Run Riot is a listing of cultural happenings in and around london.
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We are currently in the midst of Fairtrade fortnight. I travelled to the Divine chocolate pop up shop to meet Cocoa farmers Mary Appiah and Esther Mintah Ephraim to find out about the life of Fairtrade chocolate producers.
"Going Lococoa with Kuapa Kokoo"
As the recent Brits awards again highlighted, some plaudits are given for real talent, striking a chord with the nation and defining an era, other people seemingly get awards for having a haircut. And some artists are criminally overlooked despite hitting a quintessentially British tone and enjoying steady success.
Where to start? Warren Ellis really needs no introduction, especially not from someone who was still learning to read when he was already helping to shape the future of graphic novels.
Dan Smith’s heady ascent to the peaks of the A-list blog scene came in late 2012 as his band, Bastille, branding themselves as swarve glitch-pop-ballad boys, gathered pace. They’ve survived an early dose of the critics’ quill, and supported Two Door Cinema Club at Brixton Academy this February 8th.
Glasgow girls is the true story of 7 girls driven by a fierce sense of injustice at the treatment of asylum seekers. The story tracks the arrival of 4 girls (Agnesa, Roza, Amal, Ewelina) fleeing their war torn countries of Kosovo, Iraq, Afghanistan and Somalia during the early 90s when it became common practice to exile asylum seekers out of London to more remote and under populated regions of the country, like Glasgow.
Clare Duffy’s hyper-symbolic financial offering, MONEY: A Game Show, is an addition to a cult in play-writing which attempts to lay the recent financial crisis against a wider moral awareness.
I am not one of life’s natural tennis players. At High School, I have clear and haunting memories of tennis lessons which consisted of hitting back the balls that were shot at me by The Ball Machine. The Ball Machine always struck me as a somewhat un-child-friendly contraption which was the equivalent of having a cannon fired at you, for a solid minute, with merely a dilapidated piece of wood and string with which to defend yourself.
