He stepped onto the podium, and glared down at the piece of paper in front of him. Sweat trickled down his nose, he shook uncontrollably, but this man knew what he was going to say. He knew what he must say. “Next to of course god america i love you land of the pilgrims and so forth oh…” A gunshot broke the flow of silence. The man dropped dead with his words in his mouth.. He collapsed and dropped onto the ground, smashing the glass cup he was holding. The audience burst into cries and shouts. Several more shots were scattered across the thousands of members in the hall. Men and women dropped like flies, whilst attempting to flee from the terror. Blood seeped across the marble floor creating stripped patterns, like the white and red stripes of the great american flag.

It was going to be an important day for our country. America was a nation of actors and patriots, who talked about how great their country was. The worlds super power. But all that was going to change. Me and my three droogs geared up and loaded our guns with polyas. We had no objective, our only purpose was to wound America, and spill American blood, as they did to us. Slowly, I placed my Russian red balaclava on. It wasn’t cold.

There were a couple of hours left before we engraved our names into American history. I peered though a window, thousands of Americans entered the hall. A smile crept on my face. There was no security at an event like this. Then I remembered, security always walk through the top viewing area of the hall, and down the aisle. “Yebat! Both of you get under those tables now, security will walk through here any second now” Rapidly, I dived towards the door. I had my knife in my hand which trembled. We could not have failed, not after all the blood and sacrifice we went through to get there. Suddenly, the door creaked open. It sounded like a whole unit was out there. It was me and my knife, versus twenty armed officers. It was unfair, for them. One drunk officer walked, completely unnoticed us. Stealthily, I moved towards him and slit his throat, blood gushing out towards the wall. My droogs moved over and hid his body under a desk. Only one officer walked in, the rest had decided to take another route.

“Why are we doing this” Asked Dimitri, he was the youngest and did not fully understand the situation. He was simply forced into the duty. Without thinking I told him what I would have told my sons “America has killed our people, threatened us and most importantly they believe they are the most powerful nation on the planet and one that can not be touched. That needs to be changed. We do this for mother Russia” Dimitri nodded but I could see he was unsatisfied with my answer. “Its time” called Vladislav. The briefcase under my knees held the tool which I needed. I assembled the sniper and loaded it with only five polyas. We all had our guns prepared, but we thought we would not leave alive. My scope encircled my eye. I zoomed in on the speaker, and carefully observed him. He was the prey, and I was the predator who was going to devour him. As soon as he started speaking the man had already made a fool of himself. I let him embrace his last moment of life. Then I pulled the trigger…

Belinda Webb’s article contained many astute points, which were logical and strongly supported her argument. The point which she made is that slang is creative and is a semi-private language, that others can use to communicate. Belinda Webb goes against modern views on slang; that it has negative connotations by embedding examples of slang such as Shakespeare’s neologisms in her writing. This creates an overall view that slang is a love of communication and it can be a unique way for people in local communities to speak their own modified version of “standard” English. One of the major points she expresses is that slang is a semi-private language, as people in communities have developed an informal way of communication, because it suits their lifestyle more therefore it becomes more personal. I agree with her point because teenagers in schools feel more secure speaking to their friends if they integrate slang into their speech as it gives them more freedom. However, to the older generation who are not used to these neologism as it is modernised English, can not simply understand their ideologies so refer to slang with negative connotations.

The article included good examples to support her view. “Anthony Burgess’s A Clockwork Orange with its Nadsat”. This is a good example, as it broadens the reader’s knowledge of colloquial language used in literary terms. Furthermore, using an author’s example of slang shows its efficiency and creativity. Authors are experts at language and if Anthony Burgess’s can get millions of readers to enjoy and understand his book, it shows that slang is interesting and can be integrated into “standard” English, making it even more unique. This suggests that slang is not overtaking the “standard” English language but it is being integrated in it as a form of modernisation.

Another example used in her writing was “…which makes them so nervy that they want to puke, which could be avoided if they stopped the slang assassination.” Belinda Webb uses Shakespeare’s neologisms to express that slang is not negative and should not be targeted upon, by using metaphorical language. Shakespeare was known as the innovator of slang and is one of the most studied authors of all time. Assassination and puke are considered to be “standard” English. They have now been integrated in modern language, so these words are not referred to as slang. By implying this she shows the audience that slang is used to build upon language. However, the word “assassination” connotes that todays English scholars disapprove of slang as they are trying to destroy it and remove it from our language completely. Some refer to slang having negative connotations, but in reality it does not destroy our language but enhances it. Language is always changing and is never constant, by using different dialects it means different groups of people can communicate with each other without a physical barrier of language.

One of the points she tries to get across to the reader is that dialects can be specific to local areas. She does this by using an example of localisation and how it links to slang. The example used is “…from the North will recognise nowt as not” It implies that specific dialects are developed in certain areas, and to them that is known as “standard” English. This builds upon the idea that slang or informal English can be very personal to certain districts, allowing people to communicate with each other freely and uniquely. Also, communities that have a strong cultural influence such as Turkish or Jamaican may include words from their own language to make it more personal for them, and again gives them that sense of freedom and personalisation. From my point of view integrating words from your own language is not a form of destruction as people in a friend group of similar culture will be able to communicate easier without a language barrier, but then change format and speak more “standard” English with others.

Reading this argument the point which stood out the most to me is that “Slang is a sophisticated attempt to communicate in a semi-private language”. The word sophisticated shows that slang is an intelligent way to communicate, and is contradicting the fact that the adult population believe slang to have negative connotations. Additionally, she uses the phrase “semi-private language”. She is implying that slang does not need to be universal, it is a language associated with a group or area of people. However, she does also state that “I am not saying slang is a substitute for “standard” English, but should be recognised and capitalised for what it is a love of communications…” I strongly agree with this as modern-day English is still the universal form of communication, but slang is personalisation and is a way for others to communicate with each other freely, sculpted from the building blocks of “standard” English.

Belinda Webb wrote a powerful article showing the benefits of slang. I strongly agree with her point, as slang is sophisticated and an attempt for the younger generation to represent their reality. Throughout her argument she uses many examples such as Shakespeare’s and Anthony Burgess’s neologisms, and uses those to create her own examples. She does not contradict her point in the argument, and provided logical explanations and reasoning which supported her point of view. The style of language she used was appropriate as “standard” English is the universal way of communicating formally. But, she changed dialect to prove her point; that slang is sophisticated and a love of communication.

It was a normal day like always. Then out of the ordinary a fleet of planes swept in on us. Screams rushed through out the neighbourhood. Bombs crashed down on us. It was dark, smokey. Silent. Stealthily I crept outside. Is that a nuclear bomb shell I thought to myself. Americans. A tear came out my eyes. The land was flat on for miles. “Mum, dad. Hanzo! Is anybody there! What the…” I roared like a raging beast wanting to avenge these deaths.

I am the only one left. Thats how it begun…

I was on my way to my A level geography class. Bored, I took out my iPhone. “Is that the latest I phone Z3?” I ignored the question and carried on playing. Finally she’s here. Now we could begin our mock test. What is the current population I thought. 5.8 billion people, yes that’s it! Next question, What is the most populated city. This was an easy one, New America. Done. “We’ll done Smith, your dismissed.” I rushed through the steel gates and was on my way home.

The smell of food enlightened me, my foster mum was a great cook. Nobody was home, that’s odd. Anyway I enjoyed my food and was ready to train. I took part in a special type of training for one particular reason. I researched on this, and hacked into government secret databases. Geography was something to do at school, I have no interest in it. There it laid on the table. My silver curved knife. Slowly, I grasped it, observing the target dummies in the garden. With quick speed I lurched forward and threw the knife. It soared through the sky making a devilish singing sound. Bang on the middle it pierced right through the plastic. Each year the government gets more secret and more corrupt. Hidden in the shadows of our citizens they plan secret missions to what they say help the world. They cast a spell on us, but it isn’t affecting me.

I stood leaning buy the door as I gazed at Uncle Axel. Something was up. This wasn’t the normal him. Slowly, I approached him, not even a sound came out of him, waving my hand in his face had no effect. He was lost in an dark, mysterious thought. “Uncle Axel! Look at me, what in Gods name is wrong with you!” No matter how much I shouted he just wouldn’t turn round. Suddenly his face popped round. “The island! The island! They are not deviations of God!” He grabbed my throat and chocked me. I gasped, rising from my bed. “It was just a dream…”

“Hey David,” Uncle Axel greeted my happily “Your mother and father have gone to deal with another deviation.” He sighed. I trembled and a shiver went up my spine, remembering the dream. “Uncle, I I had a dream. You were saying the Island the Island, they are not mutants.” There was a moment of silence. The words it is time uttered from his mouth.
“It is time David. This is my secret I have kept from everybody. Nobody must dare know,” There was a tone of danger to his voice, so I sat down and listened carefully. “There was a time boy where I believed in the deviations of the devil and hunted down mutant after mutant. One journey something happened that has change me forever. It started off as me going off in a boat journey looking for fish to feed starving mouths after a dreadful raid from them. It was a windy, dark and evil weather that sent are boat crashing into a strange island. Strangely enough I was the only survivor. Nobody can be that lucky, but I was. Perhaps this was my path from God. I could feel that this was a wretched island of the devil, so looking for food a shelter I ventured of into the depths of the jungle. But a group of winged men, biceps the size of boulders, and knifes for fangs approached me with anger. Horrified as I was I had the courage to chant mutants! What they chanted back was mutant. We charged, clashed and fought to the death. Both of us were Exhausted and we collapsed to the ground. Out of nowhere one of them say he is not mutant look how he fights, look how he talks, look how he thinks, look how he believes, look at his courage. We are no different. I survived, they gave me a boat and I went back with a lot of fish. I learnt a lesson from this David. What was the lesson of this story?”

My lips began to move but I thought carefully about the answer. That must be it! ” You were strong, gave them and challenge as god allowed the human to win. So they fed you. That’s it isn’t it?” Uncle Axel frowned disappointed by my answer. “No David, the lesson is that a human is not a human by the features that distinguish them. It what is inside them, their mind and soul. God will not create a man if he thinks its a deviation. So remember this story David, you are the same as everybody else.”

Uncle axel was telling stories about other islands that have mutations. For example one places had only pink hair and white skin, another place he claimed they all turned black. he could tell a story about one of his adventures at the fringes or badlands. it will be a mysterious story that he nearly died on and nobody must know about it. Also he says an encounter he had with them how they are friendly and allowed him even they thought he was different. he contradicts with the fact that they are human and not mutants. The place is a ruin of the old people where secrets have passed down but uncle axel must not reveal them. This is one of his secrets that David could not tell.

We have recently received a report on the occurrence of an animal breakout. There has been a bear siting in the London Nautical school and eye witnesses claiming it to be a brown Eurasian bear. The school has taken immediate and action and has been put into lockdown for the safety of the staff and pupils. Pupils have not been sent home to avoid the risk of a unexpected attack. So all classes are locked, and nobody is allowed to leave or enter the school.

We have interviewed two member of claiming the same information. Mr Waugh, English teacher said “Rumours say that the sixth form has planned a prank using the opportunity of a Russian circus bear escape. This bear is classified as a brown Eurasian bear. Another eye witness’s said the same information but added on “The bear was lurking around the reception area, and it smelled like a hamster cage, also it is heading towards the staff room area” The species of bear are very aggressive. Even though this is trained by circus standards the bear can show unexpected aggression.

Teachers are keeping students locked in classrooms for their own safety. We will try to give you further information on the event.