Why is is that I can do 2 nights of The Diary Of Anne Frank dressed as a '40s man, strangling my best friend and yet it is near-impossible for me to stand up in front of 30 people I have known (and taken Drama with) for 3 years and talk about one of my favourite things. Also, why is it that even when moody, thick-as-a-fst-man's-thigh, baby-eating, rusty water drinking, Pot Noodle haired teachers get things wrong, I still have to copy out the school rules, which then means I have to say up until 11 trying to do my science revision, which is byf ar much more important, me getting a good grade in my GCSEs than whether or not my teacher is smart enough to figure out that if a hill is big enough to fit 2000 pigs on it, then it's clearly a mountain.