If you are French, German, Romanian, Mexican, American, Asian, Muslim or, most recently, Argentinian, Top Gear has talked shit behind your back – or directly to your face. There are fewer cultures left in the world that haven’t already been stereotyped, blankly dismissed or viewed with not-at-all veiled colonial contempt by Clarkson and co than are yet to be discovered by man. Like the world’s most efficient logging company, Top Gear has no qualms about felling any culture that stands in the way of a cheap laugh. After all, it seems to be a profitable vein of humour.

It is easy to forget that Top Gear is probably the most watched factual entertainment programme in the world. It is broadcast in 170 different countries, to an average audience of 350 million viewers a week. That is the equivalent of the entire continent of South America sitting down together every Sunday evening. And that’s discounting the numerous spin-offs done the world over, including Top Gear Australia, Top Gear Russia, Top Gear USA, Top Gear South Korea, and the soon to be released Top Gear China andTop Gear France. 

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It is by far the BBC’s most profitable programme, ahead of juggernauts like Doctor Who or Strictly Come Dancing, due to its peerless international syndication, with the production company behind Top Gear raking in £149 million in revenues for the year 2012. That is a staggering turnover for one programme. It is the most requested programme on the iPlayer, its companion magazine is published in thirty-one countries and its Stunt School app has been downloaded at least five million times. How about a Top Gear branded baby-grow, duvet cover or commemorative stamp? All available to be purchased at the click of a button.

The show isn’t just a cash cow for the BBC either. Jeremy Clarkson netted £14 million from the show last year, comprised of the dividend of the production company and his presenter’s salary. Hammond, May and most of the senior production team are multi-millionaires. It is impossible to argue that the show is anything other than a transcontinental televisual phenomenon, which has no equal in terms of viewing figures, international reach or longevity. Lest you forget, the next series will be number 22.

The route of this success can be found in both the nature of the programme and the presenters. The show is unabashedly childish and aims itself squarely at that infantile personality strand which people suppress as they age. Stunts like playing conkers with caravans or rocketing a Mini off a ski jump are not intended as high art, but are to be gawked at with a glazed expression of rapture. It’s also no coincidence that its prime demographic are middle-aged men, who tune in for the escapist delight of watching men of their own age driving extravagant cars in exotic locations, and generally having a laugh with their wanky mates.  

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Inevitably, Clarkson, Hammond and May are also a major selling point. All three have done television work outside Top Gear due to their popularity, and are certainly one of the most instantly recognisable presenting trios on television. But really, Hammond and May are minor satellites around the Clarkson supergiant. Let’s not forget, Clarkson is the only distinguishable one. Richard Hammond looks like he is being molested by his own trousers, and is also not a real hamster, whilst James May seems to hate himself almost as much as I hate him, but that’s as much as you can say.

The show is so geared towards providing a platform for Clarkson, it is regularly embarrassing how fleetingly the other two feature. He gives the opening monologue, leads the news, does the celebrity interview, stars in most of the major car tests and hosts the Cool Wall. And Clarkson has clearly been pressing his stamp ever harder onto the programme as the years have progressed.

The show never used to cause diplomatic crises. But it is no coincidence that as Clarkson nestled into his morally apathetic niche as the self-appointed freedom fighter against political correctness, so Top Gear’s joking went from old-fashioned to casually distasteful. It would be hard for the programme to have not changed in the face of such a deafening foghorn for thoughtless, zeitgeist-stalking rubbish.

Discussing the cultural insensitivity of Top Gear is not original, but it is crucial to flag up the irreconcilability of its success against its moral obligations. Standards are always going to lose to cold hard cash. That’s the reason why the BBC is compelled to act as the increasingly pathetic apologist for Top Gear’s imbroglios, and why Clarkson himself has yet to be fired. Because if Clarkson goes down, so does Top Gear. And then so does the BBC’s largest single programme revenue stream.

The fact that its viewing audience not only stays intact but often expands through these crises speaks volumes of the popularity of that tactless humour. The Top Gear-Clarkson brand of crass and, crucially, deliberately insensitive ‘banter’ obviously resonates with many people. Whether it’s because people actually find pseudo-racist jokes amusing, whether it’s interpreted as ironic, or whether audiences find it oddly titillating to hear something non-PC is unclear. The fact remains that it has an enormous, consistent viewing audience, so their style of chat is working, to the extent that the Top Gear brand of humour is becoming its biggest export, and its most distinct characteristic. 

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To debate the morals of what Top Gear does would be to broach a labyrinth concealing a minefield. But it seems bizarre that if anti-political correctness vitriol is what they want to flog, why they don’t admit it and, as shamelessly as possible, embrace it. To constantly defend themselves by saying they’re not racist, or that the incidents are accidental, comes across as so listless as to beggar belief. The number plate H982 FKL was a coincidence? Was it fuck.

Just confess to choosing it, admit it was tasteless taunting and let the audience inevitably lap it up. After all, whenever they do something catastrophically stupid, who are their justifications aimed at? Top Gear’s innumerable critics can anticipate the pre-prepared response of non-intended offence and their audience clearly keeps watching whatever.

Let them decorate the studio with life-sized portraits of Roy ‘Chubby’ Brown, begin each programme with an oath of allegiance to Enoch Powell’s ‘Rivers of Blood’ speech and wear white hoods on special occasions. At least then we’d all know where we are; the audience would continue to cackle and the rest of us would continue to cry on The Guardian’s Comment is Free page.

But if we can take only one message away from this: please don’t clothe your own darling toddlers in Top Gear branded cack. 

So you’ve just arrived at Oxford, and you want to get involved in drama. You might be a director, actor, or costume designer, but the truth of the matter is, you’re not really sure where to begin. Well, fear not my fictional fresher friends, I am here to answer all your questions.

What is Cuppers?

Every year, OUDS, the Oxford University Drama Society and TAFF, the society for behind-the-scenes production staff put on a drama festival with production teams from each college where everyone involved – cast, directors, and crew – is in their first year at the university. Each team gets a thirty minute slot to perform their show at the Burton Taylor Studio some time in 5^th Week. The performance is attended by a panel of judges, including at least one member of the OUDS committee, which then selects the ten best teams to put on an additional performance of their plays on Saturday.

Why should I get involved?

Cuppers is the traditional way to enter the Oxford drama scene, but it’s also a lot of fun and a great way to hang out with some people from different subjects who you might not have met yet. Plenty of people do Cuppers as a springboard into the Oxford thesp lifestyle, but lots of people just do it for pleasure and for some light relief from the sudden onslaught of essays and tutorials. You can basically do what you want with your Cuppers experience. Own it.

How do I enter?

There’s an application form online which teams need to fill in and submit, usually by the end of 2^nd week. Don’t worry if you don’t have a fully rehearsed performance or polished idea, you just need to have the basics of your production and who’s involved, before getting rehearsed and ready in time for 5^th Week.

How do I put together a team?

If you have some theatrically-inclined acquaintances, then you’re already half way there, but what if you need some extra cast or crew and don’t know who to ask? You could post on your college’s Freshers 2014 Facebook group (if you have one) or maybe get your JCR president to put out a notice in the weekly email. Failing that, you could always try approaching random people in the JCR. Worst case scenario, you’ll make some new friends… right?

What do I win?

Wow, you’re feeling confident. Well, there’s plenty of prizes up for grabs, from best actor and actress, to best new writing, to the much coveted ‘Spirit of Cuppers,’ for the productions which most embody the joyfulness and camaraderie that Cuppers is really all about. If you’re one of the Best of Cuppers shows, then you get the Saturday performance, but other than that, all you’ll really win is glory and bragging rights. Still, even if you miss out, getting nominated is cool, and participating is the really rewarding thing.

Any last words of advice?

I’m glad you asked me that, imaginary fresher. There are no hard and fast rules for how to get the most out of Cuppers, but I’ve managed to put together some rough guidelines for your delight and instruction, or hedonistic and wilful disobedience. Whichever works.

Do – have fun. Cuppers has a competitive element to it, sure, but there’s no need to take yourself too seriously. Better to have a great time and win nothing at all than win big but have an absolutely miserable three weeks.

Don’t – take yourself too seriously. Don’t be mean to your fellow teams, or worse, to your own team members. Cuppers isn’t the be all and end all of your dramatic chances at Oxford. Really. It isn’t.

Do – pick a play you’re enthusiastic about. Whether this means editing down a classic, or devising something yourselves, perform something you’re passionate about. Second-guessing what the judges will like might seem like a clever move, but there’s no guarantee you’ll get it right, and even you do, what’s saying they’ll like it more than your original, unique concept? Do what feels right. That said…

Don’t – try to write a play about life in Oxford. Especially if it’s supposed to be funny. Just… don’t do it. Everyone else has been here longer than you, and even if you’ve written the most on point and hilarious satire of Oxford life, odds are it’s not going to go down well with anyone who’s been here more than two months.

Do – go crazy. Put on something totally out there and bizarre. This may be one of the only chances you’ll get to create something that’s really out of the box. Go forth and do it. I believe in you, freshlings. Good luck.

“Oh, had I but followed the arts!” cries Sir Andrew Aguecheek, lamenting his wasted hours spent in the pursuits of fencing, dancing and bear-baiting. If only Sir Andrew were at Oxford, his fortunes would’ve been much improved. For all of you planning to head into the world of theatre, there are some fantastic opportunities available. One of the best is the Oxford University Dramatic Society (OUDS) International Tour, which takes a Shakespeare play to Japan in the summer vacation. I was fortunate enough to be cast this year, and I wanted to give you an inside look at one of the most exciting events of the university’s dramatic calendar.

The tour was set up in 1998 by Thelma Holt, who was then the Cameron Mackintosh Chair of Contemporary Theatre, an annual post which has been held by a number of eminent actors, writers, directors, and producers including Kevin Spacey, Sir Ian McKellen, and, most recently, Stephen Fry. Holt is a titan of British theatre – a RADA-trained acting contemporary of Maggie Smith, Vanessa Redgrave, and Judi Dench, she later turned producer and has enjoyed a prolific career working with the most talented directors and actors of our time. One of her favourite collaborators and closest friends is Yukio Ninagawa, the visionary Japanese director famous for his productions of Shakespeare and Greek tragedies. This ongoing relationship between Holt and Ninagawa is the main reason why Oxford sends actors to Japan each summer.

So how does it all come together? In February, teams of directors and producers will compete (“bid”) for the tour. They choose a Shakespeare play, come up with a concept, and have to convince Holt and the University’s Drama Officer to let them take the reins of the project. The winners will then put out a call for cast and a production team, which usually happens some time in the Hilary Term. The tour is open to all years, and often takes talented freshers alongside finalist drama vets. As one of the best Oxford productions, it is highly competitive, but entirely worth auditioning for no matter your previous experience – you’ve got nothing to lose.

Intensive rehearsals get underway at the start of the summer vacation. This year we had only three weeks to rehearse the show from scratch, before flying out to Japan to start performing. Unfortunately we lost our producer shortly before rehearsals were due to start, but despite this setback, the rehearsal process felt relaxed, a testament to our director Max Gill’s ability and vision behind the project. The pace we worked at, and the opportunity to do a play without having to fit it in around tutorials, was exhilarating.

Twelfth Night – OUDS/Thelma Holt International Tour Trailer from Hypnotist Film Company on Vimeo.

Our interpretation of the text was unconventional. As Max told Oxford Culture Review, “what we’re experimenting with is the idea that Illyria is a kind of psychological landscape, a state of mind. At the beginning there’s a shipwreck which brings Viola to the island, and we’re playing around with the fact that Viola might potentially have died on this shipwreck, and that she has slipped into an otherworld.” In this bizarre purgatory, identities and personalities bleed together – our Clown and Antonio were played by a single actor – tormenting the shipwrecked twins. The notion of duality was also stretched beyond the twins – for example Orsino presided over a harem of Havisham-esque opera singers (Valentine and Curio) who act as the sirens causing the initial shipwreck, and the Duke and Olivia sit on a dual throne, emphasising their parallels of self-absorbed unrequited love.

Creating a play that would work in both Japanese and British theatres was sometimes difficult. Sexuality and the torture of desires were prevalent themes in our interpretation of the text, but had to be toned down in Japan so as not to offend the more conservative audiences. For example, back in England the Lady Olivia’s courtship of Cesario became more sexually charged, with a woozy Sebastian stumbling on stage half-naked and plastered in day-glo lipstick kisses.

Even though the whole production had to be portable, we had an amazing array of costumes from the RSC, a harp and harpsichord, a sandy beach, and a lifesize gallows among the kit list. Our Illyria was built from material that its magpie-like inhabitants had scavenged from the ships wrecked off its shores. Props and costumes came from different historical periods – Maria in a leather corset, Aguecheek in an elaborate plumed hat and ruff, and there was a gramophone found by the Clown, to name but a few. Music and dance also featured notably in the show, with the former often providing a window into characters’ inner mental lives during monologues.

I’d never been to Japan before this summer, and I wasn’t sure what to expect of the audiences out there. We performed at the KAAT Kanagawa Arts Theatre in Yokohama and the Tokyo Metropolitan Arts Theatre, both state-of-the-art facilities which put their Oxford equivalents to shame. It seemed crazy to think that a group of students would be able to fill Japanese professional theatres, performing a play in a foreign language, but we played to full houses for every show!

After being treated like professional actors in Japan, performing back in England came as a bit of a shock. We were student actors once more. For our open-air run in the Old Bodleian Quadrangle we had to carry the entire set and seating halfway across Oxford for every show! That is one of the great things about this tour though – the chance to perform in such diverse venues. Apart from Oxford and Japan, we also performed at the Southwark Playhouse (a great chance for budding professional actors to get scouted by casting agents), and the Yvonne Arnaud Mill Studio in Guildford. Every time the play had to be different, which really kept us on our toes.

When I asked Thelma for her thoughts on this year’s tour, she said that “[Twelfth Night] in spite of initial thunderclouds, was one of the most joyous experiences I have had at Oxford. It confirmed for me why I am there.” The circus isn’t packing up anytime soon. So the take-home message is this – if you’re thinking about getting involved in student drama during your time at Oxford, set your sights on this tour. Look out for the auditions in Hilary, and keep a close eye on the details – there are some exciting rumours about next year. Break a leg, the lot of you!