FAME! I’m gonna blog forever…or at least until someone discovers my innate talent and gives me lots of money, at which point I’ll pay someone to do it for me

This weekend’s task is to write up a substantial essay for university (so, of course, I’m blogging about it instead).  The subject is how new media (e.g. social networking sites, blogs) has affected the marketing of celebrities and the interaction between celebs and their fans.  Specifically, I’m looking at how Wil Wheaton’s career was revived through his writing (mainly on his blog, WIL WHEATON dot NET).

Things are changing, but in the past, academics have taken the view that everything about a celebrity’s image is manufactured and fake.  Our (the fans) relationships with them are therefore fake, and any emotional connection we may feel is therefore nothing short of pathological.  We’re an inch away from going full John Hinckley Jr. 

If you’ve ever read this blog you’ll have gathered that I don’t completely share that view, but it makes for an interesting discussion.  In fact, yesterday we had a formal debate in class about whether or not celebrities are the ‘ultimate construction of false value’.  Leaving aside my hatred for debates (I enjoy public speaking, but DO NOT make me think on my feet or speak without time for written preparation.  DO NOT.  And get that telephone away from me), it was interesting to see how passionate people became about the subject (and about One Direction).

One question continually asked in the literature about celebrities is, ‘Why we are still fascinated by them if we believe that their images are manufactured?  What’s the appeal?’  The answer seems like a no-brainer for me, but not one out of the stack of books I’ve read for this essay mentions it, so maybe I’m wrong.

Leaving aside the question of whether or not they are all ‘manufactured’ (highly unlikely), it seems to me that celebrity culture works the same way as a TV show or a movie franchise.  We pick our favourite character – one who is funny, or who we see something of ourselves in, or who we want to be like – and we follow their story.  We tune in to find out what happens next.  Does the former child star get hooked on drugs and run his car into a tree?  Can he get unhooked and go on to win an Oscar?  Does the squeaky-clean girl decide to do the movie with the nude scenes?  Can America’s sweetheart get the husband and the kids she’s always wanted?  Will the cheater’s new love manage to reform him, or does he prove to be the leopard that can’t change its spots?

Just like our favourite TV characters, we also like to know personal things about them.  Does Kate Moss eat chocolate or does she exist on carrots?  Does Justin Bieber ever wear clothes properly?  How many reps does Chris Hemsworth need to do to get those guns?  Does Jennifer Lawrence trip over every day, or only at awards ceremonies?  We want to go through the Stargate and find out about the planet on the other side.*

The one thing that does get mentioned a lot in the literature is the desire to see celebs as ‘normal’, ‘down-to-earth’ and ‘ordinary underneath’.  We want to think they’re really just like us, because that would mean that we can be like them.  Of course people want to be famous.  We don’t want to be sitting at home alone on a Saturday night or pen-pushing (mouse-pushing?) or grave-digging or burger-flipping or dealing with difficult bosses or trying to help clients when we don’t know what we’re doing or wearing uncomfortable polyester work shirts with name tags on them or writing stupid self-appraisals when our job’s so boring we could do it in our sleep.  We want to be relaxing on a yacht, reading our next script, or pottering around a log cabin overlooking a lake and writing our next best-seller, or eating pizza in Abbey Road Studios with a bunch of fascinating people who are playing on our next album. 

Or…is that just me?  Am I normal?  Maybe if I find out that that highly successful, rich, intelligent celebrity also burns his toast and can't get a date, I’ll know that I’m going to be OK.

*Spoiler: it probably looks like Canada.

The Big Gender Theory (a.k.a. My Big Bang Beef)

I love The Big Bang Theory, but I have one beef.

Of the three main female characters (if we ignore Cinnamon Koothrappali and the voice of Mrs Wolowitz Snr.), two are scientists and one is an actress, yet none of them seem to like or know anything about any form of science-fiction or fantasy.  They consistently get Star Wars and Star Trek mixed up, like they're so interchangeable, and despite being roughly the appropriate age for its original TV run, none of them had even seen Buffy.  I find this implausible and just a little insulting, if I'm brutally honest.

I'm not daft.  I realise that this is an important artifice in the show's construction - binary opposites provide tensions and tensions provide both comedy and drama.  It's a big bang-ing together of genders and cultures.  Fanboys against normal girls (although that definition of 'normal' is debatable, perhaps!)  I'm also aware that there have been a couple of fangirl characters on the show, but none of them have stuck around.  It just makes me wonder what is so threatening about fangirls that we can't have them on TV, and have them be intelligent, or at least functioning, adults.  It seems to me that fangirls can only been shown if they're slightly psychopathic or groupies.  Oddly enough, academic work on fan culture frequently highlights the fact that much of it revolves around women, and I don't just mean Twi-hard mums with cheap tattoos of Robert Pattinson on their backs.  Granted, before Big Bang we hadn't had a hit, prime-time show led by geeks at all (no, Urkel doesn't count), so maybe further change will come.

I should also say at this juncture that I'm not really a feminist; just a girl who loves her Star Wars and hates the fact that these kind of misconceptions may mean 'non-fan' women continue to avoid SF and fantasy and therefore miss out on all the fun. 

Having said all this, my favourite episode has got to be the one where the girls try to figure out what is so engrossing about comic books, and end up in a heated argument over who is able to lift Thor's hammer.  

(For the record, out of the [movie] Avengers, only Captain America is worthy.)

Kumbaya and Filk With Me

Something we don't often do these days is communal singing.  I've noticed that in recent movies it's either done by spaced-out hippies, African-American churchgoers or drunk and incoherent football fans.  But if you go back a few decades, people often used to sing together in social situations.  I think it's sad that we've become too self-conscious, too isolated, too cynical or too 'sophisticated' for that sort of thing.

I grew up in a church where singing and playing music together was considered really important.  It solidifies communities, encourages people and re-affirms beliefs and ideals.  (Plus, you can always have a laugh about that one exuberant guy up the back who sings particularly loudly and off key.)  Personally, I've found there's nothing that builds friendships as quickly as rehearsing with a band or even singing some songs around a bonfire.  (It’s always Oasis, for some reason.  Followed by Free Fallin’.)

One of the best memories from my gig-going history was a moment at a Kings of Leon concert where the crowd was singing louder than the band.  The elation in the arena was palpable.  I don't think I'll ever forget it.

This week, I read an early essay from one of my favourite theorists, Henry Jenkins.  He was talking about a practice of sci-fi and fantasy fans which I wasn't familiar with.  (Shocking, I know.  Minus 15 geek points.)  It's called filking (i.e. ‘to play filk music’ – a misprint of 'folk' in a title which was appropriated by fans).  It mostly happens at cons.  A bunch of fans get together in a room and sing songs about - well, anything, really, from second breakfasts to the Shat’s toupée.  Presumably there are quite a few love songs to Spock in there, too (Have You Ever Really Loved A Vulcan?)  People are encouraged to bring anything.  It could be a half-finished song that needs suggestions from the crowd for a second verse, or an old favourite that’s been passed around from con to con.  If it’s the latter, people are free to join in and the whole thing becomes a communal sing-along.  Most of the songs use old folk melodies, so if you can’t play an instrument, chances are somebody there that does will know it and can accompany you.  At this point I can hear you saying, ‘These nerds are bonkers.’  You may be right, but what I like about it is the safe environment that’s provided for people to be a part of something and be creative.  I think that’s why Facebook and Twitter have become so important in our lives – we’re missing a sense of community, of being part of something greater that doesn’t involve annual performance reviews and budget spreadsheets and ‘networking’; something that we find exciting, fascinating, emotionally satisfying and freeing.

So, I say, kumbaya and filk with me.

The Old Fart on Campus

Going to university after the age of 30 has sent me on a huge learning curve, and not just in relation to academia.  There are days when I feel very old.

I had a naïve understanding that university seminars (especially for a Bachelor of Arts) would be deep and varied discussions with like-minded people or, if not like-minded, then at least like-interested.  I would meet fascinating people who shared my passions and I would talk with them about all those things no-one else ever wanted to talk with me about.  We’d play music and watch movies together. 

Oh, boy, was I wrong.

Not only do I often feel a gazillion years old, sitting with a bunch of people in their late teens (and some who are, I swear, about twelve), but I also feel like a member of an alien species.

I have come to realise over the years that my school was an exceptional one in many ways.  Kids didn’t pull you down if you did well – quite the opposite, most of the time.  We frequently had lively discussions in class (especially with one teacher, who was very easy to sidetrack with questions about aliens).  Talking while a teacher was talking was a no-no, and you would never have gotten away with irritating the people around you by disrespectfully talking through an entire lecture.  Students had at least a basic understanding of what I’ve realised in this country are tricky subjects – spelling and grammar.  We could all, at least, string a grammatically correct sentence together.  Not so with many of my fellow undergraduates.

I realise I sound like a typical member of the older generation lamenting the habits of the younger, but (a) I’m not all that old; and (b) I’m sure there really is something odd going on here.

Where’s the enthusiasm?  At first I thought people were shy to speak up in seminars and workshops, but after a year and half, they still aren’t talking.  Tutors’ questions are, 99% of the time, answered by crickets.  After a fortnight, I got sick of the sound of my own voice answering out of pity.  The thing that strikes me over and over again is that these students don’t seem particularly interested in their subject.  Brits are difficult to get excited at the best of times (unless it’s about soccer – er, pardon me – football or Coronation Street), but this is ridiculous.  Why are you wasting thousands of pounds half-heartedly studying something you’re not very interested in, I ask?  Are other universities’ students the same way?  Is this a cultural difference?  A generational difference?  A class difference?

I got overly excited this week when I noticed a student was wearing a Star Wars t-shirt.  You would think this kind of thing would be common on campus, but I assure you it isn’t – not even among my fellow Media students (this girl was an English student).  It’s rare to even see an unusual haircut or colour.  Perhaps living in London warped my expectations in this regard.  I need to head back to Camden to feel mildly normal.

I love being a student and having a whole library to get lost in, and I’ve made a small group of great friends (people that actually, you know, read), but I confess I am absolutely bewildered by the culture...or lack of it.  

Tell me in the comments below what your school/university experiences were or are.  I’d love to know if I’m alone in this.

It's About Time

It's time to revive The Rant.

Health problems have prevented me from writing for a long time, but I've made a decision, for my own benefit, to write something every day, and some of it will make it up here.  I'm not expecting to be nominated for Blog of the Year, but if you do happen to be reading this, leave me a comment on what you'd like to read about.

You'll get movies, guaranteed, a bit of a pop culture here and there, some short stories and poems, possibly some of what I'm studying (don't worry, I'll leave out the boring Freudian stuff) and, I'm sure, a number of proper Rants.  The aim is to write more frequent, smaller posts, but if you know me at all, one thing I'm never short on is words.

Right now I've got to get back to Leatherface and his chainsaw, ready for a Horror lecture tomorrow (that's the name of the module, not a reflection on my lecturer).  Let's see how many other stupid things this group of twenty-somethings can do before the end of the movie....

Issue 17 - My Totally Incomplete and Completely Useless Guide to This Summer's Blockbusters

It's no secret that I'm a BLOCKBUSTER ADVENTURE!! kinda gal. I was raised on Star Wars (the proper versions) and Indiana Jones (the ones without the bloody inter-dimensional alie– sorry, George, inter-dimensional beings) with healthy doses thrown in of Star Trek and Arnold Schwarzenegger blasting stuff to Kingdom Come.

I like big guns and fast cars and cool spaceships. I like it when the hero gets his princess. I like it when the good guys win.

I'm almost giddy at the thought of this summer's line-up of blockbusters. I'm like Michael Bay at a military hardware exhibition.

It's a real mish-mash: two interpretations of Snow White and the Any-Number-But-Seven Dwarfs (Disney owns the rights to the seven dwarfs), a British Spiderman, Hemsworths popping up all over the place, Men in Black III seeking to Flashy-Thingy our memories of Men in Black II, Chuck Norris, Lenny Kravitz and more Jeremy Renner than you can poke an arrow at. And let's not forget the Batman.

It's gonna be glorious.

THE AMAZING SPIDERMAN

The jury's still out on whether the world needed a Spiderman reboot so soon. Although it's been several lifetimes in the technological world, it's actually only 10 years since Toby Maguire first donned the Spandex and brought us cinema's most original smooch.

How often can you reboot something before the audience gets bored, or the fanboys start to panic about the state of their superhero's cannon?

Still, with a solid cast including Never Let Me Go's Andrew Garfield and the oh-so-watchable Emma Stone, and with 500 Days of Summer's Marc Webb (no, seriously, that's his name) calling the shots, it'll be an entirely different experience, and undoubtedly include the humour that was missing from the second and third Raimi instalments.

Here's hoping Garfield's American accent holds up to scrutiny, unlike the star of...

WRATH OF THE TITANS

I love Sam Worthington. I really do. But he's the first to admit that he finds the American accent a bit of a challenge. That's why it was so refreshing to watch 2010's Clash of the Titans – dreadful post-shoot 3D conversion and all – and hear him “talk normal”. (Sidebar Rant: I've never understood the need for actors to put on fake accents when doing pieces set in different times or places. If it's set in ancient or future times, we've no idea what their accents would sound like, anyway, and if it's set in a different country – well, if the character isn't actually speaking English with a Russian accent, there's no need for the dodgy Russian accent.)

Clash didn't take itself too seriously, and neither will Wrath. We're inexplicably missing Io, and Andromeda's gotten into the bleach and too much Xena: Warrior Princess, but we've got twice the number of monsters and the grand-daddy of all the gods, Kronos.

Epically ridiculous fun.

From Worthington's Perseus to Ridley Scott's secrecy-shrouded...

PROMETHEUS

If you're like me and watched all the Alien/Aliens sequels with horror – and not the good kind of horror – you might welcome the idea of Ridley Scott returning to steer the franchise back on course. Except that this won't. Because it's a prequel. And, although it's set in Ripley's universe, it doesn't really have anything to do with those aliens. Maybe. But it might explain the history of the so-called “Space Jockey” – the giant pilot whose ship became the xenomorphs' nest and the origin of poor John Hurt's chest-bursting doom. Or it might not.

At least, with an all-star cast of quality actors (including Michael Fassbender, Charlize Theron and Guy Pearce), it'll be a bit harder to tell in which order the characters are going to die. If they do.

Speaking of all-star casts, get a load of this one for...

THE EXPENDABLES 2

Sylvester Stallone
Arnold Schwarzenegger
Jean-Claude Van Damme
Chuck Norris
Bruce Willis
Jason Statham
Jet Li
Novak Djokovic (I assure you that's not a misprint)

...and Liam Hemsworth

Never heard of Liam Hemsworth? Chances are, if you ever come in contact with any teenage girls, you soon will. Aussie hunk (we Aussies are everywhere this year), long-term boyfriend of Miley Cyrus; he was almost Thor, but lost out by mere inches to his older brother Chris. Instead, he's landed the peachy role of Gale in The Hunger Games – but more on that later.

Staying with testosterone-fuelled action for the moment, it doesn't get much better than Bourne.

THE BOURNE LEGACY

While our beloved Matt Damon was off buying a zoo, someone decided it would be a good idea to make a new movie about some other dude's experiences in the wake of Jason Bourne's terminal re-assignment of the CIA's assassination squads.

Potentially awful? Milking the name of Bourne for all its worth? Well, yes, but considering that most of the original Bourne team is on board, and that they've had the good sense to cast Jeremy Renner, things may not be as dire as they at first seem.

Renner is coming off the back of an Oscar-nominated performance in The Hurt Locker and a highly-acclaimed performance in The Town. Most recently – and perhaps most significantly – he proved that he could hold his share of the screen against Tom Cruise in Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol, and gave us a wise-cracking cameo as bow-and-arrow supremo Hawkeye in Thor, in anticipation of his greater role in Avengers Assemble.

I have high hopes.

In the comedy-action line, we've got a sequel to a classic and a new kid on the block. Well, sort of, considering the new kid is actually a kind of remake but not really...

Let me explain:

21 JUMP STREET

If the Twitterverse and the response of amateur critics so far is anything to go by (and I'm not saying it is), this could be the surprise hit of the season. Starring Channing Tatum and Jonah Hill as the delinquent cops assigned to go undercover as school students, it's a fair assumption this won't be quite the same as the original Johnny Depp TV series, but it seems to be hitting all the right notes with those lucky enough to score preview tickets. By all accounts it's genuinely funny and manages to avoid the usual “adults returning to school” clichés. Jonah Hill's recent Oscar nomination has undoubtedly given it an edge of legitimacy with the critics. So far, so good.

Then Empire magazine gave it 4 stars. Not too shabby at all.

So, you see, the fact that it's got Channing Tatum in it is in no way influencing my determination to go and see it. Nope. Not at all.

MEN IN BLACK III

It's been a while since we've seen Will Smith in full comedic flight, so we'll forgive Men in Black II's misdemeanours and welcome Agents J and K back with open arms. This time it's actually K², as a convoluted-sounding time-travel story involving Flight of the Conchords' Jemaine Clement takes Agent J back in time to save the life of Agent K (Josh Brolin as the younger version of Tommy Lee Jones).

Expect lots of jokes about 60s-era personalities being aliens in disguise and, hopefully, a catchy new song from Mr Smith.

Now, from men in black to snow white women.

MIRROR MIRROR and SNOW WHITE AND THE HUNTSMAN

An unfortunate timing clash, perhaps, but two very different movies.

Mirror Mirror features Julia Roberts, Lily Collins, a dreadful trailer and some very tired “girl power” amendments to the story so that Snow White can kick some butt. It looks pretty luscious – the costumes will be a win – and amusing in places, but also terribly pretentious. Still, who knows? One should never judge a movie by its trailer.

Snow White and the Huntsman has a similar “girl power” theme, made easier to swallow by the fact that little innocent Snow (Kristen Stewart) is actually trained up first in the art of war, by the huntsman originally sent to kill her (Chris Hemsworth). The evil queen is played by Charlize Theron and Nick Frost is a dwarf. That'll be fun.

The story pinches ideas from Stardust, as the queen seeks to eat Snow White's heart, thereby making herself immortal, and the director (Rupert Sanders) is an unknown factor, but you get the feeling this one's more in keeping with a Grimm fairytale than a Disney cartoon, which bodes well.

And now:

THE BIG THREE FOR ME

3. THE HUNGER GAMES

With Twilight fading – even the most die-hard Twi-hards have always said that the story of the fourth book cannot possibly translate well to film (we'll find out this summer what director Bill Condon has managed to do with it, as Breaking Dawn Part 2 hits theatres) – and Harry Potter enjoying retirement from horcrux-hunting, there was a significant gap in the world of teen-aged money-sucking franchises.

Enter the best-selling trilogy by Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games.

And it's not what you think. When Stephen King calls your novel (as he did in his Entertainment Weekly review of the first book) “a violent, jarring speed-rap of a novel that generates nearly constant suspense and may also generate a fair amount of controversy”, you know you're on to something.

Set in a post-apocalyptic America, Katniss Everdeen and her best friend, Gale, risk execution every day to hunt illegally in the woods – just to keep their families alive in their poorest-of-the-poor mining district, known as District 12. Meanwhile, in the Capitol, which is also the capital city of excess, people are so bored they spend hours dyeing their hair in the latest colour trends and getting gold tattoos above their eyebrows. And each year, to remind the beaten-down District residents that any sort of uprising would be extremely inadvisable, they take a young boy and girl from each of the Districts (1 through 12) and force them to fight to the death for a reality TV show called The Hunger Games. Of course, Katniss' younger sister is chosen for the Games and, of course, Katniss volunteers to go in her place. Fortunately, she's good with a bow and arrow. Not so much the boy chosen from District 12, Peeta. He's good with words and cake-decorating, and he's strong, but that's about all he's got going for him. Apparently, his odds of survival aren't great, but if nothing else, he is determined that the Games won't take away his humanity.

It remains to be seen whether the necessary dulling-down of the violence for ratings purposes also dulls the story, but they've certainly got the casting right. Jennifer Lawrence is Katniss. Lawrence became the critics' darling after her turn in the hard-hitting Winter's Bone, and should be more than capable of making Katniss the gutsy, somewhat conflicted character that she is in the novels. The aforementioned Liam Hemsworth is Gale, whose role will increase in the second and third movies. It's a fairly easy ride for him – he's got the right physicality for Gale, and if he's anything like his older brother, he won't find the role particularly challenging. It's Josh Hutcherson, as Peeta, who is the unknown factor. To date, Hutcherson's biggest movie has been Adventure 2 The Mysterious Island, but we won't hold that against him. Peeta is one of the most original heroes around – but it could all go to pot in the wrong hands. He's a speaker, not a fighter, with the ability to manipulate an audience, but he's an honest soul; he's a baker, a cake-decorator and painter, and he spends half the movie being looked after by Katniss, but he's as brave as they come; he's the moral backbone, but he'll stop at nothing to keep Katniss alive. If Hutcherson pulls this one off, he'll deserve a huge round of applause.

The cast member I'm most excited about? Lenny Kravitz as Katniss' costume designer for the Games (and secret sympathiser), Cinna. Absolutely perfect casting. I hope he wears his wings.

2. THE DARK KNIGHT RISES

WHAT?! Only number 2?!

Yes, indeedy. Batman has always been my most-beloved superhero (mostly because he is not, in fact, super), but I'm being completely truthful when I say there's still one movie I'm more excited about.

Every man and his guinea pig loved The Dark Knight, and I was no exception. I'm going to risk the wrath of all the internet-dwellers, though, by saying I enjoyed Batman Begins more. So I'm interested to see where this one sits in relation to the other two.

It's safe to say that it's the most-anticipated movie since Return of the Jedi, which immediately makes you wonder whether it will live up to expectations, but then...it's Christopher Nolan. And Christian Bale. And Gary Oldman. And Tom Hardy. And you can't say that's not awesome.

Will Nolan kill off Batman? Bruce has at least two formidable opponents this time – Bane (Hardy) and Catwoman (Anne Hathaway) – so he may well do. We will have to wait until July 20 to really know for sure.

1. AVENGERS ASSEMBLE

I. Can't. Wait.

I was already over-excited about the idea of an Avengers movie, where Iron Man (Robert Downey Jr.), Thor (Chris Hemsworth), The Hulk (Mark Ruffalo – hell yes, Mark Ruffalo!!), Captain America (Chris Evans), Hawkeye (Jeremy Renner) and various other Marvel characters team up to save the world from some evil genius – in this case, Thor's own brother, Loki (Tom Hiddleston).

But then they announced that Joss Whedon would be writing and directing, and I nearly went into some kind of nerd-sugar coma.

Despite the inevitable jokes about this being the only Marvel movie to be canned half-way through filming (two of Whedon's TV series, Firefly and Dollhouse, were canned prematurely, only to become massive post-mortem hits; although in contrast, Buffy the Vampire Slayer ran for seven seasons), Whedon is definitely a safe choice here. His sharp pen and sensitive camera are exactly what this movie needs. The wrong tone could turn this kind of concept into a disaster of epic proportions, but Whedon's scripts don't pander to the audience – they are witty, intelligent and moving. So it's about darn time someone gave him something to work with. (Incidentally, Whedon has written another interesting-looking movie that's out this summer – The Cabin in the Woods...starring Chris Hemsworth. I told you the Hemsworths were everywhere, didn't I?)

Representing the female of the species, we've got good old Pepper Potts (Gwyneth Paltrow) and Black Widow (Scarlett Johansson). Natalie Portman's character, Jane, is still kicking about somewhere, but we'll have to wait until Thor 2 to see her again. Presumably, Thor can't make love and war at the same time.

We can expect some fun exchanges as giant egos clash and Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson) – and let's not forget Clark Gregg's Agent Coulson – has to control all those superpowers together in one room.

There are many unanswered questions: who gets on well with each other? who gets it on with Black Widow? who wants to kill who? who kills Loki? does the Hulk go mad and kill them all? who knows? All we do know is that Thor's contractually obliged to come back for two more movies...but that doesn't necessarily stop Whedon killing him off. He's tricky like that.

So there you have it – my totally incomplete and completely useless guide to this summer's (or winter's, if you're Down Under) blockbusters.

Enjoy.

Issue 16 - Confessions of a Hugaholic

Hello, my name is Muse, and I'm a hugaholic.

I'm not sure if there's a twelve-step programme for this, or whether I'd even want to go through it, if one existed. I absolutely, unashamedly LOVE hugs.

I'll never understand people who don't like them. A hug is a powerful thing. A good hug releases endorphins and gives you energy. It can communicate so many things without words: joy, sorrow, empathy, security, respect, pain, comfort...the list goes on. It can say, “I'm so happy to see you”, “I'm sorry for your loss”, “I understand”, “Congratulations”, or, “You're a legend and I'm really glad you're my friend.” Amazing, really.

Of course, there are different types of hugs, and not all of them satisfactory. Churches, schools and music/dance/theatre groups are brilliant research environments for hugging. Over the years I have become a keen student of the subject.

Technique is extremely important and can even change the meaning of a hug, conveying a completely different message to the hugee than was intended.

Here are some examples I've compiled:

The Wimpy
They're not sure if they really want to hug you so they'll just give you the hug-equivalent of a limp handshake. Arms are held up at half-mast and bent at the elbows and wrists, to resemble a t-rex or a kangaroo. Lots of arm patting is involved.

Mind The Gap
They'll willingly hug you, but they'll keep an all-important 3-inch gap between your bodies. Don't breach it, whatever you do.

The Drama Queen
This is not so much a hug as a staged lean, accompanied by air kisses in the direction of both cheeks. Usually performed by teenage girls who can't stand each other.

The Youth Pastor
If you're a youth pastor, you apparently can't come at someone full-frontal, especially someone of the opposite sex, so you perform a manoeuvre that is otherwise known as the “side hug”. It's one-armed, awkward and, quite frankly, a bit silly.

The Tub-Thumper
This is performed by guys who feel they must footnote an all-male hug with three thumps on the back that quite clearly state “I'm. Not. Gay.”

The Bake 'n' Shake
This occurs when one hugger is taller or bigger than the other. It involves exuberantly pinning the smaller party's arms to their sides, picking them up and rocking backwards and forwards several times while their feet are still off the floor. May be used in lieu of The Tub-Thumper.

The Choker
Sometimes accompanied by squealing; given by bubbly girls who have haven't seen you for– oh, at least three hours.

The Footballer
Found only on a sports field, where all the usual rules of male bonding go out the window. Incorporates elements of The Bake 'n' Shake. Usually followed by hair-ruffling. May involve butt-slapping. Variation: The Chest Bump.

The 4-bit
*hugs*

The Teddy Bear
My personal favourite. It's the kind of hug that occurs between true friends and is suitable for almost any occasion (although, truthfully, it's best given by guys who consider themselves your mates and aren't afraid to show it). It's both gentle and strong. It's the kind of hug that makes you feel safe and loved and happy. In a nutshell, it says, “You're my friend, and you're all right.”

PRO-TIP: Whatever type of hug you give, make sure it's sincere. The Wimpy must be eradicated.

Special thanks to O.R. and L.C. for their valuable contributions to this issue.