Meet Irene Tracy, Professor of Pain
Having a title that sounds like a breakaway hip-hop act from the early nineties is not exactly what you’d expect from the world of scientific research. Explaining her line of work at dinner parties must be torture, because Irene Tracy is The Professor of Pain.

Tracey’s extended, and less catchy, title is Head of the Pain Imaging Neuroscience Group at the Department of Human Anatomy and Genetics at the FMRIB centre in Oxford. She is also a fellow of Christ Church, where they’re all a little sadistic.

Speaking professionally, she says ‘Pain is an unpleasant sensory and emotional (conscious) experience associated with actual or potential tissue damage.’ Unpleasant? Is that it? I can imagine her during one of the experiments: ‘Now, just sit back, relax and I’m going to gently puncture your eardrum with this extremely large and dangerous looking syringe. All I want you to do is tell me when it feels unpleasant.’ Err…now.

20% of the adult population suffers from chronic pain, which makes it one of the largest medical health problems in the developing world. But until recent technological advances, it has been near impossible to obtain objective information from willing (and crazy) volunteers. A GP would have been more likely to diagnose you as a chronic whiner than a chronic sufferer. Tracey and her researchers are focused on determining the brain’s response to nociceptive (i.e. painful) stimuli and how anxiety, attention, distraction and anticipation affect pain perception.
What exactly that entails in practice I hate to think. I was extremely excited when I saw a link saying ‘Photo Gallery’ on the official research website. Expecting images of people being hung from the ceiling by their nipples, you can imagine my disappointment when it was only pictures of the researchers taking a group tour to a secluded, undisclosed location. Actually, perhaps that’s more sinister.
Whatever the exact details of the experiments themselves we know that the team is, completely ethically, working towards finding both prescription and non-pharmacological (what you don’t know can’t hurt you) treatments for pain alleviation. Whoever said you don’t get what you want if you make a fuss?

by Roland Singer-Kingsmith

Blues 3 – 1 Bedfordshire  On a blustery day against a relegated (and rough) opposition the Blues provided an object lesson in how to win despite never performing at their best. An early Niko de Walden tap-in after good work from the ever-willing Alex Toogood seemed to have set the Blues up for a comfortable afternoon against a Bedfordshire side who had been relegated the previous week. However, a combination of the physical approach of the opposition, and the lack of controlled passing exhibited by the Blues meant that the first half was something of a struggle, with the only real chances arising from set pieces. Bedfordshire even managed to regain parity when, on the stroke of half time, a series of Oxford errors presented Bedford’s least mobile striker with the chance to toe-poke home. A thoughful and, at times, inspirational team-talk from coach Martin Keown seemed to do the trick as the Blues dominated the second half. Toogood made the most of the new interpretation of the offside law as he raced through on goal and finished with typical aplomb. The game was then over as a contest just after the hour mark, as a brilliantly mis-hit Toogood shot fell at the feet of Homer Sullivan at the back post, who calmly put his foot on the ball before passing it into the net. Bedfordshire were largely restricted to pumping balls into the box from deep positions with increasing desperation as the game wore on. High, looping balls are food and drink to the colossal Toby Hodgson and imperious Paul Rainford. In fact, they only managed one threatening shot on target in the last half hour, which Nik Baker stretched low to his left to repel. The Blues will be delighted with the defensive performance and with the ease with which they scored goals, but less than satisifed with their work when in possession of the ball. However, the result was the all-important thing, and sets up a mouth-watering title decider on Friday against top-of-the-table Worcester.by Nik Baker

This Week: A Computer Science paper by linguist Patrick Howard
 Define the term 'injection' (also known as one-one function) This term, together with its decidedly euphemistic alternative name, surely connotes the penetrative aspect of copulation, and more besides. It represents an act of domination, the clear expression of power by one individual over his (such an assumption is not without physiological evidence) sexual partner, not only in the sense of penetration but also in the sense of pollination. One is compelled to think of 18th century libertinism in the image it adopts to convey the nuances of this sexual act, yet one must bear in mind the consequences such euphemisms have for the creation of literalist language. 

Chris Walla: Field Manual (Barsuk)Great things are expected from bands who explore new music, and Death Cab For Cutie certainly are such a band. It makes no sense then, whilst the band are currently enjoying such a good streak, that guitarist Chris Walla would wish to produce his second Solo album, Field Manual. Nevertheless, what is done cannot be undone. Oh how we wish it could be. The first thing that springs to mind is that there is clearly an identity crisis here. The opening song, ‘Two Fifty’, is decidedly headed towards the direction of an Arcade Fire/Imogen Heap epic. The problem is, there’s simply not enough epic-ness about it. A few vocalists slung together and an unimpressive repertoire of simple drums and guitar chords produce what is consequently a very dull opening to a fairly average album. A dramatic change in pace on the second track, ‘The Score’, promises an album that may actually be worth listening to after all. But by the time ‘Sing Again’ comes around and we are hit with a decidedly James Blunt-ish sound, it is relatively safe to say that all promise is lost. The rest of the album, with full compliment to Walla, isn’t too bad. There’s some good ideas, although these normally come too far between annoyingly repetitive sequences. Whilst the lyrics aren’t great, they are passable. Most are consolatory rather than uplifting, but when Walla croons: ‘We need everybody onboard’, in ‘Everybody On’, you do have something of an urge to follow his command. There is, however, a problem with the vocals, which unfortunately ruins the album. Walla sings each song in exactly the same way, with the melody hardly apparent. Although this works for one or two of the tracks (namely ‘Geometry &C’), most of the tracks are stolen of all their originality the moment Walla opens his mouth. This is a shame, as the album had potential, but in the end, it doesn’t go anywhere. by Dan CryfieldThe Mars Volta: The Bedlam in Goliath (Universal Motown Records)At the risk of offending the Pope, the occult and good music seem to go well together – Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin and, um, Marilyn Manson. Moving on from overly made-up goths, The Mars Volta are the latest to dabble in a bit of black magic. While on tour in Jerusalem, guitarist Omar Rodríguez-López bought a ouija board which quickly caught on with the band. After being blamed for a string of unfortunate events, the board was buried in the desert. The album’s lyrics have been heavily influenced by this jaunt into the supernatural and as a results are as cryptic as hell. Thankfully, they’re aren’t overbearing, just in case you prefer your music without B-movie plots. The Mars Volta have never been known for their accessibility. In tune with the prog-rock traditions of concept albums, long track times and complex melodies, they’re not exactly easy listening. The solos on The Bedlam in Goliath are as wanky as ever but, crucially, they have the hooks that keep the listener interested. Opening track ‘Aberinkula’ bursts in with falsetto vocals and crashing drums before settling into a tense groove. It’s as if you’ve started listening to the album half way through, and it’s damn good. No song sits still for more than about thirty seconds. You’re bounced from one genre to another, over changing rhythms and time signatures, aided by the twisted and deformed vocals of Cedric Bixler-Zavala. The first single, ‘Wax Simulacra’, provides an easy way into the album but can give only a tiny taster of what lies ahead. ‘Goliath’ stands out for its hard-rock breakdown and explosive finale, somehow managing to slip smoothly into the down tempo ‘Tourniquet Man’. There’s hardly a single boundary that hasn’t been pushed, but the album remains cohesive and, most importantly, enjoyable.by Thomas Barrett

 Queen's 1 – 1 St Edmund Hall (St Edmund Hall won 4-2 on penalties)You could have been forgiven for dealing in clichés when describing this match, for it really did have all the ingredients for the perfect cup tie. Queen’s went into the game the worst placed first team in college football, having only picked up one point from their nine outings, while Teddy Hall were in pole position to chase Premier League glory. The sides’ divergent league positions, combined with their old rivalry and the blustery conditions meant you always felt a great quarter final was in store. The home side, bolstered by the introduction of university players, James Kelly, Paul Gorrie and Si Lennox, made the stronger start and created a couple of opportunities – industrious right winger Ronan Ferguson was unlucky not to get away a clear shot when one of those chances came his way. Ferguson’s work levels typified those of the whole Queen’s midfield who dedicated all their energy to closing down their opponents and disrupting the usually effective Teddy Hall passing game. With their creative players just not being allowed the time to perform, the Hall quickly resorted to pumping up long balls in the direction of lanky striker Will Frost. Yet with Gorrie and captain Max Olds proving imperious in the air for Queen’s that tactic saw little reward and ultimately the favourites didn’t create any opportunities before the interval. In contrast, the home side began to exert ever more pressure as the first half went on with striker Chris Harrison forcing Hall keeper Nick Ielpo into a good save from a hooked volley shortly before a piledriver from midfielder Si Lennox only just missed the target. As the Queen’s pressure grew, the visitors got increasingly frustrated and showed signs of indiscipline with some dreadful tackling. With both right-back Tom Joy and central midfielder (and Blue) James Kelly providing excellent dead ball delivery you always sensed Hall petulance would cost them, and so it proved. Firstly tricky Queen’s winger Alex Edmiston was hacked down and Kelly curled the resulting free kick just over and then an absolutely shocking tackle on Kelly by Tom Theodore saw another set piece cause confusion in the Teddy Hall box. With half time approaching it would prove to be third time lucky for Queen’s when yet another foul on Kelly resulted in a free kick which was athletically hooked into the net by centre-back Paul Gorrie. The home side fully deserved their lead at the interval. After what had been a close fought and fairly scrappy first half it was perhaps inevitable that the second period would be more open as the relentless pace of the game began to take its toll on the players’ legs. It was Hall who seemed to show the better fitness however with powerful midfielder Tom Theodore blasting a couple of efforts from long distance before his delicate chip was headed towards the top corner by Charlie Talbot-Smith forcing Queen’s keeper Paul Billingham into a stunning save as he tipped the ball onto the bar. Their keeper’s heroics seemed to spur Queen’s into action with first Tom Joy’s and then substitute Will Riley’s though balls troubling the Teddy Hall defence as Jon Dowle, another second half substitute, really put himself about up front. Yet despite that mini-resurgence the home team lacked the control they had shown in the first forty-five, no doubt the loss of playmaker James Kelly to injury was crucial in this regard. As Hall continued to press, a cross by Casper Lefanu was clattered onto the crossbar by Will Frost before the Hall striker atoned for that miss by curling a free kick round the wall past despairing keeper Billingham to level the scores. That equaliser came right at the end of the second half but Queen’s still managed to carve out one more chance, Jon Dowle went through on the keeper but Ielpo demonstrated why he is pushing for a Blues place with a top save. With the light closing in the referee decided that the game should go straight to penalties. Si Lennox and Paul Gorrie responded to Tom Theodore and Will Frost’s efforts to make it 2-2 after the opening exchanges. Hall Captain John Waldron then put his side ahead before his opposite number Max Olds saw his effort saved by Ielpo, although there was some suspicion that the keeper was off his line. A superb reaction save from Billingham in the Queen’s goal gave the home side hope but when Will Riley failed to convert and Ed Norse put his effort away the tie was decided. The result was harsh on the home side who battled well to defy their league form and push their old rivals close. Their unwavering work rate deserved the reward of a semi-final place but ultimately it was a cruel defeat on penalties for the people’s victors.
by John Citron

A classic Spanish text with an East Enders plot? Surely not! When I went to see House of Bernada Alba, Federico Garcia Lorca’s last play, I feared it might be dull. But this was not the case – the lively production owes much to the translator of the Spanish play, Oxford student Sophie Ivatts, who seeks to undo previous preconceptions of the play as gloomy and dull.
Departing somewhat from the original text, Ivatts hopes to make the dangers of an insular society and tyrannical force relevant to contemporary audiences. The plot could almost be out of Eastenders – family feuds, love affairs, jealousy and tragedy – yet the complexity of human nature is also depicted.
Set in a remote village  of  Andalucia during the 1930s, the tyrannical Bernarda Alba imposes an eight-year sentence of mourning upon her five daughters following her husband’s death. But eldest daughter Augustius has inherited her father’s fortune, and thus attracts the attention of Pepe el Romano. However the youngest daughter Adela is secretly sleeping with Pepe, and is desperate to escape the oppressive force of her mother. The play centres around an exploration of sibling rivalry and the tragic consequences of family discord.
The ambitious set design is based on a monastic cloister, which reflects the oppressive atmosphere in which the Bernarda daughters live, locked away from the outside world. Maria Josefa, Bernarda’s mother, is reminiscent of the madwoman in the attic. The image of Bernarda’s daughters standing around their grandmother, they in black, she in white, conveys the feeling that they are very much trapped.
Strong performances from the five daughters ensure that the family tensions beyond the spoken lines are well demonstrated. Both Ellen Buddle (Bernarda Alba) and Julia Effertz (Maria Josefa) give excellent performances, although both face the difficulty of portraying a character older than themselves. More work on posture and movement would have been beneficial. The vibrant performances of Lakshmi Krishnan and Kristina Kempster as servants allow us insight into the thoughts and emotions of Bernarda Alba’s servants, poised on the edge of the regime.
The performance is strong, but I wonder whether the audience will come away with the sense of hope and female empowerment which Sophie Ivatts intends. Even using her own interpretation of the original script, she is confined to Lorca’s story, which seems inescapably tragic.
By Emily Damesick

by Scott Hugo The United States of America stand at a crossroads in 2008, and the fate of our country will be directed by the individual that we choose to exemplify the nation and serve as our ambassador to the greater world. The past eight years have witnessed a precipitous decline in our international prestige and power; one cannot overstate the momentous decision that is now presented to the American people. The 2008 primaries embody a referendum on the very integrity and viability of American democracy. Senator Hillary Clinton is undoubtedly an intelligent politician who can excel as a leader within Washington DC. Progressives are heartened by the fact that a woman can run as a presidential candidate and be considered the front-runner, without the historical backlash that gender would induce. However it is in my opinion as an independent that a Clinton White House would be detrimental to the United States. Her election would serve to polarize the electorate once more, driving home the perpetual wedge between political alignments of red and blue. She has shown little interest in reaching across the aisle and working with Republicans of integrity and ideas. This is not to say that Hillary has not served her country with distinction and honor – but the excessive spin of the Clinton political machine, the defining role of lobbyists and special interests in their political careers, and the ease with which they utilize traditional attack politics represent the very atmosphere in DC that we are trying so desperately to escape. After months of contemplation I have chosen to endorse Senator Barack Obama, who embodies the charisma and leadership that our country so urgently requires. He is the self-made man on which the United States has prided itself throughout its short history. Honorable, passionate service as a Chicago community organizer, years as Illinois State Senator and US Senator give him the necessary experience for the White House. And yet the presidency encompasses more than mere day to day management – it grants the holder an incomparable ability to lead and to inspire. One needs look no further than the unparalleled activism of young men and women in his support. He has re-engaged the American people and reminded us of the better angels of our nature, much like Lincoln and Kennedy in years past.  There are few contemporaries who have displayed his mastery in achieving the difficult balance between pragmatism and principle. Senator Obama has backed his passion for reforming Washington D.C. with hard-fought legislation, drawing from a range of allies on Capitol Hill. Together with Senator Feingold, Obama passed one of the strongest pieces of ethics legislation to date. He has repeatedly avowed to publicize pork barrel projects and the ignominious use of free riders in the hopes of preserving the initial thrust and momentum of quality legislation. I will be one of the first to admit that I do not agree with all of his policies. However I am confident that he will surround himself with the most capable individuals our nation has to offer. They will be individuals of varied convictions and political persuasions, protecting the White House from the insulated bunker mentality to which the current administration has fallen victim. His years in office will neither be perfect nor smooth, and there will be inevitable disappointments and failures. However I am convinced that he is capable of retaining his original vision for change and will fight day-in, day-out to achieve the progress that our times demand.  My generation has recognized what Barack Obama can do for our politics and for our country. He is the first step in an arduous journey in search of the American ideals we profess to uphold.It has been too long since the American populace embraced that elusive word… “hope”. History has proven it to be our greatest strength as a nation, the very basis of the American Dream. And we are here to reclaim it once more. This is our movement. This is our stand. This is our future.  Scott Hugo is a former Oxford student now working on Obama's election campaign.

Dramatic irony is the tired old cry of ‘it’s behind you’ in a pantomime; it’s Romeo stabbing himself needlessly next to his sleeping lover; it’s even that rather irritating individual who insists on telling you what happens in the next act in a loud voice – most likely whilst gorging himself on some godawful greasy snack at the dramatic climax.
The fact that the audience knows something the characters don’t seems problematic; the audience can no longer enjoy discovering new information through the plot. However, dramatic irony cranks up the tension more effectively than telling an English tutor that you quite enjoyed The Da Vinci Code, actually. This is because knowing vital information about the play makes us all the more anxious about those on stage – wanting to shout ‘it’s a trap!’ or ‘he’s lying!’ to dramatic characters who are in the dark. Think about horror films; you sit on the edge of your seat, ready to jump at any moment, biting your nails as the attractive/minority/unnamed peripheral character does something very, very stupid. The audience already knows what will happen; it is this that creates the tension in the first place.
Dramatic irony is employed in almost every play written in the English language: from Jonson’s Volpone to Stoppard’s The Real Thing. The effect created by dramatic irony is different in each case. In Volpone, the audience are titillated by the possibility of Volpone’s discovery, and simply await comedic downfall. In Stoppard’s play, the audience is subjected to something much less light-hearted, waiting for the imminent discovery of an affair and the destruction of two marriages. In both plays though, the audience’s attention is focused on how and when these things will happen.
This focus on the how and the why was of huge importance to Brecht. To convey the political and social messages of his plays, he wanted the audience to think critically about what was happening on stage. To prevent them being overly drawn into the plot, placards would be placed at the front of the stage stating the name and location of the scene; there would also usually be narration at the beginning of a scene stating exactly what would happen.
Dramatic irony extends the notion of art mirroring life; it isn’t only present on the stage. Dramatic irony in the theatre works on the same principles as it does in real life; tension stems from being privy to information that someone else is not. Perhaps it really is true that ‘All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players.’ Then again, perhaps it isn’t. Perhaps you know something I don’t.By Ryan Hocking

 by Joe Wellington Picture this: it’s a Thursday evening and overcooking my latest tutorial assignment has left precious little pre-drinking time. However, not all is lost. By cranking the usual drinking games up a notch (downing vodka shots to the sound of Pendulum’s ‘Blood Sugar’) I find myself in a perilously drunken manner in good time to make The Bridge before it gets full.Abandoning my bike outside The Bridge, after undertaking what can only be described as a suicidal journey, I find myself in the queue. I am in such an intoxicated state that I no longer see the world as it is, but as a series of long exposure photographs with long streaks of light occasionally attracting my attention. No problem; I’ll just flash the Bod card whilst trying to stare vaguely at the ground.
After 45 minutes I was out, to the sound of the familiar phrase ‘I’m going to have to ask you to leave.’ My only crime? Throwing a tray of drinks onto the floor for no apparent reason.I’m not bothered. One of my good friends has also been evicted, and we start to walk back, bumping into another college mate on the way. The next thing I know, we are all stripping off our clothes before plunging into the surging Castle Mill Stream, to the astonishment of onlookers.
Someone cleverly took our clothes, and so whilst stumbling naked up Hythe Bridge street we are stopped by the police. I decide that I’m not up for a night in the cells and so make a dash for it, eventually jumping back into the raging river in a last ditch attempt to lose the police. ‘Genius,’ I remember thinking.Things start to spiral out of control and before long I’ve got a number of officers chasing me along the bank throwing life buoys at me. Then, with a surge of white water, I am swept under a bridge, where there is no space to breathe between the rushing river and the bottom of the bridge. Whilst trapped under the bridge, with my life hanging in the balance, I experienced life changing thoughts. Only then, when I was close to death, did I realise how utterly stupid everything I had done in the last few hours had been. Luckily I survived, and was taken to hospital with hypothermia.Now, let me evaluate the whole story, in light of the dangers of binge drinking. Firstly I would like to say how underrated the danger of binge drinking is. When totally drunk you are not in control of your actions, and your judgement can rarely be further from reality. University lifestyle is a dangerous one, in that to some students it is normal to go out two or three nights a week and get completely legless. This is a serious health risk. I’m not talking about liver damage – although this will result eventually – but rather the risk we pose to ourselves and each other when in this state. Clubs and societies really can be disastrous too, often encouraging or even forcing binge drinking through peer pressure. Freshers’ initiations (which are banned in some universities) are particularly dangerous, where entry to the club or society is only gained after the subject has drank themselves into a stupor.I’m not calling for any of these activities to be banned, but for them to be undertaken in moderation. In some ways, I’m glad that I received this treacherous wake-up call because it has shown me the error of my ways; it’s great fun to go out, have a few drinks and perhaps once in a while get drunk. But not to the point where you lose control of body and mind (as I did), and certainly not to the point where the pleasant evening out rapidly transforms into a survival situation.
Joe Wellington is a Physics student at LMH.

Stone Gods emerge from The Darkness I have failed you. I am sorry. You lent me the Dictaphone and everything, and I let you down. This is Cherwell, and so you want something post-modern and ironic, or at the very least scathing and cynical. But all my pretensions to critical greatness have been jeopardised by the fact that provincial little me has been charmed senseless. In my defence, Stone Gods are no ordinary band: they used to be The Darkness (before the lead singer left, and Toby MacFarlaine arrived). So their charisma has been honed on TV presenters and proper celebrities. Can you blame me for liking them? Backstage at the Carling Academy (evidently not refurbished when the rest was) they have a small fridge containing their rider: apples, hummus, “about 8 types of cheese”, Stella, and both colours of wine. According to Dan Hawkins, they ‘had some mangetout turn up too once’. This can’t be rock and roll – they’re too nice. This generosity of spirit apparently extends even to each other: they collaborate on songs, the four of them ‘sitting around with acoustic guitars’. MacFarlaine describes it as ‘like that game you play when you’re a kid: you draw the head of the monster, and fold it over and pass it on’. The analogy isn’t borne out by the music: the songs are tightly structured and tidy. They are also catchy. This is fortunate, because there are exactly 3 minutes of the new album available on MySpace, and they are headlining the show. Evidently, they’ve got a bit of a way with words – conversation moves from Pavlovian conditioning to raspberry pavlova. And then onto Kanye West (“nice sunglasses” according to Edwards), Joe’s Café on Cowley Road (‘brilliant’), and the relative merits of buying a pig or buying a pigskin hat from Reign. MacFarlaine and Hawkins are local boys: if you want to make a pilgrimage (more original than stalking Thom Yorke), MacFarlaine used to live at 526 Banbury Road. The band have been enjoying meeting their new fans – including a 52-year old lady-rocker, who assured them she’d still be head-banging at 101, and a small entourage which escorted the drummer to Boots the Chemists (I am assured he wanted to go). On stage they not only thank us for coming, but apologise for a song called “Magdalene Street”, because it’s named after a street in Norwich which is pronounced all wrong (Biblical rather than Oxonian pronunciation). Attempting to regain some journalistic objectivity, I took a discerning friend to the gig, planning to hijack his critical opinion and present it as my own. Unfortunately, he liked them too. He said they sounded original. And the downside of liking something (apart from embarrassing myself dancing like a muppet and witnessing my beautiful sarcasm wither under the onslaught of niceness) is that you want it to like you back. I don’t really have anything to offer them – when I ask what they would have liked as gifts MacFarlaine says he wants a Pembroke scarf. Oh, and Dan Hawkins would like a trophy wife. So here’s the pitch: he’s vegetarian, would have liked to have studied anthropology at uni, and if there’s any justice in this world, he’s going to be in a famous band.by Emma Butterfield