When I was talking about the power of smell on the radio, Speth, a Welsh speaker from Manchester, got in touch to say that in Welsh you can hear a smell as well as smell it. At first this sounded charming, if far-fetched. But the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. While I can’t – in English, anyway – exactly hear the smell of that Black Country bike shop in 1977, I can smell, hear and see it very clearly. I can feel it too. I can feel the shop man’s grip as he lifts me into the saddle. And I can hear him saying to my grandad: “Blimey, he’s a lump, isn’t he?” Ever sensitive about my weight, that was a sour note. But I’ll let it pass, because all I can feel, then and now, is the general joy.
However, I found a contact email on their site. Six days later:
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A pod of dolphins circled the craft.
Death is not taken lightly in Scream 7, even as the kills get outrageous. By the time the franchise got to Scream 3, it began giving into an ugly slasher cliche: making most of the victims unlikable before they die. Presumably, this is so the audience can enjoy the violent spectacle, rather than being saddened as the body count grows. In Scream 3, this series turned abruptly misogynistic, featuring a blonde actress (Jenny McCarthy) who is depicted as "nagging" before being slaughtered, then a sweet ingénue (Emily Mortimer) who, before being killed, is slutshamed for sleeping with a producer to get the role of Sidney in Stab 3. (See also Alison Brie's wickedly opportunistic PR agent in Scream 4.)
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