There’s a famous scene in Spitting Image, ITV’s now expired satirical puppet show, parodying Neil Kinnock’s 1987 election broadcast. “Nurses, nurses, teachers, nurses!” the puppet Kinnock blasts into the loudspeaker. “Old people, black people, yellow people, nurses!” The Labour leader was portrayed as an excitable iconoclast carried away by the chaotic passion of his own rhetoric.

Were Spitting Image still going, I daresay the show would have caricatured George Galloway – the Respect MP for Bradford – in much the same manner. His buzzwords are different of course: “murder”, “imperialism” and “Bush-Blair” were deployed indiscriminately throughout his speech last week at the Oxford Union.

His elected topic, ‘The World At War’, was a safe one. Though accusations of demagoguery and misogyny have ruptured his relationship with the Left, the undeniable doggedness which he brings to the anti-war movement still earns him their grudging respect.

By the time we sit down Galloway has been at it for over an hour, and an hour of bellowing acoustics, thrusting gesticulation and fierce mental awareness would incapacitate most politicians. He has visited the Union before, on one occasion, in 1988, as a guest of the then-President Michael Gove. “We became friends,” Galloway recounts with a surprising warmth. Though both hail from modest Scottish backgrounds, such a friendship still seems peculiar.

It should be remembered that Galloway has some experience of cosying up to people with whom – ostensibly at least – he does not agree. Infamously in 1994 he lauded Saddam Hussein for his “courage, strength and indefatigability”. Less than a decade later, as the courageous Iraqi dictator hid in a hole near Tikrit, Galloway led the anti-war movement back home, calling for British soldiers to “refuse to obey illegal orders”. Once this had prompted his expulsion from the Labour Party, he began clamouring for Tony Blair’s extradition to the Hague for “war crimes”. He repeats the demand in our interview, referring to the “indictment I carry in my briefcase” and promising to make a “citizen’s arrest” of the former PM if they ever find each other in the same room.

“I haven’t made any substantial political errors,” Galloway retorts, after I suggest that these sorts of serial mishaps undermine his credibility as a politician. He does, however, confess to errors “of phrasing and words”. The distinction is an odd one to make, given that his recent guide to the “sex game” provoked the resignation of Salma Yaqoob, Respect’s leader. Galloway seems sincere when he says “we’re very sorry that she’s left”, but sees the subsequent media storm as essentially poppycock: “When someone leaves us, they are invested with such an importance, an importance which they were never given when they were with us.”

But why does he never apologise for his bouts of verbal flatulence? “Not true, simply not true, you haven’t done your research as well as you thought you had,” he counters. When I asked for an example of a public apology he had made, he shrewdly declined: “It wouldn’t profit me to go through my list of regrets.” But it might profit me of course, so I went and did some homework.

And it turns out he has recently apologised to a tweeter whom – in the heat of an online ar- gument in August – Galloway branded a “window-licker”, a derogatory term for the mentally handicapped. His apology was limp and equivocating, but still it was remarkable that he made one at all. Perhaps the relaxations of a honeymoon in Indonesia with his fourth wife have evinced a softer side.

But will he apologise over his rape comments? “No.” He believes that “Julian Assange has been set up. The allegations against him… are entirely bogus.” The problem is that for Galloway to accept that the allegations constitute rape, he could no longer be so sure of the conspiracy he has built up around WikiLeaks. Without irony, he concluded an answer on the topic to a PhD student, Nicole, with this diatribe: “Trust me on this, sister, the day will come when you’ll be embarrassed to have asked me that question because you’ll know what you don’t know now. I’ll forgive you for not knowing it.” Needless to say Nicole was less than impressed by this generous gesture.

It is well known that Galloway holds himself in high regard. There’s a story in Chris Mullin’s new diary that is fast becoming legend in Westminster. During a parliamentary visit to Vietnam, Mullin recounts a special meal laid on for the delegation: “Almost everyone at the table had lost a member of his family. One had lost four brothers. This didn’t stop George regaling them with tales of ‘my first injury in the struggle’, which turned out to be a kick he received from a police horse during the 1968 anti-war demonstration outside the American Embassy in Grosvenor Square.” The following day, at another meeting, “George again regaled the assembly with tales of his long service to socialism. The district chairman, a canny old boy, listened politely when George again referred to his ‘first injury in the struggle’. Then, without batting an eyelid he inquired: ‘And what was your second?’”

Galloway’s antagonists will variably tell you that he isan egotist, a conspiracy theorist, a hypocrite, a dictator-loving sycophant, and a rather nasty bigot. These criticisms undoubtedly sully his reputation, but they also energise the vocal minority, who – as Galloway never tires of remind- ing me – have “elected me to the British Parliament six times”, most recently in the “Bradford Spring” that liberated the oppressed peoples of West Yorkshire earlier this year.

Another slightly peculiar boast is his presence on “alternative” media. Specifically he is tagged in “over 12,000 videos on YouTube”. That’s funny, because barely eight weeks previously, Galloway had spoken on his ‘Molucca Red’ channel of a mere “11,800 videos, the last time I checked.” He obviously keeps a close tab. It seems that Galloway’s globetrotting schedule, hopping from Venezuela to Kazakhstan in the week before we met, doesn’t stop him cultivating the cyber-vanity of a 14-year-old schoolgirl. One thinks it’s beneath him, until you remember that this is the same George Galloway who let Channel 4 film him licking milk out of the hands of one of his fellow Big Brother housemates.

At the St Stephen’s Gate Entrance to Parliament stands a statue of Charles James Fox, the Whig MP ejected twice for treacherously supporting the American minutemen and, later, the French revolutionaries. For a time Fox cast a lonely figure with a lot to say but few sympathetic enough to hear it. Vindication by history saved his reputation. Galloway – who has evoked Fox on multiple occasions – is acutely conscious of the opprobrium poured on him by the British media and political establishment: “I don’t ask anyone to love me. I am what I am.”

George Galloway similarly believes himself to be on the right side of history. On that count the Left would be unwise to write him off just yet. But the danger for him now lies in becoming a punchline for all jokes of a sordid and hypocritical nature. Posterity nearly always forgives outcasts, but it very rarely remembers charlatans.

Angus Aitken’s travelling CV reads like Tintin’s wet dream. The 3rd Year historian has canoed the River Wye, climbed mountains along Corsica’s GR20 and trekked the length of Mongolia on horseback. A self-confessed David Livingstone-inspired explorer, this summer found Angus on a 7.5m wooden boat in the middle of Lake Malawi, the world’s eighth largest lake. Accompanied by a local guide, Angus successfully rowed and sailed the length of this freshwater sea, covering a mere 800km in twenty-eight days.

One of the jewels of Victorian England’s discoveries, Livingstone stumbled across Lake Malawi in 1859. Not a lot has changed since. “The tribal villages where we camped were very similar to what Livingstone described” Angus enthused. The region is very remote and has seen extremely little innovation, “We had women come out of their houses, hold up a squealing baby and say ‘this is what a white person looks like.’”

It wasn’t all smooth sailing. Living up to its alternative name, the Lake of Storms, the lake’s water was frequently swept by violent gales that saw Angus traversing waves of 15ft or more. There was a close call when he was trapped between huge swells and stony cliffs. “We had to battle our way around the headland lest we were shattered against the rocks. Our guide later told us he had been warned of bad spirits in the bay.”

More than a casual jet-setter, Angus hopes his wanderlust will prove lucrative one day. “Ultimately I’d like to make exploration documentaries,” he told Cherwell. His short film about travelling in Mongolia will be released in Oxford later this term.

What is the genome and why are we interested?

Put simply, the genome is the genetic material (made of DNA) that provides the instructions for building a new organism. For example the human genome comprises around six billion pieces of individual chemical information, arranged on 46 separate chromosomes like strings of beads. At any given position each “bead” can have one of four “colours” and the exact order of these colours can be critical for normal function. Locked within the genome are many secrets such as how humans evolved many differences from our closest living relatives (the two chimpanzee species), what makes humans differ from each other, and why we may be more or less likely to develop certain diseases.

How has our understanding of ‘junk DNA’ changed in recent years?

The part of the genome that we understand best is the bit that makes proteins. We know of around 21,000 such protein-making genes but these only comprise about 3% of the human genome. Another 5% shows enough similarity to other mammals that we can conclude that it is doing something, even if we don’t know what that is. But around half our genome consists of repeated sequences that have spread like parasites, so it has previously been thought that much of this and other “spacer” regions had no function – a kind of ancestral junk that has built up as the by-product of the haphazard progress of evolution.

What is the importance of collaborative genomic databases (such as ENCODE)?

ENCODE stands for “Encyclopedia of DNA elements” and this has recently been in the news because this project has announced the first attempt to peer beyond the genes at the scale of an entire human genome. This involved assigning no less than 1,640 measurable properties across the genome as a whole, and then trying to see how these properties correlated with one another to gain an overall picture of how the genome works. ENCODE found that 80% of the genome “lights up” for one or more of these properties, suggesting that a much higher proportion of the genome could be doing something than we previously thought.

How rapidly are research and sequencing techniques developing?

When the draft human genome sequence was announced in 2001, it had taken a 3-billion dollar international effort over the previous decade to obtain just one complete human genome sequence. Now the same work can be done in a single lab in under a week for around £2,000. Indeed, technologies for human genome sequencing have been developing so rapidly that for several years the rate of decrease in sequencing cost has even outstripped improvements in computer processing power (enshrined in Gordon Moore’s “law”). Being able to understand all these data has become as much of a challenge as generating it, so that computer-literate scientists (called bioinformaticians) now play a leading role in the field.

What’s next? Can we ever understand the entire genome?

Integrating all this information into a coherent picture is still a massive challenge. Some problems are simpler than others: for example, within 10 years we can anticipate having an extremely comprehensive picture of the inherited disorders that afflict mankind, and of the major genetic changes that lead to different cancers. This information can be used to design new treatments, but the challenges in making sure that these treatments are safe and effective will be the same as ever. We are still much further away from answering other questions such as why certain individuals get heart disease or diabetes and others don’t – although we know that environmental factors (things like smoking and an unhealthy diet) are at least as important as the genes. And – fortunately I think – we can peer into the genes as much as we want but they will never fully explain the human spirit!

There are places where the sound of a bomb belongs. Accompanied by black and white photos compacted into the digestible size of a screen, or in a war torn city whose buildings echo the sadness of its people. But Badaro is a sleepy Christian quarter of Beirut: its Volvos sit neatly next to pavements and its little old ladies could be an export from a Sicilian market or French boulangerie.

I was emptying the bins when the bomb exploded and everything went quiet. The office worker across the road straightened his tie and went back inside and the builder next to me stubbed out his cigarette. After all, this is Beirut, where people appease their cramped living conditions with a dynamic mix of Arabic and Mediterranean culture. But it was the silence that made everything so different. The sirens waited at least an hour, as if to check whether the sleeping dragon of Lebanon’s dark past really had decided to emerge from hibernation. As Beirutis took to Twitter to voice their concerns, we climbed to the top of our apartment block where a chimney of smoke announced that something hostile had arrived.

The next day as news came in that the blast had killed the head of the Intelligence Service, the streets were empty. Usually bustling bars were boarded up and Beirut’s suffocating traffic had been replaced by an eery trickle of army convoys and black Cadillacs. The most poignant sight was a little girl’s birthday party in a nearby café; her curiosity about the lack of friends clashed with the worried faces of her parents.

The weak foundations of the Lebanese state are constantly strained by different communities who, although living in relative harmony, have totally different perceptions of the direction Lebanon should take and with whom her future lies. On the streets, the majestic cedar flag jostles for attention amongst the many sectarian and religious flags. Thanks to economic and political uncertainty, many of Lebanon’s brightest fled its borders in the eighties.

This is not to say Lebanon cannot work. Lebanon must work. Lebanon is the only place in the Middle East where minority groups have made real advances and where there is genuine promise of a more tolerant offshoot of Islam. I urge the Lebanese to put away their many different flags on the day of Wissam al-Hassan’s funeral, be it the green of Shiite Hezbollah or the geometric cedar of the Phalangists, and fly the majestic cedar of the mother country. If there is one thing that Lebanon does well, it is difference, be it from the autocracy of her neighbours or the fledgling openness of her art scene. The Lebanese must realise this and embrace their differences and not allow their rich civilisation to be destroyed by a state of mistrust and fear. I therefore urge the Lebanese to remember the promise of their unique situation, because if there is one thing that does not belong in Lebanon, it is silence.

Yes, of course – Tom Beardsworth

Let’s be frank: the current mini-uproar over MP’s travel is nothing more than a media cat fight. The Guardian dished the dirt on Murdoch; The Sun broke PlebGate and three years ago The Telegraph had Parliament by its balls as it revealed MP’s dodgy ex- penses. The latest episode is another attempt by this last newspaper to whip up some sales. The truth is this: not only have no laws been broken but there is a profoundly sensible case to be made for politicians travelling in first class.

The revelations are that 185 MPs have enjoyed first class travel, exploiting a loophole in the IPSA rules that allows them to charge a first class ticket to the taxpayer if it does not exceed the price of a standard class ticket bought at short notice. The investigation was sparked by George Osborne’s humorous struggle to stay in First Class on a train from his Cheshire constituency down to Euston. ITV claim that an aide told the inspector ‘Oh, but the Chancellor couldn’t possibly move to Standard Class’ despite only having a Standard ticket. I’m inclined to believe the official line: Osborne had a Standard ticket, wanted to upgrade – and did, out of his own pocket. I believe that because (a) he’s not politically stupid and (b) he’s worth £4m; he can pay. Of course the next Chancellor may not have a personal fortune, so it’s important to ask whether the cost of travelling first class is worth it to the taxpayer? Equally, is the cost of him or her not travelling first class fair to the taxpayer? The answers are an emphatic ‘yes’ and ‘no’ respectively.

Travelling down to London on a Friday afternoon is likely to be a bit stuffy. One probably won’t get a seat, though Osborne would probably remember to reserve one. Even then, securely ensconced in standard class amongst the plebs, he would rightly be uncomfort- able sifting through sensitive documents, or chatting to the PM. It is entirely reasonable that the Chancellor should want to do his job without Joe Public peering over his shoulder. ‘Pschh. This is true for loads of people!’ my inner contrarian answers. Yes, and most of them travel in first class. Virtuous souls who choose to remain in standard don’t usually have a job as important as running the country’s finances.

The State currently makes up 48% of the economy. That’s an awful lot of taxing and spending. It’s important therefore that the chap responsible for all that taxing and spending works hard, and works effectively. Because the difference between a productive day and a mediocre day for the Chancellor is literally billions of pounds. If the Chancellor winds up next to a sick toddler, or worse, a journalist with nothing to do but spy, who pays? Us. So in the austere spirit of the day, let’s allow the Chancellor to travel in style.

Obviously Not – Hannah Timmis

Shortly before what our great British press have dubbed “The Great Train Snobbery”, a YouTube sensation was born: “Eton Style”. A parody of a parody, for 4:36 minutes the tails-clad, Etonian lads dance, horse-style, around the hallowed grounds of their infamous school, applying their own lyrics to the number one hit “Gangnam style”. Within 24 hours of going online, the video had received 43,000 views and had swamped the Twittersphere. At the time of writing, it has 1,644,900 views and counting.

The genius of the video is that Eton Style confirms all the things you thought you knew, or wanted to believe, about Eton. The kids do drink Moet like water! The teachers actually swan around in Jags! There’s a Russian cannon outside the geography dept! “We just don’t care,” chant the boys. Whilst acknowledging the exaggeration and hyperbole, what makes Eton Style so popular is the boys’ mockery of their ludicrous privilege. It’s hard to believe that “Barking-and-Dagenham-Eastbrook-Comprehensive-School-Style” would receive the same level of interest.

Of course, Eton Style is not the first pop sensation of privileged origins to capture the public’s imagination. Recall the success of Oxford’s own “Out of the Blue” on Britain’s Got Talent 2011. When James Kay first began to belt out Poker Face, the audience responded with gasps and cheers. Who knew that these shy, geeky, suits had actually heard of Lady Gaga?

Because for 99% of the population, scenes of boys in bow-ties dancing around a group of beagles or riding in tandem around the RadCam are as alien as women apparently are to Etonian sixth-formers. YouTube and ITV are the closest many people will come to experiencing the privilege that students at this university and others enjoy.

And this is why George Osborne and his fellow, often ex-Etonian, politicians should not travel First class. MPs are, in theory, representatives of the voters of their constituency to Parliament. Yet most of these guys have been separated from normalcy since birth, inhabiting medieval buildings, stone quads and every eatery except Greggs bakers. Travelling first-class reinforces an already existing barrier between the country’s leaders and the people they serve, and this is damaging for any representative government.

The most worrying aspect of Mr. Osborne’s decision to travel First when Standard was apparently too “crowded” wasn’t his ability to casually fork out £189.50 or his alleged argument (Mitchell Style) with the ticket collector. It was his total failure to recognize how politically insensitive his actions were. The Conservative Party are already in the dog house (beagle kennel). The ex-Chief Whip’s outburst at a police officer and Cameron’s controversial “mug a hoodie” anti-crime crackdown has confirmed in the minds of many that the PM and co. probably did spend their school days drinking champagne in a rowing boat made of caviar. Its unlikely, therefore, that they will be able to identify with the needs and interests of the public. 

At the same time, the nation has been expected to swallow Mr. Osborne’s smugly condescending Party Conference speech from earlier this month. “We made a promise to the British people that we would repair our badly broken economy,” he said, with an unnatural smile. “That promise is being fulfilled.” He later added that, of course, austerity and cuts to the welfare budget will continue. But don’t worry, Mr. Osborne soothed, “We’re all in this together.” Well, no, Chancellor, you’re in first class.