Saturday, 9 July 2011

Hail to the horde

Six months and 83 posts later, here’s the one that most of you have been waiting for.

Because today’s blog is the answer to the question “who do I have to blow to be in your movie?” Today we started looking for our horde.

I say horde, but the schedule shows that we actually need three separate posses. We’re looking for a micro-horde of ten zombies on 3rd August in Basingstoke, and another horde-lette of ten on 11th August in Winchester.

And an enormo-horde of sixty Ripe beauties on 5th August. Damn – that’s going to be an entertaining evening.

This last one is on a Friday night, so not even gainful employment should be an obstacle. If you have a bunch of old clothes, the capacity to stay awake all night and the means to get to Basingstoke, you too could be in a horror blockbuster.

Writers and actors love talking about back-story – everything that has happened before the film starts, so I’m going to fill you in on the history of the apocalypse. The plague kicked-off and everything turned to shit very quickly; cue plenty of biting and general pandemonium. Survivors of this first onslaught quickly gathered together into refuges all around the country – schools, village halls, prisons, etc. And then the majority of these were quickly swamped by the undead; easy feeding, as one of our characters observes. Our school is one of those places.

So, our horde are just a bunch of survivors that got unlucky; something to bear in mind in picking an outfit for the occasion. We want to include a smattering of zombies in various uniforms and outfits – lollypop ladies, policemen, nurses, vicars and tarts. We’ll refrain from lacerating and distressing these costumes (everyone else may not be so lucky), and rest assured that the liberal application of gore will wash out. Honest.

And if someone comes dressed as a clown, we can tick every box in the horror manifest.

I should point out that we have rather cheekily asked people to bring their own zombie contact lenses – at £18 a pair this would have created a fairly sizeable dent in our budget if we had to buy a crate of eighty of the buggers. From a couple of feet back they look absolutely sick; they last for a year, and are good for plenty of other occasions (scaring children, creating a memorable impression at a job interview, getting served quicker in a pub or ensuring that strangers respect your personal space on public transport). Think of it as a tiny investment in the movie.

So, what are you waiting for? Get on to the website and get in touch. Threatening.


  1. Sorry I will not be in the UK at the time but would have loved to be a cute flesh eating zombie. I just wanted to let you know that the link to the zombie contact lenses probably is wrong, unless you wan the zombies to have a hi-tech futuristic look.

  2. These are the right contacts - like crap crochet up close, but white mischief from a couple of feet away. You'll be missed, sir.

  3. lol@u guyz...did you really just call this a 'horror blockbuster'? lol!! oh yeah and 'prey for salvation'. rofl. it's "pray" you dumbasses. ;-)

  4. This comment has been removed by the author.

  5. ^ best comment ever. Count me in for the horde on the 5th pl0x. My method acting technique is flawless. I cannot see without my normal contacts in, so with the zombie eye's in I'll certainly look the part with my arms stuck out in front of me searching for something to hold onto. Peoplez be like 'DAMN this fool is good', when really I'm actually wearing my try hard pants and attempting not to walk into the proverbial lamp post.