Ting Tang Tommy. Simon Godwin

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СКАЧАТЬ urgent version of General Post, played without the blindfold. It’s used a lot by theatre directors to create a ‘group mind’. It encourages everyone to work together and it’s fantastic when the whole group is working as one. It’s both fast and physical.

      Begin by making a circle of chairs. Everyone sits down apart from one person who remains standing in the centre. His or her chair remains empty. The game revolves around this player’s attempt to sit down on an empty chair while the other players work to stop them. To do this players have continually to move from one chair to another. As soon as one chair has been vacated another bottom must fill it. Players can move from side to side and across the circle. As soon as the centre player manages to occupy a seat, the dislodged player takes over.

      Psychiatrist

      

This is a game that, in the nineteenth century, would have been called a ‘catch’ game because you are looking to catch someone out. You can only play the game if someone in the group doesn’t know the secret and is willing to be a good sport. It’s pretty difficult and I’ve never known anyone to solve it without plenty of clues. It works best if all your players are aged ten upwards.

      A Psychiatrist is selected from the group. It’s his job to diagnose the condition everyone is suffering from. He leaves the room while the group agrees what condition they might all have. There are unlimited options but the classic ruse is that everyone answers as if they are the person sitting to their left. The Psychiatrist returns to the room and starts to ask questions of his or her patients. How are they? What do they like doing? Do they have any particular fears, dreams etc? People have to answer as accurately as possible according to their knowledge of the person to their left (which itself proves very revealing). When the Psychiatrist is completely baffled you can help him by suggesting he ask each patient their name.

      The Scissors Game

      

This is another ‘catch’ game. I am always the last to catch on to the ‘key’ of these games, so I am very happy to pass on the secret to this one. If you are ever asked to play it, you will now be one of those in the know.

      This game works best with plenty of people. Everyone sits in a circle, and only a small number (ideally no more than two) should know the rules of the game. A pair of scissors is passed around and around the circle. Each time you pass it to the person next to you, you have to say ‘I PASS THE SCISSORS CROSSED’ or ‘I PASS THE SCISSORS UNCROSSED’. The recipient has to say ‘I RECEIVE THE SCISSORS CROSSED’ or ‘I RECEIVE THE SCISSORS UNCROSSED’. The people who don’t know the rules will begin by assuming that the words relate to the state of the scissors and whether the blades are open or not, and the people who know the rules can take advantage of this. Actually, each statement refers to whether the players who are passing and receiving the scissors have their LEGS crossed or uncrossed. As you go around the circle, as people make statements that are false they lose a life. Three lives lost and they’re out. People become more and more frustrated but eventually they begin to cotton on to the rules and subtly try and keep the people who don’t understand from working them out. When all the players left in the circle get it, the game is over and everyone can have another drink.

      Word Tennis

      

Every Friday during my teenage years I would catch the train from St Albans to King’s Cross and walk up Pentonville Road to the Anna Scher Theatre School. I was obsessed with acting and had decided that this was to be my path into show business. The walls of the foyer were covered with photographs of famous pupils, past and present. Most of the cast of Grange Hill were up there, alongside stars from EastEnders and actors like Kathy Burke, Jake Wood and Patsy Palmer.

       The school was one big studio in which all the classes took place. At the back of the room, on a raised platform, sat three washing baskets filled with props and costumes, a bus stop sign and a small record player. Every week I would enter, pay my pound for the class and sit quietly at one side of the room. There would be little talking, just an atmosphere of silent expectancy as we waited for the arrival of Anna. Everyone would sit, carefully scanning each other.

       There were sixty of us in a class. Kids came from all over London but especially from the areas nearby—King’s Cross, Islington and Highbury. These were not privileged stage school types, but local working-class kids who loved acting. There was no audition or interview, just a four-year waiting list. When your name came up you would start the following week.

       The school was like a boxing club. You went there and for two hours you improvised the most intense, unflinching scenes you could. Domestic violence, drugs, alcoholism and broken families all featured heavily. For the first six months I was practically silent. I felt nervous and confused. Acting had always been about scripts. Doing a play involved being given a part, learning my lines and then performing on the night. But in this world spontaneity was everything. With your partner you would be given a first line (‘That was bang out of order!’, ‘You do nothing round the house!’, ‘I’ve had it up to here with you!’) and, in front of everyone, you would have to improvise a situation. There was no time for throat clearing—bang, you were in the scene. And the style was direct, confrontational and fast. The scenes rocketed up the emotional scale as you let rip on your colleague. This training taught me a lot about how to play games. My eight years at Anna’s taught me that thinking on your feet and embracing the unexpected is the place where creativity begins.

       Some weeks, if the class had been particularly intense, we would end with a game. The one I enjoyed most was Word Tennis. Since learning the game at Anna’s I’ve played it in many different contexts. It can be played standing up in a line or sitting down and children and grannies love it. It’s called Word Tennis because the aim is to keep the word rally going for as long as possible.

      Everyone sits in a circle, either on chairs or round a table. Someone starts by suggesting a category with lots of members, for example, Sports. The person gives an example of the category (football) and the game begins. Travelling in a clockwise direction, each person must give an example from that category. If it’s Sports, people might say basketball, hockey, or tennis. You keep going until someone hesitates, repeats a name or can’t think of another one. After a few trial runs you can start eliminating people. When someone is out you start again with a new category. If you have been playing sitting down, when you get to the last four people still in, ask them to stand up. This increases the stakes. You keep going until only two people are left in. Everyone suggests categories for the final and you have a dramatic showdown.

      Fun categories really help. Here are some you might like to try:

СКАЧАТЬ

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Sweets and Chocolates	Fairytale Characters
Things that Live Under the Sea	Five-Letter Words
Types of Footwear	Fairground Rides
Things People Do to Keep Warm	Three-Letter Words
Things You Might Find in a Convent	Precious Stones
Things People Do When They’re in Love	Horror Films
Dwellings	Fashion Designers