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What’s wrong with being good?

A rather unnecessarily large number of people appear to have a problem with Corpus’ University Challenge winning captain Gail Trimble. But the prevailing opinion that she is rather ‘smug’ is not only a rather sad one to have, it’s just plain wrong.

You’d think that if anyone would find her to be so, it would be her teammates – but they are genuinely baffled by this response. One teammember, Lauren Schwartzman, sees in Trimble a strong and genuine leader, who encouraged the rest of the group and fostered a comfortable, successful atmosphere.
Yet still, most of us don’t know her personally, and the criticism remains bizarrely disproportionate. We must remember that UC is edited as much as any other programme, and that answering a question right is always going to raise a smile.
People watch University Challenge to see contestants answer questions and to try and have a go at them themselves. Criticism would be much better aimed at those which fail to get any right, who fail at succeeding in doing what the show is there for.

Trimble is good at answering questions. Bloody good. Yet her levels of success are hardly those that appear to have gone to her head. For all the articles written about her as far and wide as the national press, there isn’t an arrogant word of hers present in any of them. And she turned down Nuts.
Quite frankly if I was as good at something as Gail Trimble is at quizzes, I’d feel entitled to be rather smug. So lets shift focus away from her apparent persona and celebrate her success instead.

Tuition fees: take some responsibility, students

Chris Patten’s argument for a sliding scale on tuition fees rather resembles the reasoning behind progressive taxation: the rich pay more to cover the poor, reducing inequalities in income and wealth and so on so forth. Sensible right?
Well, it would be if those that were coming to university were those with the money, but they’re not. A student entering university is usually at least 18, an adult, and supposedly embarking on a life of self sufficiency which should no longer require parental fiscal support.

Parents are at this point no longer required to fund their children, and some of course won’t. But the fact that some parents wouldn’t continue to support their children isn’t really the point, because by the time their child has progressed from child to adult they shouldn’t be encouraged to.

The tuition fees are taken on by the students themselves, paying them back according to their own futures, and rightly so. Encouraging the richer parents to pay more than others for university would be to reinforce the incorrect opinion that their success should continue to be funded by where they come from and not who they are.

University is one of society’s great levellers, because students are removed from their individual backgrounds and dropped into a place where their futures are decided upon their own decisions and abilities. Or to put it another way, their achievements are based upon merit, something Patten rightly thinks is rather important.Asking parents to fund the gap in a difference in tuition fees encourages division, apathy and an attitude which states that life will always be easy, because mummy and daddy can make it so.

 

Students graduating from university come out largely equally in debt, a debt which should be encouraged to be removed by themselves to support the notions that personal drive and hard work are the tools which will bring one’s one success, something that would benefit not just individuals, but the whole country.

Indeed what would stop the university admitting students on the basis of their parent’s wealth? If the financiers had a gap to fill and a way to do it, it would hardly be surprising to see them do it. Patten’s concept sounds great in principle, echoing a progressive ideal rightly enforced across society. But if a culture of meritocracy is most important, differences in tuition fees must be avoided.

The Truth

4 stars

The Truth – adapted from the Terry Pratchett book of the same name – introduces William de Worde, a reluctant journalist and one of Pratchett’s more ‘normal’ characters, into the Discworld. The plot follows de Worde’s trials and tribulations as he accidentally becomes editor-in-chief of the Disc’s first newspaper. Meanwhile, the city is under threat of invasion as the Patrician, Lord Vetinari, is attacked by two assassins with the aid of a man who bears a striking resemblance to the ruler.
The team behind this production have three years’ experience of staging Pratchett plays, and this time they hit just the right tone of light-hearted fun, aiming for what they call “panto without audience interaction”. They dispose of complicated sets, instead relying on a few outsized props and a single raised platform to draw a height distinction between human and dwarf characters (after all, what would Pratchett be without some anthropomorphic personifications?). Liam Welton deserves a nod as sound designer, as his recorded dialogue and soundscapes effectively and amusingly set the scene.
On the whole, the cast deal with the personification of their characters well, and the stereotypes remain entertaining without becoming quite too ridiculous. James Utechin’s Otto Chriek, an enthusiastic and incredibly camp vampire complete with essential ‘überwald’ accent, is frankly hilarious as he attempts to become de Worde’s photographer despite his genetic intolerance to bright lights.
Vetinari and his doppelganger are unsurprisingly played by the same actor, and Calum Mitchell does a good job of distinguishing the two characters through physicality and voice. The line between comic and ludicrous is carefully observed throughout, with humorous one-liners incorporated deadpan into the dialogue.
The Truth was never going to be an astonishing piece of fine art, and that’s just as well. It’s near the end of term, and you owe it to yourself to take some time off and watch something just for fun; rest assured the audience will at least get a lot of laughs from this production.

OFS, 3rd-7th March, 7.30pm

 

Cityboy and the City life

Geraint Anderson, city analyst turned rogue, knows the high life. His recently published book, Cityboy: Beer And Loathing in the Square Mile, exposes the high-flying life of those working in the Square Mile, from £1,000 meals to insider trading—via drugs and a lot of drinks.

One of the few to break the City’s code of silence, Anderson maintains he ‘slipped through the net’ of the city by mistake. He was brought up left wing by his father, a Labour MP and peer, and a Christian by his missionary mother. While he insists he found his job and the general City culture ‘incredibly tedious and offensive,’ he certainly embraced the lifestyle for a number of years. He quit his job at Dresdner Kleinwort from a beach in Goa with a joint in one hand, pina colada in the other, hours after pocketing his largest bonus yet, a mere £500,000.

Anderson was at this point writing a notorious column for thelondonpaper: Cityboy, targeting the culture and excesses of the City. ‘[It was] confessional and an opportunity to vent my vitriol,’ he remarks. ‘If I hadn’t done it I’d probably have gone fucking mental.’ He didn’t know if he was about to be fired for  writing the column and continuing to work for the company, or awarded his annual bonus.

At a time when high-level bonuses have become infamous and symbolic of all that is wrong with the City, Anderson confirmed the notion that the bonus culture is the primary cause of the credit crunch.

‘The City and Wall Street became wild west casinos with everyone trying to make as much money as quickly as possible, thinking that the whole shebang, caboodle, whatever, was going to be falling down at any minute. The whole emphasis is to make money.’ Even since the publication of Liar’s Poker in the 1980’s, the original exposé of city life at Salomon Bros., Anderson thinks the city has developed a dangerous ‘get rich quick, anything goes’ attitude. He believes that the asymmetrical risk of the bonuses is to blame for much of the current economic situation—if you make money you keep some of it, if you lose it there’s little by way of a penalty. But the main problem is too short-term an outlook.

His answer to the bonus furore, now that he no longer benefits from it, is tighter regulation and longer-term incentives so that bankers don’t get rewarded for short-term gambles that may later backfire. ‘The whole system needs to change. Pressure can come from politicians and regulators, but ultimately its shareholders who need to say, “We want our long term interests looked after.”’
‘The electorate’ll go insane,’ he notes, ‘if there’s another credit crunch where it’s clear the bankers are to blame.’ The government has to change something, but there’s only so much they can do.

‘Whatever government, either Tory or Labour, is going to be unwilling to regulate too tightly, they’re going to be unwilling to change market forces too much because Thatcherism won many years ago. It’s a question of tweaking the system so you don’t just get idiots driving around in Porsches snorting  cocaine.’

There’s a limit to possible changes that can be made to bonuses and the surrounding culture though. ‘You don’t do the job for the love of the job,’ Anderson points out. ‘I don’t think you do the job because you think you’re doing the world some good; I don’t think you do it for the creative fulfilment; You do it for the money.’

His experience of the city, and he does charitably concede that there are some half-decent people working there to earn a good living, is that people assess their self worth on the size of their bonus. ‘Basically, it’s just “who’s got the biggest penis?” And its pathetic.’

He cites an apocryphal story that Goldman Sachs used to look for people who’d been bullied at school ‘because they’ve got the drive necessary to stay up ‘till all hours going through the minutia of various tedious deals so they can buy the yellow Ferrari Testarossa. It’s insecurity that’s the main driving force in the city.’He comments on the divide in the City culture: on the one hand life is racy, hedonistic and unruly; on the other, its becoming more professional probably due to the complexity of the products being sold.

‘One of the reasons I had to leave was my USP was to get clients drunk, take them out to clubs, parties, whatever, strip joints. You know.And there was a new breed of these tedious graduate trainees who had wanted to be hedge fund managers since they were about ninr years old—you know, wasted their lives trying to get there. And they’re really boring and really dull, and they’re professional and they knew about spreadsheets. They took the fun out of it, and so it became that my ability to charm clients was becoming less and less important.’

Reflecting on whether he’d recommend working in the City, I think there’s a part of him that still misses the excitement.  He likens working in the City to working as a bank robber. You’re constantly telling yourself ‘just one more job, just one more bonus.’ But he maintains that ‘suddenly you’re 50, an alcoholic, drug addict, weirdo, red-faced loser. And I didn’t want to become that.’

His broader point on the fruitlessness of the City was thought provoking. ‘The one good thing from the credit crunch is that the City won’t just suck up all the talent this country has to offer by offering vast rewards. Because that’s been tragic, and I’m sure society has suffered from the fact that people who should have been curing cancer or sorting out global warming instead have been pushing around bits of paper. Graduate trainees, or graduates from Oxford, might now be forced to do something more worthwhile with their lives.’

‘Recessions produce great music and they produce great art,’ he considers, on the other upsides to a recession. ‘People maybe start thinking a little less about the next pair of trainers they can buy or the best car they can buy. And might start thinking about things that are free, love or sex or things that are free that give you pleasure and give you fulfilment. And apart from that people’ll stop fucking talking about property prices at dinner parties.’

Gordon Brown to deliver Romanes lecture

Number 10 has confirmed that Prime Minister Gordon Brown will be giving the auspicious Romanes lecture in Oxford on Friday.

The lecture is delivered annually by a figure of high public note and has been running since 1892.

More detail soon.

A case of poetic justice?

In November last year, The Sun published an exposé of a prison comedy course running at HMP Whitemoor. One of the participants was Zia ul-Haq, a convicted terrorist, and the course included training in stand-up, comic drama, improvisation and scriptwriting. It was scratched after only a few days when news of the course reached Jack Straw, who wasted no time in dubbing it ‘totally unacceptable’.

No great surprise, you may be thinking, it is perhaps fair enough that the public don’t want to see a terrorist having a laugh on the tax-payers tab. This was certainly the tone of some of the comments on The Sun’s website: ‘ninjasix’ wrote ‘Glad to see all the cons are doing hard labour!!! This story must really put people off going to prison/holiday camp’.

Indeed, I must admit that I would have been fairly indifferent to this whole debacle in normal circumstances, until a few months ago that is. Having just graduated from Oxford, I started working for Safe Ground, a small charity that runs drama-based educational courses in prisons. Our two courses, Family Man and Fathers Inside, are family relationships and parenting courses taught in male prisons all over the country. They use drama techniques combined with basic literacy training to help prisoners establish and maintain a strong family support network, This is vital if reoffending is to be prevented.

The first time I went into a prison was, to my surprise, an overwhelmingly positive experience. I had gone to watch a presentation by students in a high security prison to mark the completion of a Family Man course. This was a chance for them to present the work they’d done to their families. We’re not talking cutting edge stuff here, just a few short sketches, poems, songs and games, but bearing in mind that 65% of the prison population have numeracy skills at or below the level expected of 11 year-olds (compared to 23% of the general population), it suddenly seems a somewhat more groundbreaking achievement.

In a reversal of the traditional school assembly scene, this time it was the kids sitting on the floor with their mums and grandparents, proudly watching dad reading out his poem, spurred on by friends and tutors. It was a genuinely touching event, as the smiles, laughter and tears of the audience testified.
Coming from the kind of academic background where, studying languages, I easily spent hours at a time discussing the nuances of a single adjective in a translation, it was a reality check to be reminded that for some men on our courses, writing a short letter to their wife or mother may be an extremely challenging exercise. We’re not talking about the minutiae of stylistics here but the basic structures of communication. Our courses are about giving these men the core vocabulary and grammar to communicate, and to acknowledge how their selfish behaviour may have impacted on their families lives.

And what further proof is necessary to show the need for stable, responsible parenting than the bleak statistic that 65% of boys with a convicted parent go on to offend? Imprisonment effects far more children than you might think; The Prison Reform Trust estimates that there are 160,000 children with a parent in prison each year (around two and a half times the number of children in care). They claim that in 2006, more children were affected by the imprisonment of a parent than by divorce in the family. The children of prisoners are amongst the most vulnerable in our society, with ‘approximately three times the risk for both mental health problems and anti-social or delinquent behaviour compared to their peers’; educating parents is an essential part of breaking this cycle. Here’s hoping that the children watching their dads perform that day won’t be amongst that 65%.

Knowing how effective our courses are only makes Straw’s statement all the harder to swallow. Courses like ours open prisoners’ eyes to their responsibilities, as one student told us; ‘It made me see both sides of the story. Although our families don’t see what we are feeling in prison, we do not realise how imprisonment is affecting the lives of our family.’ This is a massive realisation for some. Drama activities like role-playing are a positive reinforcement of this, allowing students to see situations from different points of view, to develop empathy and to model new patterns of behaviour.

The Woolf Report in 2001 noted that ‘The disruption of the prisoner’s position within the family unit represents one of the most distressing aspects of imprisonment … Enabling prisoners … to stay in close and meaningful contact with the family is therefore an essential part of humane treatment.’ We need to acknowledge that for meaningful contact to occur requires maturity and self-awareness, qualities often nurtured by arts-based courses. As Libby Purves put it recently in The Times; ‘I have talked over the years with inmates who certainly deserved their sentences but who then sewed, composed or performed their way clear of their narrow, angry hearts’.

Safe Ground’s courses are designed to build self-esteem and self-awareness in this often deeply scarred and emotionally damaged group of learners. They also aim to involve students’ family members in the learning process, because, as a report on reducing re-offending by ex-prisoners explained; ‘maintaining family relationships can help to prevent prisoners re-offending and can assist them to successfully settle in the community’. Currently, however, 45% of offenders lose contact with their families while serving a sentence. Here at Safe Ground, we are currently trialling a revised version of our Family Man course which involves adult ‘supporters’ – family members or friends – more fully, allowing students to apply the skills they’ve learnt on the course in a safe and supported environment.

Given that a large proportion of the prison population has consistently failed in, and been failed by, the mainstream education system, prison is the ideal time to approach learning in different ways. There is no point lecturing people who are disillusioned with traditional, formal educational settings. Our courses work because they make learning enjoyable and build a safe, supportive group environment. They ‘hook’ reluctant learners and inspire them to continue with further education.

One student’s partner sums up why Safe Ground’s work is so important; ‘He’s never written me letters like this before … Those tutors and staff on the workshops, they made him feel like he could be something more than an offender and they made me feel like there’s some hope for us as a family at last.’

Interview: Brian Paddick

Frequently during his talk at the Union on Wednesday, Brian Paddick uses the word ‘controversy’, and it’s not difficult – considering his life and career – to see why. As well as being openly gay, he was the Liberal Democrat candidate for London Mayor in last summer’s elections. He attempted to implement a highly contentious cannabis policy in his role as Police Commander for Lambeth and then became the focus
of a cannabis scandal himself. He gave evidence against the London Metropolitan Police in the Stockwell Tube Station inquiry, whilst he was the Deputy Police Commissioner to Sir Ian Blair. And then he went on last year’s run of I’m a Celebrity! Get Me Out of Here.

He is a man who everybody claims to know something about, or at least have an opinion on – a somewhat intimidating reputation to have, I feel. However, upon meeting him, he is infallibly polite, funny and charming. He describes his mayoral candidate rival Boris Johnson as ‘loveable’, and states ‘liquidised camel penis’ as his favourite eating challenge during I’m a Celebrity.

Having studied PPE at the Queen’s College, Oxford is not new to him, and ‘walking around here makes me feel like I’m at home’. He missed out on the typical student experience as he arrived here aged 22, married, and funded by a police scholarship. However, he insists with great warmth that the experience was wonderful, and that he ‘would do it all over again’.

His path to Oxford began in an unconventional fashion typical to him, as he decided to write a letter to the admissions tutor at Christ Church before he officially applied. He received a firm but polite no, but his refusal to give in became a characteristic that would reappear in the course of events in his life.

Following his time at Oxford, he went on to do a postgraduate diploma at Cambridge. However, his ‘experience of student life’ was to be compromised again as he only studied during the vacations from his police training.
Religion has played a large part in Paddick’s life – whilst a student here, he preached at St. Aldates Church to ‘punk rockers and glue sniffers’ and attempted ‘a conversion mission’ and a promotion of Christianity. However, after coming out as homosexual and ‘going from church to church’, he found that ‘at the end of every service, the vicar would always query where my wife was’. Although he is ‘still a believer’, he is no longer an active part of the body of worshippers after the continual wrong assumptions about his sexuality.

This difficulty in reconciling two seemingly integral aspects in his life – his religion and his sexuality – seems trouble him less than I would have imagined, but then again he seems to be used to dealing with inconsistencies.
His sexuality comes under constant public scrutiny and I ask him how it feels to be labelled by the media as formerly being ‘the most senior and openly gay police officers in Britain’. He describes to me an article written the day following the July 7th bombings in London. At the time he was face that represented the police in the media, however the article in question focused on his sexuality alone. This indicated the major media interest in his homosexuality, and the journalist treated it as a concern.

‘Being gay is not everything about me’, he states, although the vast majority of the public seem to treat it as if it is. In 2008, Paddick made the Pink List, an annual compilation of the most influential homosexuals in Britain, for the second year in a row. However, he states that ‘I don’t feel that I’m influential, not in the fact that I’m gay anyway’. He makes jokes throughout his speech in the debating chamber about being homosexual, and is incredibly at ease when he is discussing it with me. He briefly discusses his marriage and being open with his wife about his sexuality, marking it out as being ‘one of the hardest things I have ever had to do’.

Clearly, this is a man with a lot of emotion beneath his calm exterior, and this comes across most vividly when I inquire as to what he feels his biggest achievement is. Smiling and apologising for being ‘gushy and gooey’, he tells me that meeting his current partner, Norwegian civil engineer Petter Belsvik, and marrying him just last month is most definitely it. ‘I had to kiss many frogs to find the right one.’

He went through much media furore after his ex-lover made cannabis allegations about him, which he denies furiously, claiming that he smoked the drug on a daily basis. This story had followed the controversy surrounding his drugs policy where, as Police Commissioner, he elected to focus on ‘harder’ drugs such as heroin and issue on the spot fines for those caught with cannabis. He felt that it made sense to focus on it this way, rather than cracking down on cannabis as planned and thus straining police resources. He didn’t try to implement this policy by the book either, although he admits that ‘in retrospect maybe I should have done’, as he first discussed the policy in a London newspaper, rather than submitting it to Scotland Yard.

His frank and outspoken manner on the matter is impressive, as are his unshakable beliefs. The police shooting of a Brazilian electrician at Stockwell Tube station brought Paddick into the limelight once again and only serves to highlight just how unswerving he can be. The police emphatically declared that they believed the victim, de Menezes, to be a terrorist for 24 hours following the incident, which Paddick declares emphatically as ‘wrong’.

According to him, just hours after the event he was informed by members of the police that an ordinary Brazilian citizen and he went on to testify for de Menezes’ family in the trial. His heavy criticism of Sir Ian Blair’s events during the crisis was ‘what I feel prevented me from moving up the ladder’ in the police force into the most senior position – but he does not regret speaking out.

Paddick’s work in the police force is now over after the de Menezes crisis and although he feels he can ‘never go back’, he is moving up and on. As well as featuring in interviews and lecturing at the University of Ashridge’s Business School, he has just been offered a presenting job for a programme which will visit riot squads in different countries. Aptly named ‘I predict a Riot’, he turned it down, ‘it sounded a bit too butch for me really’. Although he has come under much public scrutiny over the years, Paddick remains unswervingly passionate and principled. He ‘couldn’t not tell the truth’ when it came to the injustice he felt surrounding Stockwell, even though it cost him dearly. ‘I greatly miss being on the beat, and actually helping people’.

He leaves me with the impression he has a lot of things he still wishes to achieve, stating matter of factly that ‘I’m not mature, except in age perhaps’. Whatever preconception you hold about Brian Paddick, be prepared to keep on changing it.

 

Renegade

 

The Oxford Revue has established itself as a major force for laughter in recent years and this offering shows no sign of letting that slip. For those who haven’t seen them in action before, their work consists of a rapid succession of individual sketches delivered by an ensemble cast who play a wide range of characters ranging from the sublime to the ridiculous; even God gets a mention although he is criticized for his greasy hair; ‘what’s this- the Richard Dawkins fan club?’ Is his response; not too bad by his standards. Even if you are familiar with the work of this band of wandering jesters you should not assume that there will be no surprises in the upcoming production: Renegade. This latest outing extends the scope and ambition of the comedy outfit to include music, technical wizardry and something approaching a full length production (the last few offerings have been criminally short). Success is always a difficult thing for any group to enjoy. We can all list our favourite bands that have struggled to live up to previous achievements and floundered when faced with the awkward dilemma of whether to change and grow, and risk alienating their existing fan base, or whether to stick to what they do best, and risk exasperating them. Good as The Oxford Revue are, I regret to announce that they have not found any new answers to this age old dilemma. Instead they seem to take a little from both philosophies: keeping the sketch format while increasing length and production values.

The resulting beast is somewhat clumsy but eminently loveable. There is a quirkiness that underlies their whole take on ‘comedy’ that makes any time spent in their company a curiously charming affair. I use the concept of ‘quirkiness’ not in the, ‘slap you in the nostril with a tea-bag’ sense of The Mighty Boosh: one does not feel the need to ingest hallucinogenic material in order to enjoy The Revue. Neither does it quite lapse into the whimsy of harmless and inoffensive remarks about genial fellows and their genial goings on: although this was threatened by an unusually flat scene concerning a teacher and his understanding of lab safety. The sketch format is its saving grace at the points where the energy of the production seems to lag- whenever a slight feeling of, not boredom but perhaps fatigue, creeps in there is always something bright, fresh and exciting to divert attention elsewhere. Renegade is a thoroughly enjoyable production which blends the old with the new- the result is not perfect harmony but, unquestionably, a fine piece of work.

 

Price £7 for students

Why, why, why?

It is a popular and widely-known fact that there are some questions science can’t answer. For those, as we well know, we must hand over to the chaplain. He will probably flap his robes, quote from the New Testament and conclude that God moves in mysterious ways.

Enough religion-bashing. What questions exactly can’t science answer? They are commonly grouped as ‘why’ questions: physics can describe gravity, and explain how its strength varies with proximity to massive bodies, and even quantify how clocks will run at different speeds depending on gravitation, but why it exists is beyond the realm of scientific enquiry.

‘Why’ questions may sound like an intuitive set but, like all purely linguistic definitions, it’s phoney and imprecise. I had to be very careful in that last paragraph not to write that we know ‘why’ gravity’s strength varies—linguistically, it parses, and logically, we do know: it’s because mass bends space–time. In fundamental science, it is fair to say we know ‘why’ something happens if we have an accurate mathematical theory underpinning it.

What do we need for a mathematical description of a phenomenon? We need to take repeated measurements against which we can compare the theory’s predictions: the wobble in Mercury’s orbit, the bending of light by huge, distant galaxies…all data points corroborating general relativity. Crucially, to keep the Popperians happy, we must not find any credible counter-examples.

So what creates what we loosely called a ‘why’ question above? The lack of multiple instances for comparison. Say we found another universe where gravity was weaker—we would look deeper, and try to come up with a general rule which explained the difference. Perhaps other aspects of that universe would be different, and perhaps those differences would highlight an interplay between the constants of our Universe that we hadn’t already noticed. However, even this idealised hypothesising leaves open the question of ‘why’ our newer, better, more explanatory theory is true.

The reductio ad absurdum at the end of the tunnel is the most fundamental question in philosophy—why is there something rather than nothing? That is perhaps the only question science will never be able to answer. Time to hand over, not to the chaplain, but to the anthropic principle: if there weren’t something rather than nothing, we’d not be here worrying about it.

Five Minute Tute: All Souls

What is Unique about All Souls?

It is often said that All Souls is unique because it has no students. This is incorrect. One category of fellowship, the Prize Fellowship, is open to people who have recently completed an undergraduate degree or recently registered for a postgraduate course: six current Prize Fellows are graduate students. All Souls is, however, unique in that all members of the College are Fellows, and are therefore full voting members of the Governing Body. Unlike at most Colleges, several Fellows’ main work is outwith academia: current and recent Fellows include politicians, lawyers, novelists and an internet entrepreneur. The College believes that people working in such fields are enriched by contact with academia, and that academia is enriched by contact with them. The Prize Fellowship is a further distinctive feature of All Souls. The Fellowship lasts for seven years and Prize Fellows can choose whether to do academic work or to pursue another career. The flexibility and duration of the Prize Fellowship makes it an unparalleled opportunity for people early in their careers.

How do you become a Fellow of All Souls?

There are several categories of Fellowship. The selection procedure for each category of Fellowship is different, but all appointments are made on merit and all Fellowships are open to both women and men. As at other colleges and universities, Senior Research Fellows and Post-Doctoral Research Fellows are chosen on the basis of their proposals for future research and their record of academic achievement.

Some University Professorships and Lectureships are associated with All Souls. Prize Fellows are selected after a written examination, which is held at the end of the summer vacation. Candidates write essays in response to questions on their area of academic work. There is also a general component to the examination, and one paper involves writing an essay in response to a single word (e.g. bias, water, harmony). Copies of past papers are available on the College website. The written examination is used to draw up a shortlist of candidates for interview.

Many people think that you need to receive some kind of invitation to sit the Prize Fellowship examination – this is not true. Anyone who meets the eligibility criteria set out on the College website can apply. The College is concerned that relatively few women choose to sit the Prize Fellowship examination. To encourage potential female candidates to inform themselves about the College and the Fellowship, an open evening for women will be held on Friday 13 March (eighth week) from 5pm to 7pm in the Old Library.

What do Fellow of All Souls do?

Most Fellows spend the majority of their time doing academic research. All Souls has particular strengths in History and Law, but there are Fellows working in a broad range of fields in both sciences and humanities. Many Fellows also teach or supervise students from other colleges and give a variety of lectures and seminars for the University as a whole. Fellows who work outwith academia play an important role in the governance of the College and participate from time to time in academic activities (e.g. conferences) that relate to their area of employment. Fellows who are not engaged on academic work receive minimal payment from the College.

Are there any strange traditions at All Souls?

Most, if not all, colleges have their own peculiar traditions, and All Souls is no exception. Legend has it that, when the College’s foundations were being dug, an enormous mallard flew out of a drain where it had been trapped for many years. The mallard became a College symbol and the ‘Mallard Song’ is sung by Fellows on a few College occasions. In 1801, there was a procession to mark the new century. This involved Fellows marching around the College with blazing torches and singing the Mallard Song; a mallard was carried on a pole. The event was repeated in 1901 and 2001, but fortunately no animal is now involved!