Section A – Paper 1 Big Grade Questions

English Language – 1hr 45mins. Paper 1 Section A Unseen Media / Non – Fiction Section B Writing to Argue/ Persuade / Advise

Olympic training centre (P.7) 1. Explore the use of layout and organisation in this article. (2 marks) 2. Explore the ways fact and opinion is used in this article. (3 Marks) 3. Explore the ways in which this article attempts to be persuasive. (4 Marks) 4. In what ways are this article and the China didn’t disappoint article (Page 6) similar? (9 Marks)

‘When his country needed him most, he was a giant’ By Ted Beckham (David’s Father)

ENGLAND’S 2004 World Cup qualifying campaign had come down to the final game, against Greece at Old Trafford in October My wife Sandra and I had great seats — front row of the second tier, right on the halfway line. Even though David had taken a box for the game, we preferred to be outside in the middle of it all, soaking up the atmosphere. David walked out holding the hand of Kirsty Howard, from the Francis House Children’s Hospice. She was a beautiful little girl but terribly ill and had to have an oxygen bottle wheeled alongside to keep her going. To see David taking such great care of her was wonderful, especially before such a vital match. He was so tender with her.In the all-white kit, David looked magnificent. He looked like a giant and played like a giant. Even now, I think it was the best game he has played for England. In fact, it was probably the best game he has ever played. His work-rate, his passion, desire, passing, crossing — everything was working to perfection. He was an inspiration to the players around him, even if they didn’t always seem to be on his wavelength. England needed just a point and no one outside Greece expected them to lose. But that wasn’t the way it panned out. England struggled to put together consecutive passes and it seemed the harder that David worked, the more ragged the team performance became. The crowd was stunned into silence when the Greeks took the lead through Angelos Charisteas after 36 minutes and, suddenly, the unthinkable seemed to be happening. I still recall the feeling of dread inside me. The second half was little better. England managed to grab an equaliser through Teddy Sheringham but gave away a second goal a minute later. As the game drifted towards a nightmare defeat, it seemed that only one man believed that we could salvage the point we needed — David. He was everywhere, making tackles, passes and urging on his team-mates in all areas of the pitch. It seemed he had decided that England were going to get the equaliser and nothing was going to stop him. Of course, it came down to that free kick deep into injury time. David told me later Teddy had asked to take it, but he refused. He was happy to take the responsibility and believed it was his duty as captain. When the ball hit the back of the net, the place erupted. I remember people in the stand openly crying, barely able to deal with the emotion of the moment. I have never seen anything like it at a football match.With one inspirational flash of brilliance, my son had taken his country to the World Cup finals. Tears pricked my eyes. Another chapter in his amazing story had been written.

How does the writer make this sound exciting? (8 Marks)

‘The Road Taken’ By Michael Buerk (Newsreader / Journalist)

Michael Buerk WE WERE RIGHT on top of it when it went up, but none of us heard the bang. None of us who survived, anyway. It brought people out from their homes and their hiding places for twenty miles around, wondering if a nuclear bomb had gone off. That’s what it looked like. A great tower of black smoke, a kilometre wide, rushing up from the southern suburbs of the city to smear itself across the bottom of the clouds. The blackness was lined with fire and shot through by a fountain of smaller explosions that arched up into the gloom and fell, miles away, in a crackling, golden rain. They say what happened that morning in Addis Ababa was the biggest explosion in Africa in the history of man. We were only a couple of hundred yards away, four flimsy humans caught out in the open. Without warning, before our eyes could register, or our brains comprehend, what was happening, we were flung to our separate fates. We had been almost close enough to touch each other. One was killed instantly. One was terribly mutilated. One was blasted straight into unconsciousness. I was the fourth. I had a brief moment of awareness; a sense of flying, or at any rate being airborne, in clouds of brown dust and singing metal. But, instead of hitting the ground, something very odd happened. My mind seemed to jettison the body, like the last stage of a space mission. I was suddenly in some parallel universe where time ran backwards, as well as forwards, in a jerky and random series of flashbacks. They made no overall sense, but they were vivid and overwhelming. They were like the closing credits of a film after the audience had left. Or how it is meant to be when you are drowning. To be honest, I thought: This is what it is to die.

How does the writer make this sound dramatic? (6 Marks)

‘I don’t mean to be rude but…’ By Simon Cowell (Music Producer)

Simon Cowell The first time I was rude to someone I was four years old. Unfortunately, my mum was the victim. It was December 1963, less than a month after President Kennedy had been assassinated in America, and the British government was still reeling from the yet another scandal. The mood at home was particularly glum. Dad was a staunch Conservative and, had it not been for his success as an estate agent, he might have gone into politics. As a result, the upheaval in the political world, both at home and in America, upset him greatly. Still, he made it clear to the rest of the family that it was essential, if only for the sake of the children, to continue with our plans for Christmas. This came as a huge relief to me - the thought that anything could possibly hijack my Christmas toy delivery was my first and only concern. On Christmas Day, Mum was seated in her vast mirrored dressing room, putting the final touches to her make-up. Like many women in Britain at that time, she modelled herself on that quintessential icon of style, Jackie Kennedy. Mum had it down to a fine art: she had the same trim figure, the same raven hair, the same cropped suit and the pillbox hats. That night, the crowning glory of her movie-star outfit was a huge white mink hat. I was crouching at the foot of the stairs with my new train set. The one highlight of an otherwise dull collection of Christmas presents, it was spread before me on the vast wooden floor as Mum made her entrance down the sweeping grand staircase. 'What do you think, darling?' she asked, stepping cautiously over the railway track. 'Does Mummy look pretty?' I looked up at her and stared at the furry hat. 'Mum,' I said, 'you look like a poodle.'

‘Frank Skinner’ By Frank Skinner (Comedian)

Frank Skinner IF I'M CONSIDERING buying a book, I always take it off the shelf and read the first paragraph. This, I think, gives you a pretty fair inkling as to whether you'll like it or not. So, imagine the pressure I'm feeling at the moment. I suppose this has ended up in the Biography section and you are probably already eyeing-up my competition: stuff like 'My Life in Music' by David Hasselhoff. So, I know I have to work fast. I've never written a book before. In fact I've barely written a letter in the last ten years and even s have become a bit irksome. I quite like text-messaging on my mobile phone, but it's not much of a warm-up for a 120,000 word autobiography.

Conventions of Autobiography

Significant Events