Saturday, May 24, 2025
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Review: Drenge – Drenge

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Brothers Eoin and Rory Loveless may make up one of the smaller bands on the scene at the moment, but they more than make up for their lack of personnel with their explosive sound. The two Irishmen kick things off with more excited rage than a rabid werewolf. The third track on their eponymous debut, ‘I Wanna Break You In Half’ reaches a fever pitch of adolescent fury as Drenge rage against the machine with grunge influences aplenty; the listener’s blood practically boils over as Eoin growls about how he wants to “make you piss your pants/I wanna break you in half”.

Next up is ‘Bloodsports’, which showcases the very best of Tom Watson’s favourite band. Drenge are not here to please the indie kids, nor is it their mission to provide some more vapid, jangly indie pop. ‘Bloodsports’ swaggers through its two-and-a-half minutes with the threat of violence lurking under the surface throughout. With the arrogant sneer of Nick Cave, the unfettered anger of the Sex Pistols and the powerful, head-banging riffs of Nirvana, Drenge provide something that’s been missing from music for too long.

After an electrifying opening, Drenge dies down a bit, and if one were to find some criticism for the album, it would be that the band appear to lose track of what they’re trying to do for a bit. There’s only so far that frenetic sub-3 minute songs can get you, and fortunately Drenge appear to realize this before too long.

‘Let’s Pretend’, the penultimate track, is one of the most interesting songs on the album. At more than eight minutes long, it allows Drenge to showcase a more expansive, inventive sound. Drenge then reinvent themselves again for the album closer, ‘Fuckabout’, which reveals tenderness in its soft, gently crooned sound coupled with drawling irony in the lyrics which mock its own love song pretensions (“when I put the kettle on/you put heavy metal on”).

All in all, Drenge have produced an extremely impressive debut, and we can’t wait to get to their live shows and see Tom Watson moshing with the kids at the front.

Drenge’s album is out now and is available to stream here.

The Future of Rap Music

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Let’s face it, rap hasn’t been interesting for a long time. There hasn’t been any fire in the genre since the Biggie-Tupac wars. The East Coast has failed to deliver on its promise and the current leaders in the genre (Jay Z and Kanye West, indisputably the kings of rap) have just released two albums that, whilst interesting, have nothing to say other than “look at me”.

Shame. At its best, rap is vital, political, fun and many other things. It’s clearly time for a revolution in the rap scene, but this won’t come through the machinations of A$AP Rocky or Childish Gambino (or, god forbid, Macklemore). It will come from a couple of chaps in tweed.

Yeah, that seems strange. However, Chap hop is, well, just brilliant. There’s something bizarrely entertaining about watching the sort of person you thought only existed in Enid Blyton’s fever dreams spit forth rhymes that rival in eloquence anything that Nas or Eminem ever produced.

And so, without further ado, I introduce to you the main proponents of the genre, the Biggie and Tupac of Chaps if you will:

Mr B the Gentleman Rhymer is a gent with a love for tweed and waistcoats, a wonderful curly moustache and a banjolele. If you haven’t already been won over, give his appropriation of rap history a listen and see if you’re any more charmed…

Mr B’s real name is Jim Burke, and he works alongside Britpop also-rans, Collapsed Lung. He plays festivals, from Glastonbury to the Fringe, and is known to enjoy a spot of cricket, as evidenced by his parody of N.W.A.’s ‘Straight Outta Compton.

But Mr B isn’t the only game in town. His rival and arch nemesis*, Professor Elemental, is the leader of the darker side to the chap hop movement. Whilst Mr B is likely to spend the afternoon in his club of at Lords, the Professor is probably cooking up a mad experiment with his butler, an orang-utan named Jeffrey. Here’s his diss song, directed at his sunnier opponent.

The Professor, (or Paul Alborough, as boring people tend to call him), is the chap’s chap, a real connoisseur’s delight. His rhymes, whilst perhaps not as catchy as Mr B’s, are far more detailed and tend to revolve around his obsession (nay, addiction) with regards to a certain hot beverage:

… or the culture of his homeland, which he spares no blushes, indicting us for our timidity, racism, and for giving the world a certain someone (no spoilers!):

If you are, as I am, sick of the narcissistic preening of the current cadre of rappers, why not tune in to what these chaps are laying down. You never know, you may enjoy yourself!

*said rivalry was resolved when both agreed that the other is jolly good at what they do, and was laid to rest by an evening with a crate of sherry and some opium.

Political Correctness – Anything But Mad?

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It’s always a shame that, whenever a politician is caught in the act, doing something they shouldn’t be or saying something unacceptable, that their apologies all sound the same. They stand in front of TV cameras, usually with their spouse and family beside them, and read the same pre-prepared platitudes that we hear each and every time – “I made an error of judgement”, “I’m lucky to have my family stick by me through this difficult time” et cetera, et cetera.

This is what makes it so refreshing when a politician breaks from usual procedure and reacts in a genuine and open way. This often takes a bit of pushing, as shown by the infamous interview in which David Frost brought ex-President Richard Nixon to the point of saying that “when the president does it, that means that it is not illegal”. However, in some circumstances the politician is not willing to toe the line and so is eager to do things their own way.

All this is by way of getting round to talking about Godfrey Bloom, the UKIP MEP who referred to aid recipients as natives of “Bongo Bongo Land”, parroting the worst Gilbert-and-Sullivan-esque stereotypes imaginable. This is clearly racist nonsense, no matter how he may have later tried to back track (claiming that, as a dictionary defined the Bongo as a white antelope, he clearly wasn’t referring to a country). However, the most important and under-reported element of his response was what he said about political correctness.

“I’m not a wishy-washy Tory. I don’t do political correctness. The fact that the Guardian is reporting this will probably double my vote in the north of England.”

The first two sentences are certainly true. The third, whilst probably not exactly true does reveal an important fact about British society – political correctness is not cool, it’s not even seen as being good. It’s seen as an overbearing, fiendishly complicated system of self-imposed regulation (or rather regulation by the liberal elite) of free speech, and an infringement on common sense.

Given the history of political correctness, this ought to be a strange state of affairs. Political correctness, as we know it, arose from political movements in the latter half of the 20th Century that aimed to turn the tide against things such as racism, sexism, homophobia and so on. These are all noble aims and battles that have come a long way in a short space of time. However, it is very clear that whilst we have, as a society, internalised these aims to an extent, there are plenty of small backlashes going on in everyday speech.

Every time someone says “I’m not a racist, but…” and then goes on to spout some horrific racial stereotype we can see exactly how these function. We pay lip service to political correctness and give the illusion of supporting these noble aims whilst simultaneously undermining these campaigns with whatever we then go on to say. When we reject political correctness, we give ourselves license to act in a way that goes against the proud traditions of anti-racism, anti-sexism (etc) that we tell ourselves we support. That’s the more apologetic end of the spectrum. Where alternative comedians (Jo Brand, Stewart Lee, and Alexei Sayle) used to bend over backwards to be respectful of minorities in their sets, people like Frankie Boyle and various minor idiots do the opposite, attempting to rebel against the PC system by making “shocking” statements. The idea is that this is something foisted upon us and something which has to be resisted.

The truth is that political correctness is not the vast, artificial nonsense that it is often made out to be. Believe it or not, it comes down to common sense. Political correctness is the act of calling someone by the term they would wish to be called. That’s not difficult. If you’re unsure how to refer to someone, just ask. If you go against their wishes, you are contributing to power structures that deprive them of an equal footing in society to white, straight, middle class, cis males, but, even more than that, you’re just being an arsehole.

The reason that so many people deride or despise political correctness is that it has been systematized, and there are words which people are not allowed to say. It’s natural to dislike boundaries and to want to break them, especially when, in some circumstances, those boundaries seem purely arbitrary. However, if we cease to use political correctness as a kind of standardized vocabulary and allow people to define themselves and how they would like to be referred to, and only require of others that they respect those decisions, that doesn’t seem to be particularly onerous. To rebel against that sort of political correctness couldn’t be seen as daring or risqué, only as arrogant and disrespectful.

Political correctness isn’t mad, it’s just common sense. 

Top 10 films to watch before starting at Oxford

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Films to help you settle in like a pro:

Starter for 10

Starter for 10 stars James McAvoy as Brian, a student starting out at the University of Bristol in the ‘80s. Though it focuses primarily on the University Challenge team, the film is a witty and realistic portrayal of the life and loves of your average student, and manages to show the process of settling in at university in a warm, funny, and accurate way. Worth watching if only to see a pre-Sherlock Benedict Cumberbatch stealing every one of his scenes as the grating Patrick Watts.

Educating Rita

It may not reflect everyone’s university experience, but if you want to know the importance of the student/tutor relationship at Oxford, this is a must-see. Michael Caine is the ageing, alcoholic academic, and Julie Walters the student who rekindles his love for his subject, and gets an insight into the educated world, in this adaptation of Willy Russell’s stage play. An absorbing, slightly cautionary, tale, the film celebrates the capacity of education to change people, while advising that it doesn’t make them forget their identity completely.

Monsters University

It’s a long way from Pixar’s best, but, like everything else released by the studio, Monsters University sure has a warm heart. The relationship between Mike and Sulley shows that university is a place where friendships are born, relationships change, and first impressions can be drastically revised. And if you’re nervous about coming to uni, watching this will make you feel more warm and fuzzy than Sulley himself.

Legally Blonde

A film reflecting the American system – it’s set in Harvard Law School – but which holds many truths about the university experience. Reese Witherspoon is Elle Woods, an image-obsessed sorority queen who becomes a student of law. She may not seem like it at first, but Elle – who must prove herself to the students who don’t take her seriously – is a fantastic role model, displaying an enviable faith in her own ability, and a commitment to hard work. She develops her identity on her own terms, showing the importance of being willing to change for the people that you care about, and refusing to compromise yourself for those that you don’t.

National Lampoon’s Animal House

The original, and still the best. 35 years on from its release, Animal House remains as grossly and shockingly funny as ever. John Belushi is ‘Bluto’ Blutarsky, the head of the Delta Tau Chi fraternity, who fight the authorities, throw lavish parties, and generally raise as much hell as they can. Though the college is American, the theme of fighting for what you believe in is universal, and the fraternity demonstrates the importance of having fun at university, rolling with the punches, and not always taking life so seriously. Altogether now – Toga! Toga! Toga!

And, if you’re missing school already, here are the top five films for reliving those halcyon days:

Grease

Aside from the fact that it boasts 3 or 4 (or 5 or 6…) of the catchiest songs in cinema history, Grease is worth watching as it’s still the best portrayal of leaving school to be found on screen. Danny and Sandy’s turbulent love story takes in a drag race, a leaving dance, and for some reason a carnival as the Greasers and the Pink Ladies alike prepare to step out into the big wide world.

10 Things I Hate About You

By far the best film adaptation of The Taming of the Shrew set in an American high school: Julia Stiles is Kat, a girl who doesn’t believe in love until won over by Heath Ledger’s Patrick Verona. The first-rate performances make this peculiarly affecting, and there are enough engaging characters that you can relive school life from the aspect of the outsiders, the popular kids, and everyone in between.

Mean Girls

The most quotable film ever made – seriously, even the White House quoted it on its Twitter feed – needs no introduction. Watch it to see the bitchiness of secondary school exaggerated wonderfully (if barely), and to learn what colour to wear on Wednesdays, why some people have big hair, and that there are some questions which you just can’t ask.

21 Jump Street

This remake of an old TV show is warmer, funnier, and rings far truer than anyone expected on its release last year. Channing Tatum and Jonah Hill are cops who return to high school to sniff out drug dealers, but the focus is firmly on their reliving of the high school experience. With varying degrees of success with love interests, the sports teams and the school play, there’s much here about which to reminisce – and to be glad you’ve left behind.

High School Musical 3

OK, it may not be the greatest film ever made. But watch it in the right mood and it could have you weeping into your mortarboard, tearing up your exam results and begging your headteacher to let you back for just one more year. Of course, watch it in the wrong mood and it will only serve to remind you of all the worst parts of school; but at least it will make you glad that never again do you have to return.

St Benet’s monastic superior quits after child abuse scandal

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Father Francis Davidson, responsible for the welfare of student monks at St Benet’s, is the only surviving headmaster of Fort Augustus Abbey School, the subject of a recent BBC Scotland investigation for the programme Sins of Our Fathers.

The programme, broadcast on 29 July, revealed claims of physical and sexual abuse spanning from 1950s to 1990s.  Fr Davidson is one of three headmasters accused of covering up the scandal; ten Fort Augustus monks have been accused of physical abuse, and four monks and one lay teacher of sexual abuse, including rape.  The programme contains further allegations that the school was a “dumping ground” for clergy with a history of abusing children.

Over 50 ex-pupils have spoken to the BBC about their experiences at fee-paying Fort Augustus School in the Scottish Highlands, which shut in 1993, and its feeder preparatory school, Carlekemp, shut in 1977.

One former pupil, Hugh Kennedy, who attended Fort Augustus in the 1970s, recalls being sexually abused by two teachers. One of the abusers was his housemaster Fr Chrysostum Alexander.  He told the BBC, “He would play with me, masturbate me and would make me do certain things to him, oral sex, things along those lines… I did tell Fr Davidson, who was the headmaster.”

Despite claiming that he had personally alerted Fr Davidson, Mr Kennedy says the police were never involved in this “sustained and protracted” experience, and that Fr Chrysostum visited his home to convince his family of his innocence, where “he [Chrysostum] had convinced her [Kennedy’s stepmother] this was a non story and… I was sent back to Fort Augustus to be subjected to further abuse by Chrysostom.”

After allegations were reportedly made by a second victim in 1977, then headmaster Davidson failed to alert the police, instead sending Fr Chrysostum back to Australia, with no warnings about his offending.

Earlier this week, Fr Davidson told the BBC that he did not remember Kennedy’s allegations. “I would like to offer my profound sympathies to former pupils of Fort Augustus Abbey School and their families for any historic abuse committed by Fr Chrysostom Alexander including to Hugh Kennedy.

“I was shocked and saddened to hear of Mr Kennedy’s allegations and of those against Bill Owen relating to Fort Augustus in the 1970s. I do not recall them being reported to me during my time as headmaster of Fort Augustus Abbey School.

“Subsequent allegations of abuse made to the Abbot, who is now dead, resulted in an internal investigation by the Abbot and Fr Chrysostom’s immediate removal from the school.”

There is currently an ongoing police investigation into the abuse, but leading children’s charities, including the NSPCC, are calling for full, independent inquiries.

These revelations come eight years after an Oxford student made a formal complaint of harassment against St Benet’s Hall tutor, Bernard Green.  Fr Bernard had previously pled guilty in 1996 to indecently assaulting a 13 year old whilst housemaster at Catholic public school, Ampleforth College.

St Benet’s Hall released the following statement to Cherwell: “We would like to offer our heartfelt sympathies to former pupils of  Fort Augustus Abbey School and their families.

“As investigations into matters at Fort Augustus Abbey School and Carlekemp Priory school are ongoing, we can confirm that Fr Francis Davidson has stepped aside from his role of religious superior of St. Benet’s Hall.”

Back-to-Uni Shopping List

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A trip to WH Smith just wasn’t enough to satisfy the appetite, and so, in a ‘back-to-school-shopping’ whirlwind of excitement, the Cherwell Fashion university essentials wish list was born. Realistically, for those of us returning to Oxford there probably won’t be much spending until our student loans come through (and even then, we’re more likely to find ourselves paying our batels than splurging on Lanvin notebooks). But for those of you who have just received your results, met your offers, and are about to embark on the frantic off-to-university shopping trip with your parents? Perhaps you’ll have a better chance at picking up a little bit of luxury before Michaelmas commences…

 

For the Boys 

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Kenzo blue printed iPad case, £115; ASOS laptop bag, £25; Sandqvist Sinclaire 13” laptop case, £45; Lamy ‘Pico’ ballpoint pen, £30; Smythson ‘Genius’ Wayfer notebook, £35; Bodum Brazil French press coffee maker, £20 at John Lewis; Keepcup large size reusable coffee cup, £10.50; Edwin Blyde & Co. pewter hip flask, £50 at John Lewis; Uniform Wares 100 series classic steel wristwatch, £120; Jimbob Art ‘Mr Bear in a Suit’ coffee cup set, £49.95; Herschel Heritage backpack, £55; Bric’s suit and garment bag, £160; APC leather trimmed backpack, £150

 

For the Girls

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American Apparel silver lamé rucksack, £44; Campo Marizo ‘Minny’ Fountain Pen £20; Liberty London ‘Red Iphis’ iPad sleeve, £95; Marc by Marc Jacobs Work It Baby Got leather trimmed backpack, £290; Lanvin hardcover notebook, £40; Big Tomato Companyheart mug with platinum/24ct gold detail, £19.95; Marc by Marc Jacobs 13” ‘Mareika’ embossed neoprene laptop case, £55; Keepcup medium size reusable coffee cup, £9.50; Bodum Brazil French press coffee maker, £20 each at John Lewis; Caran D’Ache 849 Fluro set of three ballpoint pens, £45; Longchamp customized Le Pliage bag, from £84 at Longchamp.com

 

 

 

"Au coin": The French Naughty Step

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The Naughty Step

It’s half-past 8 in the evening; the parents are out enjoying their childless evening and back at the house its absolute chaos. Children 1 and 2 are point-blank refusing to get into their beds, let alone go to sleep; meanwhile Child number 3 has just woken up from a nap and is demanding her supper in the only way she can: with the loudest yell she can muster. I’m still covered in remnants of dinner (who thought that mashed potato was a good idea?) and I’m trying to think of something to do to get them to listen to me. It’s remarkably difficult to tell someone off in a different language and unfortunately my first-year French course hasn’t taught me anything about disciplining naughty French children. All my threats of “do you want me to get angry?” have been met with a resounding “mais oui!”, I suddenly remember what I used to hate as a child: the threat of the naughty step.

Placing child number 3 back in her cot, where she definitely can’t fall over, eat off the floor or pull my shorts down, I announce loudly that I’m going to count to five and at five, whoever is not in bed and quiet will be going au coin (I don’t know the translation of ‘the naughty step’, so ‘in the corner’ will have to do). Triumphantly I look down on two confused faces as the girls try to work out whether or not I’m serious and whether or not au coin is a better deal than au lit. As I reach 5, praying they’ll give in and just go to bed, child number 1 decides it’s all a merry joke and continues counting, whilst her number 2 stands at her side, giggling. The naughty step it is, then.

5 minutes later: as I expected (or rather, was wishing with all my heart), the prodigal daughter returns, looking very sad and sorry for herself. She gives me an apology, a roughly muttered “pardon Liz” and then promises to lie down and be quiet. Peace at last!

Finally, I’ve done it. I’ve succeeded in making 3 children behave and I did it all in French. I march victoriously up the stairs (the bedrooms are all downstairs), looking forward to a long-awaited silence and inwardly smiling at my success.

It’s only when I reach the top of the stairs that I can hear the girls laughing at my stupidity. Of course they aren’t going to sleep. It’s time to think of something else.

Feeding time at the zoo

Two days ago, we all bundled into the car and drove to the zoo, one of the biggest in Europe. As we watched the animals being fed, I couldn’t help but be reminded of mealtimes with the children; just as loud, messy, and unexpected.

Mealtimes are indeed interesting occasions here. The children have 4 meals, the one extra being ‘le goûter’, eaten in the middle of the afternoon. This is eaten anywhere and everywhere, from in the classroom to on the beach. The other meals, however, are eaten à table. This doesn’t bode well for three active children who are hungry but would much rather be doing something else.

Getting them all to sit at the table is a task in itself. With the exception of the 11-month-old, who can easily be picked up and strapped into her highchair (therefore incapable of escaping), they require chasing and persuading to leave their colouring and sit up. Before they mount their chairs, a vigorous programme begins to strip them of the bizarre things they bring with them; one time child number 2 brought her blanket “because it was hungry too”.

Once sat down, we begin our meal. Thankfully, all 3 children are excellent eaters and will happily gobble down goat’s cheese, pickled anchovies and spinach with gusto. It doesn’t really matter what you put in front of them, they’ll most likely eat it. Now seated and beginning the meal, they are also very enthusiastic, to the point that it begins to pose problems. As soon as she hears the sound of cutlery on china, or the joyful ping! of the microwave, child number 3 begins to bounce up and down with excitement in her chair and if you don’t get that food in her mouth within 5 seconds flat, there’s trouble. The same goes for dessert; if she sees her petit suisse whilst still finishing off her main course, you can forget the main and throw it away before she does; she can often be found later on with bits of food in her hair and ears from the spoonful of food she swatted away.

Like child number 3, the others become distressed when they learn that the meal is over, there is nothing more for them to eat and they have to leave the table. Tears and tantrums ensue when one appears to have slightly more than the other, or eats too quickly and therefore runs out first. Quite the gourmande myself, the child inside me resents having to give them some of my own food when they finish before me and are still hungry. It’s mine and I want it. Deal.

Food hygiene is also a novelty for the girls; one day this week we made cakes and when they were brought out to eat, child number 2 proudly showed us which of the cakes she had made by repeatedly plunging her finger into each one.

As for the zoo, I’m sure I didn’t imagine the parents’ sighs when child number 2 replied to the question “so what was your favourite animal in the (very expensive and extremely varied) zoo?”; smiling sweetly she pointed across the road towards a pond by the car park… “I like the ducks!”

Lingo bingo

It’s been just over a week since I started au pairing and speaking French has started to become natural. My first word of the day, usually a disgruntled “quoi?” as I am awoken by a little voice outside my room calling “Leeez? Leeez??” (they still can’t say Liz properly) is in French, as is my last. Speaking to friends and family over Skype, I discover that I have to think hard to find the words I need to speak in English, my mother tongue. Being so immersed in the culture is a fantastic experience and I would heartily recommend it to anyone studying a language; never before have my linguistic skills been so tested or improved.

I must admit, however, that there have been a few slips of the tongue. One day, enthusiastically telling the family an anecdote, I accidentally related that it “s’est mis a pleurer” (it started to cry) instead of “pleuvoir” (to rain). Another time, whilst searching in a supermarket for a crème-brulee-style dessert, I asked the shop assistant for the “crème aux yeux” (eye cream) instead of the “crème aux oeufs” (the pudding). For those who don’t speak French, those two things honestly do sound extremely alike.

Not all of these language blunders have been from me; alas, the well-known irritating cartoon kitty character has been transformed by these French children into a catcall (excuse the pun) one might hear in rapungi from a suspicious elderly gentleman: “’ello titty”. It’s probably a blessing the parents don’t speak English.

There are also some phrases that the family uses which strongly remind me of something we would hear on this side of the channel. Things such as “that’s the last time I tell you that”, “what’s the magic word” or “do you want a smack” are often flung about the house, pointing out the similarities of family units, despite being in vastly different cultures. Possibly my least favourite recognisable phrase, heard coming from the smallest room in the house is “j’ai fini”. I’ll leave you to work out what that one means.

Finally, for anyone who has the tiniest bit of doubt as to whether my English is still up to scratch, here’s a conversation I overheard in the car on the way to the beach, between the two older children and their friend:

Friend: (presumably gesturing to me) So who’s that?

Child number 2: That’s Liz. She’s English.

Child number 1: She’s our English girl.

Friend: But she speaks French?

Child number 1: (with an air of authority) Yes. I think it’s normal. In England they have to speak French too.

Friend: I would very much like it if she would say something in English.

Child number 2: I’ll get her to do it. Leeeez? Can you say something in English?

Me: What do you want me to say?

Friend: English things!

Me: (in English) What do you want me to say?

The girls all look at me with mouths wide open, like I’m an alien (which in a manner of speaking, I probably am)

Friend: (turning to child number 1) She really is English!

Mamamamamama

Today marks the end of my stint as an au pair. It’s safe to say that I have mixed feelings about finishing. Sure, it’ll be nice to have my own space again without fear of children entering (being in the shower, in bed or in the bathroom doesn’t stop these girls), and to have a more relaxed vacation, but there’s something to miss about it too.

It’s not always tears, tantrums and terrible trios, much as it may seem. I’ve learnt lots and have been rewarded for my work – not just my pay at the end but in terms of getting along with the girls and learning about their likes, dislikes, fears (the witch in Sleeping Beauty) and what they want to be when they grow up (firewomen).

I’ve been fought over as a playmate, dinner companion and story-teller. The children would begin each day by setting out what they want to do, provided that it was something “avec Liz”.

This being my second year, I didn’t have to endure the experience of heading off into the unknown, at a rendez-vous point I’d forgotten. Last year, I packed my bags and set off to a family I’d never seen or met and they had no idea what they were letting themselves in for either. They welcomed me, told me to treat the house as if it was my own, and always made sure that I was coping, kept informed and enjoying myself. They were just as lovely, if not lovelier this year.

Last year, I was around (not physically present at!) for the birth of child number 3. This year, I was reintroduced to the same girl and was privileged to be there for her 1st birthday; even given the honour of baking her birthday cake. When I first picked her up, she wouldn’t stop crying. Now when she sees me, she raises her arms and cries until I lift her up and give her a cuddle. She greets me with “mamamama” or “papapapa” , a performance previously reserved exclusively for her parents.

After numerous nappy changes (oh, the joys of young children), sending the baby to sleep and juggling carrying one child whilst trying to play with another, the mother joked that I have now got my children’s “diplome”.  In a way that feels merited; having never before had experience of looking after very young children, I think I didn’t do half bad. Child number three responded by giggling and clapping her hands. Cute.

It’s the economy, stupid

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Just a few short weeks before Margaret Thatcher died, I asked Nigel Lawson to sum up her bitterly contested legacy. He told me, “This country was in a dismal state, and Thatcher single-handedly turned it around; I think she will go down in history for that, both here and around the world.” By a curious twist of fate I happened to write this interview up in Glasgow just after the death of Britain’s most controversial modern Prime Minister, where popular sentiment towards her death was anything but Lawson’s ringing endorsement. The Scottish Daily Mail’s front page headline spoke of the “Flames of Hatred” as “30 years of Left Wing Loathing exploded” while the Scottish Daily Record asked if Thatcher’s gravestone should read “RIP 250,000 lost jobs in Scotland.”

I met Lawson for coffee in the Lords, a symbol of the inequality so inherent in British society. Lord Lawson of Blaby is a striking figure, a man of cool demeanour and keen intellect. Following his education at Westminster and Christ Church, he started out as a financial journalist, so I asked him of his time as a financial journalist, and what a journalist should do to operate successfully. “One of the roles of the press is to be in permanent opposition, whichever party is in power. There is a fundamental difference between the role of ministers and the role of the press, and I switched to the other side of the fence in a sense.

“One of the major problems is that economics is often full of obscurantism. Economics nowadays has become very mathematical, and that is a mistake. It means most economics is a pretty useless activity nowadays, and economics is a study of a particular kind of human behaviour. Now mathematics is a tremendously important discipline, but it has nothing of any use to say about human behaviour, and to try and derive human behaviour from mathematics is a fools’ errand, and the economists who do that are very little use to anyone. As for how the journalist should convey economics – they should try to convey it on the basis of an accurate understanding, and they need to make it in clear plain English, not in economic or mathematical jargon. If they can’t do that, it probably means they are incapable of thinking very clearly themselves.”

But what of the purpose of economic policy itself, of which Lawson had control over during seven of the British economy’s most crucial years, from 1983-1989? Thatcher herself said in a Sunday Times interview that “economics is the method, the object is to change the human soul.”

“If she said that then I disagree with her;” he answers, “I don’t think you can change the human soul, and if anyone can, it’s not going to be politicians. Most people like to improve their material conditions and they will do that by exercise of their own hard work, industry, ingenuity, enterprise and so on. But what the only purpose of the government’s economic policy should be is to create the conditions to let individuals, whether together or in companies, to give it their best by working hard and creating technological breakthroughs and so on. The governments only role is to create the conditions to enable people to do so.”

In a follow up email, he told me “the Sunday Times headline is wholly misleading, as she was not talking about the soul at all. She was explicitly referring to ‘the heart and soul of the nation’, which is a metaphor for what might otherwise be described as either the essence or identity of the nation.”

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He speaks of Thatcher’s legacy, noting, “The people recognised that the country was in a very bad way, and that unpopular policies might well be necessary.” He referred me to his memoirs, in which he said, “But we did not seek (the people’s) assent in advance – nor, rightly, did they expect us to. We would be judged by results. Democracy is nowadays
a greatly over-hyped
blessing, particularly by Americans,
 who have no pre-
democratic his
tory to provide 
perspective.”

He goes on to completely rubbish the idea that there is any kind of link at all between the economic liberalization of the 1980s and today, saying,

“I don’t think that idea is in the slightest bit fair. I introduced the Banking Act of 1987 which inter alia created a high-powered Board of Banking Supervision; this was subsequently abolished by Gordon Brown, to be replaced by a largely dysfunctional system, and this can scarcely be laid at the door of Thatcher’s government… And if you look at the history say of the last hundred years, you see there have been periodic banking crises and they all have a number of features in common. The idea is somehow, that most crises are somehow the fault of the bankers, but the regulators at this point were useless. There were, I think, failures of government policy at the time that made it worse, particularly in the United States. The idea that the events of the 1980s had anything to do with it is complete rubbish.”

Considering his status as one of the country’s most influential elder statesmen, I quizzed him on the banking crisis under the Labour government, one that he blames for the worst excesses of the crash. “I think that they were absolutely right in that when the largest banks were on the verge of the collapse, bailing them out was definitely the right decision. The damage to the economy would have been catastrophic; it would have been even greater than the damage caused as it was. But the terms on which they rescued the banks were not nearly tough enough; they paid far too much for too little. They made a big mistake of not having a complete stake, not just a controlling stake; they needed to get rid of a lot of people who caused us a whole lot of trouble.”

“They were right to step in,” he continued, “but they did so on terms that were far from ideal.”

But he has also been one of George Osborne’s greatest supporters. Considering all the recent ill omens for the Chancellor, such as the recent credit rating downgrade, I ask him what it would take for him to retract his support from the Chancellor’s current economic policy? “If they think that the only way that I would withdraw my support from the current government is if they changed their policies. The US and France don’t have a triple-A rating, and it is nothing to do with the policy; it is to do with the overall strength of the economy. I don’t have any respect for the ratings agencies regardless, as they were the ones who endorsed explicitly the policies that got us into this mess.

“From my own experience – from what we did in the early 1980’s – this is the right policy. We’re in a very difficult context, it takes time. First of all, under the Brown chancellorship, there was an enormous pileup of debt, household debt, government debt, which got too much to handle. The government has to put its own household in order. Then again there was, mainly as a consequence of greed and folly, a banking meltdown, this disaster; that is, where the banks were not able to fulfil their proper economic function of financing small and medium size enterprises like they should be able to do.”

In a drastic step, Lawson has recently advocated Britain’s withdrawal from the EU. Of Europe, he says to me “So long as the single currency persists, and they are determined for it to, then the European economy is likely to underperform. This has a big impact on the UK, because it’s our biggest export market. There is a remedy for British businesses and industry, which is to be seeking export markets and exporting opportunities in the developing world. China is growing fast; India, Korea and a number of other countries are developing fast, while the Eurozone staggers from crisis to crisis. I think they could be looking to the former Commonwealth, and there are many countries in Latin America which are starting to get their act together. We live in a globalized world, in which it is perfectly clear that the greatest growth prospects lie outside it. Britain should be able to benefit from its oft neglected historical ties.”

Finally, I ask for his advice to those considering a career in politics, to which he has a fairly surprising reply. “I think it’s a big mistake for any youngster to go straight into politics. I think a politician would be able to make a much greater contribution if they have had a previous career being something else; and by that I mean something else. I don’t mean the scurrilous things that happen now, where they were in a research department for a political party and worm their way into being an MP. I mean something that gives you an outside perspective. By all means have an ambition. But first you need to widen your horizons as far as you can.”

Review: King Krule — 6 Feet Beneath the Moon

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★★★★★
Five Stars

The excitement surrounding Archy Marshall (aka King Krule)’s first album has been building for a while. He featured on several songs on Mount Kimbie’s recent acclaimed album. Celebrity fans include Frank Ocean and Tyler, The Creator, and when he released a song from the album earlier this month it was endorsed by Beyoncé. Marshall says he ‘wasn’t surprised’ that Beyonce liked the track- a track he wrote when he was 12 years old. It is therefore unsurprising that when he decided to stream the album ten days before its official release on the 24th of August (his 19th birthday), his website instantly crashed.

Those in the pile-up will not be disappointed – 6 Feet Beneath the Moon is mesmerising. It combines reworked songs from Marshall’s back catalogue (some released under his previous moniker, Zoo Kid) with a sprinkling of new tracks. Unusually for an 18 year old starlet, Marshall actually had years’ worth of material to draw on. His eponymous EP, out two years ago, was followed by records under the names Edgar the Beatmaker and DJ JD Sports, each with radically different styles. The inclusion of Marshall’s old tracks only serves to increase the intensely personal nature of the album, encapsulating his personal progression as a musician (hence the birthday release date).

Characteristically, the album refuses to conform to a genre; new-wave choppy guitar riffs compete with hip-hop style sampling, while dubby tape-delays layer languorous modal jazz chords. In his terms it’s ‘a very big jumble’. iTunes calls it gangsta rap.

Marshall’s gruff voice and twitchy, agitated guitar riffs hold together this varied soundscape. Frantic bebop solos in ‘A Lizard State’ give way to wistful guitars backing Auden-inspired lyrics in ‘Ocean Bed’. ‘Neptune Estate’ is pure gloomy trip-hop, coupling morose vocals with a hazy throbbing breakbeat and a steadily building horn. ‘Out Getting Ribs’ begins with an ominous twanging guitar that wouldn’t sound out of place on a spaghetti western soundtrack, but the track quickly turns into angst-ridden melodrama. The song demonstrates Marshall’s ability to rework a track – it’s more refined than the Zoo Kid version, more emotionally charged.

The album’s nocturnal, dreamy feel may owe something to the production skills of Rodaidh Mcdonald (producer of the xx’s self-titled, multi-platinum album). 6 Feet Beneath the Moon is pervaded with ethereal melancholy; Marshall describes the album as as ‘Blue Wave’ and after listening I knew what he meant. Some of the piano samples are Bill Evans, and the mood is certainly Kind of Blue.

 

Stream Six Feet Beneath The Moon in full here

Private school pupils edge state school counterparts

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As students across the UK receive their A-Level results, the latest statistics suggest that pupils from private schools are more likely to receive a place at Oxford than pupils from state schools, even if they have received the same A-Level grades.

The information, obtained by the Guardian, reveals that amongst pupils who obtained three A*s or more at A-Level, pupils from private schools were 9% more likely to be offered a place at Oxford.

The information will come as fuel for those who believe that the interview process favours pupils from the private sector. However, a spokesperson for the university told the Guardian, “Admission to Oxford is based purely on aptitude and potential for the chosen course, without regard to school type or any other factor. The university puts enormous effort into assessing individual aptitude and potential, using a wide range of means. We do not know students’ A-level grades when selecting, as they have not yet taken their exams Aptitude tests, GCSEs and interviews, which are used in our selection process, have not been explored in this analysis.”

In some cases the imbalance was revealed to be subject-specific, with private school students much more likely to gain places in Classics, whilst there was greater balance amongst those applying for degrees in medicine, PPE and Economics and Management.

Over the past three years, 3,196 state school applicants received three A*s or more and 1,474 received offers. Over the same period, 2,175 private school applicants similarly received the top grades, but just over half – 1,098 – received offers.

The release of A-Level results has also sparked the perennial debate over grade inflation. Despite many years of increasing pass rates, this year the number of papers graded at A or A* has dropped for a second consecutive year. 26.3% of entries received the top two grades, compared with 26.6% in 2012 and 27% in 2011.   

Early figures also suggest that there is a shift in focus of subjects taken, with an Ofqal spokesperson telling the Telegraph “This year, we are seeing the trend of movement towards the more traditional subjects at A-level continue, possibly driven by greater awareness of the courses universities prefer and competition for places. This could mean the results look different.”

Overall, applications to university have increased, up 13% on last year, and UCAS has stated that the number of acceptances is the highest ever with 385,910 total acceptances as of midnight, up 31,600 on the same point last year, ensuring that the competition for places at Oxford and other top universities is as tough as ever.