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When wine goes bad

illustration of woman drinking wine without a t-shirt on
Artwork by Tara Narayan

It doesn’t take a sommelier to identify when a wine has corked. It smells damp, unappealing, maybe a bit like wet dog, and tastes even worse. This occurs in around 10% of all bottles, when bacteria is transferred to the wine on the cork. The process is irreversible, and if you were banking on that bottle for a cosy night in, it could even be devastating. 

Good wine vendors – such as our friends at Oxford Wine Company – are happy to exchange the affected bottle in this unfortunate circumstance. But what do you do if you are stuck with wine gone bad? I found myself in this situation when I returned to Oxford after the vac – cheap wine, opened and left in the kitchen far too long. I am always loath to pour wine away, so I let it sit until I decided what to do.

These bottles sat in the kitchen, abandoned and forlorn until inspiration struck – or perhaps madness. Ok, it was neither; I just hate putting away laundry so decided to spice it up by dyeing my shirts using, you guessed it, old red wine. I could pretend I thought this through, or at least googled in advance. Instead I shoved the shirts in a large bowl, poured two bottles of red over them, and kneaded the fabric with my hands like Bacchae at a midnight ritual. 

I then let it sit on a shelf for three days. Why? Because that was how long it took me to be bothered to do something about it again. The next logical step was to wring out the wine and wash the shirts. This was something of a cathartic process, though I wish the blood red of the wine had been retained in the fabric. Instead they were a dusky shade of pink.

This could not be said when they came out of the washing machine. My shirts had turned grey. A nice grey, and one that in truth I’m more likely to wear than their original pink, but a baffling, dark, almost blueish, grey. My flatmates, it turned out, had googled dying shirts with wine; you’re supposed to heat it to get the colour to stick. This still doesn’t explain the grey.

Regardless, my brief foray into insanity was fruitful – if you’ll pardon the pun. I was grapeful that it was. I found a use for the wine, I have a new look, and my peers regard me as more insane than ever. Bacchus would be proud. I’ve also learned not to be afraid of a little spilled wine on my collar – soak the whole shirt and you’ll be turning heads.

Poor Things – Review

Image Credits: Cineworld / Creative Commons

Includes some spoilers

Poor Things takes place in a world only Yorgos Lanthimos could create. Like the rest of his oeuvre, the film is full of whimsy, wonder and taboo. It is fundamentally a world that you know, with cities you recognise by name, yet it is also distinctly unfamiliar. Free from time; Victorian yet alien in its technology and science, the London Bella Baxter (Emma Stone) inhabits is not the London you know all too well. Neither is Paris, Lisbon or Alexandria, where the rich live atop the hill and the city is stained a dusty orange. But these labyrinthine streets are not supposed to evoke realism; nothing about the story Lanthimos presents to his audience is real, at least visually.

Poor Things charts the course of the second life of Bella Baxter. We watch her first life come to an end abruptly as the film begins. Slowly we are introduced to our curious cast of characters: Godwin Baxter (Willem Dafoe) a Dr Frankenstein character who looks more like the Monster; Max McCandles (Ramy Youssef) Godwin’s meek and mild protégé and Ducan Wedderburn (Mark Ruffalo) the slimy lawyer come Casanova whom both cast and audience come to pity by the story’s end. Alongside this rag-tag bunch of characters, Bella navigates the world, both literally as she travels alongside an array of companions, and in the sense that she comes to understand the good and the bad, the beautiful and the ugly and her position within all of this mess.

Through the  fisheye lens of cinematographer Robbie Ryan we watch as the world expands for Bella, observing something that feels as though it is not to be observed. We peek into Bella’s life as she learns rapidly and matures over the course of the story. Yet other than ‘God’ nobody truly understands the extent of her naivety. Her body is an illusion; to those around her she is a grown women, yet in actuality she is a baby, then a toddler, a teenager and so on. Literally the mind of a baby is transplanted into her head, by her father figure Godwin. In restoring her to life, Godwin must fend off those who are unaware of Bella’s true nature. As Bella navigates her physical form she finds pleasure, yet those around her find taboo. Her scandalous naivety does not protect her from the outsider world which expects her to be prim and proper. But as Bella seeks etiquette and education, she loses the childish personality which made her so alluring to the men around her. Lanthimos has the ability to make all his characters, no matter how heinous they are, somewhat likeable, often by making them so quirky you cannot help but feel warmth towards them. Take Godwin: his surgeries would not be out of place in a horror film, yet the relationship he fosters with Bella is so nurturing and eventually free that you forget what he did to create such a life to begin with.

There are endless examples of craftsmanship throughout the film, Lanthimos’ films never fail to stun visually both when it comes to set and costume. If you thought the costumes in The Favourite were pompous, you aren’t ready for the frill and frocks in Poor Things. From sick-green nightgowns to collars fit for royalty, every character, every extra is decked out in the finest of fine threads no matter the occasion adding to the whimsy.

With awards seasons around the corner, Poor Things stands out as a bolshy frontrunner in nearly all the categories. From Sound to Cinematography, Lanthimos and his crew stand a great chance at ending the season on a high, and for good reason. By pushing the boat out and leaning into the chaos, Yorgos Lanthimos has managed to craft a story unlike anything else you will see this year. Each element adds to the eerie realism despite each component being fundamentally cooky. All in all a marvel, and Lanthimos’ most original work to date.

Greg Heffley: A Hero of Our Time

Image Credit: sugarbee908/CC BYND 3.0 via Deviant Art

Few modern comic heroes align with our distinctive age – an age which Dickens’s famous opening, ‘It was the best of times, it was the worst of times’, would easily resonate, and an age in which progress and innovation coexist with existential threats. Jeff Kinney’s literary forebears, those of the disillusioned and hubristic comic hero tradition, lie firmly in the twentieth century: the gloriously self-important Mr Poots, Orwell’s ostracised bookseller Gordon Comstock, the ever-exasperated academic Jim Dixon, and the acne-riddled Middle-England poet Adrian Mole.  

Greg represents all of the hubris and ‘self-irony’ of this literary tradition, and this is where the series’ comic appeal lies. For instance, his constant belittlement of his best friend Rowley Jefferson, and pretensions of grandeur by comparison, is confounded when Greg’s paranoia leads their mutual date, Abigail, into Rowley’s arms in The Third Wheel. Yet in his distinctive ‘David Brent’ mould Greg’s heroism is consistently balanced with some pretty unsavoury characteristics. Between his disregard for Rowley when he breaks his arm in the original book and his failure to take responsibility for wrecking his Dad’s car in Old School, we do not find a particularly noble or virtuous character in Jeff Kinney’s volumes. 

But is that what we want when we turn to comedy? Probably not. Rather, it is the passages of ironic brilliance, that elude self-realisation, that resonate with us and make us laugh. Just as Sue Townsend’s Adrian Mole fails to recognise the shortcomings of his ultra pretentious avant-garde literary style, Greg’s comic strip  is superseded by Rowley’s genuinely funny Zoo Wee Mama! comic in the school newspaper. In a quest for popularity that does not dissipate throughout the series, Greg also demonstrates his shallowness. After becoming the most popular kid in school for being able to tell the time at his terrible new school in No Brainer, his newly bestowed title of “Time Lord” beautifully characterises his self-delusion – or maybe reflects a sense of pragmatism that, if he becomes popular based on being able to tell the time, so be it. 

The twenty-first century could well be perfect for the sense of disillusionment which pervades every volume and affects Greg’s actions so decisively. And through its engagement with deeply contemporary issues, the series explores being a teenager in an age which should have everything, yet in which there are new and troubling challenges. His battle with his anti-technology mother at the beginning of Old School pits the generations firmly against one another – an Arkady bringing the modernising Bazarov to the sceptical older generation. 

But it is the trip to a tropical resort in The Getaway that most embodies our ambiguous and sometimes pessimistic age: his high expectations of paradise are confounded by what has become the epitome of modern tacky commercialism. If his parents are Adam and Eve going back to their prelapsarian nirvana, then Greg is the voice of their fallen descendants, wrestling with the snake of disappointment. He must reckon with the frustrations of modern life, just as Orwell’s neurotic Gordon rails against the modern “Money God” that conspires against his relationships and writings. 

Yet, between the dating failures and the strains of family life, there remains in Greg a profoundly human capacity  for kindness and humility. This provides a heartfelt, necessary counterpoint, and reminds the modern reader of the possibility and everyday reality of goodness in our times. His reconciliation with the recently broken-up Rowley in Hard Luck allows Greg to bury the hatchet with his oldest friend; when the proposed Heffley house move in Wrecking Ball threatens to break the friendship apart again, and does not materialise at the eleventh hour, the final scene of them reunited reminds the reader of the tenderness of relationships forged over many years. 

Here Greg experiences a rare and cathartic moment of self-realisation: his friendship with Rowley is more important than any new house. The dichotomy between constant self-delusion, and self-realisation in the critical moments, provides the reader both with searing humour at Greg’s expense, and yet the final recognition that he can overcome his flawed personality and relationships to preserve what matters – so the bumbling David Brent reconciles with his Wernham Hogg colleagues in The Office’s dying moments. The 3-pointer Greg accidentally makes at the end of Big Shot, having been traded off his basketball team by his own mother, emphasises this unlikely heroism. Happiness in an uncertain world may come from unexpected places. It is his unimpressive ability to tell the time, rather than any self-deluded attempts at romance, that finally gets him a girlfriend in No Brainer (if only for a few pages). And if the perennially under-achieving Greg can find success, so can we all. 

Let it be?

Image credits: United Press International/ Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons

The last month has too frequently left me wondering what the obsession with revivals and reunions is all about. We know that die-hard fans beg for reboots or prequels, and arguably this is a fine enough justification, but what is interesting is that far too often they end up being disappointing. For me, the nail in the coffin was the failed revival of two parts of pop culture that I hold in high esteem: The Hunger Games and The Beatles.

I’ve always slightly cringed at band reunions and movie remakes. After a while, you wonder how many more Star Wars movies can be released, or how many times The Spice Girls can go on a reunion tour. There are countless examples of media reboots that have flopped and failed to add anything to their franchises, even when it wasn’t necessary. Just a few include the 2019 Charlie’s Angels movie, the 2011 Mean Girls 2 sequel, or the band All Saints 2006 reunion wherein the band members soon after claimed (falsely) that they would never reunite again. You might think I sound cynical as these releases seem to be in good taste or ‘for the fans’. But when historically these revivals never live up to the original, you’re left thinking: who or what was that really for?

When thinking about it, most of my favourite shows or movies have been the ones that didn’t milk their potential. Whilst it’s painful we’ll never get another season of Phoebe Waller Bridge’s Fleabag, or Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant’s British edition of The Office, their brilliance partially lies in the fact we are left wanting more. We don’t know everything there is to know about all the characters, and their storylines are not tightly wrapped up. This makes returning to them even more enjoyable, as it feels like you are constantly learning something new about beloved characters. But what a prequel like The Ballad of the Songbirds and Snakes or a song such as Now and Then does, is it ruins their sacredness. Too much is revealed, and we lose interest in its legacy. We are let it on John Lennon’s private demos, and the question as to whether revolutionary music was left unreleased is partially resolved. Equally, when the origins of The Hunger Games are over-explained, our excitement or intrigue is pacified. And so, the franchises become less interesting, despite the fact the intention is the opposite. 

Considering The Beatles are the bestselling artists in history and The Hunger Games trilogy is the third highest-grossing movie based on a young adult book of all time, I have felt further confused about the motivation for the revivals. Clearly, there is no argument that either of the brands would need something to keep up interest or lengthen their legacy. On top of this, both are avidly critically acclaimed. It’s not then as if there was an undiscovered masterpiece that would change the whole perception of either’s reputation. So, what we are left with is two majorly mediocre pieces of work that are not only distasteful for the lack of artistic integrity and poor quality but also clear examples of greed.

Also, on a simpler level, it was hard not to feel offended by how bad both revivals were. Whilst contrasting in content, The Beatles’ Now and Then, and The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes represent the same issue. They fell into the trap of being lazy and underdeveloped. What happens is we see money-grabbing studios and producers convinced that the brand’s legacy and loyal fanbase justify them releasing anything as long as it’s new; regardless of the quality. And, to an extent, they aren’t wholly wrong. I still bought tickets to see the movie, and I still streamed the song. But the difference was I came out of both experiences confused by what I had just seen and heard. I came out having lost respect for both franchises, knowing how brilliant the work that had come before had been, and knowing that this is how a new generation would perceive both things. And I’m not the only one to think this.

Before George Harrison’s death in the ‘90s, The Beatles had already attempted to release Now and Then. However, the technology at the time wasn’t good enough, and Lennon’s voice could not be separated adequately to clearly hear the lyrics. In the twelve-minute documentary released about the making of the song, Paul McCartney revealed Harrison said the original attempt at the demo was “fucking rubbish” and that he hoped “someone does this to all my crap demos after I’m dead – turn them into hit songs”. McCartney’s case for releasing the song was that it was in memory of his friends. However, when one of said friends, who is now dead, actively challenged its release, you’ve got to wonder how true this is. Not only does this comment made by Harrison confirm my lacklustre feelings towards the track, but it also poses a moral question about releasing work by someone who can no longer consent. Whilst it isn’t for me to decide, it does add another layer of discomfort in knowing we can’t be sure that this is what George Harrison or John Lennon would have wanted. 

Of course, there will always be examples that break the mould. Toy Story 4 was a beautiful homage to the original movies, and ABBA’s Voyage Show continues to receive rave reviews. But this doesn’t make up for the countless awful remakes, sequels, prequels, and revivals that tarnish what once were remarkable pieces of work. Because ultimately, what the half–baked reboots do is leave you wondering if the thing you so cherished to begin with, was ever really that good.

“Poetry is political because it’s so immediate.”

Image of Begum reading poetry on stage
Image courtesy of Aliyah Begum

In search of localised wisdom, Cherwell spoke to one of Oxford’s own. Poetry sensation, Birmingham Young Poet Laureate (2018-20), Foyle Young Poet of the Year (2017) and English student at Oxford, Aliyah Begum talked all things ‘literature as a side hustle’ with us. 

How did you become a poet?

“I’ve always been writing ever since I can remember. I think I wrote my first poem in year two. It was very simple like, you know, six lines, abab,” that’s poetry talk for the rhyme scheme, “nothing too groundbreaking. I had been writing stories, but then I magically realised that poems are a lot shorter, and therefore less hassle.” That’s some realisation for a seven year-old. 

Before the Bodleian, there was Aliyah’s local library. “In the West Midlands, we have Poetry on Loan; they have little postcards that they get local poets to write poems on. I used to collect those in the library. 

“And then I think Secondary School is when I got more into it. We had a spoken word club. And so – as lame as it sounds – we would meet every Friday lunchtime. Then I started going to open mic nights in central Birmingham.”

The poet truly punched above her weight. “They were always adult poets doing their thing, and then I’d go on stage with like, ‘Oh, this is my first time on open mic night. I’m 11 and I’m going to read a poem about anti-capitalism or anti-racism or something.’ So I think the spoken word scene in Bermingham was where I really grew as a poet. It led to the Poet Laureateship and me taking poetry seriously for myself.”

Aliyah said that current Poet Laureate for Birmingham, Jasmine Gardosi was central to her precocious appearances at open mic nights. But, naturally, placed ‘mum’ in the category of champion. Watching Aliyah metamorphose from shy Year 7 into poet extraordinaire, “I think she could see how much performance boosted my confidence and how much I loved it.”

But, over the course of ten years, with an Oxonian hiatus planted in the middle, “the landscape has changed. Some of the more grassroots open mic nights are now in Symphony Hall or theatres. It’s cool to see the old ones get bigger and the new ones pop up.”

Thoughts? “It’s the natural progression of how things go. Poetry Jam, that was a kind of community. It would be in the Java Lounge and small coffee shops – probably breaking a million health and safety violations because there were no fire exits. People would be sat on the floor in between rounds.”

There’s a demand for this. “So they would scale up the venues each time and then they’d probably get more funding and the Arts Council would get involved. But it’s nice to see grassroots open mic nights still pop up in pubs and social clubs. I think that’s something I really missed in Oxford.”

What’s different about Oxford’s poetry world?

“The thing I love about poetry is it’s so inclusive and warm and welcoming. Being used to Birmingham, where a lot of people look like me, especially in the poetry scene and coming to Oxford where you go into the lecture theatre and it’s a room full of white girls – I found that quite intimidating in first year.”

Then, Aliyah gushed at the “exciting and vibrant” potential of Oxford’s writers: “they produce such beautiful, amazing pieces of work.” But, when you’ve been milling around with 20-something professional poets since you were 11, university poetry will seem very fledgling.

“It’s a really exciting scene but it is a little bit insular – maybe that’s just Oxford in general – I think there could be more collaboration. Like, there could be so much more collaboration between societies and magazines, and even with the local community. Oxford Poetry Library, for example, does brilliant writing workshops and community sessions.” Inside and outside the University, “the poetry scene in Oxford is brilliant, and there’s so much opportunity. We’re really lucky to be in this city of poets.” 

Is your poetry framed by a cityscape – Birmingham or Oxford?

“In terms of the literary world, there are maybe two districts: spoken word and performance poetry, and then a kind of more so called highbrow or literary poetry.” Aliyah pauses then to say “even the term ‘highbrow’ is a whole thing in itself because it comes from racist phrenology.” 

“Poetry that I learned in Birmingham and grew up with was spoken word and communal. Whereas at Oxford, it does feel like there’s a tendency to turn towards the literary and to try to replicate those institutions. For example, the Oxford Review of Books is like the London Review of Books. In Oxford, poetry is trying to lean more towards the institutional side of literature rather than the communal side of it.”

So, Aliyah is doing the work of building a bridge between the two. “I think there is a space for both spoken word and orthodox literary poetry to co-exist – and they must – but, at the moment, I don’t like how supposedly highbrow poetry is valued more than spoken word perhaps.” 

COP26, Young Poet Laureateship – how do you reconcile your poetry with institution?

The ‘institution’ of Young Poet Laureate was not without its pitfalls. “I did work with schools and libraries sometimes, but most of the time, it felt like I was more of a spokesperson or presenting, which I love to do. But I think I wish I had the chance to be more kind of actually engaging with young people and advocating for poetry directly with them.” 

Aliyah seems unsettled by our constant need to be validated by pre-existing institutions. “I think what I’m going to realise as I’m getting older is that it’s fine to not seek validation from these institutions. It’s not as bad with poetry as it is with novels or art but prizes or certain organisations tend to provide validation. I love poetry because it can be radical and grassroots. And, not to bang on about capitalism, but the value of poetry is contingent on how much money it can raise. So trying to feel proud about poetry and being able to love poetry outside of those institutions and prizes is something that I think is really important. It’s something that I’m trying to try to get better at – challenging where I think I get validation from.”

Again, this comes in the form of community where validation is just as much about the groups of people you engage with. Another institution Aliyah is involved with is The Poetry Society.  

“I love the Poetry Society. I interned with them over summer. You can really tell that they care about poetry, they care about young people, and they just want to give young people more opportunities to write and to make poetry more accessible.” Sometimes, pre-existing frameworks are invaluable to establishing community. Like with Foyles Young Poets, “it does introduce you to a kind of network of like minded people.”

Even still, poetry seems to be Aliyah’s means of challenging this notion of ‘institution’ in a way that is unavoidable. 

“I think poetry is inherently political. Even if you’re writing about a rosebush that you see outside, the fact that you’ve got the chance to, you’ve got time away from work, you’ve got time away from other responsibilities, that’s – I don’t want to say privilege because I think it should be right – but you’re lucky to be able to write poetry.”

Alongside nine other young poets, Aliyah Begum was chosen to perform at COP26. “It felt like a glorified careers fair. There were companies trying to sell themselves to you. It was just very icky.” 

So poetry becomes a method of political protest. “I did a Poets for Palestine event at Worcester last year. And that was inspired by Anthony Anaxagorou who did a national Poets for Palestine event. Poetry is a way of honouring and listening to voices that are being suppressed. 

“Poetry is political because it’s so immediate. You can write a novel but a) that takes time to write b) you have to find a publisher and give people time to read it. Whereas a poem, you can share it online or in person; it’s a lot more digestible and is a more immediate way of conveying your opinion.” 

Can one make a career out of tearing down the walls of conformity through poetry?

“All I know is I want to work with people and words. I just know that poetry is going to be something that always stays with me.”

You can’t say fairer than that.

With thanks to Aliyah Begum for this interview. 

Aliyah’s poetry can be found on the Poetry Society website. 

You can find her most recent work, Apples and Snakes, here.

Uncorny traditionalism at Il Corno

Restaurant in covered market
Image credits: Amanda Li

Il Corno stands out from the average sit-in Covered Market restaurant. Its crimson walls contrast from the beiges and blues of the surrounding stalls and walls, with an inviting and intimate yet intimidating atmosphere that made me feel like I was no longer in a market. The walls were covered with various statues of cornicellos – twisted chilis that look like horns and are central to Neapolitan culture – that the restaurant took its name from. They also served as centrepieces for each of the metal tables with red outdoor market-style chairs adding to the colour scheme.  Light jazz played in the background, and the seating was limited, which made it feel more close-quartered, and packed despite coming at 3pm on a weekday. 

Il Corno is a Neapolitan panuozzo place cooking the Cucina Campania. The restaurant serves this type of sandwich – panuozzo – made of pizza dough cooked in the oven and filled to the brim with various ingredients. Il Corno is run by Fanny and her family, who are from Naples. After getting her Italian Studies PhD in the UK, Fanny wanted to incorporate her culture into the restaurant through both the food and decor . The cornicellos are lucky amulets in Naples; each one brings a slightly different type of luck. The other statuettes in the restaurant are from Naples as well. There’s one of San Gennaro and Lady Bella to bring positive energy. Fanny also noted that the jazz playing in the background was all Neapolitan records. She truly ties in the theme of traditionalism.

The food was no different. To begin, we had the almond taralli, a traditional street food that is a small donut-shaped wheat snack. They had both a vegan and a non-vegan option to try, with the non-vegan option being made of pork fat. I loved the crumble of the non-vegan option and the way it paired with the crunch of the large pieces of almond. This was a delight to have warm. It was slightly salty and not much else, which let you focus on the unique texture.The vegan option had no almond and was more crunchy than crumbly, which I liked less, but reminded me of the sweet taralli I’d have at the Italian bakery at home. The crunch was more similar to that of an extra crunchy pretzel, and I certainly could picture eating some on a late night snack. 

We then got to the panuozzi themselves. There were  both vegetarian and meat options, which Fanny explained was one of her key priorities when planning. “At first, I wanted it all to be veggie and vegan, but it created a clash with making it all authentic Neapolitan food. This was the best compromise.” There is an option to make it vegan; Il Corno’s award-winning vegan mozzarella is from a vegan pizza ingredient producer in London and costs nothing to substitute. The other ingredients in each of the panuozzi were likewise assured to be fresh, whether from Italian ingredient shops in London or from Italy itself. Fanny explained that she cared more about the quality of ingredients than the number of options, leaving us with four total panuozzi: two veggie- and two meat-based.

We started with the half-panuozzo Munaciello, which had sausage, broccoli friarielli, and scamorza cheese. The broccoli friarielli was a new touch that I hadn’t found before in Oxford. It was salty, thinner than your grocery store broccoli, with more of a chew than a crunch. The sausage overpowered the flavour originally, but the friarielli came out in the aftertaste. The scamorza brought out a bit of smoky flavour that I quite liked. Overall, with the crunch of the bread, I felt it was a very good and filling meal, especially for half the normal portion.

Then came the vegetarian Il Corno , which had tomato, mozzarella, and basil. It was a great sandwich, but  wasn’t anything groundbreaking. The bread, once again, really added to the experience. I thought that a bit of balsamic vinegar would have improved it even more.  I had later tried the other vegetarian option, with the friarielli and bell peppers. I liked it more, though the feeling that something may have been missing was still there.

Prices ranged from 8 to 11.5 pounds, which seems expensive for student budgets. There are options, though: half toasties were half the price and just as filling. And for the price, it felt like a fun treat to have for something relatively unique. Even just being able to sit in the restaurant and work felt good: many people had just grabbed coffees and sat to get something done. 

We finished with the delicious limoncello and baba rum, which was a soft bread soaked in syrup and served as a nice cap to the afternoon. While finishing up, we touched on their location in the Covered Market: Fanny talked about befriending the other stall owners, especially her neighbours, and the warm welcome they received from the Market. She notes that Il Corno had created a different kind of space, one that focused on letting people sit and relax while eating rather than grabbing food and going. 

With many Italians coming by to get a taste of home as well as tourists and students grabbing a bite to eat, the restaurant always seems to find a way to introduce Neapolitan food to new people. Fanny says that she’s happy to see her regulars come and catch up, whether they order food or just a coffee to sit and work. She’s taking advantage of the Covered Market’s late hours on Thursday and Friday to spice up the restaurant during dinner hours; it’s often filled with people going out for a date night. She plans on hosting talks about both Neapolitan and Italian culture overall. Overall, it was a great experience at Il Corno, with a little immersion into traditional culture mixed with the modern flare of jazz. The food was good, though pricey, and I would totally go back for the taralli if ever in need of a savoury treat.

St Edmund Hall gives welfare role to former Balliol chaplain accused of improper rape remarks

Image Credit: Camboxer via Wikimedia Commons

A former Balliol chaplain who stepped down after allegedly making several inappropriate remarks to a rape victim – including asking if she was “aware of the effect she had on men” – has been given a welfare position at St Edmund Hall. 

Rev Canon Bruce Kinsey resigned from his role as head of wellbeing and welfare at Balliol after an inquiry into inappropriate comments and questions directed toward female victims of sexual assault. He was accused of asking one student if she was a virgin and claiming perpetrators were “puppies who needed to be trained” during a speech to students about consent. 

Kinsey began his work at Teddy Hall in January, assisting as interim chaplain and then as a welfare advisor. Although it appears Kinsey was originally scheduled to stay until June, a spokesperson for Teddy Hall has recently stated that his position finishes in March at the end of term.

The December 2021 inquiry into Kinsey’s behaviour upheld the majority of complaints, although Kinsey denies wrongdoing. It was found that Kinsey engaged in “unwanted and unwarranted conduct” towards a sexual assault victim. One student told The Times: “[My friends] were asked intimate and inappropriate sexual questions, told that their behaviour had encouraged sexual abuse, and had traumatic experiences of rape and assault belittled.”

Students reported that Kinsey commented on their appearance – calling them “very attractive” – and told them they should be wary of reporting since “You don’t want to p*** people off who you might meet again downstream.” 

The recommendations of the inquiry included removing Kinsey from welfare matters relating to sexual harassment and assault and considering whether his behaviour was grounds for dismissal. Kinsey took a sabbatical and later retired from the position. 

Kinsey has claimed that, after investigation, he was “largely exonerated” by Balliol. The College later adopted recommendations to ensure all staff are trained to respond effectively to harassment and sexual misconduct and to create a strategy for preventing harassment and sexual misconduct in the college. 

Teddy Hall has told Cherwell: “Bruce Kinsey assisted as Interim Chaplain for a short time at the start of this term until our new Chaplain took up her role in early February. He now holds a short-term advisory position during the transition period and, as planned, that position finishes in March at the end of term.

“We would also like to emphasise that the College takes all student reports of misconduct by others, including those involving sexual assault and/or harassment, extremely seriously. When a report of student misconduct is received, the report is dealt with through a rigorous non-academic disciplinary procedure, formulated on the basis of legal advice from a leading KC, and detailed in the College By-laws. In accordance with this process, when a major breach of discipline is alleged, the College arranges for an investigation by an external independent expert, followed by consideration of the evidence by a panel chaired by an independent legal practitioner. Students making reports have welfare support made available to them by one of two female Senior Welfare Officers.”

Kinsey has been approached for comment.

“Godfather of AI” gives lecture on AI and its risks at the Sheldonian Theatre

Image Credit: Daniel Stick

Geoffrey Hinton CC, FRS, FRSC, a Canadian-British computer scientist and cognitive psychologist known as the “Godfather of AI,” gave the annual Romanes lecture on 19 February. The lecture was titled “Will Digital Intelligence Replace Biological Intelligence?” 

Hinton made headlines in May 2023 when he quit Google so he could speak freely about the risks of AI. In a New York Times interview at the time, he said he regretted how advanced AI had become and his role in that development. He began the Romanes lecture by declaring it would be a “genuine public lecture” that would explain the basics of AI, why he thinks it “understands,” and the dangers it presents.

Hinton, a career academic, led two substantial developments of AI, first in 1985 and later in 2012. This latter research allowed the development of Large Language Models (LLMs) such as ChatGPT. During his lecture, Hinton discussed both near-term and long-term risks posed by AI. According to him, short-term risks include deep fakes, substantial job losses, large-scale surveillance, and autonomous weapons. He noted that the United States is planning for half of its military to be ‘robot soldiers’ by 2030.

Still, for Hinton, the more serious risks are existential. According to him, “If a digital super-intelligence ever wanted to take control it is unlikely that we could stop it.” In particular, he warned that the ability for AI to create sub-goals for itself to increase its own efficiency would inevitably result in a rise in the power of AI. 

In the past, Hinton said that the best hope against the risks AI poses is a combined effort by leading scientists to control the technology. He also believes that countries and companies should pause the development and promotion of AI until safety measures are agreed upon and implemented.

The University of Oxford has an important role in this endeavour through the work of the Institute for Ethics in AI and the Future of Humanity Institute. 

It was also recently announced that the University will share in an £80 million investment to create one of 9 ‘hubs’ across the UK aimed to propel the country towards being a global centre for AI. The Oxford hub is set to explore fundamental questions about AI technology such as how it can be implemented safely and how to improve algorithmic efficiency. Alongside the Oxford Centre, there will be eight other hubs opening at universities including Edinburgh, UCL, Warwick and Bristol.

The Romanes Lecture is the official University annual public lecture. The speaker is invited by the Vice-Chancellor. The lecture was created in 1891, and the first lecture was given in 1892 by William Gladstone.

A crash course in British politics: What does the public care about? (Week 7)

University of Liverpool Faculty of Health & Life Sciences from Liverpool, United Kingdom/CC BY-SA 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons

Our crash course in British politics is coming to an end in this fifth and final article. In recent weeks, we learned how British elections work, who the main candidates for PM really are, and what were some of the recent scandals in both parties. In this article, we will look past Westminster and analyse the public. In particular, what issues does the British public think are most important? Before we begin, it is important to note that this article is based on public opinion polls, which are volatile and could change substantially by voting day.

First, YouGov’s tracker on the “most important issues facing the country”. According to its last update, on February 11th 2024, the five most important issues are the following: the economy at 51%; health at 46%; immigration at 38%; defence and security at 23%; and a tie between housing and the environment at 22%. Interestingly, these issues remain relatively stable when the analysis is broken into Labour and Conservative voters, although for the latter defence and security do not make the cut, being replaced with education. 

An additional analysis finds that women care about the same issues as Conservatives (but to different extents), and care about the economy and health equally, at 48%. However, although British men care the most about the economy, at 54%, they narrowly see immigration as more important than health, at 40% and 39% respectively. Finally, it appears that across age groups, the issues dominating the public’s interest are the economy, immigration, and health – possibly unsurprisingly for anyone reading the news.

Next, according to an Ipsos analysis from December 2023, the most important issues for the public are inflation at 34%; the economy at 31%; immigration at 29%; the NHS at 28% and housing at 15%. However, a closer observation of the public’s interest appears to create two groups of issues that receive close public interest. The first group consists of the top three issues, the economy (and inflation), immigration, and the NHS (health), which are close to 30%. The second group consists of the next five issues – housing, poverty, environment, lack of faith in politics, and education – which are around 12%.

In Ipsos’ breakdown into different groups, we find that men’s and women’s perceptions are, mostly, very close to one another. However, while men care more about the economy and immigration by 6% and 5% (respectively), women care more about housing and poverty by 6% and 7% (respectively). When it comes to political affiliation, Labour voters care more about inflation by 10%, the economy by 9% and the NHS by 7%, while Conservative voters care more about immigration by 31%. Notably, white voters care substantially more about immigration than ethnic minority voters, by 22%.

So, the voters are quite clear – the economy, immigration and healthcare services are generally most important to them. But when it comes to other issues, including housing and defence, the picture starts breaking down into groups based on political belief, ethnicity, and age. 

It has been my pleasure to go on this journey with you, learning together about British politics. Thank you, everyone – and congratulations on gaining a basic understanding of British politics.

Kitchen Sink Drama

Illustration of a messy sink
Artwork by Taya Neilson

In my household, growing up, there was very specific etiquette regarding use of the kitchen sink. Over the past few months, I have discovered that this etiquette is far from universal, though its importance has been magnified by the absence of dishwashers from the average student kitchen.

The first hurdle is whether used utensils even reach the kitchen, let alone the sink, and the appropriate time for them to do so. It is commonly agreed that a mug or a glass can be used all day for the same beverage. The same rule can be extended to a teaspoon used in the making of tea. Most other kitchen equipment is single use only. This frequently does not stop sauce from crusting itself to a plate shoved to the side of a desk for a week. In your own space, that’s your problem. In a communal kitchen, it’s sure to spark resentment, particularly if the abandoned matter begins to produce new life.

Once the crockery reaches the sink, there arises the issue of diversity of hygiene standards. Can a simple rinse under water suffice if it looks clean? Does the temperature of the water matter? Is soap always a necessity? There is also the problem of how to address what you find already in the sink on your arrival. I was raised to wash everything in the sink, regardless of who made the mess – to do otherwise indicated a selfish disregard for others. This would usually include a quick scan of the surrounding area for anything that had not yet made it to either the sink or the counter beside it to be washed. I soon discovered that most of my flatmates did not adhere to this same policy, and would wash only their own dishes, leaving everything else forlorn in the bottom of the sink.

Another general principle of washing that proved to be far from universal was that of how washed items should be placed. In the absence of a dish rack, this was somewhat haphazard. I thought it common practice to turn dishes with the capacity to accumulate pools of murky water upside down in order to prevent freshly washed items from becoming breeding grounds for bacteria in fluid form. Apparently not. Our tea towels are somehow always wet, so drying the dishes directly from the sink is never an option. I cannot imagine how a bowl can be expected to air dry if it contains an inch of water, nor how such a bowl could be considered clean for use. Fortunately, this bore little effect on me, as my dishes were rarely washed by anyone other than myself.

One issue, which soon came to irritate me, however, was the constant pool of water on the floor in front of the sink. Yes, certain curved utensils have the capacity to project running water in all directions, but preventing this is not impossible. Nevertheless, I learned the hard way that the kitchen requires either shoes or bare feet, never socks. It doesn’t help that the tap never completely turns off. Its dripping haunts us all.

I am far from immune to lapses in culinary hygiene myself, and critical though this article may be, I am aware that the situation could be far worse. Horror stories of ants, overflowing bins, and food left to rot for weeks on end have thankfully not become a part of my personal uni experience. However, I have found the kitchen sink to be a fascinating microcosm of social and cultural differences within my flat.