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I have a lump in my scrotum. I don’t have a regular partner, but I do have quite a lot of sex, and no-one has said anything. I don’t think that this is an STI but I am worried.
Graduate Student, St John’s.

The Delphic Oracle’s wisdom, Know thyself, is imperative advice. It’s impossible to offer medical advice by letter, but if you notice something for heaven’s sake, swallow your embarrassment and – to put it bluntly – have the balls to see a doctor immediately.

It could be many things, but let’s cut to the source of your fear and face the very worst possibility – the risk (rather obviously!) of testicular cancer in a man’s lifetime is about 0.4%, but it is most common in men in the student age range (well, 15 – 35 actually); but it has the highest cure rates of all cancers, virtually 100% if there are no secondaries. But early diagnosis is imperative. However nervous or embarrassed you feel, there really is no alternative to acting now…

I am a law undergraduate doing well and looking forward to a career – I have found that I’m in the very early stages of pregnancy, my boyfriend doesn’t know, and I think he will not see the issue as a problem, but as something to be dealt with. I’m not entirely sure.

I think that a lot of stuff about a foetus being a little person is sentimental, but I am a conscientious vegetarian and a pacifist and I have real qualms about what I suspect will be the inevitable end in a termination of the pregnancy.

I don’t want to waste the support and encouragement of my family who always went the extra mile, but I don’t want to worry them, I am supposed to be an adult after all. I don’t even want advice, but I do want to make a choice which I can live with.
ANON

Thank you for entrusting your story – we are not revealing college and have changed some detail to protect you. First, you are already an informed, thoughtful and reflective person with the rights and responsibility to make a decision that is so important, because you have to live with it.

I am sure that your friends and family will support you, and seek to advise you, but the decision has to be yours. I think that you are trying to make an informed and realistic choice about your life, and you’re right that you have to make the decisions. But that doesn’t mean that you have to face them alone.

You say that you haven’t yet told your boyfriend: he may well have certain expectations, but I hope that together you can face some of the things that face you over the next few weeks. Whatever the outcome, facing the issues together is a really important part of your relationship. I’d guess he will be well-aware of your approaches to life and I hope that he will be utterly supportive.

You write about wanting to protect your family – no doubt they would want to do exactly the same for you – obviously I don’t know your family details, but I suspect that if they have been supportive of you thus far, that’s not going to evaporate at a time when you need them very acutely.

There are also people you can talk to at different levels of anonymity – from student help lines, College nurses, doctors, and welfare provision in your College. People generally are trustworthy, unshocked and proactively supportive.

These structures can help you now, and sustain you whatever your choices. Most of all, treat yourself as tenderly and generously as you do your own friends, there is no easy answer, but with the support of those who love you, you do not have to face the decisions you have to make quickly without support.

I’m a cheat. I copy stuff for term essays, smuggle things into collections and am struggling hard to keep everything together – I haven’t been caught, but I am terrified of finals that are like a dark cloud on the horizon.

I get pissed a lot, and have been in trouble with my College because of that – but they haven’t a clue about how stupid and inadequately prepared I am, and I’m depressed that no one has caught me – or even seems to care.

My family want me to succeed and have invested a lot of time and money in my education. I don’t have a long-term meaningful relationship, and I don’t really want one – I get around, but I feel everything is going to crumble.

ANON

This is a very honest letter. Wherever you are there isn’t a place where you can’t make a choice. You clearly feel hemmed in, and it might be worthwhile pretty soon to talk to a doctor about how you are feeling.

But let’s move to the substance of your letter. Cheating – plagiarism if you like – is a sign, above all, of a lack of self-confidence. You didn’t say whether you cheated for your A-levels, but you must have got AAA (or thereabouts).

At any rate, smuggling stuff into Collections is crazy and unnecessary, and sounds almost like a deliberate attempt to be caught. Taking a paper and not doing well may get you a robust response at Academic Review or from your Tutor – but it sounds from your letter as if that’s really what you want – to be caught out, or at least ‘known’ well enough so that you can be taken seriously.

Seriously, your College would care very much indeed, so dare not to cheat, and go to talk with your tutor if she or he is close enough to you, or someone else in your College’s welfare structure who is committed to being confidential and they will support and challenge you.

This is something your Chaplain, for example, will be skilled, and no-doubt experienced, in dealing with. I don’t know any Chaplain who’d tell you to be good and sing a hymn, by the way… If you’ve been in trouble with your College for alcohol related offenses, they are probably aware that there is some problem, and your raising it would be counted very much in your favour.

However generous it was of your parents to spend time and money in getting you here, you’re not their FTSE investment – and they’d be pretty wounded, I suspect, if they thought you reckoned that they only spent the money to get you to Oxford to succeed ‘for them’. Of course they want you to have the chance to make the best decisions for your life, but don’t let a misplaced sense of debt oppress you.

It’s a cold and misty dusk; the sun beams between the dreamy spires of our wonderful academic hell as Jamie Oliver strolls anonymously through the streets of Oxford. Hungry for hearty Italian food after a hard day moralising, Jamie is loathe to join the ridiculously long queue in front of his own restaurant, sidesteps it, and where does he go? To the quiet authenticity of Gino’s.

He is, after all, a man of taste. Jamie Oliver’s attempt to introduce an ethical restaurant to the franchise wasteland of Oxford may have deteriorated into a temple dedicated to the cult of celebrity, but if you stray just a little from the monotony of George street, there is hope. Not the revolutionary hope of a figure-heading charitable establishment but the bleary-eyed nostalgic kind of hope, wishing for a time when restaurants weren’t controlled by anonymous corporations or idealistic celebrities.

Jamie’s vision of championing excellent student fare at an ‘affordable’ price is collapsing under the weight of its own self-satisfaction. Somewhere in the misty planes of admirable idealism something was forgotten; skilful cooking. Worse than not having quality ingredients is butchering quality ingredients; that’s why, this time, we went to Gino’s.

Gino’s isn’t conceptual or branded; it doesn’t have a colour scheme, only bandy legged tables and reasonable food. It almost feels like stepping back in time to a traditional Italian family restaurant, where parmesan and freshly ground pepper fall onto plates of perfectly cooked Italian fare, made from fresh ingredients oozing the vitality of the Mediterranean sun. In the cold light of day, however, this fantasy is replaced by the assault of bus fumes and noise from the Oxford tube station opposite, which somehow insidiously seeps into the food and makes Gino’s more appealing for lunch than dinner.

The menu reads as Jamie Oliver would have wanted his to, before his dissent into the Jamie-Brand. There’s antipasti, pasta and pizza with a selection of meat dishes that sing out from the page with pure Italian accents. Political correctness and fears about cruelty take a backseat to taste, with an extensive veal selection.

As an exvegetarian with a soft streak for baby animals, it was not to my liking, but it definitely appealed to the desensitised guy I dined with, who simply stated, “It’s their own damn fault for being so delicious!” Trying to
hide the fact that I had been so busy talking that I hadn’t even glanced at the menu (Gino’s is the kind of place where the soft chrome tone acts as a lubricant for conversation and intimacy), I had a look at the specials board and picked a crab ravioli with cherry tomato sauce.

The crab filling was dense with a surprisingly appealing texture and, best of all, encased in perfectly al dente fresh pasta. The sauce was freshly made and enlivened with bursts of whole roasted cherry tomatoes, sweet and caramelized from being given enough time to cook slowly.

A lasagne and pork tortellini with cream sauce were also ordered, and were well executed enough to be indulgent and satisfying. Only the pizza caused any disappointment, a traditional thin and crispy base had been superseded by something thicker, which was a real shame. I was more than consoled by the desserts however: the gelato icecream was as good as any in Italy, with a good selection of flavours and the tiramisu was a hefty slab of creamy mascarpone. Better yet was the bill, with prices as nostalgic as the ambience, it came to under £10 a head for two courses. I’m sure Jamie would approve.

94 Gloucester Green

PRICE: £10 for two courses
IN A WORD: Pukka

In an office in the bowels of Oxford’s Waterstones, I am attempting to present
myself as knowledgeable and witty, a feat made rather difficult by the fact that the man sitting across the table from me is Stephen Fry, knowledge and wit personified.

The stack of books that shrinks ever smaller as Fry signs each one is made up of his new travel book, Stephen Fry in America, documenting his long drive across every state in America.

His idea for the book stems from a childhood memory of when he would muse upon the life of Steve, the American boy who would have existed instead of Stephen, if only his father had accepted a job at Princeton. This boy wore jeans and T shirts instead of grey shorts and plimsolls, and listened to music instead of reading poetry. Essentially then, Steve was all-American cool, and Stephen was just a little bit scared of his imaginary counterpart.

I wonder, then, if Fry was equally scared of this proposed mission, this journey into the good old U S of A. He instantly accepts this suggestion; “there was an element of trepidation. One is concerned with the possibility of disappointment; the disappointment in the scenery, in the people, in the rudeness of people.”

For Fry, this mission was about dispelling the myths that the British believe about American people and he freely admits that ‘there was a fear that there would be a confirmation of the prejudices that we have. Plus, there was the personal fear, those which effect us all; “Am I doing my job properly?” or “Am I taking good enough notes”. So yes, there was an element of fear.”

It is easy to forget that Stephen Fry, renowned for his intelligence, is of course a very funny man. As we converse, his publicist silently answers the phone over his shoulder. For a moment Fry looks confused as to where a muffled voice is coming from, and on seeing the phone looks relieved. “Oh good,” he says, “I thought it was God telling me to kill again.”

Trying to experience all fifty states, Fry took part in a vast range of activities, which caused a conundrum of conscience on several occasions. When hunting in New York state, whaling in Alaska, practising witchcraft in Massachusetts and voodoo in Louisiana, did he struggle to observe ways of life that he found morally dubious? “You’ve hit the nail on the head there,”

Fry begins, “because I feel slightly hypocritical. I’m a bit less kind in the book, whereas on the show I have to sort of play along.”

A stark example of this difficulty of holding his tongue was found in Oregon, where a gun-toting doctor of psychology presented his case for the existence of Bigfoot.

Fry exclaims, “I thought he was preposterous! I was a bit unkind to him though! I mean, frankly they’re all silly, but at least witches don’t have homophobic beliefs and are obviously nicer to women! So really I have more respect for witchcraft than for Christianity. But it was difficult! I’m a rationalist, or an empiricist perhaps.”

Despite his lack of religion, Fry was welcomed into almost every strain of Christianity, and was perhaps most charmed by a group of young Mormon men being photographed for a topless calendar in Nevada. I found this concept seriuosly bizarre, and Fry is in agreement; “well, you’ve got the scoop there; I found out that the guy who organised it has been practically excommunicated from the church. They decided that he was bringing the faith into disrepute. He asked me to intercede on his behalf, but…” He pauses. Who knows what the head of the Mormon Church would say if Stephen Fry called to give his thoughts on the matter.

Shortly before our interview began, Fry and I were stopped by an elderly Indian woman who insisted she was a huge fan of his movies. In Colorado, some children knew him instantly from his supporting role in V for Vendetta. As a man who has written books, starred in films, presented quiz shows (the list goes on), I ask if he is surprised when others recognise him because of the film.

“Yes it does,” he says, “you never know what it’s going to be. Some people will say “I just love Peter’s Friends, or that Bright Young Things (Fry’s sole foray into directing) is their favourite film. And then there’ll be people who’ve never seen the films but have read my books, and so obviously that’s very nice.”

Now that the American quest is over, what’s next for Stephen Fry? Currently working on the screenplay for a Dambusters remake, he’s well in to the writing process; “I’ve done three drafts, and Peter Jackson is working on the action draft. He can write it out like a verbal storyboard as quickly as I can do the dialogue.” Fry is clearly excited to be working with Jackson, and I ask how such a collaboration came about. “It’s actually his project. David Frost bought the rights and got Jackson on board, and he gave me a call. Naturally I was very excited.”

After breaking his arm filming in Brazil for another new travel-based series, he is off to Africa to continue where he left off. “Then,” Fry says, gladly, “December off”. “Completely off?” I question. “Well, I have some writing to do…” Clearly there is no rest for the wicked.

We are interrupted briefly as the manager of Waterstones, whose office we are using, pops in to offer us a coffee. Stephen appreciates the offer, but would prefer some red wine. A bottle of Bordeaux emerges from nowhere, and the wine is poured. After a quick pause for refreshments, I ask if he enjoys events like this; book signings, publicity drives and interviews with precocious student journalists; “I do, very much.”

“I could live in the strange bubble of publicists, writers, journalists and other
such people”, he continues, “Not to meet them would be a pity. It’s interesting to see how things have changed. Students used to have posters of Che Guevara and Jimi Hendrix on their walls. Now they have Albert Einstein and Oscar Wilde. It used to be about politics, the message. Now it’s about the mind.”

Clearly Fry is all about mind over message. As the interview comes to a close, it is clear that the most intelligent man on television is also the most pleasant that this precocious student journalist has ever come across. If he’s faking it, then he’s a better actor than most give him credit for.

At the end of the summer term, third year Trinity student Ben Judah took a break from studying politics and decided to go and live it instead.

Travelling around areas such as the West Bank, Syria, Beirut, Armenia and South Ossetia, Ben wrote articles for the Economist, the New Republic Online, Standpoint Magazine and ISN Security watch about what he had experienced. Now he has graced the Cherwell website with his blog Correspondent, which tracks political developments in some of the unstable regions he visited.

“I got an obsession about getting to Syria” Judah says, describing the beginning of his adventure. After spending a week there, Judah decided on Beirut. Having been given the phone number of the Economist, he phoned them and asked whether they would be interested in an article.

“I told them that I knew everybody in Beirut, and everything that was going on – it was a huge exaggeration of the truth,” Judah confesses. (Fledgling hacks, take note.)

Much to his surprise, The Economist agreed and asked Judah to write an online journal. So evolved ‘Scenes from an uneasy place’ -Judah’s first piece for the Economist.

After two weeks though, Ben decided it was time to move on.

“Somebody told me that Aleppo was beautiful, and so I got it in my mind that I suddenly had to get there,” he said.

At the Istanbul Bus Stop though, Judah telephoned aruond to scout out potential interest in an article about Georgia. “I phoned up the New Republic Online and Standpoint and to my horror, they said yes! Some guy shouted ‘last bus!’ so I jumped on it, and was in Georgia in the middle of a warzone twenty four hours later.”

Judah flew from Batumi to Tbilisi, at which point the extent of the war became harrowingly real. “There were refugees everywhere, and the air was full of tension and fear.” Judah went to Rustavi-2, the Georgian TV centre, and once again, embellishing the truth a little, he said that he needed to be inside the warzone the following day to meet his article deadlines. The following day, Judah found himself in a car with a French and Georgian journalists.

“The French guy turned to me, and said, ‘war is about waiting. Generals wait to invade, soldiers wait to attack, and journalists have to wait to report-but today we got lucky-we’re going to Gori.” So Judah found himself heading into a warzone. “I suddenly got scared.”

Check out our podcast interview with Judah here…