Srsly. Wtf. How can you ask people to arrive at 6.15 prompt and then sit around for half an hour waiting for people to turn up who CLEARLY aren't that bothered? How can you have an entire Drama department void of anyone who's ever been to the RSC so we get lost for an hour? How can you expect me not to swear vehemently when the cheapest minivan you could find breaks down for two and a half hours? How can you possibly take umbridge at me telling you to phone the people organising the event so that they know we're late - it's just good fucking manners, you rags, how can you not get that?? How can you be surprised that I was a little unwilling to participate after you made us trudge into the middle of a fucking workshop for 15 minutes after making us four hours late? How could you not see that I would be a tad embarassed - no, sorry, hugely, deeply humiliated - at being from the poorest fucking school there and then being so pathetic that we can't even turn up on time?
I hate you.
I can only apologise. Please don't hold it against me. BLAME THEM.
I would also like to add that I had a very lovely time, your cake was magnificent, Vincent the Lighting Guy is my new best friend and please tell Freida in the gift shop that she's a wonder.
Dear fucking grammar-school rags with your damn flicky hair and your fucking giggling and idiot inane grins,
Ok, srsly, just die. And if you don't know whether to be an actress or a primary school teacher, you're not going to be an actress - you're going to give up as soon as anyone is "mean" to you. I hate you.