Monday 23rd June 2025
Blog Page 1140

Creaming Spires: MT15 Week 4

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Speaking to a perpetually single friend drunk on the dancefloor on the brink of her first relationship, she asks me: “How does it feel to be tied down?” Drunken, horny me of course did not construe this to mean tied down in a relationship. “Oh I’ve never been tied up”, I slur into her drinksmattered shoulder, “I’ve only ever tied people up. But that can be hot.”

Birmingham Tom was nothing special. I’d felt the need to satiate my undying need for cocktails one evening and wandered along to a local bar with a few friends. When I went to order my poison of choice, I was greeted by a group of men in suits about a decade older than myself. Leaning across the bar in the most graceful manner I could muster after a few whiskey sours, I caught his eye. I was a little drunk and feeling flirty so took a painfully obvious elongated route back to my table through his party.

My subtle seduction of carefully cast looks was going so well; until I tripped and knocked my entire drink down his three-piece. Apologies pouring out of my mouth somewhat more liberally than the spirit measures of the bar, I abandon my seducing. However, Tom touches the cuff of my shirt. He takes the blame and offers to replace my drink. In need of something to quell my nerves I agree, making small talk in the meantime. He explains he’s a postgrad studying for his doctorate. I attempt to look interested, and after a few exchanges of sweet nothings and numbers, I leave.

Back in bed and with my room spinning round me, I check my phone. It seems Birmingham Tom is at the same point of blissful drunkenness. Or at least that’s what I understood by the typos and subsequent flurry of nudes I received at 1am.

Horny and drunk, I invite this guy round. Not because he was aesthetically pleasing. I mean, he wasn’t bad looking or out of shape. I mainly invite him over because I’d never been with someone born a decade earlier than myself. The mystique and taboo of age intrigued me. Plus, when someone sends you a messages saying they are “looking to experiment a bit, and for the other person to take control”, the dom within this small masculine frame quivered with excitement. Being asked to shave his genitals was somewhat less arousing and something I utterly refused. But being told how much he wanted me to handcuff him, spread his legs apart and work my magic made up for that.

Arriving bleary eyed, his frumpy fleece kills the slight boner I had. But as soon as we enter my room and I begin to undress him, it soon returns. Lying naked on the bed, he tells me to tie him up and clamp his mouth shut. Inexperienced, I grab the joke red furry handcuffs an ex bought me and set to work. Running around my room to find things to tie this tall man up with, all I have to hand is a couple of dressing gown cords. I feel I can never praise my Gran’s excellent choice in M&S’s festive loungewear again.

I now have a thirty-year-old man trussed up and blindfolded on my bed. I decide I really could do this dominatrix lark. However disaster strikes. At my height of arousal, his undisclosed allergy to strawberry-flavoured lube kick in. Trying to untie all knots made in my horny haste and sobering up, the night ends. But at least I got a free drink out of it. 

Stuck and stranded in Paris

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Patrik used to work at Shakespeare and Company in Paris. For many months he pestered me to come and work at the bookshop. Because I was broke and lazy, I only wandered over in late September. I stuffed a couple pairs of underwear and some random articles of clothing into the backpack my great aunt Vicki gave me for my 13th birthday. I didn’t have a plan because I was too chaotic to think about planning. Everything was chaos in September. My dog had a urinary tract infection and I had to work as a nanny for three eight-year-old boys.

The plan was to work and stay at Shakespeare and Company. A small, but famous, bookshop in Paris, this is a place where English nerds can stay for free if they work a couple hours a day. I got there and spoke to a man with two braids and a goatee working at the register. When I asked if I could stay there he giggled and said with a snark, “Not tonight, definitely not tonight.” I was totally stranded.

I probably should have booked a hostel. But Patrik, the boyishly handsome moustached man, urged me to stay. As a neurotic New Yorker by birth, images of crime TV shows inevitably ran through my mind as we walked through Paris towards his friend Nuyringa’s apartment.

He assured me I was not being rude. “Nuyringa is the nicest person. Don’t worry, don’t stress, just help yourself to whatever.” A weird lamp, a train ticket and a bunch of peanuts sucked out all the cash I needed for dinner that day. I was late for my train so I only had a Nature Valley bar for breakfast. Despite my polite upbringing, I found myself forced to raid the fridge of a woman I’d never met and who potentially would be rather angry at me pilfering her carefully selected groceries.

I fiddled around the woman’s fridge while I waited to meet her for the first time. I didn’t want to eat anything too expensive so I grabbed a block of cheese wrapped in plastic. It was a bit suspicious, but I convinced myself the best cheeses are stinky and gloopy. Meanwhile, Patrik casually popped open a bottle of Nuyringa’s red wine and delicately poured it into a ceramic mug with a protruding snowman on it.

His round Harry Potter glasses and dark brown hair bustled about as he swigged. He has a moustache that he very subtly waxes so it turns up on either end of his lip, evoking his inner Poirot. I met Patrik a year ago in a café when I was living in Rome. I overheard him having a conversation with his friend in a language I could not understand. It was certainly not Italian, English, Spanish, French or Portuguese. Upon my inquiries, I learned he was speaking in Latin. Duh.

I ate the entire block of cheese. In my defence, I never meant to be in this random woman’s kitchen in the center of Paris at 12:30am. Patrik promised me a place at his place if all else failed. Upon my arrival in Paris, I learnt that he’d been evicted from his apartment. I have yet to understand the reasons for this eviction. My place at Shakespeare and Company was deferred by the man with a goattee, so Patrik called his friend Nuyringa.

We drank red wine out of coffee mugs and I pretended I wasn’t having serious gas from the block of cheese I ate. Nuyringa was still a phantom-like host at that point. I remember sitting out on her balcony whilst Patrik smoked his Marlboro reds. Patrik promised I would love this figure who I knew nothing about apart from a name and her love of unsalted butter. And when she finally returned like a triumphant Stephen Dedalus at the end of Joyce’s Ulysess, I did. But after a bottle of sherry, numerous glasses of red wine and enough cheese to last my lactose-intolerant stomach a lifetime, who don’t you love? Especially if they provide you with dairy products and booze and warm roof over your head for the night when you need it the most

Profile: Raymond Blanc

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Raymond Blanc OBE is by all accounts aculinary genius, and one of the world’smost respected chefs. He is also entirely self-taught; a refreshing career model in today’s education-orientated world.Born and raised in a small village in the Franche-Comté region of eastern France, Raymond Blanc’s entire culinary ethos, which has revolutionised British cooking and reawakened the notion of the Kitchen Garden, is inspired and deeply connected to his humble French roots. 

Indeed, he tells me some of his favourite dishes are ones that Maman Blanc made when he was young. “I have recreated them today, and they instantly transport me back. Sometimes, it’s a real Madeleine moment – like in Proust’s À La Recherche Du Temps Perdu!” 

Blanc has strong connections with Oxford, and arrived here in 1972 as a humble waiter at a local restaurant, the Rose Revived. His latent passion for food was revealed when he infamously angered the chef by trying to give him cooking advice. He worked here for a while, until one day the chef was ill, and Blanc had to take over the kitchen. The rest, they say, is history. 

Remaining in Oxford with his young wife, Raymond Blanc opened his fi rst restaurant in Summertown in 1977. It hasn’t always been smooth sailing, and he and his wife had to mortgage their house and borrow from dozens of people to cover start-up costs for this tiny restaurant, squeezed between a lingerie shop and Oxfam. 

Blanc makes it clear that the restaurant business is one of the toughest businesses around, and the pressure can definitely take its toll. “You must be brave and maybe a little mad. Even when you’re in, the struggle isn’t over. You have to be a craftsman, a manager of money, of people, of any situation that life may throw at you. If you have a true vocation and this is what you want, I mean what you should do, then that’s great.” 

His ambition and passion has paid off, however, and he now runs many hugely successful, world-famous restaurants. The name of his fi rst restaurant in Summertown, Aux Quat’Saisons, has been nostalgically preserved, and is echoed in the name of the two-Michelin-star palace in Oxfordshire, Le Manoir aux Quat’Saisons. 

Le Manoir prides itself on cooking local, seasonal food, and Blanc is keen to tell me all about the principles behind is success. “Seasonal and sustainable produce is vital – to me and my team at Belmond Le Manoir aux Quat’Saisons, and to everyone,” he says enthusiastically. His mother, the formidable Madame Blanc, always cooked with the produce from their own garden, and food that his father had hunted, fi shed or foraged. Using fresh, seasonal produce is what Blanc is accustomed to, and his high standards are refl ected in every aspect of his kitchen. He believes that people are starting to understand again that food is connected with everything – with the environment, society, the farm, home, family values, the health of the nation. “It is truly exciting to see people start to respect food, enjoy food and give it value – long may that last!” 

Blanc is president of the Sustainable Restaurant Association, and a passionate advocate of the organic gardening movement that has exploded in Britain over the last decade. He is trying to raise awareness about using our local suppliers to get the freshest produce; using our local butchers, greengrocers, and having food markets to visit. Oxford is a haven for fresh fruit and vegetables, and the Wednesday market in Gloucester Green, among others, is a testimony to cheap and delicious produce available to everyone. Similarly, the OxGrow campaign in east Oxford, where local families and Oxford students alike spend weekends growing, harvesting and eating their own plants, is exactly the sort of small-scale project he supports. Blanc is currently working with Love British Food on their Bring Home the Harvest campaign that does just this; encourages communities to work together to highlight local suppliers and buy their produce. 

Le Manoir has also been praised for growing a huge variety of vegetables and herbs in its stunning gardens, and specifi cally for bringing back herbs which are not commonly used today. Wandering around the stunning grounds of Le Manoir in the afternoon sunshine, I find hedgerows of wild berries, beds of tiny strawberries, and rows and rows of nurtured, rare vegetables growing in the rich soil. 

Many of the ingredients at Le Manoir come from the adjacent two-acre kitchen garden, that is home to some 90 types of vegetable and an impressive 70 varieties of herb. The mushroom garden alone sprouts around 20 diff erent species. One of my favourite sections is the herb garden, where I pick and smell hundreds of subtly diff erent varieties of mint, thyme, coriander and rosemary, crushing them in my hands and breathing in their potent smells. Their witch-doctor-esque powers, I later discover, are more than just myth, and Blanc is at the forefront of a new initiative to revive the use of herbs in cooking for their medicinal properties as well as their natural fl avour enhancement. 

In 2006, a new dimension was added to the kitchen garden in the form of a Malaysian Garden. Subtly woven into the existing design of these stately English gardens, diff erent varieties of herbs and spices such as ginger, lemon grass and turmeric grow together with vegetables and pulses such as pak choi and soya beans, as well as squashes and the exotic purple lablab beans. 

In Asia lemongrass is like our mint, Blanc tells me, and there is plenty of it everywhere. It has its own fl avour, smell, character; it is very diff erent from all other lemon plants that I know. It was his trip to Thailand and Malaysia that inspired Blanc to try growing lemongrass in the gardens at Le Manoir, but it took some time to get it right. “I had to try 25 varieties before I could fi nd one that could resist the British weather.” 

Among other things, Blanc is a pioneer of creating new culinary sensations and novel combinations out of traditional old favourites, and I am keen to fi nd out what inspires and drives his creations. As a chef, it is crucial that Blanc travels and discovers new ingredients. He tells me that if you are able to bring three completely new fl avours together, it’s like giving a painter extra primary colours. You imagine the new dishes you can create. “To me, food is about displacement and discovering something new and alive and herbs enable you to do this. Herbs have long held a holistic place in our wellbeing. We depend on them to purify our body, mind and soul!” 

The menus at Le Manoir change with the seasons, and Blanc and his team spend a huge amount of time deciding what to cook to refl ect what is growing in the gardens, what animals are being hunted, and what people want to eat in response to the weather outside. To create new dishes takes time, inspiration and confi dence, he tells me. “I have travelled all over the world and can honestly say that I’ve learnt something from every single place I have visited. My travels help me to experience new ingredients and fl avours and often, the most simple ingredients can be the most eff ective and memorable. For example, I adore the hawker markets in Hong Kong and Singapore.” 

These markets indeed use local ingredients recipe traditions that have been used for generations, and the people come up with the most wonderful and sublime dishes. “You just can’t beat experiences like that and when I return to my beloved Le Manoir, I like to use them as inspiration and add a little twist of my own!” As one of the most discerning cooks in the world, I am interested to know which restaurants Blanc likes to go to when he eats out, and what he thinks makes a good restaurant. At first he avoids the question, telling me that there are so many he loves, and he couldn’t possibly choose. 

For him, it takes an ensemble of things to make a good restaurant, and food alone is not enough. A good restaurant, Blanc believes, should have ambience, warmth, a true ‘food and people’ culture, staff who care and food that makes you dream. True to his humble French beginnings, Blanc enjoys simple and wholesome food such as Morteau saucisson, Comté cheese, homemade preserves and crusty bread. He is a connoisseur of fi ne ingredients cooked to an exquisite standard, rather than of pretentious and ambitious fi ne dining that is vacuous in fl avour and quality. For him, it is the ability to take simple ingredients and turn them into the most delicious recipes that takes a chef from good to exceptional. 

So what are Blanc’s favourite restaurants? In the end, he picks three. Firstly, Le Vin et l’Assiette, situated in Blanc’s hometown, is owned by a close friend, Bernard Leroy. He has a huge wine cellar too, and the most amazing French hospitality. In accordance with Blanc’s nature, it is fi tting that he chooses a local restaurant with an excellent tradition of high standards as his first choice. 

On the other hand, Blanc also believes that Heston Blumenthal has been very instrumental in redefi ning a certain aspect of cooking, namely molecular gastronomy, and Blanc is very fond of his celebrated restaurant, The Fat Duck. Interestingly, Blumenthal spent time as an apprentice of Blanc at Le Manoir, so perhaps he sees something of his own ethos in the younger chef. 

Finally, Blanc describes the “amazing proliferation of small bistros with real character” in Paris, and singles out Le Beurre Noisette as a personal favourite, very simple, but elegant. Looking back over his many years of success, development and incredibly hard work with more than a tinge of nostalgia, Blanc offers me perhaps the most poignant and interesting nugget of all; a single piece of advice that he wishes to impart on me and all other students: “Stick at it! I worked hard and didn’t give up. At times I was [so] exhausted that I thought I couldn’t do it anymore but I did, and the advice would be: stick at it” 

Songs From The Screen

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In the words of Sean Bean, “Winter is coming” – seemingly faster in Oxford than elsewhere. As the days get shorter, it may not seem that every cloud has a silver lining. But the upside of the season is that it becomes ever easier to replace the grey skies with the silver screen.

Musical accompaniment to the cinema predates audible dialogue – back before the era of ‘talkies’, so-called silent films were accompanied by music: the first ever public screening of a film by the Lumière Brothers, on 28th December 1895, featured a live guitarist. Live accompaniment was even used occasionally during the filming to enhance the atmosphere. In larger-scale screenings, orchestras provided sound effects, recreating galloping horses (using drums, not coconut shells sadly) or rainfall. This tradition is starting to see a resurgence – ‘film concerts’ are gaining popularity across the globe, where the music from popular films is stripped out and performed by an in-house orchestra.

Even if not live, music still plays a vital part in cinema. Much of the dramatic tension in Interstellar, for example, comes from the juxtaposition of near overwhelming aural assault for the enclosed shots to the sudden silence of space. What’s more, so many iconic films are instantly recognisable from the theme tune. What would Star Wars be without the epic score; how else could The Breakfast Club end if not with ‘Don’t You (Forget About Me)’?

So what’s the musical attraction in this season’s cinematic offerings? Already gracing our screens, Spectre continues the James Bond tradition of a dedicated intro theme. Expect Sam Smith’s crooner to be accompanied by an artsy, abstract introduction full of subtext and foreshadowing. Judging from Adele’s ‘Skyfall’, ‘Writing’s on the Wall’ isn’t going to be Smith’s best work. But the fact is that the song beats out all but one trailer on YouTube views, and – unlike a trailer – can be played on the radio. How’s that for advertising?

Even more eagerly anticipated is the new Star Wars movie. More Star Wars from John Williams, after ten years? Almost as exciting as that lightsabre/ broadsword combo. And to round up the year, expect Ennio Morricone to knock it out of the park in Tarantino’s Hateful Eight, as he’s done time and time again – just look at the Dollars trilogy.

Whether it’s specifically composed for the movie, or hand-picked to suit, movies are better with music.

The Mercury Prize: "Enigmatically Diverse"

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After being broadcast on Channel 4 for the past three years, 2015’s Mercury Prize has returned to the BBC, celebrating the ‘Albums of the Year’ from the past twelve months. And our beloved Beeb didn’t half shout about it. The BBC set up an online live blog to hype up nomination announcements as they came in, revelled up in all their excitable glory as they were revealed by Lauren Laverne on Radio 6 Music. As always, Twitter was rife with speculations and bets seeping in from every music publication (and just about anyone who fancied shouting about it) as to who would make the shortlist of this year’s ‘best’ twelve British and Irish albums. And what of the shortlist? It is, of course, as eclectic as ever. Because that’s the Mercury’s thing, isn’t it? They don’t go for the obvious. The Mercury seems to pride itself on choosing somewhat underground, or – dare I say it – ‘edgy’ artists, many of whom, in most likelihood, even the keenest Radio 6 Music listener will not have heard of prior to the announcement.

Amongst the twelve nominated albums, seven are debuts. These newbies stand against artists like Florence and the Machine – who has been selling out arenas for a couple of years, now – and the well-established Róisín Murphy and Gaz Coombes (initially of Supergrass fame). This ‘range’ of albums suggests that the Mercury Prize is an enigmatically diverse award, seeking out the best of British music rather than drawing attention to acts whom everyone’s already been talking about all year. And so we come to respect the Mercury. We’re talking about serious music here.

 But the prize is hardly faultless. If you take just a few of the albums on the list, we’re comparing Aphex Twin’s dance-y, intricate Syro with the gritty punk of Slaves’ Are You Satisfied; Jamie XX’s clubtechno In Colour with the comparatively dulcet, thoughtful tones of SOAK’s Before We Forgot How To Dream; Wolf Alice’s grungy, angst-filled My Love Is Cool with the atmospheric soul of Eska’s self-titled release. This diversity is often said to be the greatest thing about the prize. But how can anyone be asked to compare these albums, to choose a ‘best’, when their end results – these soundwaves that we’re basing this all on – sound so different? Not to mention how distinct the craftsmanship and creative process behind each album must be. By choosing a winner, are the panel also declaring a rulebook on how best to ‘do’ art?

 Even amongst this haphazardous thrill of mishmashed genres, not everyone is represented. No classical album has been nominated for the Mercury Prize since 2002, and a metal album has never made the shortlist. In a current music scene which seems saturated with indierock outfits, is it really representative to arguably have just one band – Wolf Alice – represent the lot?

 Last year Edinburgh-based Young Fathers won the Mercury with their socio-political hiphop-come-electro godsend of a debut, Dead. This year’s second album, White Men Are Black Men Too is perhaps better than their debut. It is starker, richer, and even more intelligently-written and politically-driven than the first, which was deemed ‘Album of the Year’. If the Mercury Prize really is only about the music that has been released this year, with no comparisons to external ideas, it’s not ridiculous to say White Men should also have been nominated. But the organisers seem pretty set on introducing new names to us all the time, with PJ Harvey the only artist to have ever been awarded the prize more than once.

In contrast, reviews deemed Florence and the Machine’s How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful her weakest album yet. She still has the huge songs, and instrumentally has stepped up her game, but the album is not as succinct as either of her previous endeavours. Debut Lungs was nominated for the prize in 2009, but is Florence’s nomination this time around suggesting that How Big is a better album than 2011’s Ceremonials? Because critical reviews would suggest otherwise; something doesn’t quite fit.

At the crux of this, I’m asking why we feel the need to rank these albums at all. It is near impossible to discern boundaries and gradients to an ideal as subjective as music. As humans, we feel the need to rank these things, give them figures, finite values, when the whole point of making music is to move beyond nominal figures, and transcend ideas into something numbers and rankings can’t touch.

I suppose following the Mercury shortlist is a bloody easy way to listen to some high-class music if you’ve been asleep for the last year, though. And, well, I just cannot wait to see whether Richard D. James (Aphex Twin) will make a very rare public appearance at the ceremony come 20th November.

Review: City and Colour – If I Should Go Before You

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★★★★☆

 Four Stars

I first experienced the magic of City and Colour at fourteen years old, sitting on a beach in France, sipping WKD, dreamily listening to ‘The Girl’ from City and Colour’s 2008 album Bring Me Your Love. ‘The Girl’ is representative of Dallas Green’s – aka City and Colour’s – early acoustic folk sound. Deeply romantic, with a melancholic nostalgia, it informed my music taste during several teenage angst-filled years. Just as I matured over the next seven years, so too has City and Colour’s sound developed, revealed in his album If I Should Go Before You, which came out on 9th October. Moving away from the simple folky guitar and voice combination of his early music, in this last album City and Colour has a more electronic sound. This is epitomised in the smoky nine-minute-long opening track ‘Woman’, whose minimalistic mixture of electronic guitar, voice and drums sets up the meditative yet intense tone of the album. The track ‘If I Should Go Before You’ retains City and Colour’s sorrowful disposition, (Green once stated that the “best music” for him is “sad music”). Yet the song’s bluesy/ psychedelic vibes suggest a development in City and Colour’s treatment of melancholy, followed up in the bluesy tracks ‘Killing Time’ and ‘Lover Come Back’. However, it’s not all so serious – the track ‘Map Of The World’ is much more cheerful, with a strong beat and uplifting melody. Bizarrely though, this is at odds with the song’s lyrics, as Green comments on his “weary face”, stating “beneath the tidal wave I will be erased”. Apparently he just can’t rid himself of his tendency to melancholy. However, rather than that being a problem, I would say it adds to the effect. It helps me daydream, as if I were fourteen years old again.

Review: Real Lies – Real Life

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★★★★☆

 Four Stars

History tends to repeat itself. Such is the case with Real Lies’ promising debut, Real Life, an album teeming with evocative synthpop echoes of the 90s. Yet, whilst unashamedly recalling New Order, The Happy Mondays and The Streets, this London trio manage to repackage that erstwhile 90s sound for the new generation living in the “decade with no name”, as ‘Seven Sisters’ cleverly dubs it. The album’s duality is its true success – derivative but fresh, euphoric but occasionally melancholic, Balearic but eloquently lyrical. From the intensely brooding Mike-Skinner-inspired spoken word of ‘Blackmarket Blues’ and ambient chill of ‘North Circular’, to the Hacienda haziness of ‘Dab Housing’ and anthemic piano house, soaring vocals of ‘World Peace’, the band pays homage to the noisy nights out and the silent mornings after. It is almost an ode to UK dance culture and the nights that you never forget, spent with those you love, best captured in the opening song ‘Blackmarket Blues’: “You are the straight-through crew, not the time-out crowd/ I love my friends more dearly than I’m allowed to say aloud”. Equally as danceable as poetically lyrical, this is a soundtrack for the ecstatic highs of Saturday night, and the refl ective lows of Monday morning. A hugely exciting debut from Real Lies, and who cares if history repeats itself if it’s so enjoyable?

Michaelmas balls

With Michaelmas term firmly trudging on, emails constantly pinging on your phone, and a three week hangover taking its toll, 3rd Week has begun. And we think it’s about time you got some respite. For those of you that are more freshly planted in Oxford, you may not have come across the Oxford ball scene. But if you have a bit of spare cash, then you can shortly heal your blues…

This coming Friday (30th October) is the historic RAG ball. The town hall will be transformed into a dark fairytale forest. The theme? Brothers Grimm. Which is pretty fitting on the eve before Halloween. (Cinderella… Pumpkin? Anyone?).

As with all decent balls, food and drink is unlimited – so you can sip the night away on cocktails, beer and wine, and munch on pizza, hog roast, and curry (and, um, salad. If that interests you). More interestingly there is a themed vodka luge. You don’t know what a vodka luge is? Neither did I. Well, I’ve done the googling, and I can tell you that it is a bad ass ice sculpture. It’s in the shape of a glass slipper to fit the theme, and of course – it’s not just decorative. Otherwise that would be a bit of a waste of vodka.

If you’ve had your fill of the mains, and alcohol isn’t for you, or if you are needing to soak up accidentally getting too drunk too quickly because you inevitably didn’t eat beforehand so that you could take advantage of all the free food, then don’t worry. They seem to have thought about that too. They are serving tea, alongside gingerbread decorations, brownies and Pic N Mix. (We at the Cherwell Ball Team are going for that alone. Pic N Mix? I haven’t had that since Woolworths shut down.)

Alongside consuming your ticket’s worth of food and drink, they have a casino, a funfair shooting stall, and, wait for it…inflatable jousting. I don’t really understand how that is going to work, or whether they made it up themselves, or how it really particularly fits into the theme, and I would love to hear a recording of the committee meeting when this decision got made, but…to be fair, it does sound pretty cool.

When you’re bored of sparring, you can jump in on some funky beats. There are two stages. On the main stage DJ jigsaw is headlining, with other acts include DJ Ibob and DFO. If that doesn’t suit your vibes, with your ballgown/tux and cocktail, then no fear. Head towards the acoustic stage where there will be lighter music, including the ever popular Deep Cover that usually roam Cellar, as well as a jazz trio and MAWRI.

Dress Code: Black Tie

Cons: You may throw up from the excess of food and drink you attempt to consume

Pros: All proceeds go to charity, which are split between four charities: Against Malaria Foundation, Jacari, Oxford Rape and Sexual Violence Prevention Centre, and Student Minds. Not bad.

Ticket Price: £79 a ticket

Now let us turn to the other Michaelmas Ball. Set in a Draconian Lair, also known as the Union, if you’re looking for a place to schmooze this is the place to go. Their Facebook page doesn’t seem to give much away, but we know for sure that this year the Union are hosting a ‘Venetian Masquerade’. Occurring the week after the RAG Ball, on Friday of 4th Week (6th November), they claim you will be transported to the most beautiful city in Italy. I’m afraid I don’t think they mean literally. Indulge on food, bet at the casino, and according to their Facebook page, “get…lost in the revelry of the Carnevale di Venezia”. Sounds cool, but I have no idea what it actually means. They have an open bar which is always excellent news, as well as after-dinner Italian liquer shots and unlimited chocolate fountains. Meanwhile the entertainment is equally fancy, with opera singers, a live band, a juggler, a fire performer and a silent disco.

Dress: Black Tie with Masks

Cons: The proceeds don’t go to charity, and you may be stabbed in the back

Pros: You will probably meet the future prime minister, and you will definitely be immersed in a very strong dose of debauchery. 

Ticket Price: £70 (Member £60)

The scattergun attack on extremism

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Over the past fortnight, Theresa May and David Cameron have outlined a new counter-extremism plan. Notable features include inspections and reviews of public services to protect against “entryism” (attempts by extremists to infiltrate public services) and powers to close down premises used by extremists. There is also a set of demands to internet providers, asking them to remove more extremist material, and the blueprint for an “extremism community trigger”, a more efficient way to complain about extremism in your neighbourhood. In May’s words, this strategy is (in a slightly Orwellian phrase) a “counter-ideology campaign at pace and scale”. This article makes a case for its inherent weaknesses.  

I should clarify that I do not want to talk about difficulties in execution, the “how” questions: risks of lacking judicial transparency, misidentification and quota-filling, to name just a few. Theresa May has been working on this plan for months, and has faced the criticism of multiple ministers during that time; I would hope that the logistics are sound. I’m interested in the “what” questions: whether this new strategy has a sound mechanism to make the UK, primarily the public sector, safer and happier. Here lie my doubts. 

On first impression, it seems this plan is essentially reliant on fear. A quick glance at David Cameron’s accompanying message heavily suggests so: phrases such as “extremists don’t just threaten our security, they jeopardise all that we’ve built together… we have to confront them wherever we find them” doesn’t ease the nerves. Nor do spot-inspections on public services, promising to identify whether or not extremists have infiltrated your department, promote open relationships in the work-place. If the Prime Minister’s great worry is that extremism “divides our communities”, then creating an ‘us-and-them’ atmosphere where perpetrators of extremism could be lurking unidentified anywhere is unlikely to help.

This fear is a particular problem for Islamic groups, whose members are most likely to be interrogated by investigators or isolated by colleagues. A recent YouGov poll suggested that already only twenty-two percent of UK citizens believe Islamic and British values compatible: whatever David Cameron says about “The incredible power of our liberal, democratic values”, they too frequently don’t extend to Muslims. These new measures thus seem set to enhance divisive fears, and thereby make challenging situations in work-places or the wider community worse.

This increased fear might be acceptable if the plans focused on a tangible threat causing widespread damage; instead, the fear betrays a lack of clarity as to who will be targeted, or how any of the measures will stem radicalisation. There are a very small number of people who illegally spread extremist views (currently under one-hundred imprisoned in the UK); this number is not beyond the scope of MI5 and the police service, nor are many more likely to be uncovered by one-off inspections. There are even fewer individuals who seem intent on infiltrating the public sector: there is no apparent evidence of such a plan beside the ‘Trojan Horse’ incident, and there, even if we reject the Education Select Committee’s finding that no extremist views were actually taught, we have less than ten schools in question and specific preventative measures already in place. This is hardly justification for a national review of public services.

It is also unclear whether trying to uncover extremism in communities or ban suspects from buildings will in any way stop it growing: Lady Warsi describes online radicalisation as an enormous problem, and sees the government’s current response as “an ever-losing battle”. Tackling the presence of known extremists on particular social media or video-sharing sites with more energy would help cut off radicalisation at source; the recently announced strategy is, by comparison, is imprecise. It knows neither whom it is targeting nor where they might be. Such a plan risks both disrupting vital services and intimidating thousands who hold firm but harmless views.

Indeed, because there is no clear target, the language used to describe the strategy will do more to cause rifts than hinder dangerous extremism. Frequently, government statements refer to extremist behaviour as that which endangers “British values”, a rather vague barometer when judging harmful outcomes. If we are to fight against someone, we must be sure whom we are fighting and on what grounds. Yet because this new plan doesn’t focus on specific causes and perpetrators of harm, it attacks an unidentified set of people who don’t believe in “British values”, such as democracy, individual liberty and tolerance. I regard these values as good, but to hunt throughout the nation for those who don’t explicitly support them would be a thankless and indeed intolerant task. To then dress such a strategy as fighting for what is “British” runs an unnecessary risk of stoking xenophobia and alienation.

The plan recently unveiled has at heart a critical weakness: it does not focus on specific causes or individuals, but instead an unknown, ill-defined group, and it therefore promotes fear and division. It is a scattergun attack on extremism, not targeted on the problem at hand. And if this problem is still with us years from now, we might ask ourselves: did these measures prevent the spread of discernible harm, or did they fuel the very intolerance we sought to subdue?

A view from the Cheap Seat- Third Week MT 15

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Longlisted in the runner up category in the prestigious ‘best supporting chorus member 2008’, Stage Critic – Mark Barclay meditates on lost potential in the beautiful decay of a leafy park. Cherwell stage is delighted to present this most Proustian of podcasts

 

And some acting people rock up to talk for a bit

Citric Acid – Tuesday to Saturday of Third Week, BT, 19:30

https://www.facebook.com/events/1471919476449841/

Pentecost – Wednesday to Saturday Fourth Week, Playhouse, 19:30

https://www.facebook.com/events/522092617939779/