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”.
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
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 LesFemmes d’Algers and Modigliani’s Nu Couché have also made it onto this prestigious list – Following 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
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.
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!”
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.
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
As the Jubilee celebrations fade away and the bunting is taken down, the tables and chairs put back inside, and the last of the cake eaten, a new era will come upon us and the British monarchy. The Platinum Jubilee celebrations are the seeming crescendo to centuries of monarchy on these isles. It is unlikely we will come together as a country to celebrate Queen Elizabeth II again, apart from at her funeral. There is no questioning the legacy she has garnered over the course of her public life. She has single-handedly sustained the royal family through arguably the longest period of social reconfiguration ever seen in this country. One BBC article even named her ‘the Comforter-in Chief’.
The way in which Elizabeth has fulfilled her role as Queen – one who has, according to many, led a life of distinguished public service, and has performed her role dutifully, even as her Prime Minister partied on the same day she sat alone at her husband’s funeral – has led her to be presented as a somewhat welcome relief to the parade politics seemingly in vogue today. Indeed, any debate around the future of the monarchy requires the country to ask itself: Would I prefer Boris Johnson or the Queen as my head of state and representative to the world? The seeming abandonment of any remote sense of decency by our elected government has let the Queen stand out as a supposed role model, and the last bastion of integrity in public life.
In fact, even the Royal family’s finances has been regarded as a ‘shady’ area. Documents recently revealed that the Queen lobbied for a law in 1970 to to conceal her “embarrassing” private wealth from the public. The estate of the monarchy is thought to be valued in the hundreds of millions – making it difficult to see why the taxpayer continues to foot the bill of much royal expenditure and security. One of the most controversial decisions in recent years has been the Queen’s decision to fund Prince Andrew’s legal bill after he was accused of sexual assault and agreement to contribute to the settlement sum – money that could be better used elsewhere in the public purse. The Queen’s yearly Sovereign Grant payment from the government was £85.9m for 2020/21 – the equivalent of £1.29 per person in the UK. The scandal around Prince Andrew has been an embarrassment for the monarchy, and the Queen’s eagerness to steer the legal case towards a settlement is perhaps emblematic of her approach to safeguarding the establishment’s public image – especially in the run up to the Jubilee. It was explicitly a clause of the settlement that Andrew’s accuser Virginia Giuffre is not allowed to talk about the case during the Jubilee year. While many believe the Queen’s position is symbolic, her actions prove otherwise, and she is actively involved in government.
Why the royal family is held in such an unjustifiably high regard, despite all these exposés, is an interesting question. The poisonous cultural wars that those who seek to divide the country and resist social progress are perpetuating in the country today have filtered their way into the royal debate. It is now ‘anti-British’ to be against the monarchy – senseless when negating the need to hold public figures, especially the head of state, to account. The reaction to the anti-monarchist organisation Republic’s billboard advertising campaign during the Jubilee has been divisive: one Conservative councillor called it “disgraceful”. Indeed, support from the monarchy, like other topics of contention, is split largely over demographic lines – 80% of Conservative voters and three-quarters of Britons aged 65 and older (74%) see the monarchy as being good for Britain, compared to 44% of Labour voters and just 24% of 18 to 24-year-olds. Jeremy Corbyn reaped the wrath of the conservative press when he chose not to sing the national anthem ‘God Save the Queen’. But he has a point. Is it right that our national anthem reveres nothing but our monarch? Is there not far more to our country than that?
The main reason the Queen is so beloved by her people is because her public image is so carefully curated and managed. The recent comedy skit of the Queen having tea with Paddington Bear is an example. The Queen is portrayed as a relatable, loveable old lady seeking to do good and make us laugh. Yet her private actions and dealings show that she acts cynically above the law. The choice of Paddington Bear was an unusual one as the bear is a refugee from Peru and arrived in London with a tag saying “please look after this bear”. This feels particularly ironic given the treatment of refugees in the UK today, our failure to look after each other, and the Queen’s apparent involvement in upholding discriminatory practice.
Prince Charles has been the longest heir apparent to the British throne in history. Consequently, he has had a lifetime to start public initiatives in a pioneering way. His work on projects concerning climate change have been greatly welcomed by many in the sector. A quick look at the initiatives page on his website shows he is involved in many social justice programmes such as Mosaic and A4S. While his role gives him the potential to do great things, the irony of his simultaneous position in the highest tier of aristocracy cannot be ignored. Perhaps the disillusionment with the royal family felt by many is in part due to this: as an old white rich man, is he really representative of the country today? Often it is only with economic privilege that one is able to live sustainably, as it is not always the cheapest option. Charles’ Duchy Originals Home Farm supposedly uses pioneering agricultural techniques to produce organic food in an eco-friendly way, but produce is reserved primarily for sale by Waitrose and Partners, and expensive. Given that the climate crisis necessitates mass change, true sustainability needs to mean sustainability for all, not just those that can afford it. This means that while trying to do good the monarchy can come across as out of touch, especially given their extraordinary financial circumstances. Charles has even dabbled in parliamentary intervention, like his mother, using a ‘secretive procedure’ to vet three parliamentary acts to prevent private residents on his estate from buying their own homes for decades.
Young royals are trying to be more in touch with the youth and at the forefront of this are William and Kate, the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge. Their taboo-breaking work around mental health has given the topic it welcome and needed exposure at a time when it is still a stigmatised issue. One only needs to glance at the press coverage surrounding Prince Louis at the Jubilee to see the public culture of admiration for this younger family. The contrasting treatment given to Harry and Meghan, on the other hand, suggests a continuing reluctance by the establishment to embrace a modern royal family; this should be seen as a source of national shame. It is telling that the conventional posh white family who conform to tradition – with their children dressed like they are from the 1950s – is well-received, but an interracial, only half aristocratic family were forced to break with the monarch and leave the country after being berated and harassed by people up and down the country, including the press and – allegedly – the rest of the royal family. The almost gleeful commentary of the Jubilee Thanksgiving Service announcing “Harry and Meghan are now very much second row royals” is evidence that this attitude is still pervasive today. The monarchy is inherently exclusionary; the royals can only preserve their high status by keeping it exclusive. And as of present there is seemingly no desire to engage with more diversity, and seemingly no room for an heir to be, for example, gay and accepted by the public. The idealistic view presented in the novel Red, White and Royal Blue of a queer relationship in the royal family will unfortunately remain fiction for the foreseeable, even as it is made into a film.
The Kensingtons’ recent royal tour of the Caribbean, labelled a disaster and tone-deaf, is perhaps the best example of how even those young royals are seemingly archaic – the monarchy seems to romanticise its colonial past in a disturbingly nostalgic manner. When Barbados became a republic last year, its Prime Minister described the move as a “seminal moment” which will see Barbados fully leave its colonial past behind. Prince Charles attended the ceremony and spoke of the “appalling atrocity of slavery” which he said “forever stains our history”,stopping short of a sought-after apology. The continued reluctance of the monarchy to take accountability for the institutional role it played in this atrocious exploitation is an embarrassment – especially when the Queen is still head of state in many countries where the descendants of victims continue to suffer as a result.
The debate surrounding the monarchy in the UK is emblematic of the wider issues with our government. The whole system of government in the UK is in dire need of reform. Is it right that a government elected by a minority can rule without any meaningful checks and balances? Is it right that some votes are weighted more than others (the Green Party received 2.7% of all votes cast but no seats)? Proportional representation may offer a solution, even if it potentially allows fringe extremism to gain an elected voice. But a more blatant issue is the House of Lords. Life peerages? Inherited titles? Its similarity with the monarchy is unquestionable, even in its very name – is it a coincidence the Queen’s speech is read there as opposed to in the House of Commons? Even the grandiose setting of parliament has been said to leave politicians seemingly out of touch with the people.
Any decision surrounding the monarchy must be a democratic decision. It is important that the people choose who rules them, not the other way round. Yet this premise is incompatible with the idea of monarchy and the divine right to rule. Navigating the reconciliation of the fundamentally undemocratic institution of the monarchy with more modern ideals poses a challenge. Unfortunately this has the capacity to divide the country into opposing factions – much like the Brexit vote. A rotating presidential head of state – even if only symbolic – would make possible fairer representation with our values presented abroad in a more appropriate and credible manner. Perhaps, to appease hardliners, the Monarchy could remain but only symbolically and not as heads of state; our government would no longer be ‘Her Majesty’s’ but rather ‘The People’s’.
Image credit: Unknown / Library and Archives Canada/ CC BY 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons
A Cherwell investigation reveals the vast disparities in rent prices across Oxford colleges, with a 50% difference in modal weekly rent between Keble, the cheapest college, and Pembroke, the most expensive. Whilst a Pembroke undergraduate could expect to pay £232.74, the most common weekly charge for a student at Keble was £155.61.
Whilst an Oxford student may expect annual living costs to be lower due to the 8-week terms, the affordability of city life is highly dependent on college. Cherwell finds that, based on average weekly rent for short lease periods, wealthier colleges tended to charge the lowest amount of rent, with the large disparities in college wealth dramatically affecting student life.
Amongst the 10 wealthiest colleges, assessed by net assets, seven of these were among the colleges ranking the lowest average rent, including St Johns, Magdalen, and Queens. By contrast, among the 10 least wealthy colleges, five of these fall within the highest 10 average rent prices, with colleges such as Pembroke, Mansfield, and Lady Margaret Hall at the top of the list.
Magdalen college, the third richest college, provides the fourth cheapest average accommodation costs amongst Oxford colleges. By contrast, Lady Margaret Hall is the second poorest college and equally the second most expensive college accommodation, following Pembroke.
Furthermore, inflation is set to see rent prices increase further, amplifying the gaps between colleges. St Catherine’s College has proposed an increase of 11.8% in rent and hall prices, in line with the average 9% inflation rate of the UK.
Currently, the termly rent at Pembroke, the most expensive college, varies between £1153 and £2245 termly, with an additional £432 annual utility charge. The college has just announced its price increases for the next academic year, with an 8.68% increase on rent, and a 22.5% increase in utility charges.
However, as the seventh-poorest college by net assets, Pembroke often has had little choice. In 2002, a tape obtained by the Sunday Times caught a senior fellow, Reverend John Platt, admitting that the college offered places for money because they were ‘poor as shit’.
The most common pricing band for on-site accommodation currently stands at £1776, but from next year will be upped to £2010.13 (excluding the utility charge). The rooms in the highest price brackets will reach up to £43.02 a night, with an eye watering total of £7614.54 a year.
St Johns, on the other hand, notoriously the wealthiest Oxford college, has managed to keep the cost of living down. Rent prices at St Johns are one of the cheapest across Oxford – the prices range from £987.74 to £1161.74 per term, with an additional £232 termly charge for services.
Among the disparities between colleges, this highlights the starkest one. There is over a 71% difference between the highest price bands of St Johns, the wealthiest, and Pembroke, the seventh poorest.
This “college lottery” can vastly affect student life and academic performance. A second-year student from Pembroke told Cherwell: “At Pembroke, I am constantly reluctant to spend much extra money in the knowledge that my rent and obligatory (very expensive) hall meal costs have already subsumed much of my student loan.
This can be stressful because it means extensively planning money-saving options for food and other necessities I need to buy in Oxford, as well as extras like social events, in an intense environment that doesn’t give much free time for such planning.”
Pembroke told Cherwell: “We are aware of the difficulties facing many of our students … and will be launching an enhanced student financial support fund next week in response to these challenges.”
The college disparities do not just affect the extent of support that students receive for housing. A Magdalen undergraduate told Cherwell about the abundance of financial support available: “From the first day on arriving at Magdalen I was struck by the generosity of the financial support offer. This began with a universal book grant of £150, an explanation of the incredibly generous travel grant and student support fund, as well as individual support. After experiencing health problems in my first year, the college has paid for taxis from doctors’ appointments that have finished in the evenings in London without me even asking, and even covered the cost of other private healthcare.”
The disparities in cost-of-living expenses are further exacerbated by utility charges or the cost of eating in hall. Pembroke, Mansfield and Harris Manchester are amongst colleges in which hall pre-payment is compulsory. In Pembroke for example, a termly £344.76 charge is taken out for first year for undergraduates which provides only one meal token a day.
This translates into over £1000 over the course of the year, with no ability for credit to be carried over to the following term for tokens which have not been redeemed.
There is also evidence to suggest that colleges with the lowest cost of living also admit fewer state school students. Queens, a college nearly 12 times wealthier than Mansfield, has a state school intake of 63.6%, whereas Mansfield has a whopping 94% of students coming from state schools for entry in 2022.
Mansfield accommodation stands at a uniform fee of £1599 a term, plus a compulsory £140 meal deposit. On the contrary, Queens college charges a standard rate of £1396 per term – a compulsory charge of 20% more per term.
A first year undergraduate from Mansfield told Cherwell: “I am really concerned by the amount of colleges that have announced significant rent hikes and worry what me and my friends will do if this happens at Mansfield. We have already noticed increased difficulty affording living in Oxford, especially throughout this term. Money worries are a constant source of additional and unnecessary stress for us.”
It has been previously mentioned to us by staff that the reason why, despite taking the most percentage of state school students and a higher proportion of students from lower socio-economic backgrounds, Mansfield have higher than average rents is because richer colleges that subsidise them dictate as conditions of funding that rent must be charged at such high rates.”
Christ Church, the second wealthiest college, has the second-lowest percentage of state school admissions, with the figure standing at 55.9%. Whilst the average rent at Christ Church is not within the lowest third, the financial help available is much more generous than the average college. For students with a household income under £16,000, rent is decreased by 50%, whereas students from a household income under £42,875 have their rent decreased by 25%. With a 25% reduction in average rent prices, this leaves Christ Church with by far the cheapest rent of any Oxford colleges.
A rent reduction scheme as the one in Christ Church would largely benefit students from lower-income backgrounds, who more often than not will come from state schools. This indicates how the unequal distribution of wealth across colleges affects the extent to which colleges may provide their students with financial support.
A recent Cherwell report highlighted the link between the wealth of colleges and the performance of students in exams, highlighted in the Norrington Table. The five highest-performing Oxford colleges are also some of the oldest and wealthiest, whereas the colleges at the bottom of the table are considered some of the poorer colleges.
President of the SU, Anvee Bhutani, told Cherwell: “The University does operate JRAM (joint resource allocation mechanism) as a great equaliser to redistribute college wealth but far greater care can be given to ensuring that basic living provisions and costs are similar across colleges.”
Despite the reallocation, it is clear that the college affects every aspect of the student experience. For some, college means access to a rich history, generous financial support and high-level academic support. For others, limited college resources mean rent and hall are just another barrier to an accessible University.
When the coal-faced son of a Welsh mining town, Morgan Evans, meets the schoolteacher Miss Moffat, he asks her for a kiss. Instead, she gives him a nasty whack on the bum.
So begins the relationship at the core of The Corn is Green, Emlyn Williams’ 1938 semi-autobiographical drama, directed by Dominic Cook and running at the National Theatre until 11th June. Miss Moffat plucks Morgan Evans out of the mines, trains him to speak like a gentleman, and stuffs his head with Adam Smith and Voltaire. It’s like My Fair Lady, but gender-swapped and very, very Welsh.
The central conceit: a playwright (presumably Emlyn Williams), haunted by the ghosts of his past, sits down at his typewriter to honour their memory. The ghosts of the past are, in the National Theatre’s staging, literal – a chorus of Welsh miners, dirty to the tips of their hair, crowds the corners of the stage to witness the action. They never speak, but sing traditional Welsh songs in rich harmony.
It would be painfully sappy if Williams’ story didn’t demand, well, sap. Miss Moffat (Nicola Walker) arrives in an impoverished mining town in early 19th-century Wales, having inherited an estate from her late uncle. She brings only her servant Mrs Watty (Jo McInnes) and Mrs Watty’s illegitimate daughter Bessie (in a biting performance by Saffron Coomber). Miss Moffat is determined to found a school for miners’ children, despite the protestations of the local squire (Rufus Wright), who insists Miss Moffat has no business ‘puttin ’em up to read English . . . and giving ’em ideas’.
When Miss Moffat meets the orphaned boy Morgan Evans (Iwan Davies), one thing is clear: the two are fated to either love or hate each other. Ultimately, we get both. For an assignment, Evans turns in a poetic reflection on his life in the mines, and Miss Moffat sees the gifted youth hidden beneath the grease and irreverence. She becomes Evans’ teacher, and he her most prized student.
Meanwhile, a variety of local characters step in to help run the school. Alice Orr-Ewing is delightfully vapid as the gentlewoman Miss Moffat; and Richard Lynch gives a likeable performance in the role of handyman John Goronwy Jones. It seems that Morgan Evans has the whole world at his back, willing him to succeed. He’s on the brink of winning a scholarship to Oxford. But life gets in the way, as it does, and Miss Moffat has to learn how far she’s willing to go to help Morgan win a better life.
Walker and Davies give a fine portrayal of the antagonism that can arise between teacher and student, especially when the teacher is a prickly middle-aged Englishwoman and the student is an angry and occasionally drunk Welsh miner. Walker is all hard edges and clipped consonants, with perpetually raised eyebrows. Every human interaction seems to disappoint her. Davies, on the other hand, operates with his brow constantly drawn low – that is, until Miss Moffat gets him to look her in the eye.
In this 160-minute play, the character of the playwright Williams (Gareth David-Lloyd) remains onstage the whole time. He’s orchestrating the thing, after all. Cook emphasises the role of the writer in the creation of the playworld by having David-Lloyd mouth many of the characters’ lines alongside them, read stage directions, and, in one memorable moment, stop the play to revise the narrative in real time. It works. If The Corn is Green is a memory play, the memories belong to the playwright; he deserves to be recognised as their container.
The set is initially simple, with characters swarming out of Williams’ mind and onto a bare stage. But as Williams fleshes out the world of his childhood, the set becomes more intricate, the shabby schoolroom of Act Two transforming into a proper place of learning by Act Three, wallpaper and carven armrests and all. There’s nothing quite as pretty as a National Theatre production.
But if the stage is a pretty thing, the true glory of The Corn is Green is in its deference to the good people on that stage. My working theory is that someone at the National Theatre sat down and said, “Let’s stage a play about the indomitable human spirit”. After all, Morgan Evans’ emergence from the dirt into the light is a straightforward metaphorl. The play gives credit to the downtrodden Welsh miners of its chorus, and is unafraid to poke fun at the educated elite. When, talking incessantly, Morgan Evans returns from his tour of Oxford talking incessantly, Miss Moffat wonders, ‘If three days at Oxford can do that to you, what would you be like at the end of three years?’
As an Oxford student, I should be abashed. Instead, I’m as delighted as if Morgan Evans pointed at me from the stage and shouted “You!” I guess I’m a sucker for the redemptive quality of learning, and the places where we do it. Although Morgan Evans’ background is vastly different from mine, we both come to Oxford for the same reason: self-improvement.
I think that’s the ultimate sentiment of The Corn is Green – the right teacher, with the right student, and the right books, can change many lives for the better. Oxlove to that.
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