Friday, April 25, 2025
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Blues can’t shut out Brookes

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Off field controversy dominated proceedings during this pre-season match after spectators were barred from coming into the Iffley Road site, forcing scores of Oxford Brookes fans to scale one of the perimeter fences and watch from there. The eleventh hour decision to play the match behind closed doors was made when a facebook group was discovered suggesting large numbers of Brookes fans would show up, something the Iffley Road authorities were not prepared to deal with. This meant that the game was somewhat robbed of what would surely have been an entertaining atmosphere – although credit must be given to the Brookes fans who watched the game from the fence making as much noise as they possibly could.

Seeing as the game was now being played entirely behind closed doors I had quite a task to get myself in so I could watch the match. I had to spend some time convincing the security guards on the way in that I was not some undercover Brookes student intent on wreaking havoc in the stands, but fortunately through a combination of smiling politely and refusing to go away I was eventually permitted to come in and watch. As a result I have little idea of what happened on the pitch inside the first twenty minutes, except that neither side scored.

The Blues were just in the ascendency for part of the first half I was able to watch. Adam Zagajewski was causing problems for the Brookes defence with his pace and trickery but his only real chance of the half was screwed high and wide of the goal. This was greeted by howls of derision from the gaggle of Brookes fans watching on from the fence – but given how far away they were from the action it is a wonder that they managed to see what was going on. Two headed chances for the Blues towards the end of the half from Adam Healy and then Leon Farr came close to breaking the deadlock, but the teams trudged off at half time with the score still nil nil.

Buoyed by their boisterous travelling support the Brookes team began the second half playing much better than they had ended the first, and after about ten minutes of sustained pressure deservedly took the lead. A loose ball on the edge of the Blues penalty area was rifled into the top corner leaving Blues keeper Dwayne Whylly no chance. Cue delirium amongst the massed ranks atop the fence. One Brookes fan took his celebrations a bit too far however, stripping completely naked and running on to the pitch. He was perhaps hoping for a security guard to come on and attempt to rugby tackle him – in reality everyone on the pitch gave him a look which seemed to say “what are you doing, you look like an idiot?”, and he sheepishly took his place back on the fence. Of further embarrassment to him was the fact that it was quite a cold autumnal day, if you know what I mean.

The Blues responded well to going a goal behind, bellowed forward by goalkeeper Whylly – who almost single-handedly made up for the lack of any Blues support in the stands with his constant shouting.

Zagajewski had the ball in the net with about ten minutes still to go but, to the delight of the men on the fence, it was ruled out for offside. Minutes later the same player curled a free kick onto the bar, and then Blues striker Healy placed a free shot inside the penalty area into the grateful hands of the Brookes keeper – it seemed clear it wasn’t going to be the Blues day. With only seconds left on the clock full back Tim Squires hit a shot from the edge of the box which was brilliantly tipped round the post, robbing the Blues of an equaliser they probably deserved and me of a potentially brilliant ‘Dreaming Squires’ headline.

As the whistle blew the Brookes players ran over to celebrate with their fans, whilst the Blues players trudged off dejectedly. It’s not an important game in the Blues’ calendar – one player told me as he came off that it was the second most important game of their season so far, and that they’d only played two.

Right of passage: sporting initiations

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Sport is full of irony. In the same way that the player with the best boots is usually the worst at football, the most enjoyable part of sport is the bit that’s worst for you: the social. Whilst the days of kicking lumps out of each other and then having a warm bath together after the game may be consigned – unfortunately, some might say – to the annals of history, the post match celebration lives on in Oxford in the form of rubbish curries and club ties in Park End.

As I write this, teams across Oxford are not only gearing up for their first match of the season, but also for the yearly ritual of initiating their new freshers. This arrangement is given extra gravitas by the fact that getting in to your college team of choice is such a momentous achievement that it is almost inconceivable that there would not be some sort of ceremony to accompany it.

Naturally there is some variance in initiations. With a decanal summons and even, in some ‘memorable’ instances, the national press waiting in the wings if things get out of hand, the more extreme examples have been toned down in recent years. Nevertheless, initiations do persist and, at their most ebullient, throw up enough stories that require the use of the words ‘lad’, ‘chat’ and ‘banter’ to make you think you were at Teddy Hall for dinner. Although having said that, if you were at Teddy Hall, there would be no way you could get a copy of this, or indeed any other, newspaper to find that out. A brief scratch at the surface of initiations reveal a tale of challenges, casual nudity (with bonus points if it occurs in public) and drinking which can – naturally – lead to chunder, usually after a failed if enthusiastic attempt to ‘see off’ that pint Guiness and Baileys.

Most captains recognise this kind of ceremony isn’t for everyone, and react to this either by replacing initiations with a team dinner or, more usually, by providing for a guilt free opt out, leaving only those who desire ritual humiliation to be subject to it. So if you’ve found yourself a week into Oxford without the suitable notoriety to stand out from the crowd of ubiquitous freshers, then perhaps initiations can be the format to achieve your goals. After all, there is no surer way for people to know your name than for them to associate it with a funny and slightly degrading story.

From the players mouth

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JCR Rugby Premier League

Brasenose 55

University 8

The reader may be sceptical but Cherwell has been assured that Univ’s crushing 55-8 defeat at the hands of Brasenose this week can be attributed to a five month hangover following that glorious May evening when Keble were sleign in the Cuppers Final by a similar margin. As Brasenose kicked off, the low sun must have dazzled the bloodshot eyes of the Univ team as it was only 15 seconds or so before they were given an early opportunity to address their headaches with some much-needed water after the Brasenose pack had piled through to score.

This set the tone for the 1st half as Brasenose scored 7 tries with only a penalty kick from Univ’s Nick Green in reply.

There had been rumours circulating that success had gone to the heads of the Univ players and it was hard not to agree: The team can not have seen a gym all summer- the goliath of Blues No. 9 Nick Haydon no longer towered over the pitch and appears to have been replaced by the smallest man, let alone captain, in college rugby.

However, the 2nd half brought with it some glimpse of Univ’s former glories. They enjoyed a sustained presence in the Brasenose half (perhaps it was the sun after all) and they were unlucky to come away with only the one try from Thomas Cole. Man of the Match, Doug Sexton, despite what must have been a very tiring Freshers’- I mean Welcome – Week provided a ruthless performance from No. 8 and there were also good tackling performances from Patrick Burns, Matt Beer and Teddy Chad, although Brasenose captain Tricky Wilson may have got the better of everyone at times. The ‘new rugby powerhouse’ may have taking a beating this week but, in the eyes of the team at least, remain the bookies favourite for Cuppers.

Tim Aldersley

JCR Rugby Premier League

Keble 18

Teddy Hall 24

Teddy Hall were fired up for this game after reading Cherwell dismiss their chances in last week’s paper. Despite some pre-match controversy at the presence of Mahony on the wing for Keble, the 2 sides remained evenly matched for a tense first quarter of an hour. However, after some intelligent play from Ader in the centre, the defending champions Keble worked a hole and found themselves 5-0 up.

Some unnecessary backchat soon gifted Keble 3 more points. However, charging back up the hill, Hall quickly earned a penalty 5m, from which they scored to make it 8-7. The game seemed to be back on (almost) level terms before once again the centres opened up, and Keble went in at the whistle 15-7 up.

Keble started the second half with only 14 men, but were helped out significantly when the referee gave a dubious reversal of a decision to make it 18-7. These were, however, the last points Keble would score. With the words of Captain Tom “Gadget” Sanders’ half-time talk still ringing in their ears, the Hall backs found their rhythm. Some neat breaks down the line coupled with fearsome rucking caused panic at the base of the ruck for Keble and this time the change of momentum stuck. The talismanic Roland McFall put in hit after hit and new boy George Inglis began steaming through the middle to disrupt playmaker Ader. A mention also to Charlie Millar, the ever calm Hall number 10, who demonstrated remarkable ‘finesse’ for the first game of the season.

Proving that it really is a game of two halves, Hall finished 24-18 up. After their resounding Cuppers final defeat last year, does this finally spell the end of an era of Keble domination in college rugby? All I know is that Cherwell should never have written off Teddy Hall last week….

Henry Dunn

JCR Football Premier League

Worcester 4

St Catz 0

Following their impressive promotion from the first division last season, Worcester sensed that they were back where they belonged in their opening Premier League fixture this week. Playing against defeated cuppers finalists St Catz was certain to provide a litmus test as to whether Worcester’s break from the elite had hindered their chances to live up to their illustrious tradition in college football – and on this evidence it appears they will be fine.

The game was very tight and scrappy in the first half, and St Catz probably edged the first half an hour with some good possession football. Worcester started to come back into the game towards the end of the half and scored a goal direct from a free kick taken by Oli Gee and converted by Adam Healy. The turning point in the game undoubtedly came just after the second half when Catz were awarded a penalty, despite the offence occurring closer to the corner flag than penalty box. After much controversy I think Catz decided that it was not fair to score under those circumstances and so passed the subsequent penalty at 2mph straight to Worcester keeper Adam Titchen. This whole episode appeared to disrupt the rhythm of St Catz as, just one minute later, Worcester went 2-0 up with another Healy goal. He soon completed his hat-trick with a cross-come-shot that looped over the St Catz keeper.

St Catz then went 4-0 down when their goalkeeper comically fell over while attempting to kick a back pass upfield. If Catz had any hopes of staging an unlikely comeback this unfortunate incident killed them instantly. The result probably flattered Worcester, but is nonetheless a very encouraging start to the season. Catz were a bit unlucky in places however, and I suspect they will once again be towards the top of the Premier Division this season.

Tom Greene

Internet on film

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The Social Network isn’t the first film to explore the dark and pimply world of computers and their nerds. In fact, David Fincher’s Facebook movie has a long and occasionally noble list of influences behind it, and not all of them involve lonely young men…

WarGames (1983)

An impossibly youthful looking Matthew Broderick stars as a hacker who, thinking he’s playing a computer game, comes dangerously close to launching every nuclear weapon of the US government. Worth watching if only for the laughably dated computers.

Tron (1982)

Though it flopped on its initial release, Tron has gradually gained a huge cult following. Jeff Bridges plays a hacker abducted into a computer and forced to fight in gladiatorial games. Technically revolutionary, a belated sequel is due on 26th December.

Untraceable (2008)

Universally derided upon its release two years ago, this online offshoot of ‘torture porn’ horror is notable for its prescient examination of online voyeurism. It depicts a serial killer who posts live footage of his victims online, and has a contraption ready to kill them if the website’s hit rate gets high enough. However, if it’s voyeurism you’re after, it’s probably better to go back to…

Rear Window (1954)

Considered by many to be Hitchcock’s masterpiece, Rear Window follows a wheelchair-bound James Stewart become increasingly obsessed with watching his neighbours with binoculars from his window. It may be over half a century old, but it ingeniously explores exactly the moral conundrums over privacy issues that Facebook is currently embroiled in – Mark Zuckerberg might want to buy the DVD.

You’ve Got Mail (1998)

Possibly the first film to have a plot that centres on emails, this cheesy romantic comedy seems to be perpetually on TV. Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan star as two booksellers who are enemies in real life, but accidentally fall in love online thanks to the anonymity of the internet.

Anticipation levels have steadily increased for Fincher’s film ever since the release of the first extraordinary trailer, and, if early reviews are to be believed, it may well prove to be the first great film for the internet age.

The Social Network

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While working on The Crimson, Harvard’s student newspaper, I heard someone talking about a sophomore named Mark Zuckerberg who had been summoned before Harvard’s ‘Ad Board,’ the university’s disciplinary body, to face accusations of breaching security, violating copyrights and infringing individual privacy.

Days earlier, Zuckerberg had hacked into the student photo directories of nine of Harvard’s twelve Houses (Harvard’s equivalent to the Oxbridge colleges) and used the information to create a website called Facemash.com, a take-off on a popular webpage called ‘Hot or Not?’ which enabled users to compare the attractiveness of two randomly selected students. In less than a day, the number of hits on the site quadrupled to give a total of 22,000, but Zuckerberg was forced to take the site down in response to outrage expressed by certain students and university administrators.

The Ad Board had already forced two friends of mine to leave Harvard. Zuckerberg was not so unlucky, and in spite of violating Harvard copyright and infringing on student privacy, he was let off with a warning.

Following the publicity that he gained from Facemash, three seniors approached Zuckerberg to see if he would do the coding for a social networking site for Harvard students that they had been working on, called Harvard Connection. Two of the seniors, Cameron and Tyler Winklevoss, were Olympic-level rowers from Greenwich, CT and members of the Porcellian, Harvard’s most secretive and exclusive finals club.

The third, Divya Narendra, was a former tennis teammate of mine from our high school in Queens, NY. From our perspective as high school students, Harvard seemed to possess an unattainable mystique. Upon arriving, that mystique disappeared, and was replaced by an anxious need to stay relevant among peers who were, in one way or another, going to run the world. I reacted to this pressure by attempting to ignore it, while Divya shed his wardrobe for Brooks Brothers, J Press and hopes of making a name for himself on Wall Street.

Zuckerberg agreed informally to take the job, but soon after decided to build a site of his own and stopped returning calls from Divya and the Winklevosses. A few months later, in early February, Zuckerberg launched the thefacebook.com, a site based on the popular social networking site Friendster that anyone with a Harvard e-mail address could join.

By the end of the month, the site grew to include a number of other Ivy League schools, and now, six years later, counts one in every fourteen people on the planet as a member. Zuckerberg is history’s youngest self-made billionaire, and the Winklevosses (who were at Christ Church last year doing an MBA) and Divya have, since the beginning, been litigating against Zuckerberg in an attempt to claim a piece of the spoils.

In November 2006, during a trip back to Cambridge for the Harvard-Yale game, I ran into Divya at a party at the Spee, one of Harvard’s finals clubs. This was a time when much of the Harvard community viewed Zuckerberg as a legend. It was shortly after a feature article in the New Yorker had come out which recounted the origins of Facebook, including his lawsuit against Zuckerberg. We reminisced about people we knew in common, and he seemed happy to be talking about something other than the lawsuit.

A couple of years ago, Facebook agreed to a $65 million settlement with the Winklevosses and Divya. It’s not clear, though, how much of that the three actually pocketed after legal fees, taxes, and an alleged overvaluation of the stock component of the initial settlement. Not enough, apparently, since the three have gone back to the courtroom.
To guess from Divya’s Facebook profile (it seems that even he, and now the twins as well, could not forego what has become the necessity of having one), things are going better than they were back in 2006. He is featured as a minor but significant character in The Social Network, and has even posted pictures from the movie’s premier at the New York Harvard Club.

When I go to watch The Social Network on Friday, I expect that there will be something surreal about seeing the Harvard of my undergraduate experience recreated as the backdrop to a contest amongst America’s young “power elite.” And if I experience any emotional reaction to the film at all, it will be with uneasy pangs of something that can’t quite be called nostalgia.

Review: Come Around Sundown

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The first track on Kings Of Leon’s new album is called ‘The End’. If the band named it as such to indicate a rejection of their last album’s highly polished sound, it’s a misnomer. KOL certainly go for a scrappier aesthetic in ‘Come Around Sundown’; their laughter at the end of ‘Back Down South’ evokes the image of an impromptu gig in front of a gaggle of rough rednecks, somewhere in a smoky bar in the band’s native Tennessee. The song’s faux-spontaneity is almost convincing, but then it ends and you’re left to ponder that mysterious laughter at its close.

This roughness, however, is just a symptom of nasty growing pains; all in all, KOL are handling success well. This is no Youth And Young Manhood; but better a band that evolves than one stuck in the mire of its former glory.

The band retain their signature sound in ‘Radioactive’: Caleb’s faintly hoarse whine, the soaring guitar line and the incessant drumming are all present and correct. ‘Pony Up’, with its optimistic melodies and play-in-the-sand beach vibe, is almost fun. And in songs like ‘The Face’, KOL work their magic, albeit of a less frenetic, less rockabilly kind: with its combination of beautiful lyricism and haunting melody, the song is reminiscent of ‘Milk’. This album may sound better in an arena than in a basement, but KOL still manage to excite in a way that only they can.

The privileges of being a Villager

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It’s just gone four o’clock on Wednesday afternoon when I walk into the O2 Academy’s kitchenette for a chat with Conor O’Brien. He sits up from his stretched-out repose on a small leather sofa, slips a hand under a purple beanie to rub at his hat-hair, and places a half-chewed piece of gum politely on the table. He’s tired. The band that he fronts, Villagers, have travelled up to Oxford after selling out the London Scala the night before – ‘a heavy night,’ he admits.

The last year has seen Villagers’ stock rise rapidly. The band enjoyed near-universal acclaim for their Mercury Prize-nominated first LP, Becoming A Jackal, and have been touring the world ever since its release. O’Brien talks of the nomination with endearing modesty: ‘It was…cool. I never know what to say to things like that. It was an honour, I guess, and I felt surprised – I wasn’t expecting it.’ He confesses he felt ‘awkward’ during the ceremony, performing his token song before leaving – perhaps unsurprisingly – empty-handed.
‘I was proud of it,’ he says of the album. ‘I thought it was good when I finished it. I wasn’t doing it for expectations or critical reactions or anything. I imagined the reactions of people standing in front of me when I was singing, and I was imagining a reciprocal thing between the audience and the band’. When the band perform, O’Brien’s youthful Irish twang and mesmerising narratives generate a glass-like aura that commands silence from the audience; to shatter it would be sacrilegious. He has a penchant for carving whole songs out of routine, everyday material (a bus breaking down, a car ride home) – for writing ‘like a child’, as he puts it. Is it really so easy for him to find inspiration? ‘I like things that explore the little universes inside each person as they’re doing the dishes or whatever. It’s the unsaid conversations that don’t really happen… a song is something that says that, you know?’.

As for influences, O’Brien places great emphasis on Hermann Hesse’s ‘Narcissus And Goldmund’: ‘I was kind of copying it [on Becoming A Jackal]. I wanted to make an album version of that book. That was the main influence in terms of themes.’ Among musicians, he cites Neil Young, Randy Newman, and even Nina Simone – whose raconteur style he evokes on ‘To Be Counted Among Men’, so as to give credibility to the ‘rather preposterous lyrics.’

The band’s evening performance is exceptional in every way; but O’Brien’s solo recitals are what really puts me under a spell. A fully acoustic rendition of ‘Ship Of Promises’ sounds better
than the original, if not as tempestuous. ‘Twenty-Seven Strangers’ holds every listener in rapt attention throughout its duration,
while two brand new songs – ‘Memoirs’ and the haunting, odyssean ‘Cecilia’ – indicate the direction in which O’Brien’s songwriting talent is rapidly progressing.

But despite my prompting, he’s loath to talk about a new album just yet. ‘We’re probably touring through till April, but I might take January off to write’, he says shyly. A pause, then: ‘I’m
just writing the whole time, whatever happens. I’ll probably feel, at some stage, like getting it recorded, but I don’t feel like it right now.’

In the Closet

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In the Fresher’s Guide to Oxford Fashion, we noted how easy it is for a man to look almost unbearably handsome in formal dress. The elegance of the uniform carries its own weight, distributing its benefits without regard to status, manners or aplomb, and is the reason why every sartorialist aspires to champagne socialism. While the egalitarian effects of satin lapels and pleated shirt fronts are undeniable, so too the challenge of standing apart from a well-dressed crowd.

For most of the events around Oxford where formal dress may be expected – college balls, formal dinners, early morning tutorials – expectations are such that there is room to experiment. Be daring with your neckware, for example, by substituting a pocket handkerchief for a bow tie, knotted once around the neck (not the collar) and turned slightly askance. (Favour a regal colour scheme – black, silver, burgundy or purple – to maintain a semblance of propriety.) In cooler months, try a velvet dinner jacket in some adventurous colour, such as green or burgundy, and wear it also on less-formal occasions, helping you look rakish yet dishevelled on your way to the gymnasium, the boathouse, or wherever else you might be inclined to pull as hard as you can.

The thing to watch for, as ever, is stepping too far out of line, and mistaking camp for creativity, looking worse for looking different, yesterday’s junk for something more than this. The line is elusive, but it is enough to avoid the most egregious offences, which repeat themselves with dispiriting regularity: the powder blue le smoking (with or without frilled shirt front); the patterned cummerbund (with or without matching bow tie); various forms of athletic footwear (with or without ironical intent). The best defence is to remain thoughtful before the closet (perhaps some Kipling with your pre-prandial, ‘Keep your head when all about you / are losing theirs…’), and regardless of the outcome, act as if you couldn’t look more dapper.

The accessories trend report

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I just googled the word shoe: an item of footwear intended to protect and comfort the human foot. Wikipedia, I beg to differ. I love skyscraper heels, but I can say with absolute authority that they do not protect or comfort anything. This season, however, practicality is key: kitten heels, brogues, shoe boots and chunky heels are officially* in. Mannish shoes are the order of the season in autumnal browns and caramels, a welcomed antidote to summer’s flowers and frou-frou. The reinvention of the gentleman’s slipper is right up my street. My favourites are Tom Ford’s mocha velvet pair, but if you don’t have a spare three grand, Office have a lovely version for £62. If I was the Old Woman I would live in THIS shoe and for those still in the 90s, Dr Martens are back with a bang.

*According to Cherwell

Mary Renton

This season the “it” bag is a thing of the past – fashion has decided to give our bank accounts and our nerves a break and introduce a new generation of bags: good quality and classic styles that rise above the “in and out” fashion trends. The frame bag is essential to every girl’s wardrobe – its classic, structured shape and leather in mute colours means it will never outdate. For those of you who like their accessories slightly more extravagant, this season’s key textures and patterns – fur, sequins, leopard print, crocodile skin – have all found their way onto our purses. Don’t be afraid to go all out with these statement bags: go for bright colours, sparkles and over-the-top luxe. Remember, the key look this season is classy, so keep your overall outfit subtle – you are aiming for understated elegance.

Anahit Behrooz

Often overlooked, tights, socks and stockings are a must for winter accessorizing Opaque lighter shades can uplift your outfit and add a more delicate, feminine feel. Spice up the monotony of drab dark colours by opting for white or off-white tights. These can brighten up and contrast with darker colours or blend in with a softer and lighter palette. If you are in need of something more substantial against the worst of British weather, try thick woolen tights. Feeling apprehensive about the textures trend? These are perfect for your literal and metaphorical cold feet. If you fancy getting a bit more leg on show, ankle socks with heels were all over the catwalks this season. Although ‘socks with sandals’ are usually synonymous with fashion faux pas, with heel heights diminished to more sensible proportions, socks join the ranks of the practical yet stylish .

Laura Butterfield

Creaming Spires

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Oh isn’t it nice living back in college? I really feel institutionalisation does wonders for the old sex life. When you have to traipse all the way back to Cowley at the end of a night it’s hard to summon up the energy, even for a cheeky blozzer (it ain’t called a job for nothing), but stumbling back to one’s room, mere metres away, well – I’ll deepthroat with the best of them. And a cheeky bit of rimming in between lashings of French surrealism is a far more invigorating essay break than a lonely cigarette outside your minging house down Cowley road.

Freshers – make the most of it now, before you have to move out in second year; the walk of shame is rendered far less painful when it’s only done across a quad, rather than my unfortunate friend’s sexperience last year –he found himself cycling home the morning after Queerbop dressed in a skin tight swan costume with more than a discreet amount of testicle on show. Thank God he was in Oxford. I think you could get lynched for less than that in my home town. But will you make the most of it, Freshers? I was decidedly disappointed by the lack of promiscuity in my first week in Oxford.

Apart from the homosexuals, who were busy interpenetrating quicker than pubic lice, the hetero love-in was… luke-warm. I think someone groped my tit at Park End but that might have been an accident. Which is, frankly, irritating because I wasn’t sitting through all those gap-year stories for my health, I thought I’d at least get a cheeky fumble out of it. But, niente. Rien.

And freshers – don’t worry about getting the reputation for being a schlag, at least people will know who you are, and hopefully won’t confuse you with that other Biochemist who also spent six months in Cambodyah. Plus, if you’re constantly getting naked it’ll be another reason not to pile on the Fresher’s Ten – a muffin top is not a great way of accessorising sub fusc. Think missionary, rather than The Mission. Think creaming your pants, rather than Café Creme. I’m not advocating sex over food, you understand, I’m just suggesting there’s a lot more to discover in Oxford other than the beautiful architecture, mind-blowing academic prowess, endless baguette shops and ignorant rich people. Like, you know, threesomes. The U, A and G spots. Oh, but do discover the Ann Summers in the Clarendon centre before groping about for the latter, by the way, or at least make sure your nails are pared down and cleaned first.