Now that you´ve seen almost everything of season 4 i thought it would be interesting to describe all the seasons of skins in 3 words...

Season 1:
Season 2:
Season 3:
Season 4:

Como em todas as séries existem sempre coisas que às vezes passam despercebidas.

No primeiro episódio de Skins da 1ª temporada existe um lapso daqueles bem grandes, mas que de certeza quase ninguém reparou:)

Ora vejam!

Bem,para muitos é de certa forma levado á letra a palavra "Skins" significando em português "peles" ,mas não,"SKINS" é um termo usado pelos britânicos para definir, Mortalhas...sim isso mesmo...MORTALHAS(aquilo que alguns de voçês usam...ehehehe).Se bem se recordam no primeiro episódio da primeira temporada quando as personagens estão dentro do Mercedes roubado (ver video em baixo) ,Maxxie pergunta se "alguém tem skins"....Para bom entendedor...

Apenas 9 episódios.
Nesta temporada podemos conhecer os nossos personagens mais profundamente, assim como o ambiente que os rodeia. O mais interessante de "Skins" é que os episódios não têm os titulos chamados normais. Cada episódio centra-se num personagem, logo, cada episódio tem o nome do personagem central.

Deixo aqui a ordem e o nome de cada episódio pertencente à primeira temporada.

Saber mais...

Para quem não conhece a série, este Trailer é fundamental para aguçar a curiosidade.

Fonte

Para uma maior organização do blog pensei em começar pelo inicio: A primeira temporada.

Ao longo de algum tempo vou tentar agrupar o máximo de informação possível acerca desta temporada, para que não percamos nem um bocadinho desta excelente série.

Click here to read his MySpace.
Click in Mitch Hewer to go to Wikipedia.

Alright? How are you doing?...But enough about you...What about ME?!?!
I'm Maxxie. I like toast. I like boys. I like Arcade Fire. I like drawing. I like performing. I like dancing.
If I had to spend the rest of my life in one place, it'd be in the Sistine Chapel, I went there on holiday with my Mum last summer. It is A.M.A.Z.I.N.G. I think you could spend forever looking at beauty like that... There's nice pizza there too.

Maxxie's blog

Posted on 14/12/2007

Hello. I’m Maxxie and I’ve just finished watching the whole seven series’ of Star Trek - The Next Generation. I took my friend Anwar to see my favourite musical West Side Story the other day and in return he’s making me watch these stupid cyborgs with big foreheads. I really don’t understand why he likes it! But I don’t understand why he likes girls, either...

I love it when people sing along to tunes they don’t know and make the words up as they go along. That makes me laugh. The other day I was in Topman and the Libertines were playing and this old guy was singing ‘you can’t stamp me out’ instead of ‘you can’t stand me now’. I think he noticed I was laughing cos he just started humming it instead. He even got that wrong.

I hate school. I hate teachers. I like dancing, drinking, dating...anything that begins with a 'd' really...I have a recurring dream where I’m being educated by a fox wearing a waistcoat and a fez who has the voice of Hugh Grant. I sometimes wake up laughing after that, and then I feel a little disappointed that I have to go and be educated by real, boring humans. But hey.

Keep coolly, cool boy,

Max. x.

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Posted on 20/12/2008

They made me go and talk to this counsellor woman who kept saying ‘But why Elizabeth, why do you think you withheld speech?’. I used to just say ‘I dunno’ til it was time to go home.

But I did know. Sort of.

Okay. So. Paris Hilton isn’t an It Girl. Clara Bow was an It Girl. She was one of the biggest silent film stars ever. The Brooklyn Bonfire. I think we’re really similar. She’s a brunette. I’m a brunette. Her Dad was mentally impaired. My Dad is mentally impaired. She was really good at poker. I’m really good at poker. She married a cowboy. I don’t think I’m getting married but if I did it would probably be to a cowboy.

Anyway, basically she was the best film star, like, ever

But then the talkies started, and the films weren’t silent any more. And it would be fine, except when Clara actually had to speak, she just froze. She couldn’t stop looking at the microphones pushed at her face. She got mike fright. She retired at the age of 26 and never made another film ever again.

But even though Clara Bow couldn’t deal with talking in public, and Paris Hilton could probably talk for fucking hours about fucking anything, I reckon if Clara Bow met Paris Hilton, she’d punch her lights out.

But I don’t think the counsellor woman would have really understood that.

Hi everyone, I don't actually believe in all this but Michelle's forced me into creating a page...so here goes...my aria:

FAMILY: I live with my dad Ronnie (Yes, that Ronnie Fazer...No, I don't know when he's releasing a new album. And no, he doesn't want to listen to your demo) and my two brothers Ace and Lynton. I've come to the conclusion that my brothers were adopted since they both appear to have grown up in South Central LA. They also subscribe to a ridiculous but popular religious belief which states that TuPac is the murdered Son of God, and that God is actually Queen Latifah (or Lil' Kim, I forget which one). Oh, and they think that the 'Messiah', 'rhymes' to them personally from beyond the grave.

EXPERT ADVISORS: Michelle for frills, Chris for pills, Cassie for thrills.

HYMNS: I tend to go for G flats when what I really should be looking for is a man who is F# in the morning, will stretto through the afternoon and calypso til dawn. There's no-one special at the moment. But watch this space. I am.

MY FREQUENCY: I'm not putting a list of bands that I've only just heard of, that some music magazines have told me I have to like...So here's my favourite musical dynamics:

Dolce

Affectuoso

Rubato

Gioioso

Btw, if there are any lawyers reading this, can you tell me if I can sue MTV Base for prolonged emotional distress? I think I have a pretty substantial case if you're interested...

LIKES: Eating chips late at night in time to Gershwin. With a portion of mash on the side. The way Maxxie makes music with his feet. The correlation between maths and music - Pythagorean triples - my friend Cassie knows what I mean...

DISLIKES: Clothes shopping (who cares!). Steamed broccoli. Budding R&B artists who prance around in my dad's dressing gown.

AMBITION: To take the clarinet to places never been to before.

WEBSITES: www.hotclarinet.blogspot.com/, www.cynical-c.com

Jal's blog
Posted on 15/09/2007
So...I admit, I don't usually get excited about stuff, people might even go as far to say that I’m quite constraint...but on this very day a landmark has be reached, a day that I thought would never come. The stainless steel chains that bound me to scarring of my inner lip and minimalist movements of my mouth in conversations…have been broken...I'VE GOT MY FUCKING BRACES OFF! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! That’s right...I’m a free woman...I feel like Nelson Mandela, but you know, a woman, and a bit less important...just a little bit.

Things have changed since I was last free...I mean jelly babies' jelly capacity have increased. Granny Smiths seem to have lost their sting. And what the hell has happened to the lion bar???

This is a new page. And on that note I declare...Fuck orthodonticism! Dr. Singh, fuck your glowing gun that you shove against my teeth! I'm tired of that saliva vacuum thingymajig, that I’m sure is sucking my soul out of me...I'm tired of worrying whether or not my canine is going to explode because my rubber band popped out when eating broccoli…and do you really expect me to wear those retainers…my smile has been attractively challenged for years and the minute I correct that you want to give me a bloody speech impediment! In the words of my brothers...

"SUCK OUT BLUD!"

*Kisses her lush teeth, logs out and skips off Robben Island on the way to the penny shop with a fiver*

Click in Joe Dempsie to go to Wikipedia


I'm Chris.
I'm 18.
I go to college.
I hold the world record for the number of apples under 4-inches circumference you can eat. This is part of the unofficial world records - ones Guinness won't allow you to know about because they are too pussy - because they don't like records which can damage you for life, you know, make you ill and that. Anyway, I ate 268 apples in one sitting in order to hold the record.

Chris's blog

Posted on 20/12/2007

Right...Don't really feel like doing this today (my mouth feels like an old ladies coat), but I've got half an hour to kill and Michelle's been on at me for ages about updating it. So here's a questionnaire I found in an old folk vinyl I got from Plastic Wax. Read on...

Do you live like there is no tomorrow? My mate Bob's an amnesiac. He can only remember things for 45 minutes or less. There’s literally no tomorrow for him. Only now. I've adopted that worldview in solidarity.

Do you blast your jets easily?

Only after a curry

What's your talent?

Ribbon dancing. It’s absolutely brilliant, all these bendy girls expressing emotions through movement and bits of string. I mean, I've not tried it yet, but I've rehearsed a lot in my head. A lot

Do you believe we live in a cruel world?

Joan of Arc, Steve Biko, John Proctor, Heather Mills...Need I go on?

Are you doing your best to change it?

I smile a lot. And people smile back. It’s contagious, like a lovely sort of gonorrhea.

Have you ever had a date deep-six you?

I really, really, really don’t like the sound of that.

When on a date do you always go to the powderbox to plant the platterpuss?

Who doesn’t?

Who chained you?

A Naughty Gorgeous Image of E legance

Can you break loose?

I'm trying.

Can we get together for an evening of poetry?

Sorry, I'm washing my hair that night.

When?

See above...

Peace Love and Fucking,

Chris.

Click in Dev Patel to go to Wikipedia


MY DREAM DATE: You will be tall (or short), blonde or brunette, black, white or anything in between, quiet but outgoing...I will take you for a meal, somewhere classy like Pizza Express. A few glasses of wine. A walk in the moonlight. Then... Who knows???!?!?!

Posted on 13/12/2007

The seasons change.
The bees begin to make sweet honey.
The first doves of spring learn how to fly.

That's right, ladies...The awkward, virginal, desperate Anwar is no more. Since we last spoke, I have become a sex machine who will bring to you a sensory experience that will blow your feminine mind and titillate your crazy hot body. I am now a sexual master who has complete knowledge of the three positions of love making. Ya dun know.

Black silk sheets, strawberries and a deep, throbbing Usher bassline all await you in my boudoir. I have also learnt to trim my bush to make sure none of my raging manhood is obscured.

I ask you only to imagine me whispering into your ear, massaging your shoulders, then gently, tenderly cupping your boobies. I’m certain that you are now ready to receive my loving.

You know what to do.

Anwar the Magnificent

p.s. No fatties. Standards have been raised. My apologies.

p.p.s. If anyone called Jal or Michelle message you to contradict any of the claims made in this profile, ignore them. They have been driven mad with jealousy because I do not consider them worthy partners for sexual congress.

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Click here to read her MySpace.
Click in Hannah Murray to go to Wikipedia.

Hello.
My name is Cassie and I am seventeen.
I collect love heart sweets: you can change the messages if you scratch them, you just need a pin. I like foreign packaging on snack foods. And Japanese toys. When I was little I used to make sculptures out of my mashed potato, like, a snowman with peas for eyes. I don’t think I’ve grown up. I think some biscuits are like lego blocks. Rich teas have to be stacked in fours. I like symmetry.

Cassie's blog

Posted on 14/12/2007

Hello, or namaste. My name is Cassie. Or Meera nam Cassie hai. Namaste is Hindi for ‘I bow to you’ - isn't that amazing? I can also say "what time is lunch?" in Czech. I think it’s "V kolik hodin he obed?" Isn’t that cool? So now you know that I'd never go hungry in the Czech Republic. It’s not good to go hungry. I can say I love you in seven different languages. In Czech it’s "milnji te." Talking of love, wow, I love love. Love is like your best friend that you don’t see a lot. You know they’re always there but they’re just hard to get hold of. And when you do finally find them, it’s just great and you want to hug them and never let them go.

I love different countries, too. Like now I’m in Elgin. That’s in Scotland. But I could be anywhere in the world. Marrakesh or Peru. Somewhere hot where they grow chocolate. Did you know that chocolate only grows 20 degrees or less from the equator? Elgin’s nice. There’s no chocolate growing here, but the people smile a lot and say ‘hello’ and ‘how are you.’ And then you say ‘hello’ back and ‘I’m really fine. Thanks for asking.’

I like reading really big books with big words. And holding the book up to my face so that no one can see me. And then taking it down again, so that everyone can. It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes, if I’m lucky, I’ll be on the bus and I’ll be reading, and there’ll be a little boy or a little girl sitting opposite me. I can always make little children laugh. Maybe because I’m sort of like them. Then I like playing hide and seek with them - with my big book. It makes them giggle. It makes me giggle. I’d have children just to play hide and seek with them…not just that, of course. I’d like feed them and dress them up too.

I love giving to charities too. I love giving my clothes away after I’ve used them, and they’re either too small or too big or too tight or too loose. Sometimes they’re too dull. I like bright colours on clothes. Well it depends on what mood I’m in, but right about now, I like reds and pinks and yellows and oranges - colours of the heart, I guess. What I love even more is buying clothes from charity shops. I used to make up stories about the people behind the clothes. Who were they? What do they like? Who did they love? Maybe someone will do that when they pick up my clothes. Do you think they’ll work me out? A girl called Cassie, who loved a boy called...?

Ambitions: I always wished I could be a Russian Doll. A red one. With a big pair of bright blue eyes and painted on eyelashes and pink rosy cheeks. Really rosy. And my mouth would be painted on red like a bow. I’d have a flower on my chest - a rose - and two small little hands by my side. And then I could be un wrapped, two, three, four times until I was small. Really small.