Thursday 7th May 2026
Blog Page 312

Where do we go from here?  Reflections on a day of chaos in Downing Street

0

Where do we go from here?  Reflections on a day of unprecedented chaos in Downing Street…

The past few years in British politics have repeatedly defied belief but Thursday 7th July will go down in history as the most chaotic, bizarre, and extraordinary day that our country has seen in decades.  This morning, it was barely possible to make a cup of tea before returning to the television to learn of another ministerial resignation or letter from newly appointed cabinet ministers calling for the Prime Minister to go. Chris Mason taking the phone call from Downing Street to confirm Boris Johnson’s resignation live on BBC Radio 4’s Today programme perhaps perfectly summed up the incredulous nature of the morning’s proceedings. The big question now though is what on earth happens next?  Where do the Conservative party and the country go from here?  As it stands, the PM insists that he will stay on until a new leader is announced, but is that really feasible?  Who is best positioned to succeed him? One thing is certain, the turmoil is far from over…

Who Next?  The Runners and the Riders

The main reason why Johnson has survived in post for so long in spite of countless scandals that would’ve buried leaders of the past has been the lack of an apparent successor. Now the Conservative party is facing a leadership election with contenders from across the political spectrum, as it tries to decide its future.

Liz Truss

Bookies odds – 7/1

Long-time favourite of old-time party members but counting many enemies among fellow MPs, the outspoken Truss has never been afraid to make her leadership ambitions clear. Much like Johnson, she has been happy to bend her political beliefs to fit with her rise to power after backing remain in 2016 only to become one of the biggest supporters for a hard Brexit in recent years. Brash and brazen with political stances branded by many as ‘Thatcherism on steroids’, she certainly wouldn’t offer the dramatic change in tone and direction needed if her party is to stand any chance of rescuing themselves at any approaching election.  She may also struggle in early stages of the leadership race, with several MPs declaring privately that they wouldn’t back her.

Nadim Zahawi

Bookies odds – 8/1

Zahawi was centre stage in the political chaos of the last 48 hours after being appointed Chancellor of the Exchequer on Tuesday night, doing the media rounds defending the Prime Minister on Wednesday morning, and then calling for his resignation on Thursday.  His political stock rose substantially as vaccines minister during the pandemic and, popular amongst his colleagues, he now appears to be one of the favourites to succeed Johnson.  The only thing standing against him may turn out to be his relative inexperience in government. 

Rishi Sunak

Bookies odds – 4/1

There are few men in history who have had such a dramatic rise to fame and fall from grace as Rishi Sunak. An unknown among the public when appointed as Chancellor he attracted fans throughout the pandemic with generous furlough and ‘Eat Out to Help Out’ schemes before becoming embroiled in the Partygate scandal and brought down by questions over his wife’s non-dom tax status.  There’s a chance that his shock resignation on Tuesday night might just have saved his chances and he is sure to be a front runner if he can convince MPs of his credentials.  Equally, his resignation letter suggested that his could be ‘his last ministerial job’ and a return to pre-political life could certainly prove to be an attractive proposition for the former banker.

Sajid Javid

Bookies odds – 7/1

Having already failed twice in leadership elections could it be third time lucky for the man who initiated the final chapter of Johnson’s prime ministerial career?  Although his dramatic move and speech after PMQ’s will appeal to some, few can really doubt his own personal motivations for moving against the PM when he did and that kind of ‘snakery’ as Number 10 likes to call it has been enough to see others named Michal Gove get the sack.  Javid would offer something different in terms of a political direction and would appeal as a more stable set of hands but his flip-flopping hasn’t won him many fans amongst MPs and party members.

Penny Mourdant 

Bookies odds – 5/1

Who? I hear you ask.  The bookmakers’ favourite that’s who!  Mourdant finds herself in the bizzare position where not having any experience working in recent cabinets will be seen as one of her biggest strengths.  If you are in search of a metaphor for the dire state of the Tory party then this is it.  Being a long-time Brexit backer makes her palpable to the right of the party and the ERG but her membership of the liberal Conservative ‘One Nation’ caucus means that she has a fairly wide reach.  She has perhaps the fewest enemies of any of the obvious contenders.  Then again that is inevitable when you consider that she has never held a post of significance within government.

Tom Tugenhadt

Bookies odds – 14/1

‘The rebels’ choice’, Tugenhadt is one of the few likely runners who has spoken out against Johnson from the start.  The Chair of the Foreign Affairs Select Committee slammed him for his performance as Foreign Secretary and has remained critical ever since.  His rhetoric always focuses on a renewal of traditional conservative values, the meaningful substance of that rhetoric unsurprisingly remains in the dark.

Jeremy Hunt

Bookies odds – 11/1

Hunt will undoubtedly frame himself as the man who stood up to ‘Johnson the bully’ and never served in his cabinet.  In reality, insiders suggest that his close relationship with Theresa May meant that he was never invited to – a quite extraordinary thing when you consider the amount of ministers Johnson went through.  Hardly a superstar as health secretary Hunt would represent a return to the more traditional style of government of Theresa May and although that be unexciting to some MPs, large swathes of party members could be convinced by a reassuring return to relative normality.

Ben Wallace

Bookies odds – 5/1

The defence secretary never resigned from the cabinet but did just about manage to squeeze in a letter calling for Johnson to go before the final decision was announced.  The former soldier is broadly seen as reliable and undramatic, both potentially very attractive characteristics at the moment.  He has won international acclaim for his dealing with the Ukraine crisis and the general public would be sure to back him on that but he is notable for his lack of experience in all other areas of government.  Despite his popularity, he has also previously stated his desire to take on the role of UN Secretary-General in the future and that may yet prove to be his next step.

So, in conclusion, the race remains very much open.  Dozens are sure to declare their leadership bids over the coming days and countless campaign websites will no doubt be launched within hours but the stark reality is that none of the options are pretty for the Conservatives.  The party is in a mess, politics is in a mess.  Opposition parties insist that Johnson cannot remain PM whilst the process continues and any caretaker would get the chance to audition their potential on the biggest stage.  It still remains to be seen how long the elected leader will stay in post.  Can any of those listed above really stake a claim to Johnson’s record-breaking mandate from 2019?  A general election may very well be on the cards and, if that is the case, then the calculations change all over again for the MPs with the fate of the nation in their hands…

Your Thoughts

We asked you to sum up your thoughts about our departing Prime Minister’s time in office and departure itself – it’s safe to safe that the responses were mixed and I am happy to report that you didn’t hold back!

Charlie Aslet on the nature of Johnson’s departure:

“Boris Johnson’s resignation had as much dignity as a streaker at a football game. He clung to power until even his unkempt reflection was telling him it was time to pack it in. Some people would have thought it honourable to jump before being pushed. Not Boris. He was beaten up by all his closest friends and colleagues, his trousers hoisted around his ankles and then given a mighty boot up the buttocks before stumbling over the cliff. His only consolation as he tumbled down that rockface was that he managed to give Michael Gove a final slap in the face before he fell, giving him the sack when everyone else was resigning. In a way, I feel a bit sorry for Boris. His resignation was like the assassination of Julius Caesar, except this time it felt like he also managed to stab himself a few times before he died. But, then again, the man seems incapable of telling the truth. Even when he says he’s leaving it’s difficult to believe it will actually happen. When he says he’s actually staying, that’s when I’ll be ready to believe he’s really going for good.”

We then asked you for reflections on Johnson’s premiership:

“Good riddance babes”

“One word – joke”

And your predictions for the future:

Same circus different clown”

“There is an unfortunate possibility that the Tories may be redeemed in the public eye”

“No chance anyone else will have anywhere near the decision-making prowess of Boris – prepare yourselves for an era of catastrophic indecision”

“I’m just sad for the people of Ukraine. Their future is now in doubt more than ever.”

“Someone equally bad or worse will become Prime Minister, there is no winning!”

Image: CC:2.0 (BY-NC-ND 2.0 via FLKR)

Music as Ammunition: Ukrainian Bandurists Give Tradition New Life in Their Concert Series

0

Julia Kogut-Kalynyuk and Kateryna Trachuk escaped the shelling of Lviv with only their banduras on their backs and their concert outfits in hand. The two women are warriors of “the Cultural Front,” fighting for Ukraine’s freedom through performance of traditional folk songs. The bandura is a sixty-five-string instrument unique to Ukraine dating back to the sixteenth century. Julia and Kateryna’s music not only conveys their people’s distinct and vibrant culture but demands the world’s attention remain on Ukrainians’ ongoing struggle against Russian aggression.

Julia (27 years old from Pustomyty) and Kateryna (25 years old from Chernivtsi) met at the Lviv National Music Academy, Ukraine’s leading music conservatory, where they both studied vocal arts and the bandura. Since their graduation, the duo has shared their music with audiences across Europe and North America. When the Russians bombarded their city, the women crossed the border from Ukraine into Poland on foot. They left their home and loved ones to continue the fight abroad with their instruments. Julia’s husband, a teacher of English, remained in Ukraine where he teaches English in online school lessons that continue despite the ongoing war. 

Upon arriving in the United Kingdom, Julia and Kateryna befriended Iryna Ganzha, a Ukrainian immigrant who has lived in London since 2005. By gathering British audiences around traditional folk song concerts across the country, the women extend the reach of the bandura’s rallying cry. Iryna translated for Julia and Kateryna during our conversation.

SR: What does the bandura’s musical language convey about the Ukrainian identity that words cannot?

Iryna: The bandura’s sound [deepens the resonance] of our emotion. Ukrainians share how we feel through song, and the bandura is like having a hug around our feelings – it expresses the entire range of what we feel through music. The instrument extends multiple musical registers and, thus, serves not only as a great accompanying instrument for vocals but also represents our full emotional range. Beyond that, the bandura is the Ukrainian people. The possibilities of its songs are limitless.

The bandura has a fascinating history. In the late nineteenth century, during Imperial Russia’s persecution of Kobzars (itinerant Ukrainian bards who sang to their own accompaniment), the instrument was banned as though its music itself was a subversive language. During the Russian Civil War, the Bolsheviks murdered bandurists who promoted Ukrainian independence. I wonder if you could speak to what about the bandura makes its music so transgressive.

Iryna: It is important to remember that the first bandurists had their eyes gouged out by the Russians [for expressing their views through song], and the bandurists still found a way to perform. For Ukrainians, everyone who plays the bandura represents our fight against any invasion of the country. Whether it be the Turks or the Russians, but especially the Russians. The bandurists told the story of what was happening to people at their time. Their songs represent resistance, the fight for our homeland, and our home freedom.

How do you select the songs that you perform?

Julia: We play Ukrainian traditional folk songs [with a modern twist] and contemporary songs by Ukrainian composers in our own arrangement. It is an honor for us to share our love for traditional Ukrainian music with the UK audience while supporting our people at home. Half of the proceeds from our concerts go to foundations that provide aid to the Ukraine: Come Back Alive Foundation, Serhiy Prytula Foundation, and Help Ukraine Center (https://helpukraine.center/?fbclid=IwAR2-jW-EfzPOEKBmWz53EkO_fsVXgCYwqoI73ZQyI4tpgm1ARHXRPBL_jJU). So far, we have raised over three thousand pounds across our concerts. [These funds provide] ammunition and protective gear for the military, among other essential materials.

Iryna: I would like to also add that right now, we are not singing because we are happy. We are singing because this is one of the things you can do when you are distant from the battlefield. Music is a grenade we shoot at Russians that they can’t stop.

What brought you to Oxford?

Iryna: I believe fate brought these two incredible talents to the cultural center of our country, Oxford. I know people who are fighting at the battlefield now and every time they hear that these women perform in the UK, it makes their day. 

At home your music helps Ukrainians persevere against the Russian invasion. In Oxford, audiences delight in its unique rhythms and harmonies as a source of entertainment. How does the audience and setting of a performance impact the way you play your instruments?

Kateryna: As Ukrainians, we already know the words and the music. But when we perform in this country, people here in England, without even realizing what the words mean, are often more overwhelmed [by emotion] than the people for whom we perform at home. 

Julia: When you connect with the audience on this deeper level, it gives your music new life on stage. We even perform better. 

Iryna: Everywhere in the UK that these bandurists sing, people have been touched even when they don’t know the words of the songs. They leave the concerts crying because the music communicates emotions stronger than words. Now, can you imagine if they actually knew the words?

The Ukrainian people continue to inspire the world with their courage in the face of evil. In what way does music fortify their spirit? 

Iryna: It is our ammunition. We are singing, that means we have not surrendered. This is how we fight back. 

Julia: When we sing here in the UK, we remind people that the war is not over yet. And not just a war, but a genocide and terrorism of our people. People cannot forget about us. We must scream about it. And loud.

Kateryna: We are the cultural front.

As we sit down today, Moscow announces its victory in Luhansk. Russia is now in control of large parts of the Donbas region. What does this mean for people at home?

Julia: Our hearts are broken for every person living in this territory. It’s hard to read the news and see the horror that the Russians [inflict] on our people and country.

 Iryna: The Ukrainian military had to step down in Luhansk to save our people. That’s how our military works. They will not lose people. On the other hand, where my close friend is stationed, near Izium, the military actually led a counterattack and advanced. [We are actively preventing] the Russian military from taking over the entire Ukraine. There was a lot in Ukrainian media about our retreat from Luhansk, but we are advancing in other regions. No one wants to repeat Mariupol. Our army is about saving our people. But we will be back. No doubt. And going forward, we will retake Crimea. It is not just my wish. I know Crimea will be back to Batkivshchýna, back to its Motherland. Crimea is coming home, too.

Where will you literally and figuratively be taking your music in the coming months?

Julia: Our repertoire is always changing. We want to learn some English songs. We recently performed Ave Maria and Hallelujah. We play jazz and classical music, as well. With bandura, exploring different types of music always takes on new and exciting sounds.

Iryna: Until the war is over, these wonderful young women are going to be singing. Every concert tells our audience that the war is unfortunately still going on.

What can people in the UK do to support the Ukrainian war effort?

Iryna: Come to the concerts! Keep talking about what is going on. I haven’t used Facebook for two years, but now I post every day to remind all my international friends that the war is ongoing. And this war is not just about Ukraine – it’s about us being Ukrainians. I know we will win. This war is also about Europe and the rest of the world. We must win because we must not allow the evil of Putin’s Russia to win. Every time Julia and Kateryna perform, every post we make on social media, it is all about not letting the evil of Putin’s genocide against Ukrainians win. A bandura has sixty-five-strings, and it sings the song of our resistance. Whether it is to one friend or sixty-five, we all must sound like a bandura.

On July 7, Julia and Kateryna will perform at Wadham College’s Hollywell Music Room. Tickets can be found here: https://www.tickettailor.com/events/dvidoliband/705691?fbclid=IwAR0-0k7Ybk2mBpN2SLQL9z3YYUHHTU70irky_5Yo-LZE5UsEg3R2Io1hHPk.

I finished my degree! Now what?

0

It’s a weird feeling, finishing your degree. I sit and write this at the end of the week in which I submitted my last online exam. For some strange reason, the Psychology department has decided that their students only need half of their last term to revise, setting out an examination timetable that finishes in 6th week. My working theory is that psychologists are just too smart – an extra two weeks of revision would simply make things too easy. Regardless of the reason, I now find myself with a lot of free time, and wondering what to do with it all.

First, and perhaps most obviously, the answer was Park End. As much as I enjoyed that (and the friends that had to take me to bed know all too well how much I did), it can only fill one drunken night and one hung-over morning. The streaming gods blessed me with the release of the Obi-Wan Kenobi series on Disney+ and the new season of The Boys on Amazon Prime, but these too only take up so much time – and I’m not desperate enough yet to commit to all of Stranger Things. In a testament to the strange Stockholm-syndrome-like effect that Oxford has, I almost find myself missing sitting in the SSL staring at lecture notes. Or, maybe I’m just annoyed that everyone in my year spends all their time there and I’m getting a really sad form of FOMO. 

But, after a few days of sitting around doing an awful lot of bugger all, I’ve realised that this time has given me an opportunity to do something I’ve rarely done in my three years here: sit and think about something other than my degree for a while. Doing so has given me a chance to reflect on my time, and since thinking about things at Oxford is useless unless you can tell someone else that you’ve done so, here I am now. 

Oxford was never a plan for me. I hear people talk about wanting to go to Oxford since they’ve been conscious, and I respect them so much for it – they’re much more ambitious than me and that takes you far. To be honest, I had never really given it any thought at all, until one day I met with my sixth-form tutor about University applications. “How about Oxford?” he said. “Why not?” I thought. I need to thank him for that. I decided to go for it, applying to the one college I had heard of that offered Psychology, and not really expecting anything to come of it. Fast forward to October 2019, rocking up after being accepted to a completely different college and having no idea how any of this was going to go. 

Luckily, I can safely say that the three years I spent here, whilst not always easy, have been the time of my life. This makes it slightly anti-climactic for it to start coming to a close simply by pressing the ‘submit’ button after an online exam. Don’t get me wrong, I’m so grateful it was online because I would have been hopeless doing my finals open-book, but not getting the triumphant walk out of exam schools was slightly disappointing. But the term isn’t over yet and I’m sure I’ll end things on a high, albeit probably very tipsy, note. 

This poses another challenge though, and one I’m sure I’m not alone in facing: what the hell do I do now? People I know have spent the last year talking about applying for internships, or the jobs they’ve already got secured with banks and law firms in foggy old London. At the time I thought of these more as conversation points, rather than things I should actually also probably be considering. Now, my degree is almost over and things aren’t set in stone for me – but you know what? That’s absolutely fine. The ‘go-with-the-flow’ attitude I had when applying seems to have worked out quite well for me, so I’m more than happy to use that again and just see where I end up. 

That’s not to say I haven’t thought about things at all. I like the idea of doing a Master’s at some point (although the where and what still needs some consideration), or getting a job in one of the colleges so I can still hang out with my friends who are doing 4-year-courses. There are options, definitely, but deciding on one is easier said than done.

And, again, that’s okay for now. Honestly, I think I just need a break from making decisions for a while. I think it’s safe to say that Oxford is pretty full-on – world-class education or world-class workload? – and so I don’t think there should be any shame in slowing things down for a bit to give yourself room to breathe. That should be the case at any point in your life as well, but it seems especially needed after finishing university. I applaud everyone who does have a set plan, but personally I think I need a year or so to step back, enjoy myself, work some odd jobs and give my life the thought it needs. I’m pretty sure I’m not alone in that either. 

I will admit, the idea of no longer being a student is daunting, but all good things must come to an end. In times of crisis, I often find myself turning to the words of my favourite philosopher, an individual who I think truly embraces 21st-century thinking and cuts through the superficial distractions to really get to the essence of life. I, of course, talk about former Pulp-frontman Jarvis Cocker. In the 1998 album This Is Hardcore (which is outstanding by the way), there’s a lovely tune called Glory Days. Originally written as the bitingly satirical Cocaine Socialism, Cocker re-imagined it as a song that he has admitted “was about nothing really”. And yet, there’s a brilliant little bit of advice in there, advice that seems pretty obvious but that I really needed to hear in those dulcet northern tones:

“Where we are is where we’re meant to be,

Oh, come on make it up yourself,

You don’t need anybody else”

Life often feels like you’re always moving forward. Sometimes, it feels like you have to move forward. That’s fine if that’s what you want to be doing, but is it really a must? Like Cocker, I’m not entirely convinced. The only place you need to be is exactly where you want to be, and at the end of three short years at a crazy university you never expected to get into, that could be anywhere. Whether you’re going straight into a £50,000 banking job, an impressive internship at a multinational company, a graduate program that will catapult you into a career in academia, a year to travel the world and ‘find yourself, man’, or just moseying about trying to figure out where you want your life to go, the important thing is that it’s your decision to make and you’re happy with the one you do. And, if you happen to fall into the latter category and think that everyone else does have a plan, take some solace in the fact that I’m there too. 

Metaphorically of course – physically, I’ll be in Park End. I’ll miss you the most, cheese floor. 

Image credit: Ketut Subiyanto.

Downpours, ‘dank beats’ and Dionysus: reviewing the Christ Church Ball

0

After being delayed by the pandemic, the Christ Church Commemoration Ball was meant to bring “together far reaching epochs of excess and extravagance into one night of Bacchanalian hedonism.” The incomprehensible theme of the ball was based on French philosopher Henri Bergson’s concept of La Durée. Sadly due to the weather, the belle époque extravagance morphed into a muddy wallow in the meadow, with some attendees becoming rather cold and being thoughtfully wrapped in silver foil, à la pomme de terre rôtie, by a slightly tipsy college chaplain.

The iconic Tom Quad was dressed up in Venetian splendour with cardboard cutouts of classical figures and lions, and featured a spectacular display of fireworks. The Garden was a reincarnation of Studio 54 complete with strippers, blasting out ABBA’s Gimme, Gimme, Gimme resounding throughout the Thames valley (which should keep the local NIMBYists raging until the next ball), before evolving into a silent disco at 3am. Meanwhile, the Pococke Garden featured a Moroccan-style tent with herbal teas and a selection of ottomans and hookahs, and the Jabberwocky tree was lit in bright orange as part of the celebrations. 1920s tent was styled upon the famed Weimar era Moka Efti, with a cocktail bar, casino, and series of performances by the Oxford Jazz Orchestra, the Oxford Gargoyles, and Out of the Blue (with their signature rendition of The Lion Sleeps Tonight complete with ‘choralography’).

Unfortunately the maze was flooded, becoming a swampy network of paths leading to an ice statue of the Sphinx surrounded by salivating junior members awaiting to guzzle vodka. 

For those of us with the dining experience, there was a lavish meal prepared by our resident Michelin-start chef in the famed Christ Church dining hall, with dishes ranging from mock turtle soup (as a reference to Alice in Wonderland) through to “Christ Church’s Interpretation of Scappi’s Braised Beef.”

In the spirit of the dialectical temporal nature of the ball, Yubba Yubba Doughnuts (the all night doughnut stand), included an enlightening quote from Bergson on their menu, in an attempt to connect the “devouring of the future” to the ‘devouring of fried batter’ at the witching hour.

As the sun began to rise shortly after 4am, the silent disco continued with a sea of blue headphones silently bopping along to some ‘dank beats.’ Around 5:30am, breakfast was served, consisting of a very British bacon and egg bap with coffee and fruit juice, followed by the traditional survivors’ photo.

The funfair was indeed fun, with notably a fiendishly difficult game involving rubber ducks and hooked poles (and no water). The most popular rides were the dodgem cars, where the junior members of the House were bumping with zeal, and the antique Merry-Go-Round (especially with its inbuilt vintage fairground organ)

Beyond the standard white tie attire and umbrellas, there were many notable top hats, dragoon-like military outfits, straight out of a Gilbert and Sullivan comic opera, and military medals displayed proudly. 

Sadly, there was no appearance from our disgraced Dean. In his place, the acting Dean and Censor Theologiae made an appearance, flapping along to the flappers in the 1920s tent with ecclesiastical vigour. 

Despite the notable paucity of champagne, it was an all-round enjoyable affair. Fortunately, I was well prepared for 11 hours of Oxonian Dionysianism from my reading of P.G. Wodehouse’s Jeeves and Wooster and Evelyn Waugh’s Brideshead Revisited.

Image credit: Promotional poster designed by Gracie Oddie-James, the Creative Director of the ball. 

Christ Church forbids suspended students from Ball

0

As the 2021/22 academic year comes to its close, a selection of Oxford’s most traditional colleges are hosting Commemoration Balls following two years of Covid cancellations. 

Christ Church College, which is hosting its Commemoration Ball tonight, has taken the decision to prohibit suspended students from entry. The college’s JCR and Ball Committee do not support the decision.  

Several students suspend their studies on the grounds of mental health and other personal reasons. 

At its first general meeting of term, Christ Church College’s JCR unanimously passed a motion asking for suspended students to be allowed entry to the Ball. 

According to the Christ Church College’s JCR Vice-President James Clark, many of these students “have held their tickets for multiple years”. 

Clark also told Cherwell that students were informed of this decision on Friday 29th April, and were subsequently told that refunds needed to be applied for by Monday 1st May.

“Due to the short notice,” he added, “students felt ‘pressured… into obtaining reimbursement’ (General Meeting motion) without proper time allocated for the possibility of appeal or communication.”

A spokesperson for Christ Church College told Cherwell that “any Junior Members who need to suspend their studies for personal reasons such as health or welfare enter a formal agreement not to attend the College during their suspension”. 

The spokesperson also pointed Cherwell to an extract in college procedures which state that any Junior Member who is “out of residence” may not “attend any function in College”. Each case may be reviewed by the Senior Censor. 

The JCR Vice-President James Clark told Cherwell: “Whilst there is an internal logic to this decision by the College, the JCR disagrees with the premise on which it is based – that students, suspended for mental health reasons, should not be allowed on college grounds.”

The next Christ Church Commemoration Ball will take place in 2025. Ticket costs exceeded £200, not including White Tie dress code rentals. 

Image Credit: Michelle Marques 

Sports Ball sees award winners announced

0

A night of glitz and glamour at the Oxford City Town Hall saw the winners of the Oxford University Sports Awards announced. Nick Cevetta and Grace Molloy took home the biggest prizes, winning Sportsman and Sportswoman of the year respectively.

This year marked a return to an in-person event and hundreds packed into the beautifully decorated main room in the City Hall for a sit-down three-course meal, with the winners being announced periodically throughout.  Afterwards, the celebrations continued in style with live music and dancing as everyone came together to toast a superb year of university sport.

Jaidan Reeder was the first name to win on the night, taking home the cup for Student Coach of the Year for his wide-ranging work with the various rugby league teams that have come on leaps and bounds this campaign.  Coach of the Year was awarded to Hector Worsley for his re-energising of the university polo set-up and Georgi Pramatarov received one of the biggest cheers of the night when crowned Teammate of the Year.  Despite missing the entire season through injury, Pramatarov remained a key part of the squad and a special video from his teammates announcing the winner demonstrated just how highly valued he is in the basketball set-up.

Alice Garner’s exceptional athletics achievements on the national stage won her Fresher of the Year – the first of the second batch of trophies to be handed out.  After that, it was on to the much loved Stewart Humble, who won Most Oustanding Contribution to Sport.  His dedication has seen the side manage to kick on at a league level and also secure a permanent pitch on University Parks.  After that the Millipedes were crowned team of the year – the Women’s Second’s Athletics team have enjoyed an incredibly successful year.

The Blues team of the Year was the first of the biggest prizes to be announced with the hockey men’s Blues given the trophy after they beat Cambridge 3-1 in their Varisty match this year and enjoyed huge success in the league.  After the announcement of Civetta and Molloy as the two Sportspeople of the Year for their achievements in rugby union and orienteering, football, and cross country respectively, Oxford University Rugby League was crowned Club of the Year.  The roof nearly went soaring off the hall at this point.

All in all, a great night was had by all and the decadent celebrations were a fitting way to celebrate the achievements of not just the winners but all those shortlisted for such prestigious prizes.

Image: Oliver Hall

Copyright or copywrong: the Shape of You case and its implications

0

Ed Sheeran is one of my least favourite singers, and Shape of You is almost certainly my least favourite song. A running joke amongst my friends has been that if I had written something similar, I would be actively distancing myself from Ed Sheeran and not endorsing the two songs’ similarities. However, the recent copyright case Sheeran v. Chokri has to be seen outside personal feelings and the individual songs and musicians involved; it is not just an enormous win for Sheeran and his wallet but a victory for the music industry as a whole. He noted in a statement released after the judgment that there are “very few chords used in pop music” and that “coincidences are bound to happen” when 22 million songs are released on Spotify yearly. While the recent case itself foundered on a lack of proof that Sheeran had actually heard the song he was accused of copying, it hopefully reflects a wider pushback on the hyper-litigious culture that has plagued songwriting in recent years.

In order to fully understand the recent proliferation of litigation it is important to look at the history of such lawsuits, before examining the Shape of You case itself. Although music copyright has been enforced for a long time, one can point to the 2013 Blurred Lines lawsuit as a flashpoint which allowed an unprecedented copyright over the “musical style” of a song. Subsequently, similar lawsuits have plagued artists such as Bruno Mars, Katy Perry, and Drake. Additionally, Olivia Rodrigo has given writing credits to Taylor Swift and Paramore over perceived similarities between deja vu and Cruel Summer; and good 4 u and Misery Business respectively.

Blurred Lines and its worrying precedent

Rodrigo’s generosity with writing credits can be seen as a direct consequence of the Blurred Lines decision, in which Marvin Gaye’s estate sued Robin Thicke and Pharrell Williams for supposedly infringing the copyright of Gaye’s song Got To Give It Up. Dissenting federal Court of Appeal judge Jacqueline Nguyen categorically stated that “Blurred Lines and Got to Give It Up are not objectively similar. They differ in melody, harmony and rhythm.” She further argued that it set “a dangerous precedent that strikes a devastating blow to future musicians and composers everywhere”. Despite this, her colleagues in the majority dismissed these concerns as “unfounded hyperbole,” and gave the claimants $5.3 million. But four years after this decision, this concern increasingly seems like a well-founded one.

If all pop-punk bands with a female singer and similar guitar sounds somehow owe writing credits to Paramore, the effective result is that Hayley Williams and co. have not only been given creative ownership not only over their own songs but over the entire genre. The Gaye estate argued based on the “feel” of a song, but sonic familiarity can be a key factor in a song’s popularity. To name but one example, the recent 80s revival amongst pop music could leave huge numbers of artists liable. Dua Lipa’s brilliant 2020 album was titled Future Nostalgia. The singer has already been sued twice over her hit single Levitating; we can only hope that the album does not result in Future Court Battles.

A Solution?

The ideal (and, in my opinion, only) solution to this is for artists to simply acknowledge their musical influences and move on, be it through interviews, liner notes, or even in a song. 2018’s Star Treatment features Alex Turner admitting that he “just wanted to be one of the Strokes,” and Julian Casablancas returned the favour in lieu of suing him. Elvis Costello acknowledged the similarity between the guitars on Olivia Rodrigo’s brutal and his track Pump It Up, and tweeted that “[i]t’s how rock and roll works… that’s what I did.” George Michael’s estate similarly gave Lorde its blessing over 2021’s Solar Power and its similarities to Freedom! ‘90, going as far as to state that “George would have been flattered.” 

The biggest song of 2019, Old Town Road, had at its core a clearly recognisable and initially uncleared sample of a banjo, taken from American industrial rock band Nine Inch Nails’ 34 Ghosts IV. Had their frontman Trent Reznor been more litigious, it is likely the song could not have existed in the form it did, or enjoyed its subsequent success. The TikToks, remixes and debates over whether or not it was truly a country song would never have happened, and music would have lost out.

Reznor is no stranger to having his own work remixed and altered; he claimed in a 2004 interview with Alternative Press that hearing Johnny Cash’s version of Hurt was so powerful it made him feel like “that song isn’t mine anymore.” From this background, he told his “panicked” managers, “look, I’m fine with it… don’t be a roadblock to this.” Even after being added as a writer, he wasn’t searching for fame or royalties, enjoying the fact that he was “listed on the credits of the all-time, Number One whatever-the-fuck-it-is wasn’t something” but claiming that “I don’t feel it’s for me to step in there and pat myself on the back for that.”

The issue with relying on artists deciding not to sue instead of weakening the rigidity of copyright law is that many smaller artists simply do not make enough money to justify ignoring potentially lucrative plagiarism lawsuits. Matt Cardle’s settlement with Ed Sheeran over Photograph (for $5.4 million and 35% of the ongoing royalties) represents the apex of an enormous revenue stream that less-successful artists cannot ignore. Paramore and Taylor Swift are unlikely to take legal action over similarities in their songs and seem to have been prospectively added to Rodrigo’s writing credits to avoid the possibility of any litigation. The lawsuits against Katy Perry, Taylor Swift and Ed Sheeran, however, could be cynically portrayed as financially motivated. Indeed, Sheeran seems to take this view, claiming that there is now a culture “where a claim is made with the idea that a settlement will be cheaper than taking it to court, even if there’s no basis for the claim.” 

Sheeran v Chokri: the case itself

The basis of the recent saga over Shape of You was that Ed Sheeran had copied the ‘hook’ of the song from Sami Chokri’s 2015 song Oh Why. The argument had three components: firstly that the similarity between the two is too clear to be a result of anything other than copying; that Sheeran had access to the song via “a number of channels,” and finally, that Sheeran had “a propensity to collect ideas for songs [from other people] in advance of writing them.”

Sheeran was accused by Andrew Sutcliffe QC, Mr Chokri’s barrister, of being a “magpie” who “borrows ideas” and only “sometimes” acknowledge it. He claimed that Sheeran decided based “on who you are and whether he thinks he can get away with it,” supporting this claim with other songs from Sheeran’s discography (such as Photograph) which he alleged demonstrated a propensity for plagiarism. The speed at which Sheeran wrote songs was characterised as “indicative of copying,” and the cross-examination was harsh enough for Sheeran to publicly brand it as “deeply traumatising. His co-writer John McDaid similarly talked about the cost “to our mental health and creativity.”

Sheeran in fact wrote neither the main marimba riff of the song nor the phrase “the shape of you,” which were improvised by his co-writers Steven McCutcheon and John McDaid respectively. The judge noted that “he co-wrote virtually all of the songs [on Divide] with others,” forming a starkly ironic contrast with lyrics from his 2011 hit You Need Me, I Don’t Need You: “I sing, I write my own tune and I write my own verse hell / don’t need another wordsmith to make my tunes sell / call yourself a singer-writer, you’re just bluffing / name’s on the credits and you didn’t write nothing.” 

However, Sheeran’s lack of authenticity and his supposed “selling out,” are not the issue at stake, nor should they be. Radio-friendly pop songs of the kind Sheeran writes are necessarily collaborative efforts and exposing the behind-the-scenes nature of pop, while of great interest to some, comes at a creative cost. Sheeran now films his songwriting sessions as evidence for fighting litigation. One wonders if the time he has spent worrying about litigation could be spent writing better songs than Shape of You. 

The judge ultimately rejected all three of Mr Chokri’s arguments. He found no evidence that Sheeran had ever heard the song he was accused of copying and said that infringement “necessarily entails that the alleged infringer not only had access to the original work, but actually saw or heard it.” This is to be welcomed; proof of the possibility of access sets no higher a hurdle than uploading it to Spotify or Youtube. He concluded that the song had not been copied, intentionally or subconsciously, from Mr. Chokri. The allegation that Sheeran’s writing speed was “indicative of copying” was rejected, as was the view of him being a “magpie.”

The conclusion to the four year saga over alleged plagiarism within Shape Of You hopefully points towards a more creative future. We can only hope the decision results in a further backlash against the culture fostered by the Blurred Lines decision and a reduction in the number of frivolous lawsuits against musicians. They are bad for artists, bad for all genres of music, and fundamentally, bad for creativity. As Sheeran is still being sued in the US by the Gaye estate over Thinking Out Loud’s similarity to Let’s Get It On, we shall have to wait and see if it truly does. 

Image credit: Lifebyyahli / CC BY-SA 4.0 via Wikimedia Commons

In Harry’s House, there’s room for the romantic

0

Ever since Harry Styles released ‘Harry’s House’ around two weeks ago, it has been the soundtrack to my Trinity term. My daily walk from Cowley Road across Magdalen Bridge, mindless essay reading in the library, and hours sitting in the sun with my friends have all been accompanied by Styles’ romantic idealism and gentle melodies. A self-proclaimed One Direction fanatic when I was younger, I was excited to see what would follow the glamorous rock of Styles’ self-titled debut and his second album, ‘Fine Line’.

My assumptions of what the album was to offer were definitely surpassed. When ‘As it Was’ was released as a single, I liked it, until it seemed to be the background of every other TikTok as I scrolled through my phone. I found myself with the bridge stuck in my head, Go home, get ahead, light-speed internet, a subtle introduction to the gentle, gauze pop of the album. ‘As it Was’ is both sweet and upbeat, and seems to align perfectly with the soft yellow hues of the album cover.

When I finally listened, the opening track felt a natural transition from ‘As it Was’ to the rest of the album. ‘Music from a Sushi Restaurant’ was my favourite upon first listen, with ll its joyous, colourful beat and nostalgic lyricism. It reminds me of childhood summers, particularly in the introductory lyric, ‘Blue bubblegum twisted round your tongue’ as this gustatory theme runs through the song. The ascension of the trumpets at the chorus beautifully summarises intensity of feeling – when you love someone so much, it makes you want to scream, ‘You know I love you babe’.

Hand in hand with the joy of the opening track slots ‘Satellite’, the eleventh song on the album. I like to listen to ‘Satellite’ as if it’s a homage to One Direction’s ‘Clouds’. Both songs are united in their opening as airy and hopeful but build up to a constant drum of cymbals. Styles revels in his feeling for his anonymous lover, the act of waiting for their presence being enough for him, ‘I can see you’re lonely down there, don’t you know that I am right here?’, as we imagine him spinning ‘round and round’, waiting to be pulled in.

This defiant romanticism runs through the album, which is why I think it struck me so much upon first listen and continues to do so. ‘Daylight’, for example, interspersed with higher pitched melody, is full to the brim of sensuous, loving imagery. Styles is ‘cursing the daylight’, never wanting the sun to rise, for the night to end. His ‘dip you in honey so I could be sticking to you’, borderlines on the obsessive but is beautiful in its outward expression of affection. ‘Daylight’ is a celebration of love, but the rest of the album is much more pensive in its reflection.

Contained in the lyrics are remnants of memory. Identifying with Styles’ romantic worldview, I find myself frequently doing the same – hyper-focusing on small details when experiencing something, perhaps bordering on the idealistic, to ensure that I remember it. Often, this act of picking up detail is to overlook a bigger, more negative, picture, and ‘Harry’s House’ encapsulates this tension perfectly.

‘Keep Driving’ is made up of these smaller snapshots, ‘small concern with how the engine sounds’, and my favourite line, ‘hash brown, egg yolk, I will always love you’. Something about this image, to me, summarises the comfort that is said to define love. It reminds me of hungover brunches with my friends, reminiscing upon the night before and laughing the morning away. These details amalgamate in the bridge as the pace of the song increases, and the sexual, romantic, and mundane intertwine, ‘choke her with a sea view, toothache, bad move… mocha pot, Monday’.

There is something immediate about the album’s lyrics being so packed with small detail. Yet, this doesn’t detract from the overarching feeling that comes with loving someone retrospectively. In ‘Little Freak’, details are widened to a broader picture of longing. With dreamlike piano pushing forward his hazy, love-like reminiscence, Styles manages to capture in words a feeling that only the hopeless romantic will know. In the chorus, he sings, ‘I was thinking about you, I’m not worried about where you are, who you will go home to, I’m just thinking about you’, enveloping the bittersweetness of moving on from someone. ‘Little Freak’ recognises the simple act of thinking about someone. Whether they exist in your past or in your present, you can revel in thought without disturbing them or actively wondering about who they are with. This rose-tinted hurt may be your fault, as Styles also recognises, ‘I disrespected you, jumped in feet first then I landed too hard’, or theirs, but it doesn’t matter – to think about them is enough, for now.

Not only does Styles cater to the hopeless romantic, but to also the burnt-out perfectionist. In ‘Matilda’, Styles serenades everyone who carries pain with them in the day-to-day, but brushes it off. If your instinct is to say you’re fine in response to a friendly ‘how are you’, even when you’re not, you will see yourself in ‘Matilda’. His opening line plays with this conversational dismissal, ‘You were riding your bike to the sound of it’s no big deal’, and later addresses the cutting empathy that comes with loving someone who is hurting, even if they do ‘talk of the pain like it’s all alright’. ‘Matilda’ combines admiration, affection, and gentle kindness, all to show that the person who laughs off their trauma and pain is deserving of all of these things and more.

Harry Styles has come far since his One Direction days – I loved him then, and I love him now. Just as he sings in the concluding track, I too can proclaim someone the ‘love of my life’, despite not knowing them ‘half as well as all my friends’, and as I listen, I find mirrored in his longing, romantic outlook. ‘Harry’s House’ is a house of several rooms. Of screaming elation, beautiful minutia, and doomed love, all of which make for a complex and emotive listen.

Image credit: erintheredmc / CC BY 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons

Irmgard Keun’s normal superwomen

Literature can offer a voice to those we thought were silenced, and give us stories to make us hope, despair, dream or cry. Usually we picture writers as deeply troubled men, locked in their rooms, writing by candlelight at night. Yet this romantic cliché might not be true. Writers can come in all forms: women dreaming of a brighter future, pretty women who want to become actresses, and women living in a claustrophobic society which allows little space for them to grow. The German writer Irmgard Keun was one of them.

I came across Keun’s name for the first time in the German syllabus for my first year at Oxford. I was intrigued by her, not only because she was the only woman writer on the list – which is striking enough – but also because while reading some of her books, I realised how her feminine characters seemed so real and challenged our own actual feminist views. Indeed, nowadays, women are seen as feminists only if they are assertive and independent as well as actively fighting against our patriarchal society. Irmgard Keun’s heroines are more nuanced; they play with gender stereotypes to get what they want, instead of fighting the system. They try to get the best of it by playing by the rules. 

Irmgard Keun was born into a German liberal middle-class family in 1905. She worked as a stenotypist and took acting classes. Her first dream was to become an actress, but she resigned herself to pursue a literary career as advised by the famous German author Alfred Döblin. Keun’s first novel Gilgi eine von uns  (1931) was an instant bestseller. Her second novel Das kunstseidene Mädchen, published a year later, was an international success and even adapted to screen. Irmgard Keun was about to have a brilliant career in the late Weimar Republic years. She was one of the main leaders of the ‘Neue Sachlichkeit’, a literary movement during these years.

However, the rise of National Socialism cut her literary aspirations short. Her books were banned and she did not receive any more money from her book sales. After divorcing her husband because of his affiliation with the Nazi party, she went into exile in the Netherlands. While she was in exile, she published several novels such as Nach Mitternacht, D-Zug Dritter Klasse, and Kinder aller Länder. She made a cinematic return back to Germany, faking her own suicide and changing her name. After the fall of National Socialism, she tried publishing other literary works, but she could never match the success she had before. She lapsed into alcoholism and poverty and finally died of lung cancer in a psychiatric ward.

Irmgard Keun’s life can be seen as a tragedy. Her talented wings were clipped by dictatorship. Surprisingly, she was rediscovered in the late 70s and her works were described as avant-garde feminist novels. But the ones who consider her female characters as bold feminists fighting against the oppressive patriarchal society surely have not understood her multi-layered and nuanced characters. The main characters of novels such as in Gilgi, eine von uns and Das kunstseidene Mädchen are young women who try to succeed in their lives on their own. They can flirt, play with gender stereotypes, use men to achieve their goals, implicitly criticise society by adopting a seemingly naive and innocent tone and much more.

Looking at some of the figures more closely, in Gilgi eine von uns, Gilgi is a young stenotypist, looking for her birth mother and trying to escape her middle-class adoptive family by living with her bohemian older boyfriend. She is struggling between her ideals of helping her friends (who have fallen into poverty because of the inflation and the rise of unemployment) and her expectations of making a better life for herself. She does this by accepting expensive gifts from men and running away to Cologne and starting a new life as a single mother. Sanna, the main character in Nach Mitternacht, considers herself a ‘wallflower’ silently observing the ones around her. She narrates the rise of Nazism by describing her acquaintances’ lives. Nonetheless, under her bubbly and naive tone, we can find implicit criticism and satire. She puts Hitler’s power and masculinity centred around military status in question by ridiculing their twisted ideals.

Irmgard Keun’s heroines are more than women fighting against men; they are women who are conscious of the prejudices they will encounter against their sex, and who will try to subvert these prejudices to their own account. They are imperfect characters who seem passive observers just as society expects them to be, yet in detail, we discover strong-minded characters who aren’t afraid of adversity and discovering the unknown. Although Irmgard Keun’s career has been shattered to pieces and therefore she is often overlooked, it is important to acknowledge her legacy.

Irmgard Keun subverts the “écriture féminine” (women’s writing) archetype. She uses the literary codes that women writers were expected to follow but she twists them into delivering a detailed political and sociological analysis of either the Weimar Republic or the early Nazi regime. Her characters often mirror romanticised features of the author’s own life. Arguably, Irmgard Keun was the main character of her own story. She liked to play with her past, pretending she was five years younger to fit her character’s age in Gilgi eine von uns

What I personally like in Irmgard Keun’s works is how nuanced her female characters are, and how imperfect and plausible they can be. Her characters not only embody a whole generation but they are also extremely modern as we often face the same challenges as those women today. Keun’s characters show us that being a woman is so much more than what men expect us to be or what feminist ideals push us to become. 

Image credit: Städel

I Am What I Eat

0

I’ve heard all the jokes about how Chinese people (or Asians in general, those making the jokes rarely know the difference) eat dogs and cats, or the post-COVID variant on this theme about bats and pangolins. The insidious thing about these stereotypes is that they seem grounded in how Asian cooking can involve unusual ingredients, never mind the fact that the use of exotic animal ingredients (often claimed to have medical properties), especially the practice of dog-eating, is hotly protested and condemned in China. And yes, jokes about what foreigners eat have always existed—the British joke about the French eating frogs, the French retaliate with “les rosbifs“, and so on. But even setting aside how these comments are an easy veil for xenophobia and prejudice, a concern which the recent rise in anti-Asian hatred makes more acute, the idea of being squeamish about foreign food is something that has always baffled me.

It’s probably to do with my upbringing. I’m from Hong Kong, a city built at a cultural crossroads, as much influenced by its Chinese heritage as by its history as a British colony and the gateway for Western commerce into China. In traditional cafes throughout the city, you’ll find Chinese dishes, like wonton noodles, right next to Western imports, such as local versions of custard tarts, sweet buns, and French toast, which we stuff with peanut butter, deep-fry and drizzle with condensed milk or syrup – it’s as delicious as it sounds. And that’s before getting into other influences, like the trends we’ve adopted from Japan and Korea, which make the city’s food and culture a unique combination of differences. Hong Kong has learned to make great things out of strange ingredients: a base of Chinese culture, a dose of colonial influence, scattered international inspirations, and a healthy splash of independent spirit.

Moving away from the metaphorical, this applies quite literally to how we cook as well. Many odd ingredients in Chinese cuisine ended up in recipes because a starving peasant thought “well, this could be edible, let’s put it in the pot and see if it doesn’t kill us before starvation does”. While nobles across the world dined on juicy haunches of meat, the poor made do with organ meats, finding ways to make them edible, and eventually delicious – an art of frugality that the Chinese are thoroughly adept at. We braise chicken feet (euphemistically called “phoenix talons”) in soy sauce and rice wine, until they practically dissolve into their sticky, savoury sauce. Pig’s liver can be grainy and chewy if badly cooked. But, when gently simmered with greens, in a broth fragrant with ginger and goji berries, it has a melting tenderness and gently meaty flavour. Pigs’ ears are stewed in broth, their natural collagen thickening it and allowing them to be set into a marbled pâté. Sliced very thinly and tossed in Szechuan chilli oil, with sliced spring onions and coriander, it makes an appetiser that is crisp, chewy, and spicy – and proves that you can in fact make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.

Now, I’m not surprised that these dishes aren’t widely popular. They take time to prepare and often demand a finicky attention to technique. Not everyone shares my fondness for the exotic or lacks major food dislikes either (the only foods that I actively avoid are braised daikon and boba tea – which I recognise is weird coming from someone from Hong Kong). Organ meats have a gross-out factor that makes many people unwilling to touch them, or for restaurants to serve them—you’re unlikely to see your local fast food chains putting the McChickenFoot on the menu next to nuggets and Filet-o-Fish. But with the environmental and ethical cost of meat-eating being increasingly well known, it makes sense to lessen that impact by making use of the whole animal, instead of throwing away anything that isn’t a tidy, supermarket-friendly, cut. You’ll see this inventive aversion to waste in a lot of traditional French and Italian cooking. More recently, it has been seen in the nose-to-tail cooking movement, led by chefs such as Fergus Henderson, which advocates respecting the value of every part of an animal, instead of dividing it into commodities and waste, an approach which yields utterly delicious results.

Food that not everyone likes can, paradoxically, bring people together – it offers a sense of unique identity within a cultural group. A person can say, we are the people who can appreciate extraordinarily spicy food, or Marmite, or kimchi, or fish sauce, or haggis. And I can proudly say of China that we are the people who, over the centuries, have figured out how to make great things from the most unappealing ingredients. And we in Hong Kong have learned from everything, from colonialism and Communism, and created a resilient and independent society that I am proud to be a part of.

That sense of unity, of being part of a greater we, can be something truly special. Last year, I found a Chinese noodle restaurant just down the road from my college (Tse Noodle, for those interested). This is my first year at Oxford, and when I felt like a stranger in a strange land, being able to eat familiar dishes – a bowl of spicy beef noodles, or rice with barbecued pork – was a brief, wonderful reminder of home. And, joy of joys, that restaurant served little bowls of chicken liver or sliced chicken heart, the tender meat a backdrop for a thrillingly spicy dressing of Szechuan chilli oil, spring onions, and sesame seeds. Finding a dish that I never would have expected to enjoy in the UK was a nostalgic escape…and a very amusing way to freak out friends who were more squeamish than I am.

I – like many people from Hong Kong whom I know – have mixed feelings about China, especially when it comes to politics both local and international. But one aspect of Chinese culture that I will always love and be proud of is our food. It’s a unique part of my home that globalisation can’t homogenise, a symbol of our ingenuity and thrift, and a connection to that greater we. And to those too squeamish to give this sort of thing a try, all I can say is that you can go ahead and enjoy your bland chicken breasts and mashed potatoes. I’ll spare you and your tastebuds a thought the next time I sit down to dinner.

Image credit: Pieter Claesz / Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons