Friday morning, 11am. I wake up after a long lie in, recovering from a late night in the Choffices. We had the paper almost finished, but at midnight one of the news editors discovered a suspicious student society blog, and four hours and half a dozen cups of coffee later we’d proven a vast international conspiracy.
Another week, another shocking Union revelation (President Zabilowicz had misplaced a comma in his latest email accusing us of defamation), more penetratingly insightful comment pieces (a PPE fresher read an article in the Economist and is now an expert on US foreign policy), and another compelling exploration of existentialist literature (an insufferably edgy English student read some Camus the week before). Well done us!
I check my LinkedIn, and – nice! – another invitation to connect from a junior Daily Mail hack! If I can just leak a few sensitive details about left-wing student movements to him, maybe I’ll make it onto their grad scheme.
I grab a sandwich from Pret and head out to conference, arriving just in time to catch one of the fashion editors attempting to justify her decision to place a photo between two columns of text.
It occurs to me afterwards that perhaps shouting quotes from the style guide at her until she burst into tears was a bit too harsh, but staff members do need to learn that this isn’t an opportunity to have fun: we’re trying to hold the University and its institutions to account.
After hurriedly scribbling down some notes and thrashing out a crap essay, I’m free to get back to Cherwell business. I give a speech to my JCR defending the freedom of the press, invoking the paper’s noble history, and issuing a grovelling apology for libelling them the week before.
As I leave the meeting my phone rings – the corporate overlords are checking in again. They attempt to convince me to run a front page advertorial extolling the virtues of working in sales at BAE Systems.
I refuse initially, but the chairman is insistent that he won’t get that internship at Slaughter & May if Cherwell goes bankrupt before the end of the year.
So I agree, hang up, and then head back to bed. That email with the subject line ‘**NOTIFICATION OF ARTICLE INACCURACIES**’ can wait until tomorrow.
