Wednesday, April 30, 2025
Blog Page 218

Cherwell end of year soirée: Lineup announcement

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In celebration of another year of Cherwell with 15 successful print editions and hundreds of stories, we’re excited to invite you to join us at FREUD on Thursday, 16 June at 8pm for drinks, dancing, and good vibes. We will also be (belatedly) celebrating 100 years of Cherwell!

We are delighted to announce our lineup for the event. The acts performing at the soirée are:

  • Rusty Kate: Oxford’s most scandalous drag queen and Cherwell‘s resident Dragony Aunt will be lighting the soirée up with an outlandish set of music and comedy.
  • Who Killed Tommy?: Off the back of performing at balls and WADSTOCK, Who Killed Tommy? is university’s newest and most exciting student band.
  • Fenella Gent & Jazz Quartet: What would an evening at FREUD even be without some jazz? Fenella Gent & Jazz Quartet will be providing it all at the soirée.

Come for a free drink, live music, and FREUD’s sparkly atmosphere. Dress code is Cocktail, and doors open at 8pm! We can’t wait to see you all there!!!

TICKETS HERE!!!!!!

Music beyond the M6

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In a recent interview with the Sunday Times, musician Sam Fender discussed the importance of singing in a Geordie accent for his latest album Seventeen Going Under. Whilst working upon his debut Hypersonic Missiles, Fender had felt the obligation to soften his voice and dialect, a response to mainstream industry standards. For his most recent work, however, he realised that the beauty of the Geordie accent should be embraced in his music, considering it to be “one of the most melodic accents in the English language.” Seventeen Going Under itself is a homage to Fender’s roots, a Springsteen-esque depiction of life growing up in North Shields. The authenticity of singing in his own voice echoes across the subjects of his songs, from the disappointment of first love to the government’s neglect of the working class.

Northern identity has long been entwined with music. Most famously (and inescapably), bands such as The Beatles, Oasis and the Arctic Monkeys have played an integral role in elevating the fame of places such as Liverpool, Manchester, and Sheffield respectively. Yet the culture of music runs much deeper, ingrained into the daily life and spirit of these cities. A long list of those who left their mark on the musical landscape feels slightly excessive, though it ranges from the melancholic sounds of the Smiths and Joy Division to the height of the ‘Madchester’ scene, made iconic in the hands of the Happy Mondays and the Stone Roses.

For decades, music has shaped the community. Cultural movements have stemmed from songs alone. Northern Soul of the 60s swept across unassuming towns and cities, renowned particularly in venues such as Wigan Casino. Beginning as a love of soul music and dance, it soon manifested in recognisable mod fashion and culture. The aforementioned ‘Madchester’ scene, tied to the Second Summer of Love movement, became infamous during the 1980s and early 90s. A hedonistic lifestyle, fuelled by rave music (and MDMA,) hit the city of Manchester and held little back. It witnessed the soaring rise and fall of establishments such as the tumultuous Haçienda, synonymous with adolescence for many who grew up during the 90s.

These past communities linger still. Walk through the Northern Quarter on a sunny day and find yourself amongst many-a middle aged men who are crowned with mod-style haircuts and dressed exclusively in Fred Perry. Wander outside the cultural staple Afflecks Palace, underneath the ‘AND ON THE SIXTH DAY GOD CREATED MANchester’ sign, and you may very well find a horde of awkward pre-pubescent teens dressed in parka coats, despite the fact it is nearly twenty degrees. We have all been there – it is a rite of passage.

There is a loving and humorous obstinance amongst fellow northerners to loudly proclaim our cultural supremacy when it comes to music. I would like to address the elephant in the room – we do know that music exists past the M6. Sort of.

Certain stereotypes do exist around northern life and people. This happens much less frequently today, but there is an uncomfortable truth in admitting that the stereotypes do still exist (personally, it does not go unnoticed that most ‘northern’ accents in popular culture are used to represent those less intelligent or uneducated.)  In the past, northern cities and towns were left neglected and underfunded by government policies, governments far out of reach with the reality of living in industrial working-class England. Amongst the effects of these policies, arose the image of northern people being sufficiently ‘un-cultured.’ Though, one must ask, whose cultural expectations were they being measured against? And so, it is with a kind of belligerence that an alternative culture was created. A culture that would always belong to the northern identity, obstinately clung to for generations to come. A reminder of the richness that we are capable of, a cultural trove that binds the community.

As a music-lover, I admit that most of the time I scandalously branch out of the northern circle. However, in a recent bout of slight homesickness, (I’m currently in a different country to home) I found myself scrolling through the depths of Spotify to find some small comfort. Stumbling upon the band Elbow, I queued their albums and set out for a quiet stroll across the foreign city that has become a makeshift home for the last few months. Surrounded by crowds of French people in 26-degree heat, I found myself humming along to ‘Jesus is a Rochdale girl.’ There is a delicate nature to most of their songs, still entirely rooted in the place where they have grown up. Their lyrics really are a kind of poetry (please do try ‘Switching Off’ if interested,) but it is made all the more piercing by Guy Garvey’s voice, gently unassuming in a soft Manchester accent. It made me think of Fender’s interview, and how at the end of the day we owe it to ourselves to hear the beauty in the voices that remind us of home.

Image credit: Highways Agency / CC BY 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons

Scenes with Girls: In conversation with Love Song Productions

Love Song Productions is staging Scenes with Girls at the Old Fire Station from 13-14th June. We spoke to director Katie Kirkpatrick and assistant director Lydia Free about the upcoming show.

Could you summarise what Scenes with Girls is about and why you chose to stage this play?

Katie: Scenes with Girls is primarily about experiences of friendship, sex and dating as a young woman today. It’s about two girls called Tosh and Lou, intensely close best friends, and what happens when their relationship reaches a boiling point. But it’s also really fun, a dive into these girls’ little universe full of in-jokes and chaos. 

I’ve wanted to stage it for a while, after being obsessed with the script on a first read last summer. The dialogue is simultaneously so realistic and so weird and the characters and themes felt like they would really ring true to a student audience.

The Cherwell Stage team this term are trying to demystify Oxford drama. Could you tell us a bit about your experience, and any advice you might have for those wanting to start out?

Katie: My first experience of drama here was Cuppers, the freshers’ drama competition, which was unfortunately over Zoom in my first year. My friend and I wrote a play about isolating uni students murdering one of their housemates, which went down about as well with our [housemates] as you’d expect. I took on a few marketing and press roles, then at the start of my second year co-founded Love Song, our student production company that has since produced 3 shows at the BT. My advice to those starting out would be to try out some different roles: it’s an easier way in, you learn useful skills and might discover a new talent. I got to uni wanting to direct, but I’ve had a lot of fun with producing and marketing. If you find you’re not getting the roles you apply for, or not seeing the kind of shows you’d like to be involved in, absolutely do it yourself. It can seem daunting but everyone is happy to help and starting a production company gives you such valuable experience.

Lydia: In my experience, OUDS can be a very intense environment to navigate, which is strange given that it’s just a uni society. I’ve found that the best thing to do is get involved in fun projects and do drama purely for the enjoyment. Apply for and partake in as many different projects as you want to take on, and try lots of different roles both on stage and off. I think, ultimately, the most valuable part of Oxford drama is the number of people you can meet and really bond with over a few weeks. So I just go into projects with the hope of meeting some new friends and throwing around some silly creative ideas, and try not to take anything too seriously.

Any fun rehearsal stories?

Katie: I particularly enjoyed a character-based rehearsal that started off as a chat about backstories and ended up with us deciding each character’s astrological chart, MBTI type, and Enneagram type, and me sending the cast articles on platonic life partners and compulsory heterosexuality. We love a bit of research…

Lydia: We played a game called Essence, where a person will think of someone in the cast or crew and everyone asks questions like, “If they were a holiday destination, what would they be?” (deducing their ‘essence’). When Ellie [Tutt, co-AD] was thinking of someone, I asked them, “what type of lighting fixture would they be?” and Ellie said, “a floor lamp”. Both Katie and Millie [Deere, actor] immediately went “JAMES”. You had to be there. But the fact that James Newbery’s essence is exemplified by a floor lamp sends me.

Could you describe the show in three words?

Katie: ‘Ribs’ by Lorde. 

Lydia: Pink-tinged anarchy.

What’s your favourite line from the show?

Katie: It’s a toss-up between “Do you ever think maybe if she’d just kissed a few more people we would never have had to worry about this stuff?” and “Can you just hair up, pull on your joggers, and dig in to us”.

Lydia: “I’m a piece of bread / and I look down at him hard at work….”

You’re casting one of the parts in this play by vote – how did that idea come about?

Katie: Yes! The fourth character in the script is just called ‘A Boy’ and only has one line, so properly auditioning for it felt like it would be a bit silly. Instead we wanted to find something fun to do, and since the characters poke fun at modern dating rituals, having it voted on by swiping on Tinder profiles felt like it would work! It’s been really fun to put together.

Lydia: Good marketing.

What can we expect from Love Song in the future?

Katie: It’s hard to say at the moment as I’m off on my year abroad come September but we’d love to go to [Edinburgh] Fringe next year for sure. And just keep putting on good, fun shows!

Finally, in one word, why should people come and see the show?

Katie: Confetti.

Lydia: Women.                                                                                                           

Scenes With Girls runs at the Old Fire Station from 13th-14th June. Tickets can be bought here.

Photography by Coco Cottam.

Lincoln’s Tortilla the Tortoise munches to victory at packed-out Corpus fair

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Over £7000 was raised for the DEC Ukraine Humanitarian Appeal at Corpus Christi’s Tortoise Fair at the end of May. Running and munching their way to victory in the races were Lincoln’s tortoise, Tortilla, and Balliol’s human tortoise, Gabriel le Dain.

After a Covid-induced hiatus, the Tortoise Fair was back bigger and better than ever this year. More than 1500 people flocked to Merton St on Sunday 29 May to attend it. While the highlight of the day was undoubtedly the inter-college tortoise race, live music performances from the likes of DJ Daniel Dipper and all-star band the Poet Laureates also graced the sold-out event.

There was a BBQ, ice-cream and other food stalls, as well as a range of activities and entertainment, including face painting, glitter tattoos and sponging the JCR committee.

One Corpus Christi student highlighted the relaxed atmosphere of the day, noting that the college had been decorated with paintings of tortoises by Corpus Christi students, and praising the range and quality of the food and entertainment offered.

The main event took place at 3pm. The tortoises were placed in the centre of a circle of lettuce, with the aim to make their way out of this vegetable racetrack. Attendees watched in suspense as the various colleges’ Tortoise Keepers set their tortoises off. Some members of the crowd even took to standing on chairs to get a better look at the race, with one spectator expressing surprise at how dramatic the race was. Tension built as old and young tortoises faced off, some moving surprisingly quickly and others looking to recover from slow starts.

Scooping victory was Lincoln’s Tortilla. He’s a new addition to the college, joining just before the pandemic, but at the youthful age of 10, it’s no surprise that he was among the more sprightly competitors.

Matt Foster, Tortoise Keeper at Lincoln, told us that while Tortilla may be ten years old, he “has the maturity of a toddler” and is a “certified ladies’ man”. On winning the race, Tortilla basked in his triumph, running over to various people and happily taking selfies with adoring fans. As Foster put it: “Some might say he really came out of his shell!”

The pair celebrated with a pint and a head of lettuce.

The human tortoise race had been similarly hotly contested. Competitors ran between lines of lettuce leaves, eating as quickly as they could, before making their way to the main attraction: a half-head of lettuce. First to the centre and to a crunchy victory was Balliol’s Gabriel Le Dain.

Cherwell spoke to Gabriel Le Dain, whose official title is JCR Comrade Tortoise, on his experience as champion of this year’s race. He recalled his path to success in the September JCR elections: “To prove myself worthy of Tortoisehood I had to eat a head of lettuce at the hustings to demonstrate my prowess”.

While he admitted that he “hadn’t practised lettuce-eating recently”, he did reveal his secret to success: pre-race preparation. He remembered being sent lettuce seeds by his aunt last summer in order to “get a head start”, following this up with the advice that “what matters is embracing the mindset of being a tortoise”.

Image Credit: Maeve Ewings

In Defence of James Corden

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I fear this may not be a popular article, but here goes. Such is the scale of the bitterness of the internet and media against James Corden, that a naïve observer might wonder just how many ungodly atrocities the London-born comedian had committed in order to emerge as such a beacon of revulsion and loathing. Upon the announcement this month of his departure from a very successful stint as host of the US talk show ‘The Late Late Show,’ congratulations were sparsely hidden amid a slew of derogatory remarks, ‘praise the lords’, and Brits encouraging America to ‘keep him.’ The internet has long campaigned against Corden, including a petition to ban him from appearing in the film adaptation of ‘Wicked,’ attracting 60,000 signatures. Social media is equally spiteful; Twitter user DirtbikeCollins goes as far as to say he has ‘all the appeal of a dog fart in a pub.’ Bold.

So what crimes has Corden committed since he crossed the pond to foster this level of hate? Well, on the surface, his stint in the US has been stunningly successful. Corden refined the format and scope of his show, adopting a more British layout, and very energetic interview style. He refined the art of the US talk show to suit his own brand of entertainment, and found himself able to attract a quality of guests more commonly routed to the bigger late-night slots. But, like Jimmy Fallon, it is his shift of focus to features and games tailor-made for the internet that has brought him the most success. It is easy to forget that for a time, a few years back, the ‘Carpool Karaoke’ series of videos was perhaps the biggest thing on the internet; the edition with Adele as guest has amassed over 250 million views on YouTube. The success of the format was driven not just by the presence of big stars but the personality, energy, and amiability of Corden, which allowed the stars to express themselves in ways most talk shows struggle to achieve.

So where did it go so wrong? Well, there is no disputing his most incredible talent of worming his way into just about every corner of popular culture. His forays into musical theatre and film draw particular attention. On the face of it again, he has been very successful, winning Olivier and Tony awards for his role in the straight play ‘One man, Two Guv’nors’, and a Golden Globe nomination for his role in musical film ‘The Prom’. But his involvement in 2019’s unintentional horror movie ‘Cats’ was beyond a low point and has, more than anything, earned him a reputation as a cheap fallback option for directors looking to bolster the number of celebrities in a picture.

But perhaps part of the deeper problem is Corden’s style of comedy. He has become a sort of ‘comedic Coldplay’; a figure who everyone loves to hate in spite of continued popularity and success. Corden’s brand of humour can often be low brow, based on his general air of silliness, extraversion, and preparedness to embarrass himself in front of his audience. The inflated version of ourselves we present to others on the internet wants to believe we are above that – that we have a more mature and refined taste in entertainment than the Corden-consuming masses. Comparable perhaps is the continued success of the even lower-brow sitcom ‘Mrs Brown’s Boys’, which attracts more hate than a Tory boy in Wadham, yet continues to draw massive viewing figures. Though we deny it, most of us are not above silliness and wacky humour and old Irish women saying ‘Feck!’ every 5 seconds. Nor are we above a middle-aged cockney man masquerading as Cinderella in traffic on a crosswalk. Perhaps we should stop pretending we are for the sake of massaging our internet egos.

Corden is certainly a victim of the cynicism of the uptight modern media consumer, fighting an unending battle against the armchair cynics and cultured critics. But he is effortlessly entertaining and an excellent Maître D of late-night TV, and that surely should count for something. I hope, on his inevitable return to the UK, we drop the pessimism and enjoy the energy and fun that Corden brings. 

Image credit: iDominick / CC BY-SA 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons

Why we should care about Warhol

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Andy Warhol famously noted the irony that American capitalism is a system in which the richest and the poorest consumers can buy virtually the same things. Perhaps this was true of Campbell’s soup and cans of Coke, but his own works have proven otherwise time after time, and the last major Warhol sale was certainly no exception. 

Christie’s auction house in New York recently sold Andy Warhol’s Shot Sage Blue Marilyn, the fourth in his print series made in 1964.The work is an unmistakable icon of the American Pop Art movement, feature Warhol’s vivid, blaring colours and the face of America’s most prominent sex symbol. Sold for an eye-watering $195million (£158.2m), the work has become the most expensive modern painting ever to sell at auction.

The Shot Sage Blue Marilyn was one of many depictions of the actress that came out of Warhol’s studio in the 1960s. 1962 was an important year in Warhol’s early career, in which he completed his first and most memorable works, such as Campbell’s Soup Cans and the Coca Cola series. In that same year, Warhol created the monumental Marilyn Diptych, now hanging at the Tate Modern in London. One half shows Marilyn in blazing pinks and hot oranges, whilst the other is a sombre, monochrome portrayal that slowly fades away, as Marilyn did shortly after the work was completed. By 1964, Warhol’s studio began producing films and creating more artworks of the western world’s favourite stars. Warhol’s Triple Elvis, a screenprint of singer Elvis Presley, sold at Christie’s in 2014 for $81.9 million (£62.6 million). 

The Shot Sage Blue Marilyn’s hefty price tag is partly due to its eventful life, and a photo ‘shoot’ gone wrong. Upon asking Warhol if she could ‘shoot’ the collection of Marilyns Dorothy Podber, a performance artist and friend of Warhol’s, took out a revolver and shot the paintings literally, hitting the Marilyns directly in between the eyes. The name Shot Marilyns was given after the incident, and Podber was barred from entering the studio again. Now, the evidence is hardly noticeable to the naked eye, with only a rough pink patch to cover up the damage. Podber’s contribution remains inextricably linked to the work, and her daring persona and frivolous character are forever imprinted onto Warhol’s canvas. 

So the question remains – why should you care? Fellow Cherwell reader, I know you are likely eyeing up the meal deal section at Tesco, and looking to Broke Mondays for your source of post-work day entertainment. I am too- and neither of us are in a position to even consider purchasing a work of this calibre and price tag. However, the growing demand for modern art from an increasing number of collectors is a cause of both celebration and lament for the rest of us. The work’s sale brings art from their walls to the public eye, encourages visits to museums and inspires the creation of exhibitions, such as the one Christie’s themselves held for the work for the public to see. What’s not to love about being reminded of good art? 

Yet, with each work going back into private hands, so too we must say goodbye to it for the foreseeable future. The private sale of Warhol’s Marilyn means it will not be readily available for admiration on a museum wall. If we’re lucky, it could be loaned to temporary exhibitions, before returning to its owners. Art historians will only be able to admire it from afar, making use of digitized images rather than taking in the ‘real thing’. As the work breaks yet another Christie’s record, it is clear that private collectors are hungry for more. As such, both the academic and the regular gallery-goer can only do one thing until they hope to see it again: wait. 

Warhol’s artworks have become rarer, and more sought-after, in the private art market. Their iconic status has led to a cult of Warhol collectors, who remain a very small and exclusive club of magnates. One likely candidate to purchase the work was Israeli businessman Jose Mugrabi, known for his impressive collection of 800 works by Warhol, the most of any existing private collection. 

The Sage Blue Marilyn is another record-breaker in a long line of the world’s most expensive works sold at public auction. In 2017, Leonardo da Vinci’s Salvator Mundi sold for $450.3 million (£342.2 million), making it the most expensive artwork ever sold. Other landmark works like Picasso’s Les Femmes d’Algers and Modigliani’s Nu Couché have also made it onto this prestigious listFollowing the sale, the Marilyn has become the fifth most expensive work ever sold, both privately and at auction. As all eyes turn to the rostrum this summer, the Sage Blue Marilyn will undoubtedly become its highlight, marking a historic achievement in the world of art. 

Image credit: Eugene Kornman / Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons

Behind the scenes of Cherpse

Cupid here, your one and only source into the scandalous lives of Oxford’s sleep-deprived and somewhat crazed students… And who am I? That’s one secret I’ll never tell. You know you love me.

Things are bleak in the Oxford dating scene…I have seen it all. The good, the bad, and the ugly. Well, let’s be honest, mostly the ugly. Even though I delude myself into thinking that I am as cool as my Gossip Girl counterpart, here at Oxford, there can be no fun without some administrative process adding spice and getting in the way.  

For you to understand my pain, you have to understand the intricate world of Cherpse. At the beginning of each term, I buckle down to business and try to think of the best questions to ask the people in order to work my magic. Distributing the form and getting people involved is easy enough – it is extremely slim pickings out there and my services have eons of experience to back them. The same goes for my match-making skills. Drinking a glass of Tesco’s own ‘Juicy Rosé’ and consoling my holy book, ‘Cosmopolitan’, picking people that sound compatible is always a good time. Having made my couples, I then shoot out my arrows with an invitation for a coffee date at ‘The Missing Bean’, and life seems good. I have my act together, I know what I am doing, and I am excited for our 0th week edition to come out. And then disaster strikes.

To bring my dear readers all the details of every awkward date and love-at-first-sight meeting, I require one simple thing – that my daters fill out a form on how their meeting went. It’s little to ask after I brought them their soulmate. Some people completely air me; others keep on getting my hopes up with sweet nothings like “I will get the form back to you tomorrow” when tomorrow never comes;  and others straight up refuse to answer my questions. But that doesn’t mean that I am also not part of the problem – trust me, I am.

Sometimes, the love match I so carefully crafted gets a little lost in the Facebook Messenger translation. When the Cherpse deadline looms, I occasionally have to redirect my arrow to a heart that’s more…responsive. When two of my daters backed out, instead of telling their matches that the date was off, I sent the remaining partners on a date together. After all, it’s a blind date. Who’s to know if the person they meet at OXO Bar or Uni Parks isn’t the same person I originally carefully selected for them? That was my thinking until I received a message, asking whether or not I had set up the date as a joke. They were such an incompatible match that my daters believed I had put them together as a prank. Turns out humans aren’t interchangeable – who would’ve thought? – and when someone requests ‘no Tories’, you shouldn’t go ahead and pair them with an OUCA member. 

Another one of my incredible shortcomings in the dating world happened last term, when I managed to spark a connection in the wrong couple. During the date that I had so carefully set up for a coffee, one person on the date seemed to enjoy themselves whilst the other person seemed to…well, not agree. Instead of finding a connection with their Cherpse date, the former left the date deciding to reconnect with an old flame. I would be embarrassed at my match-making skills, but technically I managed to get a couple together so I will not dwell on the whos and hows. 

If my matches were always this cursed, I’d have to retire my bow and reluctantly go join the herd of Tinder users. But, dear Cherwell readers, don’t fear – I’ve had my fair share of successes. I even matched two Cherwell editors together and sparked a Choffice romance. Even when I don’t manage to orchestrate a love connection, I’ve helped people discover new friendships, bars, and that Missing Bean gives out free pastries at closing time. I can’t promise that filling out the Cherpse survey and going on a blind date will lead to happily ever after, but it’s sure to lead to a fun story. And, if this glimpse into my process made you doubt my abilities, the good news is that a new Cupid will be flying into Oxford with a fresh bag of golden arrows at the start of Michaelmas. With that, I will leave you, wishing you the best of luck on all your dates, both those that end up printed in the newspaper and those that only get published in your group chats. XOXO, Cupid.

Image credit: Olya Kobruseva on Pexels.

“I have a boyfriend”: A lie as old as time

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I have a boyfriend.

Why do we say it? Because of the time-honoured strange conviction that the female ‘no’ actually, to all intents and purposes, as a matter of fact, veritably means ‘yes!’ Contrary to popular belief, this no=yes equation was actually not left behind with Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, where Mr Collins’ unyielding marriage proposals do not take into account Elizabeth’s determined refusals. But today, we’ve found the perfect loophole: “I have a boyfriend”. And it is truly a magic wand. 

Obviously, the thing fundamentally wrong with this is that it is founded upon the premise that this non-existent boyfriend of yours is to be respected over your basic right to not want to cuddle and kiss some street urchin. How dare you not want to instantly marry this five foot four, faux-adidas-tracksuit-wearing, bow-legged charmer? If you were lucky enough to be desirable to him that should be reason enough to fall straight into his sexy little hairy arms and swoon – and maybe even go for a pre-marital sensual massage at his place then and there. 

There are various types of “I have a boyfriend” street urchins. There’s street urchin number one, who cedes and fucks off immediately. You’re ugly anyway. Then, there’s urchin number two, who has a whole equation of his own which looks something like no=please=no=pleaaaase=no. He requires ample pushing and cajoling till you begin to feel like you’re harassing him.

Then there’s the occasional guy number three who, after grovelling forth to ask for your number, looks at you in horror as if to say it was your mistake to insinuate he wanted anything more than an innocent bosom friend. This guy has a parental figure standing outside the sandpit whispering “go on Rupert! Go play with that kid! Make a friend!”, and for that he can only be forgiven. 

Guy number four: the inspector. It can get quite fun when they go into inspector mode. With a raised brow they want to know everything about your very existent man so you get to invent a whole character. Your boyfriend lives in Berlin and is training to be a physiotherapist, and he visits every time he gets the chance, and he dogsits a dalmatian called Timothe, and is extremely possessive, and the way he treats Timothe the dalmatian is similar to the way he treats you, which you find deeply interesting but you don’t love it when he asks you to bark in bed. This can go on and on and soon the inspector will have more important investigations to tend to and will eventually fuck off. Great fun!

Finally, guy number five. The worst kind, I find – but worst is in the eye of the beholder. This guy, upon your rejection, sees your loyalty and drools over it like a virgin-Mary-worshipping impotent bishop. He now not only wants to get into bed with you and cuddle and kiss you, but he’s also ready to whip out a sword (and actually no, not that one) and go full duel-to-the-death mode with your boyfriend after a long arduous quest to find him. This guy is likely to fall into will-follow-you-onto-the-bus-and-excessively-call-you-“dear” category and is the one I’d advise you ladies to stay the furthest away from. Even if it means ending up in the middle of nowhere with 4% on your phone having to try and find your actual bus home from there. We love men that take you on spontaneous adventures, push you out of your comfort zone and spice up your daily routine. 

So, let’s explore the alternative option. The one that deceptively seems the easiest. The simple one-worded “no”. Or even a no-worded shaking of the head. Not that hard right? Wrong. It is that hard. Eighty-eight percent of the time you are then faced with the broken ego of an anger-management-needing childhood-broken manchild. And this is not a pretty sight. If you’re lucky, this can include some generic insult, which you just put down to Suzan from the playground who didn’t clap when John ate the mud – and actually is just easier and expected. 

But upon occasion you find yourself transported to an X Factor fail audition. The kind where the auditioner just refuses to leave after receiving four no’s. But in this instance you don’t have the two bald bodybuilder bouncers waiting on either side, nor 10,000 people watching and a camera panning round – you only have your rapidly speeding little legs to carry you away from a plethora of “why”s and “what’s wrong with me”s and “I don’t understand”s. Sometimes, when not aggressive, it is actually poignant. Because you did not mentally prepare to have to determine a whole being’s worth in the space of four seconds, nor were you trained as a therapist, and so there you find yourself, in the middle of the busy boulevard, in front of an imploring stranger whose value is completely at your mercy. 

Oh, and a little generous disclaimer: “nOt AlL mEn”. I’m sure there are some wholesome little urchins out there. But they aren’t as fun to write about. And they get lost in the urchin crowd, behind all the no=yes algae.

Of course, there’s always the obvious solution: having a boyfriend. But cut a girl some slack. And I also recently found out that guys don’t wash their hands after pooing and I think this warrants a little recovery time. But it’s completely fine, because “I have a boyfriend!”

Image by Kaique Rocha on Pexels

NEW win landslide Union election victory, all officers elected

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Charlie Mackintosh has been elected President of the Oxford Union for Hilary Term 2023. Mackintosh was the Union’s Librarian for Trinity Term 2022, and defeated this term’s Secretary and outgoing President of the Student Union, Anvee Bhutani with 474 votes to 216.

The turn-out in this election was markedly lower than Hilary Term’s, with 779 votes compared to 1,128 votes cast respectively. The election saw large apathy towards the Union on Oxford social platforms, with many students complaining about the phenomenon of ‘hacking’.

Mackintosh’s slate also won all three other officerships:

Librarian: Disha Hegde (NEW) with 430 votes

Treasurer: Sharon Chau  (NEW) with 411 votes

Secretary: Matthew Dick (NEW) with 395 votes

NEW won four of the available positions on the Standing Committee, meaning that Spencer Shia (107 votes), Lukas Seifert (91 votes), Rosie Jacobs (86 votes) and Hannah Edwards (108 votes) all obtained a seat.  Of the remaining two positions, one went to BeREAL’s Rosalie Chapman (102 votes) and the remaining seat was for REAL’s Tom Elliott (80 votes). 

Those elected Secretary’s Committee include Ciaron Tobin (NEW), Sebastian Watkins (NEW), Lewis Fisher (NEW), Kajaanan Vijtharan (NEW), Edie Guo (BeReal), Conrad Frøyland Moe (NEW), Beau Boka-Batesa (NEW), Amy Gilbride (BeREAL), Emily Macleod (NEW), Amy Ellis Winter (REAL) and Geronimo Hayaux du Tilly (NEW).

In a town hall for Cherwell, Mackintosh said he wanted to identify the barriers to widening access to the Union. He also said he hoped to host a panel on the Uyghur genocide, saying he was “disappointed” that the Union had not already done so.

Image credit: Charlie Mackintosh

Writing on the Filing Cabinets: A State School Student’s Response to Emma Duncan

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I’m a proud East Londoner. I’m proud of the area I’m from and the family members who made their homes there. Growing up in Ilford (London Borough of Redbridge), I attended a local state comprehensive (non-selective) secondary school with an A Level A*-A rate (a commonly used metric to measure a school’s academic success) of 13.2% when I completed my GCSEs in 2018. For sixth form, I moved (due to funding issues) to another state comprehensive with a slightly better A Level A*-A rate of around 28% for my subjects when I joined in 2018. I never took private academic tuition across my entire school career. I do want to stress that, across both secondary and sixth form, every member of staff I encountered were doing the best they could in the context of the school’s location (and the issues that came with it), underfunding, etc, and deserve significant praise. At both secondary school and sixth form, I achieved the highest academic results in my year, and would go on to become the only student from either establishment to secure a place at Oxford in 2020 (a year with zero Oxbridge offers was not uncommon for either school), also becoming a member of the first generation in my family to attend university. Since starting here, I have joined numerous access and outreach initiatives, culminating in my appointment as President of the Oxford 93% Club (the university’s society for state-schooled students).

Emma Duncan, a columnist at The Times, attended Buckinghamshire’s Wycombe Abbey private school before coming to Oxford. Non-boarding fees at Wycombe Abbey sit at £30,000+ per year – and the 2018 A Level A*-A grade? 84%. Average class size currently sits around 12 pupils. My older brother, who attended the same secondary school as me, recalls a friend having to write standing up on a filing cabinet during History lessons because there were no available desks (class sizes regularly topped 30).

Duncan recently penned an article in The Times titled ‘We’re hurting Oxbridge in the name of equality’. As President of Oxford’s state-schooled society, my eyebrows immediately lifted, but I nevertheless picked up a copy and read it with an open mind. Unfortunately, Duncan’s arguments have failed to hold up for me (or for the numerous other state-schooled students here I have discussed it with, and have a duty to represent). This piece is a response to Duncan’s article.

I consider it pertinent to address first why I contrast our educational backgrounds. It is not, as perhaps expected, to initiate any conversations regarding wealth – my immediate family, although coming from a long lineage of working-class Cockneys, is financially stable, and for all I know Duncan could have been on a full scholarship to Wycombe Abbey. Instead, I am comparing our backgrounds to highlight a much simpler point – Duncan does not have the lived experience to speak as authoritatively as she attempts to throughout her article.

Duncan begins with a few questionable points – firstly, by lamenting the 76% target the government has set for state school admissions to Oxbridge. As my society’s name implies (93% of UK students attend state schools), even this goal is far from matching the real-world reality. She goes on to argue that “favouring a state school pupil with worse marks in her entrance exam than a grammar-school boy who may have worked harder is also unfair”. It is worth noting that grammar schools still come under the ‘state school’ label – we should be careful with such statements. She claims soon afterwards that “not all private school pupils are rich”. Although there are certainly exceptions (I personally know a handful), a 2021 TES report found that only 1% of private school students are on full scholarships, and still only 3% are on a 75-99% reduction. The other problem with this argument is the fact that, regardless of whether a student is on a full scholarship or paying full fees, they are still receiving the educational advantages of attending a private school. Duncan ignores this point and reiterates this argument in numerous guises throughout the article.

This is not to say that Duncan does not make some valid (even useful) points in the article, which I want to acknowledge. For example, her criticism of wealthy parents buying homes near top-performing state schools to cheat the system (using the example of Hills Road in Cambridge) is a valid one (even if such high-performing state school examples are outliers), and something acknowledged regularly by the UK’s first Professor of Social Mobility Lee Elliot Major OBE in his ground-breaking book Social Mobility and Its Enemies – a must-read for anyone interested in these topics. 

However, as the article progresses, Duncan’s arguments go from the slightly questionable to the downright offensive. Two points in particular stand out to me. Firstly, she writes that “admitting weaker state school students on the basis that they may catch up with better-performing private school kids is guesswork, which is likely to bring down the braininess of the average Oxford student”. It is only logical to think that someone who has met the academic entry requirements (albeit with perhaps one grade lower if given a ‘contextual offer’ to something like the LMH foundation year), passed the personal statement stage, and succeeded at interviews (bearing in mind that, as one friend from Eton informed me, pupils at the school are given 1-1 tutoring from secondary school age on both personal statements and interviews), all whilst fighting through the challenges of attending a less successful school (even if clearer definitions are needed, for example differentiating my school from Hills Road), has demonstrated the skills to prove themselves at Oxford. The implication that our presence is a threat to upholding the average IQ here is unbelievably condescending. I recently had a conversation with a friend at Oxford from a similar non-selective state school background around imposter syndrome – “why would I feel less deserving to be here than someone from Harrow,” he asked me, “when I had to build my intelligence by staying up later than them every night until the local library shut to gather my revision resources – all because my school couldn’t afford the textbooks? If anything, don’t I deserve this more?” The students Duncan is talking about have contextual offers for a reason.

The second point Duncan makes, and the one which has caused the most backlash, reads as follows: “discriminating against parents who save or borrow to pay for education in favour of those who send their children to state schools and spend their money on luxuries is not a good signal”. Although I understand the point she is trying to make, this statement comes across as incredibly out of touch. My rebuttal (the same one provided by countless state-schooled friends here) is also incredibly simple – the main reason that the vast majority of parents don’t send their children to private schools isn’t because they’ve spent the £30,000/year Wycombe Abbey tuition money on avocado toast and Starbucks – it’s because they just can’t afford it. The current average UK salary is around £31k – sending your daughter to Wycombe Abbey is therefore entirely achievable once you discover how to live on £1k/year.

This article is not intended to make any private-schooled individual at Oxford feel uncomfortable. I have many friends here from such a background whose raw academic talent is unbelievably clear for anyone to see – they do not possess less capable brains for Oxford which were ‘propped up’ by better schooling, as I imagine people like Duncan may accuse me of suggesting. I also agree with some of Duncan’s overarching points – we need to distinguish better between types of state schools – e.g. mine in comparison to state schools like Brampton Manor (which now bests Eton in Oxbridge admissions), and wider factors outside of the school itself (e.g. the stability of a family’s home-life or finances) need to be considered more.

Ultimately, however, Duncan’s article comes across as offensive and out of touch to many of us here from state-schooled backgrounds who overcame the barriers she is so quick to disregard. On Twitter, Cambridge Professor Gordon Dougan (from a council-estate, state-schooled background) sums it up best. In response to Duncan saying that Oxbridge “favouring state-school pupils isn’t fair”, he simply replies: “nothing was fair about me getting there. If I am damaging Oxbridge, so be it”.

Image credit: Evka W / CC BY-SA 4.0 via Wikimedia Commons