he let his hand swing aimlessly around.The space within seemed vast, and whenhe reached in further he foundnothing, could feel no books, no ruler.His hand floated as if in a bath of shadows,airy and refreshing, not at allthe same place that the rest of him was in.He put both hands in, let them driftdeeper, this way and that. It was more than empty,the inside had no sides. His handsnever reappeared through some unexpected hole.He lifted the lid quietly a little more. A waftof soft air cooled his face, the sameas on summer nights or under leafy trees.He bent his head down to the gap. He looked inside.Dark as deep water, deep as a clear night sky.He smiled. He put his head inside."What are you doing?" asked the teacher.But he didn't hear.He slid his shoulders in, and thenbefore anyone could reach to stop him,he bent from the waist, kicking his chair back,and with a muffled cry of pleasuredived. For a split second,as the room filled with fresh air,we watched his legs slide slowly down into the deskand disappear. And then the lid fell back,shut, with a soft thud.

(B) Lightbringer - Joseph CoelhoLightbringer by Joseph CoelhoThe vaults of gods are hard to break into,as thin as spider silk, and treasure hooked.It takes a light-fingered thief’s wizardry,a skill to candle-shadow-flicker-dance.To conduct through space like star-ray light.Prometheus, like candles gasping, flickedas quick as fireworks, cracker-snaps and sparks,past safes chock-a-block with Higgs Particles.He lightning-struck past chests of knotted ideas,his mind a plume of surging thunder-smoke.He blazed through secret halls of locked delights:of crystal forest planet hearts,of spins removed from twirling balls,of dinosaur extinction theories.his mind a fizz of fired up flare.He reaches the deepest vault with lava doors,he hears the song of fire hidden behind.Like Einstein nicking the atom.Like Crick and Watson poaching genes.Like Hawking pilfering Space-time.Prometheus unlocks the lava doors,he squints at beaks of flames and feathered heat,forgets the naked skin protecting his hands;he reaches inside and steals a fistful of fire.