Wednesday 8th April 2026
Blog Page 1256

A dark and memorable Fairytale

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The premise of Haruki Murakami’s illustrated novella The Strange Library is half Kafka, half History Finalist’s anxious dream. The unnamed protagonist finds himself locked in the labyrinthine dungeon of his local library and forced to memorise three books on the subject of tax collection in the Ottoman Empire. Unsurprisingly for Murakami, it only gets stranger from there. Kafka has become an almost obligatory reference in reviews of Murakami, but it’s an influence he does little to conceal. From 2002’s Kafka on the Shore to 2013’s ‘Samsa in Love’, the German writer feels less like an influence on Murakami’s work than a character within it.

Translated by Ted Goossen, The Strange Library is Murakami’s first fully illustrated work of fiction. The hardcover edition, designed by Suzanne Dean, cobbles together advertisements, illustrations and ephemera all taken from various books in the London Library. Text and image meld together in lines magnified and stretched over pages; the beautifully marbled end pages mix with brightly coloured drawings of donuts and parakeets, monochrome moons and anatomical diagrams.

Murakami’s style has always been highly image-driven and the rich collage design suits his prose so well that you begin to wonder why he hasn’t done it before.

With a style as recognisable as Murakami’s, there’s a danger of repeating old tricks. The Strange Library hits several traditional Murakami notes: an underground realm, a maniac with a soft-spot for bureaucracy, an anthropomorphic sheep, a mysterious girl with an ambiguous identity. Yet Murakami is adept at using these tropes to sketch his own mythology, and The Strange Library’s fairytale simplicity fits well into his world.

This is not to say that Murakami’s prose doesn’t possess some of the clunkiness that always gets blamed on his translators; the simile “like a blind dolphin”, comes to mind. Murakami has always suggested that originality of imagery trumps lyricism and he is convincing enough to make you agree, if only for the 70-odd pages of the novella.

Fans of Murakami tend to have a favourite translator of his work. I would put J. Philip Gabriel top, who won the PEN Translation Prize in 2006 for Kafka on the Shore. Ted Goossen, who has translated some of Murakami’s short fiction for The New Yorker, is an accomplished though less common name on Murakami spines. Goossen has an ear for the unsettling calm of Murakami’s work.

In The Strange Library, Murakami has created a dark and memorable fairytale about the lingering influence of childhood fears and the isolation of adulthood.

More for me at Edamame

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People had been urging me to check this place out for months. Whenever I complained of a craving for tofu, or that the only sushi to be found in Oxford comes from chain restaurants or supermarkets, there was always one person in hearing distance who passed on this tip. It is only now I’ve actually bothered to follow these directions that I wish I’d listened much sooner.

After hearing that this chic eatery was the darling of Oxford’s hippest, grooviest scenesters, I was concerned about my chances just turning up on a Friday at 6pm without booking, but as soon as we arrived we were warmly ushered to the two free seats at a six-person table. The wide, gracefully curved table allowed us to easily turn to face each other and hold a conversation separately from its other occupants, whose own conversations were kept private from us. Despite this set-up, the low-ceilinged, cozy room and its excellent acoustics gave the little restaurant an intimate, but relaxed feel. Although packed, it never felt oppressively so, and we never had to budge out of anyone’s way as they tried to get past.

We ordered a few of the mains to share and a rice bowl each, as per the menu’s recommendation, along with a few sides and specials (including the namesake, edamame). All of it, and the sushi particularly, was beautifully presented and plated at no compromise to taste, convenience, or portion size. Everything arrived impressively quickly, starting with the edamame, which was served in a delightfully kitsch wicker basket. The pods were basic but well done, lacking the unnecessary quirks some feel are needed to personalise the Japanese staple. This was a pretty description of most of the dishes, where the biggest surprise was the quality of the food, particularly the tofu, which was equally impressive in all of the dishes that contained it.

The waiting team routinely checked on us with a degree of unobtrusiveness that didn’t make me feel rushed, though we had no complaints for them. When we paid, I was staggered it was only £25. I wish I’d ordered more.

Bar Review: Queen’s

★★★☆☆

Three stars

George Orwell described his ideal pub as “uncompromisingly Victorian”, saying, “It has no glass-topped tables or other modern miseries.” This is a sentiment often missed by college bars, but these wise words from my personal hero came immediately to my mind and reverberated through my body as I walked into Queen’s. The low ceiling, stone walls, thick wooden beams, dim lighting and wooden cornered bar combine to form a pleasantly cosy atmosphere, and all fit well with Orwell’s vision of “solid, comfortable ugliness”.

This disregard for modern trends allows you actually to relax back into your seat without the fear that the condensation from your pint could do unspeakable damage to anything you put it down on. Few college bars attempt the old English pub feel, probably because we live in a city with an actual old English pub on every street. But Queen’s has achieved something vaguely resembling the real thing, though the most obvious mark of inauthenticity is felt when you leave with your wallet unemptied by the daylight robbers who run the Turf Tavern and The King’s Arms, and their cohorts. The atmosphere was aided by friendly staff who clearly knew what they were doing, and who, Cheers-esque, seemed to know everyone who walked in by their nickname and favourite drink; very impressive.

It did suffer from the bane of many other college bars, something I’ve previously dubbed the ‘spare-room’ problem. Assuming the bar wasn’t opened in 1341 when Robert de Eglesfield set up camp, it’s been built in a place not specifically designed for a bar. This leaves the bar too small for sufficient seating, or with such terrible acoustics that you can’t hear yourself think. Unfortunately for Queen’s, their bar is afflicted with both these problems. By half past nine, there were people stood around the edges of the room, waiting to pounce predatorily on the next open seats, and the following morning my voice was completely gone from the shouting necessary to talk to the person next to me. I croaked my way through a tutorial, all the while begrudging Queen’s for how they had forsaken me.

Their drinks choice really is nothing special, and would quickly become tiresome for regulars, but it is notably cheap across the board. So much so that their signature drink, the Sex on the Quad, was £2.80 for the rough equivalent of a triple. This is a big tick for me, and would make pre-drinking here very easy indeed. Although, their Sex on the Quad was just Sex on the Beach, so it’s not really a signature drink if we’re going to get picky.

A far less reputable Oxford publication that rhymes with shmersa recently hyperbolically claimed Queen’s is the best college bar in Oxford. I almost agree. Queen’s does have a lovely feel to it and wonderfully cheap drinks, so if you can get past the unusually grumpy porters, give it a shot. 

We need to divest from fossil fuels, and divest now

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You’ve heard it before, but it bears, or rather needs, repetition: the world is dying and it is our fault. Climate change has already lead to the displacement of marginalised communities around the world (think Hurricane Katrina, think Vanuatu) and it is our fault. The only response of a just society in the face of such a catastrophic and hyperbole-inducing horror as global warming is to stop, reflect, and fight with everything it has to reverse the damage. Unfortunately, while some people have cottoned on to this, the leaders of our society have not. Lobbying governments to take climate change seriously is the focus of many environmental activists, and the most promising lobbying strategy globally is fossil fuel divestment.

Monday 18th May will see the culmination of two years’ work by the Oxford Fossil Fuel Divestment Campaign as the University Council will discuss whether or not to disinvest its £3.8 billion endowment from companies involved in the exploration, ownership or extraction of fossil fuels. If you have been following the campaign, you may know that this was supposed to be discussed two months ago, but the Council deferred the decision under the spotlight of international media. Oxford cannot afford to postpone again, for reasons of both reputation and responsibility, particularly when we now know that if we are to stay below the two degree target for warming, 80 per cent of coal has to remain in the ground.

The OUSU-affiliated Fossil Fuel Divestment Campaign has widespread support, including from 32 common rooms, over 100 academics and almost 800 alumni, who have pledged not to donate to the University unless they fully divest. Furthermore, over 65 Oxford alumni, including solar entrepreneur Jeremy Leggett and journalist George Monbiot, have promised to hand back their degrees if the University does not divest on May 18th. This is both a matter of principle and an attempt to wield Oxford’s prestige against it. In the words of Sunniva Taylor, an alumna who has made this pledge, “This is not just a question of integrity for me. I want to use the privilege that having [an Oxford degree] gives me to try and shake things up; to use my power to draw attention to others. The University of Oxford still has a lot of influence – nationally and globally – and so the choices it makes about where it puts its money really do matter.”

Critics of divestment, such as the one in Nature this week, misidentify its objectives. The aim is not to push the stock price of non-renewable energy companies down or even to raise awareness – it is about recognising that investment is a political statement and using it thus. In the case of universities, it is about challenging the dissonance between producing anti-climate change research and building for the future, and profiting from the drivers of climate change. As Jeremy Leggett, who has pledged to hand his degree back, put it, “I don’t think universities should be training young people to craft a viable civilisation with one hand and bankroll its sabotage with the other.”

The effects of the divestment campaign are already being felt – Deutsche Bank published a report earlier this year forecasting peak carbon rather than peak oil as the leading driver of oil prices, and HSBC has advised clients that fossil fuel companies will become ‘economically non-viable’. But the divestment movement is not about responding to financial incentive: it is about creating financial incentive that is ethically sound. For the wealth of our institutions to be aligned with the success of fossil fuel companies is to endorse their extraction, exploitation, pollution and lobbying against effective climate policy. To stay invested in this industry is a political statement. This is not the first time that divestment has been brought to Oxford. Whether against South African apartheid, arms manufacturing or the tobacco industry, divestment has a rich history as an effective tool within wider campaigning, and with institutions from SOAS to the British Medical Association to the World Council of Churches already cutting their investments in fossil fuels, Oxford’s continued inaction would bring it down on the wrong side of history.

Every voice counts towards Monday’s decision. Please direct any alumni you know to promise to withhold donations until Oxford divests, and to the degree hand-back pledge. Students can sign the general petition online, and ask their tutors to sign the academic open letter and contact Cara Turton-Chambers (Hertford) about passing a motion of support in your common room. There will also be a demonstration at 4pm outside the RadCam this Saturday (16th May) – please come along.

Has student politics got it wrong?

Yes

Patrick Mulholland

Brief though my spell as an undergradu­ate has been, if I have but one insight it is this: student politics is not fit for purpose. A strange thing to say, though less strange than when a 20 year old Politics and Public Policy student from the University of Glasgow unseats an incumbent Shadow Foreign Secretary. Yet, that is politics, this is student politics.

Left wanting, the voices of our university communities are carefully packaged within a select few individuals, the avatars of stu­dent consensus. I bet you’ve heard of them, the BNOCs, propped up by a bulwark of Facebook ‘likes’ or shot down by a Daily Mail article. Rhetoric-ridden calls for ‘revolution’ and social upheaval on one hand, outmoded conservatism and priggishness on the other – it’s all the same. By now, it must play like a broken record. Admittedly, much of this behavior is reducible to grandstanding, or at least, in my naïvety, I should hope so. Anyhow, these showy expositions betray a certain prejudice – an unwillingness to listen and learn, as well as speak.

However, this is not the plight of the few, but the many. Caught in the tumult, we forget where we are. University is a forum for us to challenge ourselves, not just others. Configured as it is, newly matriculated stu­dents funnel off into their comfort zones and confirmation bias ensues. Unchecked, un­challenged and unrevised, our shallow pre­conceptions become our firmly entrenched beliefs. That is my first point. Don’t buy it? Well, in a General Election survey conducted by the Oxford Student, the voting intentions of 578 students were sampled. 36 per cent of classicists sided with the Tories (compared with 24 per cent of students in general) while 78 per cent of English students expressed a preference for left-leaning parties (53 per cent Labour, 25 per cent Green). It comes as no coincidence, or indeed shock, that these two sets of students veer off on opposite sides of the political spectrum. Of course, such discrepancies are fine so long as they are informed decisions, which are arrived upon after lengthy consideration. It is a critique of narrow-mindedness, not of parties.

With Cherwell showing fairly similar results – overall figures in the range of 31.6 per cent Labour, 24.2 per cent Conservative – it also seems peculiar to ponder the efficacy of student politics in light of the election. Had Labour won a major­ity, I suspect the debate would follow along very different lines. For example, people might argue student politics helped to mobilise elec­toral victory. In truth, a sizeable OUCA contin­gent of 12 activists op­erating from 4:50am on 7th May probably went a long way to securing a 4.5 per cent swing in favour of the Tories. The success of student politics ought not to be closely wedded to the success of Labour, if that is what is implied. Rightly or wrongly, student opinion is not superimposable on one strand of thought, whether it’s on the left or the right.

That same Cherwell sur­vey also listed students’ priorities when taking to the polls. Predictably, Labour voters were pri­marily concerned with social welfare and the NHS while Conservative voters emphasised tax, jobs and government borrowing. Recognition of why those who vote for certain parties do so, rather than mutual demonisation, would maybe, just maybe, bring about a workable solution. There is a middle ground to be reached, and you will have to forgive me if I say it’s more blurred than unequivocally to the left or to the right. On both sides, the tone of the message and how it is pitched dissuades and intimidates those who perhaps need to hear it most.

In terms of structure, student politics is clustered around a handful of institu­tions. Namely, the Oxford Union, OUSU and the NUS. While the former is optional, the latter two are not. OUSU and the NUS claim an implicit mandate to represent us, yet a centrist, apolitical student union appears to be off the cards entirely. Undoubtedly, more than most, OUSU and the NUS have contributed to a healthier campus atmosphere, championing issues ranging from access to general welfare.

These are admirable endeav­ours. However, their wider ideological bent is clear. At times, the NUS more closely resembles the Palestine Solidarity Campaign or the UN than what it is: a student union. Regardless of politics, this is neither the time nor the place. Case in point: take the NUS’s ‘Liar Liar’ campaign – £40,000 of anti-Liberal Demo­crat propaganda issued on our behalf. Such misuse and squandering of NUS funds is un­justifiable. Instead of representing students, a lot of student politics, albeit not all of it, is geared towards ‘going to the people’ with preconcieved beliefs about the best course of action, regardless of the situation. Rather than seeking to represent students, the left and the right diagnose the other with a kind of ‘Stockholm Syndrome’ and then venture to cure them.

In this respect, student politics is a wretched business. Yes, from time to time something valuable may be achieved but unfortunately, unproductive bickering and egoism tends to win the day. Organising with a single voice can be advantageous, but advantageous to what end? If changes ought to be made, let them be made. But we must tread cautiously with the narratives and views we promote, especially en masse. For me, the object of student politics should be more about exploring your beliefs and gar­nering experience than simply promoting your own rigid views. Student politics at the moment simply does not do this.

 

No

Annie Teriba

When expressing my disdain at the re­cord of the Conservative party, I re­ceived a curious response. A friend, a Tory, asked me if I had campaigned at all for a political party. My answer was no, and with good reason. This election, like many others, was a lose-lose situation for those on the left, though some losses are obviously worse than others. I bring up this example because I think it teases out an angle of this debate often neglected. The re-election of Da­vid Cameron, this time with a majority, is a political reality we have to face up to. But we must also shake off this notion that politics is that box we mark once every five years, and face up to the fact that our day to day lives are political grounds in which multiple power dynamics are constantly at play. Rather than having to accept what gets thrown at us in between each election, we can push back and let our discontent be known.

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Students play a key role in these broader political struggles. We are in the position of having more time and resources available to us than those who are primarily targeted by austerity. In this sense, those of us who are committed to a better world have a duty to fight, not because it feels good but because it works. We can do more than conjuring im­ages of student sit-ins demanding desegrega­tion, of huge Vietnam demos as the spirit of ‘68 swept through the left. We can look to Canada where the 2012 Quebec student gen­eral strike forced the government to reverse a 75 per cent hike in tuition fees. We can look to Chile where university students organised with high school students to force the need to de-marketise education onto the agenda and got rid of a terrible education minister in the process. We can look to Cambridge, where students from FLY, a student forum describing itself as ‘Cambridge University’s network and forum for women of colour’, alleged that a student had been sexually assaulted by one of the staff of the Gardenoa Cafe and organised a boycott.

Most importantly, we can look at how the history of activism at our own university has shaped the institutions here today. We got our student union after a seven day sit-in at exam schools of 350 students, with the threat of more. The University was afraid of a central students’ union for two reasons. Firstly, it would hold the University to ac­count – outrage had been sparked when, in 1961, the Proctors had attempted to ban ISIS from publishing reviews of lectures. Secondly, the Proctors were worried that it would be used to promote student activism, like offering our rooms to picketing miners and supporting staff strikes. The University was well aware of the power students had when they looked beyond the fortress and worked within the community. Solidarity is a powerful thing.

Here’s the thing, student politics isn’t just the glitzy demos and the occupations. I re­call a conversation with Hilary Wainwright about her time here in the 60s. She said the first political activity she remembers was drawing up a questionnaire and going out to Blackbird Leys to find out what the com­munity wanted. While we must show our discontent with whatever this government tries to grind us down with, student politics has other facets. We cannot forget the need to build solid links with the community – there is no justification for waiting on revolution when Tory cuts are biting now.

So please, please, please get involved – look out for demonstrations and occupations to join. Get involved in direct action. Volunteer at local soup kitchens and shelters. Join the fight against UKIP’s pervasive racist rhetoric. Stand in solidarity with our scouts who have to work with terrible conditions, earning in a year what Andrew Hamilton, our Vice Chancellor, makes in 12 days. Join with our academic staff who had to see their wages cut in real terms year on year. All of this stuff is political, all of this stuff allows us to stop complaining from our ivory tower and actu­ally do something to make the world a better place.

The International Student – Hungary’s by-election

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General elections around the world tend to be covered in more detail than ever before, yet by-elections receive far less attention than they deserve. In particular, this was the case for Hungary’s by-elections this April in the region of Tapolca, which culmi­nated with a frankly quite terrifying result.

It was the first time the radical right-wing party, Jobbik, had won a parliamentary man­date in an individual constituency. In itself, this doesn’t sound that awful; all countries seem to have their own, local Clacton. What does render things unpleasant though, is that whilst UKIP is still generally unpopular despite their win in Clacton, Jobbik managed to become the main beneficiary of protest votes in Hungary, as the Eurosceptic party known for its nationalist foundations is no longer perceived as extrem­ist.

The newly elected MP, Lajos Rig, however, does not come across as overly prone to moder­ate views; sharing a conspiracy theory on his Facebook page about “Jews using Gipsies as bio­logical weapons to conquer Hungary” seems not to raise any red flags. He is not alone. Some members refer to the Holocaust as the “Myth-o-caust”, whilst others demand the listing of MPs of Jewish origin.

Clearly, these are acts to be condemned – but who is there to condemn them? The Prime Minister, who wants to keep the question of the death penalty on the agenda? It appears that whilst Jobbik tries to shift towards the centre with their new, so-called ‘cuteness campaign’, the ruling coalition, Fidesz-KDNP, is moving towards the right.

Although the result in the western part of the country has shocked many Hungarians, a na­tional trend is emerging. “It is worth pondering about what the situation could be in eastern Hungary” were the ominous words of the party leader after their victory, referring to Jobbik’s stronghold. As a nationally representative study conducted by Ipsos this March indicates, Jobbik – with support rising to 18 per cent – has become the second most supported party in the country, only 3 per cent short of Fidesz.

The increasing dissatisfaction with the current government should thus not neces­sarily be welcome, since the only significant contender appears to be Jobbik. Moreover, the pro-Russian party does not merely want to reshape domestic issues – their geopolitical initiatives reach beyond Hungary. The party leader is not afraid to call the EU “treacherous”, and one of their MEPs even supported the inva­sion of Crimea.

With Jobbik in power, which is becoming a more and more realistic nightmare, Hungarian minorities would not be the only ones with rea­sons to fell threatened. None of the members of the European Union have ever had such a radical party in government. The Conserva­tives may have more bargaining power when it comes to negotiations, but underestimating the potential harms Jobbik could cause to a vulnerable EU would be unwise.

Interview: Sahar Hashemi

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As part of the Oxford Women in Business group’s series of talks this term, I went to listen to Sahar Hashemi, founder of Coffee Republic and Skinny Candy, as she told us the story of her rise as an entrepreneur.

Hashemi was keen to stress that she was not a natural businesswoman. “I never had this idea of myself as an entrepreneur. [There was no] special DNA. I did not make my first million in [the] playground, I was not even a school drop out.” She followed “a very traditional path” to study Law, and then worked at a law firm. But the legal world was not to Hashemi’s taste. “I couldn’t understand why no one was having fun at work… I refused to accept that, these were meant to be the best years of my life!” It was her father’s unexpected death that spurred her to try something different. She quit the law firm with no other job to go to. “My motto in life” she claims, “is jump first, and the net will appear.”

On a trip to the USA, Hashemi was entranced by American coffee bars. “I was hit by a wave of freshly made coffee in the morning…I remember going to the bar and being asked ‘Soy cappuccino, latte, espresso?’ I fell in love with it.” When she returned home, she complained to her mother and brother that there were no coffee bars in London. “Bobby turned to me and said ‘Right, we’re doing this. We’re going to bring coffee bars to London.’”

At first, Hashemi was not impressed. “I was just like ‘Hang on Bobby, you’ve got me completely wrong, why doesn’t someone ELSE open a coffee bar for me to go to it?’ I didn’t see why I had to provide a solution to my own problem.” But Hashemi was unemployed, and Bobby offered to pay her to do some market research. “I simply got an all-day tube pass for the circle line, and got off at every stop to see what they offered. It was disgusting filter coffee in polystyrene cups, and people were drinking it!” It was at that moment, Hashemi says, that she thought it would work.

It was a time for action. Bobby quit his job, they both rented out their flats and moved back in with their mother. I ask Sahar how her mother reacted when her two adult children moved back home. “She was always so supportive. People have often asked me who my mentor was, and I always said I didn’t have one, but my mum died recently and I’ve come to realise it was her.”

They knew nothing about coffee, and so gave themselves three months to learn as much as they could: “I nearly died OD-ing on 26 espressos during a coffee tasting course – no one told us we had to spit them out, so Bobby and I just drank them all.” Hashemi stands by “the importance of being clueless”, saying, “Never let your ignorance stop you. You can teach yourself, and then you have the asset of a fresh perspective.”

The bankers were not convinced by their enthusiasm. Of the 40 loans they requested for £90,000 to open their first coffee bar, only one banker said yes, “because we were a nation of tea drinkers” – Hashemi rolls her eyes – “but I had done my market research, and saw that coffee consumption had increased decade by decade.” Coffee Republic was the first coffee bar of its kind to open in the UK. “It was a disaster,” Hashemi tells us. Bobby and Sahar needed to make £700 per day to break even: they averaged £200 for the first six months – and that was including her mother, who gulped down several espressos a day just to keep the business afloat. Sourcing their products would also prove a challenge. Everything they did was “bootstrap”. Hashemi tells me, “We made our own coffee cups because no company knew how to make American-style coffee cups, no bakery knew how to make muffins.

“I had to get my cousin to send me cook books from America, and I found a woman who would make muffins in mum’s house every morning, which I would deliver to the store.” They stole their first two employees from Pret à Manger, because only they knew how to work a coffee machine.

To get the setting just right, Sahar and her cousins posed as tourists and took pictures of several American coffee bars to replicate the set-up in the UK. But after several years, the Coffee Republic became a thriving buisness, opening thousands of stores round the country. “We converted one customer at a time.” Now it’s difficult to imagine an age without coffee shops.

Sahar and Bobby sold their shares in 2001. “It was very traumatic… suddenly I felt redundant.” Hashemi remembers crying in the airport reading her own story in the Financial Times. “People were looking at me, wondering ‘What on earth could be so sad in the Financial Times?’” With more time on her hands, Hashemi could reflect on the meteoric rise (and eventual collapse) of her company, and wrote her book Anyone Can Do It, which has topped the Amazon best-seller list in the business category.

Hashemi describes it as her “anti-Richard Branson book”. She aimed to de-bunk myths about entrepreneurship. “I thought I was going to have to go to business school to do this. My brother said to me ‘Sahar, you’re going to the best business school in the world – you’re starting your own. You do not have to be an inherently special person. You just have to have an idea, determination, and be prepared to work very hard.”

Some might question whether it is fair for Hashemi to claim that “anyone can do it”. She had a professional background, a supportive family, and, most importantly, some financial assets. Some might say that the “net will appear” is a fine motto to have when you’re in your late twenties with a law degree; having the faith to leap with dependents or financial insecurity is another matter entirely.

But what one has to admire is her enthusiasm, inspiration and utter determination to succeed as she continues to expand her current business, Skinny Candy.

An unexpected coup and an uncertain future

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Only hours before the polls closed, a Facebook friend invited me to join the People’s Assembly Against Austerity’s demonstrations to make sure that the Tories would not ‘Occupy Downing Street’ without a Parliamentary majority. People envisaged mass political strife as David Cameron, akin to the ageing dictator of some banana republic, looked poised to cling onto power against the will of a Labour/SNP dominated Parliament. Facebook groups emerged saying ‘F*ck the Tory Government – No to all cuts – Yes to real democracy’ and many Oxford students were urged to man the barricades: to join a people’s revolution.

There was a Tory coup on election night; but it was one that nobody had expected. Far from tanks on the streets, the Oxford and National Left woke up to find that it had dramatically misinterpreted the views of the electorate. Ordinary people, not the establishment, have rejected the prospect of a Labour government, and Ed Miliband has been forced to resign his leadership. Given that the BBC polls as late as last Wednesday had the Conservative and Labour Parties at 34 and 33 per cent of the vote respectively, the Tory majority from the election has deservedly caused a stir. Two great revolutions happened at the ballot box; and in each case the Labour Party lost out.

Most importantly, to anticipate the future that will emerge from this dramatically changed British political landscape, we first need to understand why this democratic coup has happened. The first inklings of the unex­pected result came from the exit poll released by Ipsos Mori just after the polls closed. After months of debate and the promise of parliamen­tary grid lock, a sudden swing to the Tories sug­gested that they would win the election based on the views of undecided voters. The election was won, mainly in England, through the last minute decisions of ordinary people; a gut reaction against the financial policies, leadership, and reputation of the Labour party.

As much as any­thing, amongst the last minute Tory voting students I have talked to, English voters were afraid of the preponder­ance of Scottish Nationalist interests in a possible Labour/SNP coalition and therefore voted against this outcome. It is possible to argue that the Conservatives even­tually secured their majority through fears of the instability of a Labour government, rather than because of any particularly positive mes­sages given off by the party. For the voters that counted, a Tory majority was the lesser of many evils.

However, though some may be relieved by the stability a majority government will bring, I fear that a Tory government secured by English votes will further speed up the breakup of the United Kingdom. Although perhaps less of a surprise, the SNP’s 56 Scottish seats threaten to polarise dramatically the politics of our two nations. UKIP may only have managed to secure one seat this time around, yet this belies the fact that they secured as much as 12.6 per cent of the national share of the vote. Farage may have failed to secure South Thanet, but UKIP’s emerging role as an English nationalist party in response to the SNP is very real. As much as anything, the difference in the results between 2010 and 2015 for these two parties reveals that nationalism is on the march in Britain.

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The most significant result of last week’s Conservative victory is that it has created the conditions for a referendum on Britain’s status as part of the EU in 2017. While the Conservatives may be more trusted to manage the economy than the Labour party, it remains the case that the agendas of those on the right of the party have the potential to seri­ously undermine Britain’s future global status through a narrow-minded drive for an EU exit. As far as pragmatism has meant that the silent masses of ‘shy Conservatives’ have swung this election for the Tories, we must also hope that pragmatism prevails in 2017. Leaving Europe would be a disaster for the economy, and for the millions of Britons that rely on the freedoms of movement, work, and speech guaranteed by the EU. Looking forward from the result, we need to begin to stand up for the rationale of reform and the European project before we let ourselves be overwhelmed by the irrational xenophobia of the Right.

Yesterday’s result may indeed have been a surprise; a coup for the realist voter hoping for a coherent economic plan and a stable majority government. It should also, however, be seen as a call to arms. The result is a recognition that both the Union and Britain’s position in the EU stand dangerously compromised by advancing nationalist groups across the country. In the town halls of Britain, people have cleared away the debris of Election Day. What at first appeared an unexpected Conservative victory will doubt­less settle with the dust on the now redundant campaign posters. Yet, we moderates cannot af­ford to sit back and relax. The campaign for the defence of a better future has only just begun.

How to… go on a crew date

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As with every part of our damned society and miserable life, Oxford has a hierarchy. And the worst thing that could possibly happen to you would obviously be being stuck on the wrong rung of that fancy and elusive ladder. The first step into the esteemed and crucial heights of Oxonian hierarchy is a crewdate. If you don’t crewdate, don’t expect to be featured on VERSA’S Top 10 Coolest Students (now that is the real dreaming spire). Don’t expect freshers to know your name. Don’t expect anyone to attach any worth to you. 

Now. You’re on a crewdate. (Well done). If you want to fit in, there are several traditions you need to learn about. 

First is simple and must be followed with the utmost of casual and false spontaneity. This is pennying. Pennying derives from the unit of currency – a penny, and is used in crewdates. The idea is to throw a penny into someone’s drink when they have their hand clasped around the glass. They then must down their drink. This is in the hope that you will a) get bronze poisoning b) catch Ebola c) swallow the penny, and consequently throw up everywah (erupting both the penny and your dignity out of your mouth).

So that’s pretty easy. Make sure to go to the bank in advance, and change a couple of £20 notes into pennies. This will emphasise the root of the tradition, which is erudite debauchery. It’s often successful if you chuck the penny into someone’s drink whilst laughingly crying, “Ha! I have so much money! What to do with it all?”

Sconcing is a step up from pennying, because it relies upon more than just alcohol consumption. Sconcing is a game where the group try and ridicule others, and also find out what super banterous legendary events others have committed. The best advice for this is just consistent and unceasing dishonesty. Drink constantly. At every sconce down your drink. Make sure to drink at length, so that the whole table may see that you indeed have committed said named act. 

If people seem to be starting to doubt you, then give a little laugh and exclaim your disbelief that everyone knows your stories so well. At a few points in the evening, it will be necessary for you to sconce someone yourself. If you are not indeed friends with anyone on the crewdate, the best thing is to simply make up very elaborate and niche stories (my usual one is “I sconce anyone who had sex on the Cheese Floor whilst eating a kebab”). Then if no one else drinks, just drink yourself and say, “Whoops, I forgot that was me!”

These stories will be remembered, which means the more crewdates you go on, the more people can sconce you. And then it becomes less dishonest. I mean yes, admittedly you still didn’t do any of these things, but if they all believe you did, then soon you will believe it too. And that, along with the crewdates, will bring you one step closer to being cool.

Creaming Spires TT15 Week 3

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 An ill-fated night at Bridge, perhaps? Freshers’ week had seen no action for yours truly, a young gay man, whose few sexual experiences had previously entailed a Grindr-based, and wholly unsatisfying, series of sexts (oops, do you think the Tories will arrest me? Thank God for anonymity, eh?) and the odd kiss from a straight and questioning friend. I arrived at Bridge, surrounded by new Fresher friends – the week’s conversations had seemed to revolve around who Tina had pulled and what Sammy had gotten up to with that guy from Camera the night before. A series of complaints saw a large number of wing-men and women convincing me, reassuring me, doing their best. Telling me it will be alright; you’re not unattractive. Platitudes of this ilk seemed to have confronted me all week, as once again your author thought to himself, oh, if only if I was quiche. Your author is no longer the naïve fresher who went to Bridge with Tina and Sammy – he wouldn’t do either now. Oh Freshers’ Week regrets, eh – more to come. 

So, we’re in Bridge. I’ve downed a pitcher of Sex on the Beach – a cruel substitute, I thought. Suddenly, the rugby team from one of the colleges entered, having just completed initiations. This is the end, I thought. Bridge, this surprisingly tiny and inadequate club everyone in the year above idolises as a college tradition, was now overrun with the rugger lads – what hope is there for a potentially nice and friendly little gayman who will reconfirm my confidence? Oh, so little. Not that little, as it turned out. Suddenly, a new-friend approached, bringing along a rugby pal. It feels like a school-friend reunion so we all look on and think how ‘nice’ it is that at Oxford some people have half their school with them. (Lovely. Hmm.) We dance. We dance more and more – in fact, I catch the two talking. He looks at me and suddenly I can feel the sex on the beach flood through my veins. Coincidentally this is the date which made me realise that maybe a pitcher was too much. 

We dance together and kiss. He asks me to go home straightaway and naturally I assent – thank God, finally some action, I thought. We walk home and just outside Worcester (a red herring, perhaps?) we kiss again, only this time I start to realise that perhaps it wasn’t a very good kiss. Still hopeful we plow on and arrive back at mine where we go upstairs and get off a bit more before we decide mutually this was a mistake and move straight to sex. As he mounts, I suddenly realise there is no way this is going to work. No one is in the mood anymore. Him lying on top of me, I grab my phone. He continues to attempt some kind of oral pleasure on me, but I’m much more interested in Doodlejump. A high score. Perhaps the night wasn’t as wasted as I thought.