by James Wright.

No, I’m not behind the Northern Rock crisis. No, I’m not the cause of current global economic uncertainty. And no, despite the receding hairline, I’m not Peter Hain. But here, for the first time, I outline my part in Gordon Brown’s downfall.

When Gordon Brown became Prime Minister after ten long years of Tony Blair, the political mood of the country changed palpably. Tony Blair, the Arch-Dissembler, had been replaced by the dependable son of a preacher-man, a man of principle and integrity.

Suddenly and surprisingly, all our fears about Gordon, the dour Scottish tax-grabber, becoming Prime Minister disappeared – it turned out he was a ‘pretty straight kind of guy’ whose sobriety and purposefulness contrasted greatly and favourably with the deceitfulness of his predecessor and the flippancy of his potential successor as Prime Minister in the Conservative Party.

Indeed, ‘Super-Gordon’ not only survived biblical floods, plagues and terrorist attacks, the first crucial tests of his premiership, but his statesman-like responses to these crises ensured that he actually prospered by them, at least in terms of the opinion polls.

It was during this time that I received a telephone call from a pollster (working on behalf of YouGov) who asked me in dulcet tones about my voting intentions in the event of a snap-election being called in October. I paused.

Quietly but unhesitatingly I said that I would be voting for Gordon Brown. I was then asked a series of questions about Gordon Brown’s characteristics. At this stage he was neither Stalin nor Mr. Bean but a solid, if underwhelming, House of Commons performer: a ‘conviction politician’ and, of course, statesman-like. And, as I recall, I said as much.

I can only plead guilty on the grounds of temporary insanity; I was soon cured after George Osbourne proposed to raise the threshold for inheritance tax (at last – a tax cut!) and David Cameron allegedly made the ‘speech of his life’ but, then again, not really because of anything the Conservatives did.

It was only after the Conservative Party Conference that I realised I had been deceived, or rather allowed myself to be deceived, as the real Gordon Brown emerged – a timid, over-cautious man, who called off, as Cameron himself obligingly pointed out, an election that he was almost certainly going to win.

At that moment, for me – a disillusioned Tory enamoured of Brown’s professed love of Britain and Britishness, and who had been delighted by the pictures of Margaret Thatcher’s return to Downing Street for tea, at the invitation of the Prime Minister – Gordon Brown’s political career started to make sense. He was not the antidote to Tony Blair at all. Tony Blair had always been portrayed (rightly, in my view) as a man of no principle. Gordon Brown, on the other hand, had principles and although I didn’t necessarily like them, at least he had some. Or so I used to think.

But just as Blair fluffed nearly all of his legacy-defining tests so too will Gordon Brown (and on Europe, he already has). His Blairite rhetoric about the constant ‘need for change’ and the importance of making ‘hard choices’ is in the end no substitute for principled, resolute action.

Furthermore, I came to realise – albeit belatedly – that Brown lacks political courage; if he didn’t he would have been Prime Minister years ago. Brown, it is worth restating, was as much the architect of the vacuous New Labour Project as Tony Blair: it was merely convenient for Blair the moderniser and Brown the king-in-waiting, to portray the latter as a ‘real’ Labour man in order to carry with them both the ‘awkward squad’ in the parliamentary party.

I had misinterpreted Brown’s remarkable silence over the issues which were most dear to Blair’s heart as conscientious objection. Of course, I was wrong – it was quite literally a party trick. This isn’t to say that Blair and Brown were happy bedfellows, but their differences were – and are – more personal than political.

The current Prime Minister’s lack of principles and the reasons for the aimlessness and drift of the government at the moment (themselves causally and mutually linked) should really have been obvious to me and the rest of the country during his time at the Treasury.

Then, in the New Year, still coming to terms with Brown’s great deception, I was called again by the same polling organisation and asked about my voting intentions, this time for an election which will no doubt come in 2009 or 2010. Holding my nose, I said that I would now be voting Conservative (I am no lover of Dave). My brief – and purely political – affair with Gordon Brown was over.

On its own, my change of heart is hardly worth mentioning, but I take some comfort from the fact that I am part of a wider trend of reformed sinners and dupes that has emerged against Gordon Brown in recent weeks. The opinion poll which I participated in gave the Conservatives a lead of several points over Labour. If repeated in a general election, Labour would, according to all opinion polls at the moment, almost certainly lose power outright.

And, inasmuch as all votes count (though some more than others in Britain), that would be no small part for me to play in the ultimate downfall of Gordon Brown. Not least since I could never contemplate voting for him again, now that I – and we all – know the truth.

James Wright is a History student from Christ Church.

Blues Athlete of the Week takes the form this week of an exclusive interview with Blues’ superstar striker Alex Toogood.Does your high profile in Oxford ever lead to strangers stopping you on the street?
Haha no! As if anybody would do that! When I was playing college football in first year I sometimes got recognised, but that was mainly by guys who played for other colleges, when they were smashed in Park End. It’s usually just embarrassing because I’m awful with names and faces so I have to have entire conversations whilst not having the slightest idea who I’m talking to.What's it like working with Martin Keown?
Martin’s awesome. He really knows what he’s doing and he’s got us playing some nice football. He expects a lot from us. For example, if anyone lifts or bobbles a pass in training, the whole drill is stopped and restarted. It is hard work, but it instills the right attitude in the players. I think the fact that Martin Keown is prowling the touchline during matches makes everyone give a bit more. The fact that we are in contention to win our BUSA league having been promoted last season shows how well we’re doing under his guidance.Who's got the best banter on your team?
I think I have. Nobody else seems to agree.Does the predominance of Worcester players on Blues help?
There isn’t a predominance of Worcester players on the Blues. If you don’t include my fellow striker Niko De Walden, who we’ve actually poached from St. Bennet’s because they don’t have a team, I’m the only person from Worcester who’s starting for the Blues at the moment.Who do you support?
No one to be honest. I get a lot of stick from the team for knowing absolutely nothing about football. I watch Match of the Day sometimes but only to see the goals, and I don’t see what all the fuss is about. The only team I really care about is England, but they just break my heart every two years. I’d much rather play football than watch it.Which footballer do you model yourself on?
I only know the names of about 5 players so I couldn’t really say.What are your main strengths/weaknesses as a player?
I guess being quite fast is my main advantage, and my fitness pays off towards the end of matches. I am overly competitive and I hate losing more than anything, which can be a strength during matches. Guys often become centre-backs because they are the biggest, thuggiest players. This means that they are usually bigger and stonger than me, so that’s a weakness to my game, and I get battered around quite a bit in most matches.Do you see yourself playing football to a high standard after graduation? To which level?
Not to a high standard. If all goes to plan I will be joining the RAF, so hopefully I will have time to play for their team.Would you rather win Varsity or Cuppers this year?
I get asked that a lot, mainly by the Worcester boys. Winning Cuppers this year is extremely important to me. But I would have to say Varsity, no question. What are your thoughts about Varsity? Have you ever played anywhere like Craven Cottage before?
I want to win so badly. It was horrible losing on penalties last year. Loftus Road is the only other stadium I’ve played in, so I’m really looking forward to running out at Craven Cottage. What's your sporting highlight in Oxford?
I am extremely proud of getting my Blue. But obviously the shine was taken off it by losing. Winning the league with Worcester in my first year also stands out.Do you play anything apart from football?
I don’t really have time at the moment, and I don’t think my body could cope, particularly with my intensive Pub Golf training schedule. I do triathlon in the summer, which is very different because it’s a completely solo effort. I don’t like the fact that your equipment can make such a difference, especially on the bike leg, so people can use money to improve their performance. That aspect doesn’t exist in football – everyone is on an equal footing and the result is completely controlled by human skill, effort, and attitude.

Remember this old rustbucket? The far-left party here in Germany, Die Linke, set one loose on the streets of Frankfurt just before last week’s regional elections. It’s meant to be reminiscent of the old Trabant people drove in the former communist East Germany. I guess it looks similar (here’s the original).

Noticed the problem? Yep, the actual car they used was a Ford. That’s an American multinational corporation with a revenue of some $170b a year — making most of these manifesto points rather vacuous.

Why let principle get in the way of good electioneering?

PS Feral Beast very much welcomes your comments

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Like many Americans, I am an undecided voter. Not in the way you think, though. I’ve made up my mind about whom to vote for , and mailed in my ballot earlier this week. My mixed feelings are more general, about the direction our politics is taking, the way my generation is voting, and whether Web 2.0 is good, bad or irrelevant for the electoral game.

The Internet is a major subject of spin and everything I hear about it, I try to take with a grain of salt. But it certainly seemed plausible to me that the changes in technology would have a dramatic impact on the way we choose political leaders. So I bought much of the hype about Web 2.0 politics.

In an early post on this blog (see “Web 2.0 and electoral politics) I wrote about how the Internet demands new levels of authenticity from politicians because it’s easier for voters to cut through media spin with a quick Google search. In a column for the Brown Daily Herald , I examined the impact of the Web 2.0 generation’s values on the party system: the generation of linkability is a lot less loyal to party and more interested in the moderates and mavericks who can bridge divisions. The recent successes of Barack Obama and John McCain seem to confirm that thesis.

My insights carry across the Atlantic, I believe—compare David Cameron to Gordon Brown and you’ll get a sense of the political generation gap; then take a guess which of the two has a snazzy blog to reach young voters.

As a technology enthusiast, I should be excited about all this movement towards authenticity and away from blind partisanship, whatever my personal candidate preferences. But a few elements of the current U.S. electoral campaign have me questioning myself. First there’s the business of Internet fundraising, which has kept candidates with minimal support (like extremist Ron Paul) electorally viable. Secondly, there’s the silliness and lack of substance in the recent YouTube! debates , where voters were allowed to submit questions to candidates online but chose not to probe the hard policy topics. Thirdly, there’s the fact that when traditional candidates try the Web tactic (Hillary Clinton’s has multiple times ), the attempt falls flat among young voters. Does that mean only young candidates can connect to young voters, online or off? I hope not.

So I’m appealing to you—what are the implications of technology in politics, and should I be stoked or scared?

Rachel Fraser and Sarah Karacs investigate Teddy Hall guests and discover that tensions break out as worlds collide.

Oxford University agreed to return four sets of human remains currently held in the University Museum of Natural History back to New Zealand. This is the first time the University decided to return human remains to the same community of origin.

The official claims request was made by the Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa in January 2007, and asked for the Maori and Moriori remains acquired by Oxford during the 19th century. The remains include two Maori skulls, a Maori half pelvis and a female Moriori skull from Chatham Island. Te Papa began their repatriation initiative in the summer of 2005 as part of the New Zealand Government’s policy.

The repatriation reflects the University’s new claims procedure established in 2006. The procedure requires assessment of the significance of the remains for education and research when considering repatriation requests. The University is also required to ensure that remains are returned safely to the appropriate community when claims are approved.

Results of the University’s inaugural claims request confirmed that the remains were from New Zealand and concluded that the items are not unique items, of no particular use in study of relevant fields.

Director of the Oxford University Musem of Natural History Professor Jim Kennedy said, “This is the first time that the University’s procedure for repatriation has been used. It has enabled us to balance our duty of care for these items, the requirements of science and the sensitivities and beliefs of the claimant community.”

"It has been a pleasure working with Te Papa, who have provided us with extensive information and background material that enabled us to move through this process relatively swiftly and reach a decision,” he added.

The human remains will in due course be returned to Te Papa first, which will then repatriate the items to the relevant Maori and Moriori tribal groups.

The ultimate student challenge: to live for a week on a budget of £10. Can it be done? Our anonymous investigator finds out.

Sunday: Have resolved not to tell anyone about this project, so cancel pub lunch and head to Sainsburys to stock up on their Basics range. I buy 39p white slice, some butter, and a carton of orange juice. The bare essentials would normally include 20 Lucky Strikes, but I forgo these in favour of a night out. I spend just £1.63, and slouch home, disconsolate at heaving left behind the delicious Duchy Originals pumpkin seed loaf, Tiptree plum jam, and vast array of crisps, olives, grapes, stilton and Bombay gin which usually supplement my cupboard. I am starving by 4pm, but hold out until Informal, gorging myself on bread rolls and asking for seconds at dessert. This is the best way to do it.

Monday: Having not bought any tea, I have a cup of hot water. Not the same. The lack of caffeine kick nearly drives me insane by midday, and I nearly get to the front of the queue at Starbucks, fantasising about a Venti Cappucino with hazelnut syrup before remembering my higher purpose. Storm out nearly in tears and bump into Big Issue seller. Glare at him and stalk off. He’s certainly not eating into my budget. Guilt catches me after ten paces and fork out £1.50 for a copy. The price has gone up, and I’ve got £7 to last me the rest of the week. After Formal hall, everyone pre-drinks for Thirst Lodge, but I claim essay crisis. I sulk in my room all night, and am rudely awoken at 3am by my drunken friends arriving back, screeching and cackling with inebriated enthusiasm.

Tuesday: No caffeine. I compensate with 4 slices of toast for breakfast, which only makes me sleepy in the morning lectures, although I am thankfully full up until 3, when another 2 slices, ever so thinly spread, of course, keep me going until supper. It’s Ace of Clubs at Imperial tonight, but I feign a bout of food poisoning from lunch. ‘Did you eat in hall?’, someone asks. I claim to have gone to Café Rouge, far enough away from college, and blame the eggs Benedict.

Wednesday: Can’t do this any longer. The cheap toast, the rubbish margarine, the accursed hot water. The monotony is driving me into insomnia. I walk down the High Street, reading the menus at Quod and The Grand Café, once my favourite haunts, and see the happy faces inside, well fed. I feel like Oliver Twist. I work again tonight, thankfully there’s no big club night, but everyone heads to the college bar. Essay crisis can work again; excuses are best alternated.

Thursday: More optimistic for some reason, although absent myself from the endless debate of Bridge, Cellar or Filth. It’s like a law court, and the defence speeches are admirable, ranging through entrance fees, drinks prices, availability of drugs, proximity to college and likelihood of pulling. Predictably, the college splits into opposing factions, each trying to entice the other over. But by 10pm, it’s split more or less evenly.

Friday: I’ve started to feel healthier. Maybe the lack of alcohol, caffeine, and cigarettes is helping. I splash out on chips at lunch, which I split the cost of with a friend, and enjoy a chip butty in my room. £6.50 for my night out. Have resolved not to borrow money, but after eating very little at supper, I head to Sainsburys, and buy a £3 bottle of wine. £3.50 will not get me into Filth. I drink the entire bottle myself whilst in a friend’s room, then receive several gin and tonics from various helpful people. Someone suggests a Sambuca shots competition, and I nearly win before a sudden whiff of the shot glass reminds me of a truly horrible incident aged 13 at the local rugby club. I bow out gracefully and we shortly head to Filth. I leave my coat behind, unable to pay to check it, but thankfully I’m blind drunk and don’t notice the cold. After a long queue, I negotiate desperately with a girl who seems unable to understand why I don’t have the extra £1.50. Perhaps my forlorn expression has a touch of emaciation by now, or perhaps I’m too incoherent in my drunken state, but she lets me in, and I spend a happy 3 hours dancing wildly, unaware of anyone around me, and embarrassing myself enough to merit a whole album devoted to me on Facebook the next morning. I stagger back, propped up by friends, and am forced into bed, although make several attempts to break free.

Saturday: I have never felt more ill, more ugly, or more unhappy with the world. I eat 6 slices of toast, and amazingly hold them down with 2 litres of water. All my money is gone, but I sit in the Turf drinking soda water with friends, which I discover is a wonderful hangover cure, although I’m desperate for some aspirin. Thankfully, a friend takes pity and gives me 3 Advil, which knock me out until supper. I shovel some more food down to fend off the final hangover hunger pangs, and attempt a bit more works. But the verbs swim around on the page, and my head is too woolly to take anything in. I have an early night, but go to sleep rather happy at the thought of having twice as much money next week. A bottle of Veuve Cliquot is definitely an essential for the shop. I rather think I’ve earned it.

Recent research has criticised Oxford’s access policy for lagging behind Labour’s targets for the proportion of state-school students admitted. But should the government be allowed to set quotas that might compromise Oxford’s academic integrity?

Oxford is a university of world renown in some part because it takes ‘the brightest and the best’ applicants. And many it has to, in order to strengthen its reputation as one of the best universities in the world, and to compete internationally with far richer Ivy League universities. But the 7% of students from private schools make up around half of Oxford’s annual intake. This suggests, somewhat crudely, that you are seven times more likely to win a place at Oxford if you go to private school.

The social argument against this is that wealthier parents can effectively ‘buy’ an advantage for their child in the highly competitive Oxford admissions process. However, there are concerns that Oxford is being pressured into compromising its selection process in favour of state-school students for the sake of political correctness. Although the University has frequently defended accusations from either side, the pressure is mounting for the University to become more heterogeneous – and the numbers from state schools are dropping.

Although an equal ratio between state and private schools may not be socially representative, it might at least create a cohesive environment. A first-year, who attended his local grammar school, argued that “those from public schools are far more networked socially, whilst those from state schools are generally more localised and insular. It was therefore intimidating knowing very few people and seeing all these Freshers who knew each other from socials and affiliations between their schools.” Indeed, the students from private schools tend to be the first to throw themselves into Oxford’s many societies, perhaps because they are more used to doing so. The financial divide between private and state schools prevents the latter from offering enhanced extra-curricular activities and preparation for Oxbridge entrance, which arguably prepares candidates who are more confident and articulate: qualities almost as important as academic aptitude. These, after all, are the characteristics which help an applicant’s aptitude to shine more brightly at interview.

The Institute for Public Policy Research (IPPR) will publish a study on Oxbridge state school admissions in a year's time. Preliminary figures published recently by the IPPR claim that "Oxford and Cambridge will not meet their benchmark for increasing the proportion of students from the state sector until 2016". The government has set a target of 62% state-school students by 2010. However, the analysis offered by IPPR is misleading. The pool of applicants from which Oxford (and Cambridge) recruit their students does not simply equate to the number of students who receive 3 As at A-level. Like the recent Sutton Trust report, the fundamental flaw in the IPPR’s analysis is to assume that all students gaining 3 As want to do a subject offered by the University of Oxford – which is not the case. Nor do they all have the right combination of A-level subjects to gain entry even if they are interested in one of the courses on offer. The analysis also falls down in assuming that 3 A grades alone equates to a potential Oxford place. Oxford admissions tutors assess potential through aptitude tests, GCSEs, written work and at least two interviews per candidate, as well as A-levels. 10 per cent of all A-level students gain 3 As; Oxford University only has places for the top one per cent.

Mike Nicholson, Director of Undergraduate Admissions at Oxford University, said: “Oxford strives to ensure that we recruit the most able students, regardless of their background. We cannot address inequalities in the school system alone, but we work closely with schools and work very hard towards raising aspirations and attainment among students. Our widening participation and schools liaison team, which has recently increased, supported 700 school visits last year, reaching 20,000 students through that means alone.” James Lamming, Vice-President (Access) of the Oxford University Student Union (OUSU), added that “Our efforts aim to ensure that every student is aware of the real opportunities on offer at Oxford, and not just the myths propagated by the media”. But it is the University too which perpetuates its myths. The grandeur, the ritualistic traditions, and the prestige of Oxford might be something to which such non-traditional applicants may aspire, but are also intimidating and discouraging to others. Such aspects of the University create a sense of haughty elitism. It is all very well to have a smiling mix of ethnically diverse students throughout the prospectus, but there is much work still to be done by Oxford in order to widen participation.

Oxford’s progress towards diversity is impeded not only by the University’s image, one self-perpetuated and further exaggerated by the media, but also by the criticism against which it constantly has to defend itself – from Labour and institutes like IPPR. This leads the University towards a choice between protecting its academic integrity or yielding to current political pressure. It is a choice that no University should have to make – and one which Oxford would never have to face if the government and the University sought to co-operate to face not only the problem of Oxford’s antiquated image, but also of the wider social issues that hold back Oxford’s diversity.

See pictures here!
Trinity…

 …or Worcester?