Tuesday, May 6, 2025
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Immersive, seductive, orgasmic: review of The Bacchae

Anuj Mishra
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Immersive, seductive, orgasmic: review of The Bacchae

Inhale, exhale. The beating drum sounds louder as I walk further into the Keble O’Reilly. Turning left into the auditorium, I find the source of the entrancing rhythm. An interlacing circle of maenads obstructs the path to my seat: they pant to Dionysus’ drumming and their presence onstage makes me wonder if I’ve accidentally turned up late. 

Euripides’ The Bacchae follows the descent of Dionysus (Wally McCabe) upon the city of Thebes, where they have already seduced a band of women into following them away into the hills. There, it’s orgies-galore, much to the disdain of Pentheus (Immanuel Smith). The play follows Pentheus’ denial of Dionysus’ divine – albeit indulgent – authority and the reassertion of power in a gruesome conclusion. 

The intimate and stripped-back set design worked well and, paired with the O’Reilly’s in-the-round seating, created an immersive atmosphere of ecstasy. Actors entered from all sides, joining and leaving the audience, even peering over into the theatre from the balconies at points, creating multiple layers of spectacle and rendering us as part of Dionysus’ divine dance. The sense of bacchic frenzy was furthermore augmented by the actors’ lack of restraint from forcing us in the front row to tuck our legs away as they sashayed, rolled, and gesticulated across the stage. 

McCabe’s performance as Dionysus was seductive – creating chemistry with both actor and audience through dialogue and soliloquy – and swung successfully from sensuality to vainglorious rage as the plot demanded. At times bare-chested and always booted up in platform Doc Martens, watching basically every character in the play swoon at Dionysus’ every glance and, quite literally, dance to the beat of their drum, was really quite titillating.

The more minor character of Tiresias (Susie Weidmann) was performed and costumed excellently – Weidmann’s rod-wielding was more Maggie Smith as the Dowager Countess than Ian McKellen as Gandalf, and it was hilarious. The late entry of Agave (Alice Wyles) into the play bore no weight on Wyles’ ability to evoke emotion: hers was another standout performance.

Although props were sparse, some effective choices were made. The severed head raised aloft at the play’s conclusion was chillingly well-constructed, but its effect was slightly undermined by the squeaking of styrofoam in what was supposed to have been a bag of mangled body parts.

Director Freyja Harrison-Wood succeeds with The Bacchae in curating a play which balances physical performance and tantric scene-building with well-paced plot advancement. Any qualms about its experimentality were offset by well-delivered performances. The result is intriguing and, yes, orgasmic. 

The Bacchae will continue its run at the Keble O’Reilly until Saturday, 3rd February. Tickets for the play are on sale here.

ATIK Oxford won’t be closing despite rumours

Selina Chen and Cem Kozanoglu
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ATIK Oxford won’t be closing despite rumours

Following speculations by many students regarding the future of nightclub ATIK’s operations, Cherwell contacted the parent company, Rekom UK, for comment. A spokesperson for the company told Cherwell “Atik Oxford is not closing.”

Rekom is a multinational Danish-owned nightlife operations company, and its British subsidiary, Rekom UK, is the owner and operator of brands ATIK, PRYZM and Cameo. The company’s 46 properties across the country make it the largest proprietor of night clubs in the UK by square footage.

The company has made headlines in the previous weeks as “administrators were called in” to many branches, including those in Nottingham, Southampton and Oxford. According to Chairman Peter Marks, the move is aimed to give ‘breathing space and protection’ while the company works on restructuring its operations.

Causes for the potential closures include a 2.1% dip in nightlife spending from last year according to a Rekom report, which also reiterated that consumers have become more price conscious due to cost-of-living concerns. The latest round of increases in the National Living Wage have also hurt the company’s bottom line, with Marks stating that they would need “an extra £2m” to cover the rise in pay. 

A student who clubs at ATIK once a week told Cherwell: “When I first heard the rumours I was considering rustication because ‘work hard play hard’ is essential to my Oxford study – that was a joke. But in all seriousness I’m glad that ATIK is not closing down. My hometown’s ATIK [Dartford] recently shut down, so going to ATIK Oxford is like keeping a part of my home here.”

The ATIK spokesperson also told Cherwell: “we will respond with an official statement for you in due course.”

Before being acquired by Rekom, the current brands and operations were owned and operated by UK-company Deltic Group. The group faced financial difficulties during the peak of the COVID-19 pandemic and was on the brink of going into administration, when it was acquired by Rekom and rebranded as Rekom UK.

Saltburn: a Mid-Noughties Fashion Revival

Shaan Sidhu
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Saltburn: a Mid-Noughties Fashion Revival

Emerald Fennell’s latest film ‘Saltburn’ has rocked audiences for many reasons. It features an all-star cast, classic throwback tunes, and a twisted plot accompanied by striking visuals. For ‘Saltburn’, Fennell collaborated with costume designer Sophie Canale, who claims to have swapped Pinterest for Facebook in her search for outfit inspiration. Having previously worked on Neftlix’s ‘Bridgerton’,Canale has a knack for encapsulating a range of historical periods through wardrobe, and shocking as it may seem, the mid-2000s are now technically ‘vintage’. Nineties-inspired styles have experienced a massive surge in popularity up until now, so it seems necessary to dissect Fennell’s portrayal of noughties trends to see what deserves to return, and what ought to be left in the past.

The opening scene offers a vignette of Oxford in 2006, where the chaos of freshers and their doting parents sets the temporal context as the camera journeys with Oliver around Radcliffe Square. The architecture in the backdrop is timeless, meaning costume is essential to conveying the temporal context of ‘Saltburn’. Canale and Fennell achieve this through clichés – one extra can be seen dressed top-to-toe in bubblegum pink, with brown UGG boots to add variety. As other groups of students stroll around the square there is a stark absence of skinny jeans, with bootcuts, flares, and more relaxed denim styles being favoured. The cyclical movement of fashion trends such as these might explain why ‘Saltburn’s costuming choices are receiving the approval of modern audiences.

As Oliver later stands in Brasenose’s first quad, we see a full Juicy Couture tracksuit worn by another student in the back. Nothing screams ‘noughties’ more than this. We have witnessed a revival of the iconic two-piece, with the brand reappearing in Urban Outfitters, but it wasn’t until 2023 that the original low-rise style made its comeback. That of course does not mean we must accept every noughties trend in 2024 as it first emerged. I was hardly a fan of the party outfits worn by the girls, and I would lament the return of wearing denim miniskirts with black opaque tights.

Canale’s costuming for Felix makes extensive use of the “posh-boy polo”. With a wardrobe dominated by Ralph Lauren, popped collars and lived-in denim, Felix’s style effortlessly reflects English noughties fashion. Canale further appropriates the style of the lead character to his culture through particular outfits like the salmon shirt under a blue jumper, which encapsulates the styles of the British upper-middle class. The simplicity of Felix’s wardrobe is here to stay, with linen shirts and Carhartt jeans still being sported across Oxford. What constrains Felix’s wardrobe to his time are his accessories, from the plethora of bracelets to that questionable eyebrow piercing.

At Saltburn estate we encounter Venetia, whose makeup imitates the smokey-eye look associated with Effy Stonem from ‘Skins’. The series, first released in 2007, perfectly exemplifies the trends of the late noughties in Bristol, and considering the glamourisation of Effy in popular culture, it makes complete sense that Fennell pushes the appeal further through Venetia. We are already witnessing a rise in interest for ‘indie sleaze’, a trend that took off in the United States and United Kingdom contemporary to the plot of both ‘Saltburn’ and ‘Skins’. It would fail to surprise me if the reception of ‘Saltburn’ propels these aesthetics back into the mainstream.

Farley’s costuming is unfairly overlooked, despite it being so distinct from the majority of the students. His style is anachronistic to the noughties; when he first appears on-screen, he stands out for adopting flared trousers and patterned sweater vests that evoke the seventies and eighties. Farley’s vintage flair contrasts the trendiness of his peers, whose trial-and-error of trends juxtaposes his refined interpretation of former fashions. Perhaps this foreshadows how we might re-interpret and employ noughties trends in response to ‘Saltburn’.

So ‘Saltburn’ fuels the fire for a revival of noughties trends, and the costume design of Fennell and Canale draws on iconic fashions from the time that has already made a return. UGGs are loved by many, and Juicy Couture is adored for letting us girls unleash our inner Paris Hilton. The wardrobe of Felix is distinct to its contemporary through the selection of brands from which Canale has sourced, and I would hope that more men of Oxford follow his example. Fennell draws on examples from popular culture current to ‘Saltburn’s’ setting, and in emulation of original media and fashions, she may have just encouraged a renewed interest in noughties fashion. The premiere of the film coincides with the release of the final season of Netflix’s ‘The Crown’, whose portrayal of Prince William and then-Kate Middleton at university might inspire some to look further into the styles of the early noughties. It seems that we might be witnessing the rise of the ‘noughties period drama’ after all.

Five reasons to eat the whole apple

Monty Pierce Jones
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I’ll admit that there’s nothing quite like that first bite into a crisp apple. Crunching off the overhang you’ve made as you’ve gone around the fruit is almost as satisfying. Which begs the question: why on earth do we stop there? When we throw away the core, up to 30% of an entirely edible apple is lost.

I’m an all-apple advocate, I’ll eat the “core”, the seeds and even the blossom end. So, I’ve come up with the top five benefits of eating an apple properly to try and convince you to, too:

  1. No waste

Have you ever eaten an apple with nowhere to throw it away? Maybe you’ve forgotten it on your desk, or in a pocket – later discovering a browning, decomposing, sticky mess. If you eat the whole shebang you are left with nothing but the stem!

Also, apples are terrible for the environment when sent to a landfill. There is hardly any oxygen inside landfills, due to the compacting. When apple cores are left to microbially degrade in these conditions, instead of producing some carbon dioxide, they produce a lot of methane (which has a 100-year global warming potential 20 times worse than that of CO2).

  1. More bang for your buck

Let’s do some maths. As you now know, throwing away the core means throwing away 30% of the apple. Say you’ve bought 6 apples for £3. If you aren’t eating the full monty you’re basically throwing away a pound! “Okay, what’s a pound? Eating the whole apple is gross” you might say. Well let’s expand our little calculation to the global scale, shall we?

If we all had an apple a day, to keep the doctors at bay, only to throw the cores away (much to my dismay) – that’s the equivalent of 15p gone astray. Get a calculator out. Times that 15p by 7.9 billion people. Times that number by 365 days. You’ll end up with £433 billion, that’s like Ireland’s GDP in the bin. Just because of the social constructs that (1) apple cores aren’t edible and that (2) seeds are scary!

  1. Immunity to cyanide

Okay, maybe I went overboard on the calculation, not everyone likes apples. But seeds aren’t scary. Yes, they have a little cyanide in them in the form of amygdalin, but the poison only emerges after amygdalin is metabolised, and to be metabolised it has to be released from the seed. Thankfully, seeds have evolved to pass through the digestive system unscathed, so that they can be shat out in ready-made soil to become mystical trees.

Even if you do decide to meticulously crush each one with your molars, you’d have to grind and ingest roughly 2000 of them in one day to get cyanide poisoning. So, anything less than that and you are partaking in mithridatism, the practice of protecting oneself against a poison by gradually self-administering non-lethal amounts. Ever seen The Princess Bride? That could be you if you ate the whole apple.

  1. Probiotics galore

A single apple has about 100 million bacterial cells, but if you toss out the core, you’re only consuming about 10 million of ’em. The seeds and each end have most of the good stuff, with the peel around the apple’s equator having the least. This fantastic gut flora helps with food digestion, immune system regulation and vitamin synthesis (especially Vitamin K, almost half of your daily requirement is provided by these bacteria).

  1. Expanding your palate

Just as we discard the most nutrient dense parts of apples, we discard the most nutrient dense parts of animals (organ meats, offal, marrow, etc.) in favour of steak, chicken thighs and pork chops. Nose-to-tail eating is the philosophy of cooking and consuming every possible part of an animal. It’s kind of awesome, and the almond notes of apple seeds might be your gateway to the butteriness of beef marrow and the coppery sweetness of chicken heart. Open your mind and your mouth!

Cherwell Introducing: Zahra

Joseph Lomax
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Cherwell Introducing: Zahra

In our Introducing series, Cherwell will be bringing you the best up and coming artists in Oxford. This week, Joseph interviewed Zahra.

Please introduce yourself!

I’m Zahra, a 2nd Year Philosophy and Theology student at Christ Church, and I’ve just released my debut single, Windows Down!

Who is your biggest musical inspiration?

It’s impossible to choose one! Whenever I think about this I try and remember what I’d play on my family’s CD player from when I was about 4. Justin Timberlake, Madonna’s Hard Candy, Alicia Keys, Jennifer Hudson, Prince. So, a lot of pop, soul, and R&B: which I feel inspires me when I’m writing pop songs to use jazzy chords, or to incorporate an R&B drum pattern or influence.

Right now, I’d say my biggest writing influences are Boygenius, Phoebe Bridgers, and Olivia Dean. But I feel like the music of my childhood is just so ingrained in me sub-consciously I can’t help but refer to it.

Has your experience at Oxford influenced your writing/performing?

Oxford’s given me so many experiences to write about: I wouldn’t have gone interrailing this summer if it wasn’t for being at Uni which is an experience I wrote multiple songs about, or experiences of dating, boys, romance. Being in a new place and meeting new people is bound to expand your horizons. Funnily enough though, while being here gives me material, I find writing in Oxford really hard. As we all know, it’s so intense, and I find I can only write properly during the vacations: my emotional capacity isn’t there during term, and turning an emotional experience into a creative endeavour is hard to do here.

What is your first musical memory?

It’s a hazy memory I have of when I was 2 or 3, watching Mariah Carey’s We Belong Together music video. It’s just so nostalgic to me. It was my sister’s favourite music video, so we would watch it on the TV together and have a little boogie.

Do you find any connection between your studies and your music?

Doing Philosophy and Theology forces me to think deeply about religion, God, the world, and personal identity. After studying these things in depths and having 1 on 1 tutes it’s hard to get away from it sinking in personally as well: ever since I could recognise my love for philosophy and theology, I’ve had this existentialism which intuitively helps me with songwriting. My studies certainly help me think about my life, my emotions, and experiences more deeply, which goes hand in hand with songwriting and unlocking my creativity.

Describe your sound in three words.

Groovy summer pop.

Where do you want to be in 10 years?

I’ll be 30…that’s crazy! Ok so there’s two options. Realistically, I want to reach a point where I can look at my career and be happy and satisfied. Making a comfortable living from music, no side job or struggling to make music my main purpose.

But if we’re saying the sky is the limit, I’m still getting used to sharing my dreams with other people, like I didn’t tell people I sang until less than a year ago. I like to keep my big dreams close to my heart.

What’s your favourite song right now?

Kind of rogue, but it’s Tell Your Friends, by the Weeknd and, Sober II (Melodrama) by Lorde. I’m in an angsty, Hilary, it’s dark outside and I’m getting drunk 3 times a week vibe! I’m gonna cheat and give you two.

What is a song that made you want to become a songwriter?

Well, it’s not a song but an artist: I have to say Taylor Swift. I think I learned piano and guitar because she plays them. Even though I was writing songs and melodies and poems since I was 6, when I remember being 10 at the piano, I remember thinking: ‘I’m going to write a song because Taylor Swift writes her own songs.’ I felt like I couldn’t be a true musician unless I wrote my own songs. I also had this knowledge where I knew my voice wouldn’t get me where I wanted on its own, so I had to write.

What do you wish was different about the music industry in 2024?

Tik Tok is a double-edged sword. It’s free and accessible, in an industry that is inherently exclusionary, and built on who you know. However, it’s become not just a tool, but a necessary medium for music promotion. Imagine Paul McCartney, or Amy Winehouse, as influencers: these cool, phenomenally creative people, selling songs on Tik Tok? It feels like if you want to be an artist you have to be an influencer, which so many people don’t want! It’s jarring for a lot of independent musicians, when labels expect you to have an online presence.

Zahra’s debut single, Windows Down, is out now. Her debut EP of the same name is coming in late April.

Follow Zahra on Instagram @ zahra.sahamad

Remembering Oxford: Memorialising “The City of Dreaming Spires”

Yoshimi Kato
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Remembering Oxford: Memorialising “The City of Dreaming Spires”

In the common room of the Taylor Institute Library, a framed row of historical engravings depict scenes of Oxford. Among them is an engraving by J. H. Parker, dated 1849, capturing a moment of “The View of the Martyr’s Memorial and Aisle”. The Martyr’s Memorial, which still stands today on St. Giles, overlooks pedestrians with parasols and scholar’s robes. On its steps two men watch another play with a dog. As I exit the library, it strikes me that in its memorials of people long deceased and its unchanging historical landscape, Oxford seems often at a standstill.

Martyr’s Memorial was erected in 1843 in remembrance of three Protestants who were burned at the stake in 1555. The buildings that Parker depicted surrounding the memorial can be observed today: St. Mary Magdalen church, the facade of Balliol College, and the buildings of Magdalen Street. Perhaps the largest discrepancy between the scene from 1849 to today is the layout of the road. While people leisurely stroll along St. Giles in the fading inked landscape, I am on the lookout for cars as I cross onto a median strip under construction, in an attempt to recapture the perspective of Parker.

Observing the memorial framed by green netting, I am reminded that despite Oxford’s seeming timelessness, things are still subject to change. Memory of a place is constantly reformulated, physically through construction and through the ways in which people remember them. Restorative works to the Martyr’s Memorial were done throughout the 20th century, and more recently, in 2002. The bright paint one can observe on the shields is thus not the same used in the 19th century, an imposition of modernity that has also affected the traditions of Oxford— such as the wearing of robes and Latin ceremonies— which have faded to moments of re-enactment in formal halls and academic ceremonies.

At the same time, these slivers of tradition also build new meanings of memorialization. As the men sit on the memorial in Parker’s engraving, on the steps one young woman now takes a lunch break while a man gazes out at the street contemplative. I overhear the conversation of three friends, one of them seemingly a local touring his companions. Throughout the years, millions of tourists have interacted with the memorial in the same way. In the Bodleian I find a 1938 guidebook to Oxford titled “The City of Spires”. In the guidebook’s first few pages a photo of the memorial advertises a local “Private Hotel”, which no longer exists, on 13-17 Magdalen street.

The dubbing of Oxford as “The City of Dreaming Spires” is a popular one that reproduces the coinage of the city as ‘that sweet city with her dreaming spires’ by Matthew Arnold in his 1865 poem Thyrsis (1865). Thyrsis commemorates Arnold’s deceased friend Arthur Hugh Clough, and opens with an exclamation of how Oxford has changed since they walked the streets together as students (‘How changed is here each spot man makes or fills!’). Perhaps the pair, then members of Balliol College, too sat on the steps of Martyr’s Memorial.

Why do we memorialise? Why are some places of memory preserved more than others (why are the ancient spires still standing, while 13-17 Magdalen Street constantly changes)? As I reflected upon this Oxford spire entrenched with memory, I noticed a graffitied wall on one of the shops flanking Martyr’s Memorial. Among the scrawl of letters one struck my eye: SPIRE. Walking through the city, I start noticing its frequency, repetitively hidden in plain sight on walls and doors, and even on a dusty window of a closed establishment.

I ran my finger through the dust, creating a streak that joins the graffiti tags. In doing so I realised that with the rain and wind these words will disappear in days. These SPIREs, unlike the towers that celebrate Oxford’s traditions of academic prestige, will be removed— if not by the elements, by local authorities. Yet, although these graffiti spires are more ephemeral than their architectural counterparts, they are similarly repeated across the city. I wonder if the creators of these spires shared a common uncertainty of when their creations will be destroyed or reconstructed.

Perhaps we create art and memorials to mark a moment that will inevitably mutate and be forgotten through time. The engraving hung on the wall of the Taylor Institute Library’s common room. Arnold’s commemoration of walks through Oxford with his best friend. The graffiti spires on the ground level of Oxford’s streets that mirror the ones that define its skyscape. Martyr’s Memorial, which does hold the same cultural weight it did when it was completed in 1843. Yet, the spire reminds one not only of the moment of religious history it remembers, but multiple memories layered with everyday repeated moments of tradition through the centuries.

To all the pubs we’ve loved before: Crown Vs. Turf

Susanna Elliott and Reka Sztaray
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To all the pubs we’ve loved before: Crown Vs. Turf

Today we are putting two classic favourites, the Crown and Turf Tavern, head-to-head. Turf is arguably the most famous pub in Oxford. It was a gambling house (now a Greene King) in the heart of Oxford – though as two people who live above the alley, people really need to stop reading the “education in intoxication” sign out loud… The Crown is slightly less famous, but equally convenient being just off Cornmarket Street. As a Nicholson’s pub, the Crown’s is the ideal destination if you’re looking for the classics, with their house and Camden pale ale being the most popular. Turf was slightly more unique, and we couldn’t pass up the opportunity to try a pint of their house  bitters and their own pale ale, both of which were delicious. For food, we ordered nachos from both, and the Crown came out the clear winner, with Turf’s somehow lacking cheese (?). Though Turf’s chicken kiev that our friend Gabriel ordered was incredible (narrowly beating out the chicken schnitzel at the Crown)! Overall, with their central locations and similar prices, neither pubs are ones to miss. We have to give the win to the Crown, simply  for the cosier atmosphere (the fairy lights are a big plus!) and it was a bit less busy than Turf – Réka had to sprint to occupy a table that was being vacated… If you go to either, you will certainly not be disappointed. 

The Crown vs Turf Tavern – Final tally 

Pints: 3/5 vs 4/5 

Food: 5/5 vs 4/5 

Price: 3/5 vs 3/5 

Ambiance: 5/5 vs 4/5 

Overall: 4/5 vs 3.5/5 – Crown wins!

Wattpad: the new online course in creative writing?

Mair Andrews
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Wattpad: the new online course in creative writing?

Olivie Blake, best-selling writer of ‘The Atlas Six’ series, is scheduled to visit Oxford early next month for her latest book tour. Whilst this is usual enough, with other writers such as Philip Pullman and R. F. Kuang producing similar talks, there’s one thing which has drawn me to Blake’s work: she began her writing career, under that same name, on fanfiction websites.  

The line between high and low-brow literature is constantly queried, especially in recent media culture, where song lyrics are often analysed like poetry. The rise of fanfiction and Young Adult literature are equally responsible: the Wattpad community has nearly 94 million users worldwide as of 2022. It has enabled readers and writers to create and enjoy new stories, whilst sharing them on an international scale, all for free. 

That the majority of publications on these sites are fanfiction is undeniable. But this isn’t inherently bad: it provides the opportunity for an exercise in character development or dialogue writing, without the need for world building or introductory chapters.  

Many writers even compete for a “Watty Award”. Previous winners of this award, such as ‘The Kissing Booth’, have been made into films, transforming the writer’s career. Wattpad now has its own production company, producing films like ‘After’ based on the series by Anna Todd, which can be viewed on platforms like Netflix and Amazon Prime. Whilst some of these pieces did start out as fanfiction – ‘After’ was developed from Harry Styles fanfiction – these websites are not ‘just’ for fanfiction or smut; some pieces are actually quite well-written. At its core, Wattpad is a writing app, geared towards readers. This is one of the reasons for its commercial success: it automatically trains the writers to reach their audience and write for the popular viewer, without any publishing hassle or market research. 

Most contributors on fanfiction websites utilise the platforms as writing practice. They publish pieces for National Writing Month (known as NaWriMo), a challenge to write a book within a month. There is a large community where people ask for Beta readers – basically editors for their piece in order to get feedback. It is the digital equivalent to a creative writing society.  

One of the reasons Blake was able to self-publish six novels prior to being picked up by a publisher was due to her relatively high, pre-established social media following: her Harry Potter fanfictions, which were first published on the website Archive of Our Own (AO3), had attracted attention on BookTok.  

Recently, a fanfiction ‘canon’ has emerged. Now, you can scroll through TikTok and see almost a million videos dedicated to the Marauders from the Harry Potter series, all due to one successful fanfic called ‘All The Young Dudes’ from 2017. Nearly ten years on, and an entire fanbase has been formed from an illegitimate spin-off of a children’s book series. A community of fans now exists beyond the original source. That one text can inspire so many people is surely a compliment to any writer. 

I won’t deny that some pieces are pure smut. However, as a reader, this can be avoided through filtering your searches: if you are looking for smut, though,  you’ll likely find it. The websites promote pieces with the most clicks through the ‘What’s Hot’ and ‘Most Kudos’ features – pieces that do genuinely deserve the attention. The smut-side of fanfiction sites is nearly entirely self-selective: AO3 displays content warnings and asks you to agree that you are over eighteen before you open a piece with sexual content. Admittedly, this is the same level of security as telling BBCiPlayer, ‘Yes, I do have a TV licence,’ but it means that, with a ‘view at your own risk’ attitude, there is at least some regulation. 

Ever since we have been telling stories and writing them, people have been inspired to craft their own versions, with varying levels of deviation from their source. The only issue that sites like Wattpad face is their association with ‘low value’ feminine writing and smut. I hope that, as we witness the rise of writers like Anna Todd and now Olivie Blake, we can see writing applications like Wattpad as a stepping stone for writers hoping to enter the professional sphere and improve their craft, rather than as a basis for jokes and judgement. 

The skilful art of flying saucers

Mia Blood-Schiffers
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The skilful art of flying saucers

One of my best friends came back touting plastic discs and football boots one day and that’s all it seemed to take for her to become frisbee obsessed. What followed were nights spent watching grown adults dive to the ground after flying saucers, videos of her chucking white circle after white circle into the air, and the epitome – the running joke within our friendship group – a week spent chucking plastic discs around for her country. 

Don’t get me wrong, the sheer athleticism and general fitness required for frisbee is astounding –  players easily rack up the kilometres cutting up and down the field. However, the way in which such energy is spent, at least from a bystander’s perspective, seems like a bit of a waste of time. Why not play a contact sport? A sport that has a referee? A sport that doesn’t require an irritating amount of skill to actually make an adequate pass? All of these things tend to be what put people off – just stick to kicking a football around. But it is for these reasons that I also fell inexplicably in love with my friend’s sport – and maybe why you should too.

Ultimate frisbee is a non-contact, self-refereed, mishmash of netball and American football. Two ‘endzones’ separate a field of two teams attempting to pivot and pass the frisbee to their respective scoring ends. Wherever the frisbee is intercepted or dropped, possession passes to the other team meaning play essentially restarts and everyone switches to running back up to the opposite end of the field. Points can last for minutes like this, meaning frisbee is no mean feat of endurance. 

The first hurdle however, is overcoming a beginner’s ability to throw a frisbee. For many of us, this may only extend to an attempted backhand throw of no more than five metres, which in actuality wobbles barely past the two metre mark before plummeting back down to terra firma. You quickly learn to be humbled by the thin curve of plastic that many experienced players can welly up to the length of a 100 metre pitch – but that is not to say that learning to throw a disc efficiently should be a deterrent. The ultimate frisbee community has some of the most accommodating and welcoming sports players you will come across, thus learning to throw is a matter of turning up and asking. Maybe it’s the lack of referees that instils an extra level of kindness and patience, but the sport generally seems to foster an approachable community of individuals looking to expand their sport to the masses.

Originating in New Jersey, America, the sport developed itself originally as a casual lifestyle sport, but it has fast grown semi-professional with a sprawling international scene. The World Flying Disc Federation (WFDF) hosts annual international competitions all over the world with European names such as Levke Walczak and Lili Trautmann starting to beat the Americans at their own game. Ultimate frisbee is now one of the fastest-growing sports in the UK – in 2022, United Kingdom Ultimate (UKU) had a membership of 4,500 people participating in club games and tournaments, and it is estimated that the game is played by over five million players worldwide.

Ultimate supports divisions for mixed, ‘womxns’ and ‘mxns’ play and newcomers are welcome to play for all divisions to which they apply. At the higher levels, rules state a minimum three or four of seven players must be ‘womxn’ per point and despite being a male dominated sport in Oxford, there is a strong emphasis placed on having at least some female matching players playing for each point in mixed games. Players sub on and off at their own volition on a point-by-point rotational basis and the level of skill possessed by a player is never a deciding factor in who should play – everyone is encouraged to get throwing. 

The lack of a referee is not a sign of the sport’s weakness, but of its strength. Fouls, actions of contact and general rule-breakage are discussed amongst players during paused game play, making the game both somewhat light-hearted but also very player-oriented – frisbee has no hierarchy and cultivates a large amount of mutual team and player respect for this reason. 

There is just something about relentlessly chasing a frisbee up and down the field that gets you buzzing. Sometimes it’s the smoothness and the impeccable ‘flow’ of the disc flying from player to player, or the speed and tactical agility of a turnover that makes the game addictive to both watch and play. You sub off, catch your breath, and run back on again for the next point – are we crazy, or have you just not tried it yet?

How generous are you (really)?

Morien Robertson
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How generous are you (really)?

The amount spent per head in the UK on Christmas gifts was around £600 this year, and fluctuates between £450 and £700 each year, whilst in the US it is close to one thousand dollars. 

In contrast, the average amount donated to charity per person in the UK is between £100 and £300 per year – and only around 50-60% of people actually donate anything at all. As families come together to relax and enjoy their presents, there are nearly 300,000 homeless people in the UK.  The UK foreign aid budget is yet to return to 0.7% of Gross National Income, having been cut to 0.5% in 2020, changes which mean that tens of thousands of children are at risk of dying. As ever, the newspapers are filled with harrowing tales of suffering from Ukraine, Gaza, and Ethiopia, to name just a few. You might stop and think for a moment if provoked by a clip online (if you aren’t already desensitised to such graphic depictions), but, for the most part, we get on with our lives. Whilst pecuniary figures aren’t the only measure of caring, the miserly amounts do indicate a certain detachment, or at least not a sufficient desire to act on feelings of remorse.  

In 1971, Peter Singer published one of the most (in)famous papers in 20th century ethics, ‘Famine, Affluence, and Morality’, in which he argues that it is a moral imperative to donate significant amounts of money to charititable causes like famine-relief programs. The centrepiece of the argument is the drowning child analogy: the idea that, if you walked past a child drowning in a pond, you would be morally obligated to save them. Thus, he concludes:“[if] it is in our power to prevent something bad from happening, without thereby sacrificing anything of comparable moral importance, then we ought, morally, to do it.” 

Unsurprisingly, since publication, there have been innumerable responses to an argument which seems to condemn virtually everyone, not just as slightly ungenerous, but as actively doing something wrong. The main objection is ‘overdemandingness’: the idea, as the name suggests, that following this principle would be untenable – it is simply demanding ‘too much’. This coincides with most people’s intuitions: we don’t regularly think of ourselves as evil people. As Singer notes: “People do not feel in any way ashamed or guilty about spending money on new clothes or a new car instead of giving it to famine relief.” But just because something  contradicts our intuitive morality, it isn’t necessarily incorrect.  

A continuation of this objection is to ask: ‘where do we draw the line? At what point have we done enough?’ Singer’s answer is that we must keep going until we “sacrific[e] anything of comparable moral importance” – if you neglect caring for your children because of your devotion to famine relief, for example, you have gone too far, though the point at which something becomes of comparable importance is clearly hard to determine. 

Another point of contention is to do with distance: perhaps the drowning child must be saved, but we aren’t walking past drowning children every day. This also seems unconvincing, however, as it’s not clear why geographical separation changes moral responsibility – if I bomb someone in another country, the distance doesn’t change where the blame lies. Even if you believe you have a greater moral duty to your local area, the UK has plenty of suffering – on average two homeless people die each day, and they have a life expectancy more than 30 years lower than the UK average. Further, it doesn’t seem plausible to argue that just because others around you aren’t doing their duty, you shouldn’t – even if people around you are content to watch a child die, you’re still as blameworthy as ever. 

Christmas might be a time for family but a (much-debated) quote from Margaret Thatcher illustrates the dangers of retreating into closed-off familial units: “there’s no such thing as society. There are individual men and women and there are families.” Debates about what ‘society’ really means are largely unresolved, but thinking only in terms of those people close to you will almost surely lead to an apathy or lack of action in response to suffering elsewhere.  

For most, Singer’s arguments will seem too extreme. Yet they illustrate something probably felt on occasion – a truth noted by that little guilty feeling you get when asked for donations on the street but walk on by. Whilst you might not decide to give away your disposable income if and when you have one, Christmas – that celebration of giving and community – seems as good a time as any to reflect on how it could best be spent. 

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