Death of the critic? Tim Sherwin thinks not.At the end of 2006, readers of Time Magazine were presented with a metallic, mirrored surface under the headline ‘Time Person the Year 2006.’ It transpired that the winner was ‘You!!’ The move was met with a mixture of delight and contempt; a huge debate was sparked across the States about the title that had in the past been held by the Queen (1952), two popes (1962, 1994), and Mahatma Gandhi (1930). Some thought their decision represented the increasingly potent means of expression and influence ordinary people are gaining in the computer era. Others just thought it was tacky.Tacky or not, accurate or not, the choice highlights a current crisis in the world of criticism. The internet is heralded as the ultimate democratic medium. There are thousands of web sites on which it is not only possible to read dozens of different opinions of books, films, music etc, but through which it is supremely easy to add your own voice to the debate. When we decide to see a film, we no longer have to resort to the newspaper to discover information. We certainly don’t have to resort to a hefty encyclopaedia to enlighten us about general knowledge – and last minute tute queries. The information is already out there, easily accessible. Evidence even shows that the average margin for error on Wikipedia is only slightly higher than in the Encyclopaedia Britannica, since its rigorous programme of self-editing has rectified many of its teething problems. As the internet becomes a more acceptable medium to more people, critics – amateurs with laptops – are taking over from ‘Critics’ – professionals with notepad and pen. So these Critics, with a capital ‘C’, must be dead, or at least dying.But that is far from the case. Every major newspaper, every major magazine has its store of professional Critics, whether they are analysing books, movies, TV, or any other cultural phenomenon. Indeed when James Wood, a highly respected and feared literary Critic, moved from The New Republic to The New Yorker earlier this year, he seized the headlines. He is kingmaker in the American literary world: a big fish in a big pond. And what he says makes waves. The ability of any Critic to seize such publicity is revealing in itself. Yet the case of Wood doesn’t highlight the position of the Critic, so much as reinforce something we are continually told about our era. It is the era of celebrity.Successful criticism seems to come mainly from famous Critics and writers. In this sphere, as in any other, big names sell. Thus we find publications on criticism from Orhan Pamuk (Other Colours), who has recently cashed in on the fame from his Nobel prize and the controversy surrounding his being charged with insulting the nation of Turkey. V.S. Naipaul’s recent work A Writer’s People, an acerbic and highly opinionated deconstruction of the books that shaped him as an author, was guaranteed success with his huge fanbase. The same is true of the American John Updike, a critic and novelist who churns out books at an alarming rate, and his latest work of general criticism, Due Considerations. What all these works have in common is the fame of the author, and the breadth of their scope. Rather than focusing on a single work or genre, they aim to criticise widely. To give us an impression, not only of what the author is deconstructing, but of the author himself. By getting to know about our top authors’ and thinkers’ opinions on diverse topics, we feel we are getting to know about them. They are a glorified form of autobiography. They appeal to our desire to know more about these great names, but coyly, through their favourite works of art: the heavy-weight equivalent of the celebrity exposé. So to find true criticism we may need to look beyond what Naipaul read growing up in Trinidad, or what Clapton listened to the first time he got high, and delve into the back sections of newspapers and magazines. The culture section, in fact. How self-referential.What we find here is the same in miniature. We recognise fewer of the names, although Critics like A.S. Byatt do crop up from time to time, but the focus on the self, on the Critic, remains. Considering the power they wield concerning the success or failure of a new play or album, much of what is written tells us more about the reviewer than about what is reviewed. ‘I thought’, ‘I noticed’, ‘How I reacted’. The reviewers in print media more often than not follow the patterns set by more glorified authors. That is, after all, what most of them want to become. Big names. So maybe the democratic, or at least technocratic, vision of internet criticism is safer and more accurate, as well as cheaper and more accessible. It is very often the case in newspapers and magazines that the ego of the Critic overwhelms the criticism.But here we see the failure of internet criticism too. It is true that there is a certain amount of democracy. Anyone, actually anyone – and there are some crazy opinions out there – can add to the debate. And shape it too, as we famously saw with Snakes on a Plane, and the publicity hype surrounding Cloverfield. In both these films the producers decided, rather than to create something and see how people react, to find out what was wanted, and make that. The Critics, in the case of Snakes on a Plane, weren’t impressed, perhaps feeling that their territory was being encroached upon, but the critics, who had helped shape the finished product, were delighted. And they came out to support their baby in droves. But the reason that people write on these websites, that people want to become critics, is the same as that of their more dignified brethren. They think their opinion matters. We all do. We all want somebody to read what we are writing, care, and have their own thoughts and opinions modified. The only difference, with the increasing globalisation of media, is that more people can do it, and we can’t always know with what authority they are speaking. That is the danger, and the promise, of the technological age.In his Nobel Lecture, the Russian poet Joseph Brodsky said that reading is ‘the conversation of a writer with a reader, a conversation, I repeat, that is very private, excluding all others – if you will, mutually misanthropic.’ The same may be said of any cultural enterprise. Even in a theatre or cinema, surrounded by people, or on the dance floor at a gig, buffetted by sweaty fans, the final result, the ultimate communion, can only exist between you and the play, the film, the music. And the only way someone can change your mind is to present their own feelings and impressions of the same experience – their own internal, ‘mutually misanthropic’ communion – and try and affect what you think. In this way art, any art, is at once an intensely misanthropic enterprise, one which requires beyond anything a ‘self’, and a supremely humane enterprise, in which you not only connect with the author, screenwriter, or musician, but everyone who has ever engaged with the same piece of art, and everyone who ever will.From this impulse, then, stems the desire to become a critic. This combination of self-obsession, that there is only really you and the object of your criticism, and of the desire to connect with other people, to spread your views and help underline the merits and failings of what you are talking about, is the spark that lights the fire under any aspiring Critic, or critic. All the internet has done is to allow more people to do this more often. It hasn’t fundamentally changed the nature of the game, from the scholarly disputes over Virgil in the first century AD to the café-house debates and rise of literary magazines in 18th Century London salons. We still want to read critics. And we often turn back to the ones we know and recognise, from magazines we read and books we love. The internet has widened the pool from which we can draw, but our love of familiarity, and our need to connect and debate the arts which we care about, means that critics, and Critics, will never die.

It’s difficult to pin down exactly what it is about Yorkshire teens One Night Only that has led them to receive some quite considerable recommendations. Tipped by Jo Whiley as ones to watch in 2008, the band must be disappointed with reviews of Started a Fire, featuring such epithets as ‘rather boring’ and ‘harmless.’ Such critiques form a damning verdict for any young band in the face of much cooler competition from their peers, the likes of nu-rave wannabes Good Shoes and Pull Tiger Tail!

However, whilst flagship track ‘Just for Tonight’ is not quite the ‘epic, balls-out indie rock’ that its promoters would have us believe, its opening bars are undoubtedly catchy and you can begin to understand the low-level hype that still surrounds them. Chris Moyles’ comparison between this and ‘Ashes’ by Embrace is probably the best I can think of, with the anthemic ‘Just for Tonight’ and ‘He’s There’ being the best examples of the album’s characteristic indie pop.

Debut single ‘You and Me’ shows a quirkier, jauntier side that is echoed in ‘He’s There’ and just about discernable in ‘It’s About Time’, but doesn’t quite go far enough. Unfortunately, the record then plods through a couple of bog-standard indie ballads; ‘Time’ and ‘Sweet Sugar’ (‘you are my C6H12O6’), which exist only as poorly-written filler.

Started a Fire contains a couple of interesting, catchy tracks that do a good job of putting keys and synths into the mix and will set a few feet tapping. George Craig undoubtedly has a good voice and his band some degree of talent, but it’s not quite come together in this repetitive and on the whole indifferent debut. Yet there remains a potential that may be worth watching.by Benjamin Ives 

1. Richard Stobo to Danny Waugh, brother of Steve and Mark A Sydney grade game between Gordon and Bankstown. After Stobo beats Waugh’s outside edge a few times in succession: ‘Mate, are you fucking adopted?’ 2. Glenn McGrath to portly Zimbabwean chicken farmer Eddo Brandes ‘Hey Eddo, why are you so fucking fat?’ Eddo Brandes: ‘Because every time I fuck your mother, she throws me a biscuit.’ 3. James Ormond & Mark Waugh Ormond had just come out to bat on an Ashes tour and was greeted by Mark Waugh. MW: ‘Fuck me, look who it is. Mate, what are you doing out here? There’s no way you’re good enough to play for England.’ JO: ‘Maybe not, but at least I’m the best player in my family.’ 4. Glenn McGrath & Ramnaresh Sarwan McGrath to Sarwan: ‘So what does Brian Lara’s dick taste like?’ Sarwan: ‘I don’t know. Ask your wife.’ McGrath (losing it): ‘If you ever fucking mention my wife again, I’ll fucking rip your fucking throat out!’ 5. Mark Waugh & Adam Parore Waugh standing at second slip, the new player (Parore) comes to the crease playing and missing the first ball. Mark: ‘Oh, I remember you from a couple years ago in Australia. You were shit then; you’re fucking useless now.’ Parore (turning around): ‘Yeah, that’s me. And when I was there you were going out with that old, ugly slut. And now I hear you’ve married her, you dumb cunt!’ 6. Fred Trueman & Raman Subba Row Fred Trueman bowling. The batsman edges and the ball goes to first slip, and right between Raman Subba Row’s legs. Fred doesn’t say a word. At the end of the over, Row ambles past Trueman and apologises sheepishly. ‘I should’ve kept my legs together, Fred.’ ‘Not you Raman, your mother,’ Fred replied. 7. Waugh & Jamie Siddons In a Sheffield Shield game between NSW and SA, a Waugh twin (not sure which) was taking an eternity to take guard, asking the umpire for centre, middle and leg, two legs – the whole lot. Then he steps away towards leg side and has another look around the field, before re checking centre. Jamie Siddons is at slip, and decided enough is enough. He yells out. ‘For Christ‘s sake, it’s not a fuckin’ test match.’ Waugh replies: ‘Of course it isn’t: you’re here!‘ 8. Healy & Atherton Michael Atherton, on his first Tour to Australia, was adjudged not out on a caught behind appeal. At the end of the over Ian Healey walked by and announced ‘You’re a fucking cheat.’ Athers replied very politely ‘When in Rome, dear boy…’ 9. W.G.Grace & Umpire Once, when the ball knocked off a bail, he replaced it and told the umpire: ‘Twas the wind which took thy bail off, good sir.’ The umpire replied: ‘Indeed, doctor, and let us hope thy wind helps the good doctor on thy journey back to the pavilion .’ 10. Ian BothamIan Botham arrives in Australia The cheeky customs official asks him ‘Do you have a criminal record?’ Botham: ‘I didn’t know that was still a requirement.’

Morrissey fans are born, not made. It’s in the genes. Morrissey is the eccentric cousin you love unconditionally, but when you take him to a party and he mounts the coffee table, declaring, ‘I have explosive kegs, between my legs’, you can no more disown him than you might your racist Granddad. You’re together until one of you dies. I’m not trying to convert anyone, because Morrissey is not a choice.

Greatest Hits enters a field already over-populated with World of/Best of/Live compilations. So selection is paramount. The focus is here is on the reincarnation of Maz as globe-trotting, gun-toting, sharp-suited Mafia don on the so-so You Are The Quarry and the triumphant Ringleader of The Tormentors. 8 tracks come from the aforementioned, along with four predictable classics. The exercise is justified by the presence of two new tracks and an (already released) cover version. The 1980s’ greatest romantic getting a little cynical, perhaps?

To be fair, it’s joyously incongruous to hear Morrissey waltz through the loping feminist reggae of Patti Smith’s ‘Redondo Beach’ like the old queen he is. New tracks ‘That’s How People Grow Up’ and ‘All You Need Is Me’ are instant classics of the kind he’s pulling out like magic handkerchieves these days: musically concise, vocally theatrical, and hilariously bleak lyrically. The rest are a fair introduction to one of our most unapologetically idiosyncratic pop stars, which will probably either change your life or disgust you. Fans will ruefully count off the neglected classics, particularly, ‘Now My Heart is Full’, but then this CD, like all Greatest collections, wasn’t really made for them in the first place. Morrissey won’t worry; as the beatific cover picture suggests, he knows we’re stuck with him to the bitter end.by Richard Woodall

I hate it. Match-fixing, chucking, drugs bans, Zimbabwe, The Oval snafu, last year’s abysmal World Cup, and now, racism. What next? Anything, it seems, to overshadow the cricket. I’m sick of these controversies – I’ve had enough storms in my teacups, bees in my bonnet, thittlis in my turban (thittlis = butterflies in Hindi) to be sick of the bullshit that comes with the game. Cricket today, it seems, cannot seem to escape from controversy. Much of it is of the game’s own doing, and the blame must fall squarely on the shoulders of the ICC – they might need reminding the I is not meant to stand for Incompetent – for the way they have screwed over the game and all those who have a stake in it. I suppose we have to go through the monkey business that caused the hullabaloo Down Under. Andrew Symonds squares up to Harbhajan Singh and they exchange pleasantries, perhaps making plans for dinner later that day. Who knows what they were talking about? Not us, not the stump cams, not Mike Proctor. It can’t be said for sure that Harbhajan called Symonds a monkey. The BCCI, for all its money, didn’t have the tuppence worth of common sense required to send a lawyer to the hearing. Any lawyer worth his salt could have cleared Harbhajan’s name – there was not a sliver of proof available, and a man’s word is as valuable as a baboon’s bollocks in a hearing. Balance of probabilities, anyone? Reasonable doubt? These are concepts seemingly foreign to the ICC, because Harbhajan was found guilty of calling Symonds a monkey. On the word of the Australians. Ludicrous. The most plausible explanation was, of course, that Harbhajan called Symonds a ‘maa-ki’, which translates from Singh’s native Punjabi as ‘Your Mother’. It sounds similar, and is a common term of abuse. End of story, really. It is only incompetent handling by the monkeys in the ICC that made a mountain out of what was a molehill. Oh, so it was abuse then, and that’s fine? Yes. This is professional sport, not a palace garden party; they can abuse each other all they want. Sledging is part of cricket, always has been and always will be. While it is not accepted practice in say, tennis, cricketers sledge – it is part and parcel of the game. Indeed, I think it is part of cricket’s charm. ‘Bollyline’, as this affair has been branded, was very much like a Bollywood film – big on action and drama with lots of singing, dancing and shouting, but little in the way of substance. The ICC could have handled it so much better. All this while, there was an enthralling series being played out. Make no mistake about it, this was a series between the two best cricketing nations in the world. The only team to have consistently challenged Australia since the turn of the century is India, and they have done so both at home and in Australia. England got hammered in Australia, lending further weight to the school of thought that 2005 was a oneoff, just like ’81. South Africa flatter to deceive, and though Sri Lanka are ever-improving, they are over-reliant on Muralitharan and got rinsed just before India went down under. India, on the other hand, beat Australia in that series in 2001, before losing a closely fought series 2-1 in the next home series, which included a washout on the last day in Chennai with India assured of victory. In between, they did well on a tour down under, and were in fact unlucky not to win that series, emerging with a 1-1 draw. The boys in blue were confident, then, going into this tour. As expected, however, they were blown away in Melbourne – failing to reach 200 in either innings – because the batsmen had had no chance to acclimatise. The BCCI continues to ignore the weight of history and make the same mistakes. Regardless of scheduling demands, teams on tour must be given at least a couple of practice matches to attune themselves to the local pitches and conditions. It was thus no surprise that India lost in Melbourne, having shot themselves in the foot so lamentably. Sydney brought a new year, and a different story. Australia on the brink of matching the record for most consecutive wins, India determined to fight. This was a great test match – it had everything. Australia teetering at 134-6 on the first day, before, typically relentless, they amassed 463. India, in reply, surpassed that – Laxman and Tendulkar played some scintillating shots – one wristy drive through midwicket, from a ball bowled widish outside off stump, was Very Very Special indeed and will abide in the memory. In full flow, Laxman is a batsman inimitably classic, and a joy to watch. The key to competing with Australia is no secret – it is to compete for 3 sessions a day, 5 days at a time. There is no other way, because the killer instincts of the Aussies mean they trample all over opponents at first glimpse of weakness. India showed just such weakness on the last day, perhaps haunted by the ghosts of pathetic past attempts at batting out last days overseas, and it proved fatal – all out six minutes before close. The umpiring in this match was abject, and this was not an exception in a series of horrendous umpiring decisions, including probably the first case of a mistake by the television umpire. Over and above the shocking umpiring, the Indians were irked by the Australians’ breach of the ‘spirit of cricket’, captain Anil Kumble said. It is nothing new – faced with a team that is not intimidated by them and is willing to compete, the Australians are quick to go bananas and get their panties in a bunch. They can dish it out, but cannot stand the taste of their own medicine. The behaviour in this match, claiming catches, charging at umpires, was unacceptable. There is no doubt that all teams are guilty of it, but Australia preaches about it, which makes their behaviour and their hypocrisy harder to stomach than a barbie with rotten meat on. After a deserved victory at Perth, Australia’s traditional stronghold, where India’s young bowlers did well on a helpful track that gave them a chance of taking 20 wickets, the cricketing carnival came to a close in Adelaide, on a batting track made for Virender Sehwag. The daring Delhi destroyer did not disappoint, cracking an attacking 151 that was a reminder to the selectors of what they had missed – Sehwag is a class batsman, and should have played every match – he looks to have calmed down at the crease, has improved his solidity in defence, and has always had the shots to take apart any attack. India couldn’t bowl out Australia twice to win, but a draw was a credible result. Australia are the best team in the world, and have an all-conquering record at home. Once again, India stood up to them and matched them, blow for blow. It was an epic contest, a hard-fought series that was a joy to watch. Above all, this series delivered a fillip the game needed – it was a credit to Test cricket, for reasons on the field.by Ajay Ahluwalia

It was never going to be an easy night for Richard Hawley. As ushers sell ice cream to the overwhelmingly middle-age, middle-class audience pre-show, you get the feeling that the atmosphere might be flat. And it is. Even Hawley acknowledges that the seated audience seem muted: ‘Are you enjoying it? It’s just a bit quiet, that’s all’, he tentatively ventures mid-set.

Hawley doesn’t help himself, as he looks reluctant to front the band and command the stage – perhaps a hangover from his days in the background as a guitarist for Longpigs and Pulp. He does try to rouse the audience, but his attempts at a northern stand-up routine are received like a sexist joke at a W.I. meeting – a meeting that you suspect a good proportion of the crowd would feel more comfortable at. Try as he might, Hawley just isn’t a compelling front man and the audience is giving him nothing.

Maybe, then, it’s a good thing that Hawley doesn’t indulge in the histrionics familiar to indie bands, relying instead on his music alone to run the show. This is, after all, what he does best, and musically the performance is faultless. Individually the band is clearly talented: Hawley’s supporting musicians contribute with shimmering palm steel guitar, double bass, and the jazz piano on ‘Roll River Roll’. There’s even a cameo from a man Hawley ‘met in a pub in Manchester’, who he heralds as ‘the best harmonica player in England’ – and he isn’t far wrong. The strength of Hawley’s music, though, is not based on individuals, but on the creation of the whole. The layered melodies swoosh and resonate through the auditorium, while Hawley’s velvet crooning sounds somehow more vital and visceral live, particularly on ‘Lady Solitude’ and ‘Our Darkness’.

The lush, laid back nature of much of Hawley’s newer material means it’s often easy to let the music wash over you – not always a great thing. After several slow numbers the set risks falling into a lull, but fortunately it is always revived just in time by his more arresting songs, such as the older guitar-driven ‘Something Is’ and the rockabilly ‘Serious’, which nearly brings down the balcony under the frenzied foot-tapping of the forty-somethings upstairs.The encore proves the true highlight of the gig, as Hawley performs a soulful version of Ricky Nelson’s ‘Lonesome Town’, accompanied by harmonica, before finishing with ‘The Ocean’. This, his most skilfully and beautifully crafted song to date, is the inevitable final song: it simply wouldn’t belong anywhere else. The band bring it to its soaring crescendo and after completing his vocals, Hawley improvises a guitar solo. For the first time this evening he looks like a rock and roll hero. Guitar held up, leaning back, he lets himself go. Whilst the gig lacks moments like this, you feel that with a different crowd this may have moved towards something a bit more special: Hawley himself is faultless.by James Rogers 

A row has erupted at Trinity over whether or not students should have to say grace at meal times. Over the past few weeks a number of scholars and exhibitioners have refused to recite the meal-time prayer when asked to do so at dinners in hall. One student explained why some undergraduates had begun to rebel against the practice. He said, “They oppose [the fact] that academic achievement is being seen as having a religious connotation and resent being obliged to participate.”A response by the Chaplain, demanding that the prize-winners deliver the recitation, has opened up a rift between the students and the College’s Governing Body. In an email sent on 7 February, the Revd Emma Percy wrote, “The personal beliefs of the individual are incidental; the role requires them to speak the words that the college community wish to be said on their behalf.”The Chaplain also argued that reciting the prayer was not a religious ritual but a tradition that current scholars and exhibitioners were obliged to take part in. She said, “There seems to be some confusion about the difference between personal and public prayer, the individual and the role. The scholar/exhibitioner is asked to recite the grace, it is a personal matter whether they also pray it,” she added.Some students took offence to the tone of the message. One undergraduate, who wished to remain anonymous, said, “Her argument was perfectly sound but the tone was pretty awful and some people weren’t happy about that.”In an anonymous email to Cherwell, another student described it as “an arrogant letter to all students (most of whom are not practicing [sic] Christians) that tolerates no objections.”Following the email from the Chaplain a motion was brought to the JCR by Jonny Wright, a fourth year student. The motion stated that, “despite the Chaplain’s argument, the obligation to say the words of the grace amounts to forced participation in a religious ceremony.”It also noted that, “A scholarship or exhibition is an award for academic achievement, and should not involve any religious obligation.”At the JCR meeting last Monday a motion was passed by 27 votes to 17 to write to the Governing Body requesting a change in College rules, removing the obligation for scholars and exhibitioners to recite grace. The decision was taken to the Governing Body on Wednesday, after the meeting.JCR President Richard Williams said, “The Principal and Fellows were not overly impressed,” and that they laid out a number of objections.“They did not agree that saying grace can be defined as a ‘forced participation in a religious ceremony’…nor [did they agree that] the grace [is] necessarily best understood as a purely religious ritual.“The Governing Body also reminded students that, ‘the exhibition is essentially a gift, a reward for achievement rather than a right we automatically have claim to; moreover these are funded by sources which hold College tradition dear.’ Most of all, the President and Chaplain were concerned for the hall staff.” The Governing Body handed the issue back to the JCR and Williams suggested that a solution will be reached whereby students who do not wish to say grace will not be obliged to.Peter Hughes, President of the Oxford Secular Society, argued that grace should always be considered a religious practice, and therefore students should not be under obligation to perform it. He said, “It seems ludicrous that anyone should be forced to engage in religious practices, and it must be embarrassing for Christians for it to be dismissed as mere tradition.”To become a scholar or exhibitioner students are required to take a vow to observe the College’s rules, including the obligation to say grace in the dining hall if asked. Williams said, “Over the next week or so I’m going to be talking to all the scholars and exhibitioners to devise a system where grace will be distributed in such a way that no one who is determinedly opposed to it will have to say it.” He added, “The University and colleges claim to be inclusive and equally open to people of all faiths and none. Exclusionary practices like this serve as uncomfortable reminders that we still have a way to go.”A statement from Trinity College President Sir Ivor Roberts said, “The JCR is currently considering the best way to maintain the tradition of Scholars and exhibitioners saying the College grace before Formal Hall.”

by Paul Rainford (Blues' Football Captain) It’s been a relatively quiet couple of weeks for the Blues football squad since our title clinching victory over Worcester University. With no competitive fixtures to focus on, the emphasis has been on fitness training and putting together preliminary plans for the Centaurs Varsity match and the Colleges XI Varsity match that will both take place on Saturday 1st March in Cambridge. The success of the Blues this season has been sustained and nourished by the flourishing of our support base in the Centaurs squad, and those who perform with distinction on March 1st may very well force their way into the final sixteen that will be selected for the Blues Varsity match at Craven Cottage later on in March. Last year’s Centaurs Varsity was one of the most competitive and exciting matches that I have ever had the pleasure to witness. The Centaurs had taken an early lead, only to be pegged back late on in the second half by a wonderful goal ironically enough scored by the brother of this year’s Centaurs captain. Cambridge had then gone in front in the first period of extra time and looked to be heading towards victory before Tom Wherry, now playing at right back for the blues, scored with a header from a corner deep into injury time. Both sides scored 12 consecutive penalties before one of the unfortunate, and most probably unwilling, Cambridge players put his effort wide of the post and handed victory to Oxford. We are certainly hoping for a repeat of an Oxford victory this year, but perhaps one achieved in slightly more comfortable circumstances. The Centaurs team that will play in the fixture will certainly be very strong and well prepared, with many individuals having represented the Blues at some point during the season. This year we have called upon more players and managed a much larger squad than has ever been the case in the past. This has helped to provide an extra level of competitiveness, and has ensured that we have been able to make as informed decisions as possible regarding the personnel at our disposal. With regards to the Colleges XI, Varsity match coach David Robinson (OUAFC club President) will be selecting the squad and would like to invite nominations from all college players for any teammates and/or opponents that you feel would be deserving of a place in the representative team. Please email [email protected] with any recommendations you may have, stating their position and college, and including any comments you believe would be helpful. The next Blues fixture will be played in the first round of the BUSA national knockout competition next Wednesday against Team Bath. This fixture should certainly provide us with a stern test and it will be interesting to gauge the standard of our technical play against one of the more prestigious members of the BUSA football community.

Oxford’s Women’s 2nd XI took centre stage on Monday as they thrashed a strong Cambridge team 5-1, surprising even themselves as they dominated a match which was much closer than the score suggests. Oxford started sharply, quickly going 2-0 up thanks to 2 goals from Riki Gale, making her last outing for the Monkeys. Cambridge threatened briefly at 2-1 but goals from Morvan Allen, Helen Macadam and a late strike from Sian Roberts secured a great win. The difference between the 2 sides came in the form of Jess Hughes, Oxford’s Goalkeeper. “She was just a woman-possessed.” said the Monkey’s Captain, Aynsley Bruce, “It seemed like she’d be able to stop anything Cambridge threw at her. It helped that their keeper was utterly pathetic, but Jess still deserves a lot of credit for todayís result.” Their game was followed by the much-anticipated Men’s 2nds match. In a tense affair, which never saw the Occasionals playing their potential, Oxford both took the lead through Martin Pickup and had to come from behind thanks to veteran performer Neil Gallacher to secure a 2-2 draw. Although creating enough chances to have won the match, the 2nds also had to withstand periods of pressure, and a draw seemed the fair result at the final whistle. The same could not be said for the Men’s 3rds who could be forgiven for feeling aggrieved with their game ending 1-1. Cambridge had taken an early lead with the Infrequents looking the more nervous of the 2 teams. Oxford used a moment of undoubted ingenuity from fresher Jonathon Monk to spark them into life and quickly equalised through a coolly taken penalty stroke from Benji Portwin. Having had the majority of possession in the second half, the 3rds could not seem to find the winning goal and it was telling that the final whistle was met with clear relief from the Cambridge bench. The Ladies 3rds, affectionately known as The Hos, ended up on the wrong side of a 2-0 defeat after a determined performance which failed to see them take any reward from a game that on another day they felt they could easily have taken something from.by Ian RossiterMen’s & Women’s 1st XI play Cambridge in 8th week

The next Cowley Road Carnival takes place on 6 July and, for those of you unaware of the one-day event (due to its habit of falling in the summer vacation), it’s a street festival held around the Cowley Road where up to 25,000 people gather for an eclectic mix of music and stalls in an atmosphere described by one veteran as ‘a scaled-down Notting Hill.’ True to the style of the festival, the fundraiser boasted a varied line-up.

Opening the bill were Joe Allen & Anghard Jenkins. Were it not for Jenkins’ violin accompaniment, Allen’s guitar and vocals would only swell the current glut of such sounds, but her strings complemented the vocals well, soaring in more relaxed sections and adding strength and body to intense crescendoes. Next up was rapper Mr. Shaodow and DJ-producer Mars. Good stage presence was on show, although it was to everyone’s detriment when an initially impressive opening display of martial arts backfired with a painful fall and nasty limp for Shaodow. Not normally a fan of rap I held out only limited hope, but largely a shift of subject matter to issues such as minimum wage jobs, racism and the state of the music industry made the music more accessible and enjoyable. Backing tracks were well produced and a real attempt to connect with the audience was made, although the crowd seemed reluctant to respond. Headlining the show was Raggasaurus, a band whose set, titled Camel in the Caribbean, aimed to combine Atlas Mountains singing with reggae. It worked, and the melodic and ululating Arabic vocals added interest to the reggae backing which created life and energy. However, after a few songs it became clear that there wasn’t enough variety in the performance to hold interest. That said, a combination of bouncy sounds and an increasingly intoxicated crowd led to the only dancing of the evening.by Chris Cooling