Saturday 16th August 2025
Blog Page 401

Memory/Dream

Amy Evans
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Memory/Dream

I see 

myself, smiling on a summer’s day, 

watching the sunset,

shapes sketched on car windows,

days so cold my breath fogs up the glass,

a cherished photo in a family album,

my room, the city lights, constellations:

stars on sleepless nights.

I hear

a song that plays on a loop:

snippets of shared secrets, 

tied to a half forgotten memory,

a piece played shyly on a piano, 

hushed conversations 

offstage.

I cling

to the past,

but a dream cannot be caged.

half of me knows this –

the rest retreats

to hide in a place it thinks it knows: 

travelling endlessly in dreams,

chasing fading memories.

Artwork by Amir Pichhadze.

In Conversation with Bruce LaBruce

William Foxton
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In Conversation with Bruce LaBruce

For a generation of queer artists, Bruce LaBruce is the very thing. Founding father of the queercore movement, renowned for his provocative, sexually transgressive style of filmmaking specialising in all things taboo, there really isn’t much he hasn’t seen.

LaBruce rose to prominence in the mid-1980s for publishing the fanzine J.D.s which in turn launched queercore, a subculture of punk aligned with the gay liberation movement. The fanzine had previously exploded onto the punk scene. It was the ultimate form of fan expression; people would make publications dedicated to their favourite stars, with pictures, comics, stories and the occasional political diatribe. “We did the same thing but from a queer angle,” LaBruce recalls, “we would make the fanzine with all these proclamations about homosexuality.” The philosophy behind the movement was to empower the isolated queer youth. “They were closeted. They were frustrated. And so they rebelled.”

J.D.s is a masterclass in queer anarchy. The front cover of its first issue salaciously teases what lies within: Polymorphous Perversity!, Unconscious Fantasies Revealed!, and of course, Bum-Boys! What follows is page upon page of gorgeous pop stars in the nude, stories of young queer love defying convention and heteronormativity. One cartoon shows two women tying a police officer to a tree. They leave her there, semi-naked, spank marks showing, her legs tied together with a note that reads: “I AM A FASCIST PIG”. J.D.s was a celebration of the queer identity, its complexities and self-contradictions; every reference I don’t understand makes me yearn to be a part of the collective queer conscious it once represented. It was an unassailable force of queer revolution. It was also built on a lie.

“A lot of it was myth,” LaBruce admits, “we made it seem like there was a full-blown movement coming out of Toronto in the ‘80s by just pure propaganda and fake news. And then it became a self-fulfilling prophesy. It turned into a real movement.”

“It’s just like how everyone now on the Internet presents the most idealised representation of themselves. We did the same thing.” Even his name is an invention, a mythic character constructed in the early ‘80s, “a hard-fucking, hard-drinking, reckless juvenile delinquent”, “a carefully constructed persona [he] was presenting to the world.”

Queercore was born from punk, though their ethos served as a middle finger to the punk community, within which LaBruce and his contemporaries had encountered homophobia and sexism. “Our mission was to make these provocative, homosexually explicit fanzines and super 8 films to say to these radical punks: if you can’t take this, then you’re not revolutionaries. If you don’t have a sexual revolution as part of your manifesto, then you’re not radical at all.”

Nowadays LaBruce is perhaps best-known for his films. His 2011 short film Offing Jack is a domestic tragedy on speed, as we witness the two antagonistic lovers fight, fuck and fight again. His 2010 feature-length L.A. Zombie is about a zombie with the power to bring the recently deceased back to life by penetrating their wounds. Then there’s Gerontophilia, his 2013 romantic comedy about an elicit, intergenerational relationship between nurse and patient. They range in length, tone and theme, and yet each film feels distinctly his. I don’t know how to define a LaBruce film, but I know it when I see it.

Of course, one giveaway is his depiction of sex, often transgressive, blurring the boundary between right and wrong, consensual and non-consensual, alive and dead, and undead. Sex in a LaBruce film is a cinematic experience; it echoes the pornography of the ‘70s and early ‘80s, full of character, humour and artistic sensibility. It feels worlds away from the mainstream, commercialised pornography of the 21st century.

“Porn has become so ubiquitous,” he tells me, “everyone’s a porn star now so there is this kind of acceptance of porn and this willingness to exploit one’s own body for money. OnlyFans is basically prostitution.” He then adds, “I have no problem with prostitution. I consider myself a hooker, at least philosophically,” a line so blasé I’m convinced he’s spent hours rehearsing it.  

He cites the digital revolution as a main factor behind the evolution of the porn industry. The clips became shorter, because “people didn’t want long-form porn anymore, they wanted short, digestible scenes”. “People just wanted to see the sex and it was quicker to churn it out,” he says.

I ask LaBruce whether he mourns the old way and he argues that the Internet has paved the way for greater artistic freedom for creators, producing “alternative porn” that plays with “gender and body…ideas of what makes something attractive.” “I think it’s more of an art form [than before]”, he tells me. “It’s become more creative again because people are doing it themselves. It’s become a creative outlet for people.” He cites independent film director Erika Lust who creates feminist porn that he considers “aligned with the sensibility of the ‘70s.”

That said, he considers all pornographers artists, regardless of their budget or style. “My pet peeve is the people who look down their noses and judge pornographers and porn stars, while they consume it madly,” he tells me, “I mean how do they think it gets made? It doesn’t just magically appear on your Internet screen. It’s a business, it’s an industry and it’s an art form.”

“I like both types of porn,” he begins, “I like porn that is strictly sex…I’m not above looking at ‘bad’ porn that represents those kind of fetishes, porn that is very strictly about a banal capturing of the sexual act. But then there’s the other kind of porn, which I also appreciate, which can also be very sexy, and which I use for sexual stimulation as well, that has humour, that has characters, that has an aesthetic dimension…narrative in porn really can contribute to how sexy it is and how much it turns you on. People have forgotten that the sexual imagination is part of that process of stimulation. It’s like foreplay.”

LaBruce recognises the problematic aspect of the porn industry, which “attracts and preys on a lot of people who have been sexually exploited in their lives,” but views it as a necessary perversity: “The bottom line is pornography is necessary. It’ll always be part of the sexual imagination and I think of it as a largely positive thing because if you repress sexuality, if you don’t acknowledge your deepest and darkest sexual fantasies and aren’t allowed to give them some form of expression, then the repression of all that results in far worse consequences.”

Repression is a recurring theme in the LaBruce oeuvre. “I subscribe to the theory that a lot of horror is based on homosexual panic,” he tells me, “whenever the conservative institutions of culture are challenged, like the nuclear family, or the church or monogamy or what have you, then horror erupts. I mean all those slasher films like Halloween and Friday 13th are based on punishing teenagers for their sexuality. It’s built into horror.”

Low-budget and transgressive, his films take inspiration from the B-movies of the 1970s and ‘80s, which were, for him “a very raw and unprocessed expression of the zeitgeist.” They straddle the line between pornography and horror, a boundary LaBruce claims is less distinct than one might think. “Horror movies and porn movies are structured in exactly the same way,” he begins,  “the narrative is structured as a pretext for a number of these explosive climaxes. One victim at a time, one sex scene at a time. It’s all based on achieving this orgasmic moment.” He recalls the phallic plunging knife and orgasmic squirting of blood from the infamous Psycho shower scene.

LaBruce examines the horror genre from a distinctly queer perspective. The titular Otto in Otto; or Up with Dead People, with his reluctant movements and lethargic expression recalls the somnambulistic sexual trance of the men LaBruce would meet in gay saunas and cruising parks. The regenerative ability of L.A. Zombie’s protagonist, who revives corpses through the power of penetration, serves as an attempt to destigmatise gay sex and draw attention to its unconscious pathologization in the wake of the AIDS crisis.

At times the gore can verge on the excessive. Perusing a collection of his Polaroids, entitled The Revolution is My Boyfriend, I’m struck by their brutality; men in camo wearing headscarves and balaclavas surround bloodied victims. His recent collection of previously unpublished photographs, Death Book, features photographs depicting gang rape, extreme violence and death. It seems indicative of a wider criticism of LaBruce’s work; skinheads ejaculating onto copies of Mein Kampf, zombies chest-fucking the deceased back to life, I question whether LaBruce’s work might be accused of going too far. Is it purely transgression for the sake of transgression?

“Sure,” he says, “what’s wrong with that? In my philosophical view, art should be provocative. Being gay should be provocative. Art that provokes is much more interesting to me than art that hangs on the wall for decorative purposes. I have no problem with [being provocative].”

Viewing his films and the images that tend to recur: teeming masses of white bodies, twinks with vacant stares, usually dripping in blood, I question how provocative his portrayal of queer characters can be given their white, able-bodied, cisgender uniformity.

“I’ve been criticised for that,” he admits, “my new one is the same. It’s even more accessible in that way. Saint Narcisse has a gorgeous leading man. But I mean…he’s playing Narcissus. I cast someone who has that classical bone structure that you associate with Narcissus.”

The seeming conflict between the conventional beauty of his leading men and his own radical politics is one he embraces. “It’s part of my influence from classical Hollywood. I appreciate all the glamour from that period. It’s part of my old school gay sensibility that I’ve always mixed in with my more radical queer politics. If it’s a contradiction, I think that’s fine.”

He mentions that he’s also made short films featuring actors whose bodies don’t conform to the conventional standards of beauty. Offing Jack stars two transgender actors, Give Piece of Ass a Chance features women of varying shapes.  “[Those films] remain more underground because it’s easier to finance a film…,” he pauses, searching for the right way to phrase it.

“When I want to make a movie that’s more accessible, I do use the tropes and some of the conventions of the mainstream. And I just try to subvert them as much as I can within those conventions.”

The tendency to transgress is also integral to his politics. We discuss the ‘gay agenda’ and Bruce expresses an aversion to assimilationism.  “The logical conclusion of assimilation is for two gay men, for example, to be in bed, in the missionary position, having sex, completely monogamous, trying to only have sex minimally because they have kids or something. Which is fine. That’s what some people do. I wouldn’t say that their sex is particularly radical.”  

“It’s radical in the sense that it’s a betrayal of everything the gay liberation movement stood for…,” he begins as if reciting directly from the pages of J.D.s,“but most people don’t want to be radical and that’s fine if you want the world to regress into this cesspool of conservatism and blind religious zeal… It doesn’t make sense to me. What is the ultimate goal? To be so…normal?”

“I would say that sex is political in general but I wouldn’t say the act of gay sex is necessarily political,” he tells me, “you have to radicalise it yourself.”

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be radical,” I venture.

“But then the world will regress completely to a state of warlords…”

“So the world’s going to regress completely because two men choose monogamy?”

“Yes, it’s all about that,” he says sardonically, “I blame all the problems of the world right now on gay assimilation.”

He pauses, toying with this concept for a moment.

“I blame all the problems of the world right now on gay assimilation,” he repeats. Though I’m no longer sure he’s being ironic.

Photo credit: Camo

Some Women Don’t Owe You Pretty

Georgia Brown
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Some Women Don’t Owe You Pretty

Since its release in June, Florence Given’s debut book Women Don’t Owe You Pretty has sat comfortably at the top of bestseller lists, recently exceeding 100k sales. The mass popularity it has inspired is perhaps the least surprising thing to happen this year. After gaining recognition on social media in 2018, Given has been catapulted into the role of feminist activist and icon for the Instagram generation. To her 500k followers, slogans such as ‘Stop Raising Him He’s Not Your Son’ have become part of the Florence Given brand, women’s empowerment painted in pink seventies font and leopard print.   

If that sounded scathing, it wasn’t the intention. For a 21-year-old Florence Given has achieved great things, has helped make feminism accessible to those previously uninterested or unaware. There are certainly worse things than girls finding a form of empowerment in discussions surrounding consent, sexuality and boundaries. The one area, however, that Given’s book struggles to tackle fully is that of privilege. Privilege is a system built on generations of inequality, and the reversal of this dynamic is so much bigger than one person’s intentions. As a white, middle class and (by eurocentric standards) conventionally attractive woman, it is a system that Florence Given herself benefits from. Could she ever have understood it completely?

Last week, Chidera Eggerue, the feminist writer otherwise known as ‘the Slumflower’, expressed her justified anger and sadness at Given’s book. Eggerue has also achieved success with her works ‘What a Time to be Alone’ and ‘How to Get Over a Boy,’ both through the lens of black women’s experiences. On close inspection, the writers’ books have striking similarities; from their bold phrases such as ‘Dump Him’ to the print and colour scheme used, they could be interchangeable. It is these similarities that have raised the necessary question of why it was Given’s book that achieved such a blinding success. Eggerue’s books, after all, were released prior to Given’s debut. The answer we are left with is the uncomfortable truth about the consumerism of palatable white women’s feminism.

As Eggerue has said, Florence Given, and other white women in the history of feminism, learnt from the emotional labour of black women.  From the suffrage movement and Sojourner Truth’s ‘Ain’t I a Woman?,’  to the isolation of black women within the 1970s Women’s Liberation Movement, repeatedly we have witnessed the failures of white women’s feminism. The inability to understand, to centre ourselves in conversations, to repeat others’ ideas in a louder voice. In Given’s book, she acknowledges the role of black women, including Eggerue, in her journey of feminism. However, their work still remains unpaid.   Eggerue herself stated, ‘This book is generating wealth for white people. Black women’s ideas generate wealth for white people. But that wealth doesn’t go to our community.’ The more this point is contemplated, the more there is something quietly insidious about an industry that repackages and profits from black women’s ideas, selling feminism and equality at the cost of £12.99.

In the aftermath of her open criticism, Chidera Eggerue has been dropped by her agency Diving Bell. This is unsurprisingly the same agency that represent Given, undoubtedly also benefiting from her success. As for the latter, her official response seemed to somehow miss the heart of the problem. Whilst she stated that a portion of her royalties were directed to black charities, the main issue of innate privilege remained blurry. Especially with Eggerue’s career now damaged after speaking out, it does feel that instead of listening to Chidera’s feelings, the response was a defensive PR move against any negative claims. In Given’s own chapter ‘Check Your Privilege’ she writes, ‘the reason you are privileged is because another group is suffering and paying for it.’ Yet Chidera Eggerue’s suffering still remains unacknowledged.

The questions raised by this series of events are so much bigger than the individuals involved. Personal attacks against either parties seem slightly reductive: the problem lies not just with Florence Given but the machinery she is part of.  Could the selling of feminism as a brand ever have achieved equality? The premise of agencies such as Diving Bell is to represent feminist activists and influencers as a business, however this already seems to conflict with true activism. Activism sold in the form of social media and aesthetic paperbacks already suggests a level of performativity, of selling a neatly finished product. When it comes to what is right versus what sells the most, it is difficult to tell where priorities lie.

As for the author of Women Don’t Owe You Pretty, for so long Given has moved from strength to strength, heralded as the ‘true’ feminist voice of our generation. It cannot be denied that she has in some ways invited this idealisation, citing women breaking up with their boyfriends as ‘the Floss effect’ and claiming to coin words such as ‘hetrifying’. The positioning of Florence Given as the face of feminism causes two main problems. At its most damaging, it prioritises the experiences of white women above all else. It also removes any space for her to get things wrong, to admit that there are issues she cannot speak on. It is easy to forget that this is a young woman barely into her twenties, but easier still to fall into the trap of viewing her book as the single guide for feminism.

Mistakes are likely to be made when learning about feminism, and misgivings are likely to be had before listening to different women’s experiences. Navigating privilege and amplifying unheard voices is a continuous effort and impossible to reverse overnight after reading one slogan. The complexities of feminism and women’s experiences cannot be condensed into a single book. Though there are many positives within Given’s work, there is still so much about the nature of privilege that cannot be said in pretty pink print.

Instead Of

Alex Hopkins-McQuillan
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Instead Of

Instead of

growing apart, why don’t we go

and see that film,

the one that’s been delayed,

in the cinema that’s closed. We’ll sit

on the grubby seats

that are always sticky

and never recline,

and I’ll say It’s been a while,

and we’ll laugh about how bad we are at keeping in touch.

When something shocking happens, I’ll lean over and

whisper about how I saw it coming

and my arm will brush yours.

On the way out,

you’ll say It wasn’t the best

and I’ll agree. Perhaps you’ll skip

the last step as we’re leaving,

turn and look at me like you’re

Tom Cruise doing a stunt in Mission Impossible.

We’ll walk home

and the sun probably won’t be out

and it will be cold

and we’ll complain.

When we get to yours

we’ll hug and wave goodbye.

I won’t have to close my eyes to remember your smile.

When I get to the end of your road,

I’ll turn.

I’ll see you lift your hand and wave again – 

but I won’t give it a second thought

because I’ll see you again tomorrow.

Image Credit: Bora Rex.

A refreshing debut: freshers’ Michaelmas sporting experiences (part 1)

Cherwell Sport Contributors
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A refreshing debut: freshers’ Michaelmas sporting experiences (part 1)

As with all aspects of university life, playing sport at Oxford was an unusual prospect last term – especially for incoming freshers, ever keen to showcase their existing skills in Uni sides and try their hand at new sports. Cherwell asked three freshers how their experiences (if any) of Oxford sporting life had been in Michaelmas, how the Covid pandemic had affected their opportunities to join in with University and College teams, and what their athletic ambitions were for future terms.

Mauricio Alencar – rugby league, lacrosse, and football

One of the great things about university, they say, is that you can start playing a sport you had never thought about playing before. This year, that was all a little bit different. Covid restrictions on sport, lockdown, isolation, an online freshers fair, no BUCS going on, and diminishing prospects in sight of “shoeing the tabs” in the coming year meant freshers were set at a distance from playing sports at/for Oxford. I went for rugby league and lacrosse to start with, as well as playing football and rugby for college.

So, just as rugby league and lacrosse team members began to welcome me and integrate me, lockdown 2.0 kicked in. They were both sports I had never played before coming to university. Like in normal times, I had to quickly learn rules, techniques, tactics. I also had to wake up early, train late, put in some gym work in spare time – all things I had never done before. Playing 11-a-side football for Teddy Hall was also just as exciting, as we prepared to compete (and definitely win) in Cuppers and leagues, which was just around the corner. All that, only for November Corona rules to barge in and set me back to square one.

The lacrosse and rugby league clubs kept me engaged with online team gym sessions and video analysis workshops. The most difficult part of term has been socials. All the things a fresher is told about do not happen: no entry into Park End on a Wednesday, no ‘normal’ crew-dating with other Oxford clubs, and little to no socialising with other teammates. With gyms closing, rugby/rugby socials at colleges cancelled for Michaelmas, and football having to also stop over lockdown, there was little route into playing sport. Running in the park alone or with another mate, or doing press-ups in your university bedroom just cannot compare to anything like the sport you play with your club.

While the whole situation might make a fresher sad and jealous of older years and the ‘freshers’ experience’ they had had, it also makes a fresher more excited for the great sporting and social times to come. Michaelmas was a sneak peek into a sportsperson’s life at university, and as restrictions hopefully begin to ease as the rest of the academic year goes on, sport and sport socials will once again come back to life. Starting out with a sport you might have never played before will certainly be worth it in due course. To Hilary we come.

Matthew Cogan – water polo and football

It is fair to say that, much like everything else in the world right now, sport at Oxford has had a difficult last couple of months. As a fresher, sport was one of the major things that I was hoping to get involved in during my first Michaelmas term here at Oxford, and whilst Boris’s national lockdown clearly limited my options, it did not stop me from getting involved where possible. I had played water polo for a couple of years at school, and upon the discovery of a session at the Rosenblatt Pool during 1st week I decided to head along. The next few weeks consisted of two or three training sessions a week, one of which started at 6.30 am! I am not quite sure who thought that was a good idea but I can categorically confirm it was not. Unfortunately, the traditional crewdate could not take place; I am still yet to experience such an event but, when I do, I am sure that my shoes will see some drinking action. This was instead replaced by a social-distancing compliant dinner at Vincent’s where I was able to get to know other members of the club, something that myself and other freshers present were very grateful for.

I also managed to get involved in some college football throughout the term. There was a first session in fresher’s week followed by a first intra-club friendly on the same day as Matriculation – I am sure that you can imagine how well all of the freshers played that afternoon. There were further friendlies organised but, in typical 2020 fashion, these had to be cancelled as too many members of each team were in self-isolation. This, it seemed, would be the final action of the term but luckily, after the lockdown lifted, there was time for one more intra-club friendly on the Friday of 8th week. The word friendly in this context would be very much misleading: it was a game that was taken extremely seriously. The sides were fairly equal on paper, but after four 20 minute quarters, fitness not always at the highest level, my team had fallen to a harrowing 4-1 defeat despite dominating for much of the game. Michaelmas term has been a great introduction to Oxford sport and hopefully in Hilary there will be many more chances to get involved, not only through training, but also with the return of inter-college sport.

Esther Coomber – rowing

This year has obviously come with many unique challenges and, in terms of rowing, this has been no different. From national lockdown to self-isolation, my training has been disrupted and, at times, I have found it difficult to maintain motivation without being able to train alongside my teammates. I joined Oxford Women’s Boat Club this year as a fresher having rowed since age 13 at Maidenhead Rowing Club then Latymer Upper School. My favourite part about rowing is being on a team of driven, competitive and hard-working people reaching for the same goal – for us at Oxford this is to win the 2021 Boat Race.

The term of rowing, as a whole, has been physically demanding, as to be expected, but also an incredibly positive experience surrounded by encouraging and supportive teammates. Whether in person or via zoom, we train twice a day which, although it involves both time efficiency and organisation, I have found helpful in adding structure to my day, particularly as I study a degree without many contact hours.

As a fresher, rowing has also been a great way to meet people from across the university from different years, colleges and departments – something that has been especially challenging this year. Since joining the team in early September for preseason training, the OUWBC team have been incredibly friendly and welcoming and I particularly valued having friends from older years to turn to for advice as I started university. We were able to have socials, in keeping with the COVID guidelines at the time, including picnics and zoom quizzes, which has allowed us to get to know each other away from the intense environment of training. From January, our training load will increase as we get ready for the Boat Race held in early April which I am very much looking forward to along with the rest of the team, especially those who were selected to race last year.

Thanks to our contributors. Look out for part 2 some time after Christmas!

Artwork by Liv Fugger.

Cecil Rhodes inquiry outcome delayed until early spring

Sasha Mills
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Cecil Rhodes inquiry outcome delayed until early spring

The Oriel College Commission of Inquiry has chosen to delay the outcome of the inquiry into the future of the Cecil Rhodes statue until early spring. The Commission was originally due to publish a report of their findings in January. 

The Commission was formed in the wake of the Rhodes Must Fall protests in Oxford earlier this year, and has been tasked with considering both the future of the statue and issues surrounding both access and the experiences of BAME students at the University. 

In 2016 Oriel College chose to keep the statue in place after a consultation following the first round of Rhodes Must Fall protests in Oxford, which took place in 2015. 

The Oriel College Commission of Inquiry is led by Carol Souter CBE, Master of St Cross College, and has 9 members, including Councillor Shaista Aziz and Peter Ainsworth, Chair of the Heritage Alliance. 

A spokesperson for the Commission told Cherwell: “Due to the large amount of input the Commission has received and their desire to consider all submissions carefully, it is likely that the report will now be published in early Spring 2021″.

Image Credit: alf~commonswiki / Wikimedia Commons. Licence: CC-BY-SA 3.0.

Students remaining at university can return to Tier 4 areas for Christmas, says Universities’ Minister

Charlie Hancock
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Students remaining at university can return to Tier 4 areas for Christmas, says Universities’ Minister

Universities’ Minister Michelle Donelan has confirmed that students who are living in university accommodation over the vacation may return home for Christmas, even if their home is under Tier 4 restrictions.

Students will be able to travel home once between December 3rd and February 7th. They will be considered a part of whichever household they will be joining. This applies across all tiers in England. Students are advised to take a COVID test before travelling.

Students who live outside the United Kingdom are advised to check restrictions in their destination country. More than 40 countries have banned travel from the UK after the discovery of a new strain of COVID-19 which might spread more easily.

Ms Donelan said she wanted to “give clarity and comfort to those who are yet to travel, including students on clinical placements or with jobs in their university town.”

Students will be exempt from the travel restrictions imposed across areas under Tier 4 restrictions from December 20th. The government says that people living under Tier 4 “must not leave [their] home unless [they] have a reasonable excuse”. “Reasonable” excuses include travelling to work where working from home isn’t possible, accessing education, essential shopping, and caring duties including caring for people in a support bubble and animals.

The government recommended that universities follow their guidance on reopening in order to prevent COVID-19 from spreading when students return. At Oxford University, colleges have published their own guidance about when students should return, taking into account when in-person teaching for their course resumes. Students will be able to take two lateral flow tests when they return.

Universities in Tier 4 areas will reopen for in-person teaching in the new year. Students in all tiers “should not move back and forward” between their home and university during term.

Image Credit: nicprinsloo/Pixabay

And They Call It Puppy Love: Pets in Lockdown

Yii-Jen Deng
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And They Call It Puppy Love: Pets in Lockdown

I was the kind of child that hankered after a fluffy four-legged friend – the hopeful child that exasperated parents would try to fob off with animal plushies and Hamsterz Life DS games. I suppose my younger self would have agreed if someone said it’d take something like a global pandemic for us to get a dog. 

Yet it has happened: there is a yapping furball in our family kitchen. She is funny and sweet and cheerfully instructing us how the outside world is largely a choking hazard.

But the process of getting her home also showed that there were more pitfalls for puppies than a few chewable-looking pebbles. Juno is a pandemic puppy – our decision in May inadvertently echoed and reinforced the spike in demand for pets during lockdown.

Adoption centres announced soaring rehoming figures. Waiting lists for pets grew ever longer. In the month after we began searching for a dog, the Kennel Club issued a press release reporting a 168% rise in people looking for puppies using its ‘Find a Puppy’ tool between 23rd March and 29th May, compared to the same period last year. Bill Lambert, its Head of Health and Welfare, warned of ‘this rather terrifying picture of a nation of people who are careless and impulsive when it comes to choosing where and how to buy a dog.’

Such trends raise questions about our relationship with domesticated animals – their uncertain paradoxical identity as both objects and lives, animals and surrogate children. This latter role, pets as family members, is further constructed by consumer goods designed to reinforce this dynamic, not only by providing harnesses in myriad shades, but also offering novelty items – a unicorn rucksack for instance, or dog-friendly popcorn, dog-friendly ice cream, even doggy ‘alcohol’. From this capitalising upon affections, who profits most?

It’s an important concern in our tense pandemic period, where pets’ role as consumer goods has been dramatically foregrounded. Rapid sales of dogs in particular exemplify how far they are seen as answers to human emotional needs, at times with scant consideration for their welfare. Dogs are, after all, a far cry from mere plushies and games.

The speed at which advertisements came and went when we first went online certainly seemed to support fears of ‘careless and impulsive’ buyers, if not also sellers. Both Pets4homes and Gumtree saw advertisements being answered so rapidly that sales were made within minutes. Several of the breeders we contacted, generally on the day the advertisement was put up, apologised that every puppy had been sold. Many noted the ‘huge amount of interest’ and how the response for puppies had been ‘a bit crazy’.

Speaking to a breeder selling cockapoo puppies in London, they observed how cockapoos went from highest £1,500 pre-lockdown, to £3,000 during the pandemic (as I write, the most expensive puppies on Pets4homes are miniature dachshunds, each priced at £25,000).

‘I have mixed feelings,’ they said. ‘Some people definitely see it as a money-making option and especially now the demand for puppies has increased, breeders can charge more especially as people are willing to pay. But then on the other hand, a lot of people have been made redundant, so need the extra money for cash.’

Since they breed cockapoos for a hobby, they can afford to keep the price the same – although potential buyers must now social-distance. ‘We already emphasise hand washing and antibacterial spray a lot even before the pandemic, but I think other breeders should consider anti bac when the customers get in the house, before they hold the puppies, and when they leave.’ Surprisingly, few of the breeders we met were similarly cautious, other than conforming to social distancing requirements.

Fears over puppy farms were another reason against carelessness. Although Lucy’s Law – a regulation banning puppies from being sold by a third-party seller in an attempt to end puppy farming – came into effect this April, by August the Kennel Club was warning that one in four dogs bought during lockdown may be from puppy farms.

While many of us buy our pets for love, in doing so we appropriate their lives for our own purposes, project upon them our own emotions. And like commodities, we make them easily discardable. An article published by The Guardian in August headlined ‘Love you to death: how we hurt the animals we cherish’, offers compelling evidence of how our well-intentioned attitudes to pets have caused problems from environmental damage to poor health amongst popular pedigrees. The very British obsession with pedigrees is one factor encouraging get-rich-quick breeders to be careless with animal welfare in their haste to meet demand.

For all the emotive language around puppy farms, spotting them is not always so straightforward. One breeder we met was licensed by the council but sold various different pedigree dog breeds, as well as shorthair silver tabby kittens (all reserved). The kittens, with their mother, rested in a three-tier indoor cat cage, beside some puppy pens. We could hear noisy barking from another room, while the lady showed us a little Pomeranian, adding we could pick her up whenever. After the visit, we agreed that another breed would better suit our home – before we texted however, we were told she had decided to keep the puppy.

Whether or not the breeder was connected to a puppy farm was difficult to ascertain. The RSPCA website notes how ‘normal-looking homes’ can be ‘a shop-front for unscrupulous puppy dealing rings.’ Much more troubling was another breeder who responded to our interest – Douglas Hall Kennels, in Lancashire, which offered to send us more photos by email.

As it was situated far away, we researched the breeders beforehand. What we found were posts accusing them of animal abuse, several articles outlining an independent review of their licence, as well as a Change.org petition imploring for people to ‘Shut down Douglas hall kennels and rescue the puppies!’, signed by just over 10,000 people. Describing the puppies as ‘kept in wooden areas with bits of shredded paper to keep them warm’, the creator of the petition went on to report breeder to an animal welfare organisation and trading standards.

This petition was made two years ago. The breeders are listed by the Welsh dog charity Cariad as among those which they believed would be affected as a result of Lucy’s Law, but are still operating despite continuing concerns from past buyers and local activists.

We would not have known this had we simply trusted Pets4homes as a website advertising dogs from reputable breeders. Periodically we saw news articles and posts warning about this or that ‘breeder’ actually being a scammer using a false address. People could take advantage of the pandemic to encourage buyers not to visit, instead employing stock photos or using the situation to sell unhealthy dogs advertised unclearly. Further improvements to the marketplace, such as adding a feature to allow reviews of breeders, could act as preventative measures against scammers, enabling users to gauge the reliability of each advertisement.

Eventually, we settled on a breeder in Wales who worked as a nurse. She was lovely and helpful during the videocall, answering our questions and questioning us in turn, showing us the puppy and its mother. The breeder sent regular photos and videos updating us on the puppy until we could collect her at 10 weeks old. Somewhat unadvisedly, we paid the deposit without seeing the puppy in person – a risk we felt had to be taken knowing how quickly puppies were being secured by buyers. All of Juno’s litter of seven were reserved within 24 hours.

It is a pressure that no doubt increases the number of ‘impulsive’ purchases during the pandemic. On Pets4homes alone, more than 225,000 were rehomed during June and August. Consider other online marketplaces, and how such patterns have been mirrored in Canada, America, Australia, and you conceive the immense circulation and distribution of pets, taking place at an unprecedented rate of time, and striving to operate ever more rapidly. 

Since September, Pets4homes has launched a Safety Deposit service that allows sellers to set the required deposit value, which buyers then pay through Pets4Homes. The deposit is only transferred once both parties confirm they are happy. This, according to Pets4homes, means that ‘deposits for the first time can be placed with greater security and peace of mind’. A significant proportion of sellers have opted into the scheme and, as a response to the pandemic, the speed with which the service has been implemented is impressive.

Nevertheless, despite a notice on the website asking buyers to ‘ALWAYS use Pets4homes safe deposit feature when placing a deposit’, many sellers have not. One breeder I contacted in the West Midlands emphasised that they ‘only do deposits as stated on the information provided, PayPal or bank transfer’. Although the service is free to sellers, the processing fee for buyers may be a disincentive. But another breeder in Manchester, advertising a litter of Yorkiepoos without the ‘safety deposit’ being activated, was still open to the idea, ‘if I can figure out how to send them my information’.

For many buyers, the Safe Deposit scheme still came too late – one questions why it took a pandemic for the service to be created. Action Fraud observed how, in the first two months of lockdown, 669 people lost about £280,000 from deposits paid to scammers. Reports to Action Fraud in April were more than treble the number of reports in March. But even pre-lockdown the number of online scams were rising.

This does not merely mean people losing money, but also – to meet buyers’ demands, exploited by unscrupulous profiteers – thousands of ill-looked after puppies falling sick and dying, their lives worth only as much as their cute face or pure blood.

We could not quite relax until Juno finally arrived home.

In the warm safety of our house, we now ask questions like ‘Can dogs be vegetarian?’ and, more ridiculously, ‘Will she need a raincoat?’

There’s something terribly farcical in worrying over these questions against the backdrop of a global pandemic, from which nearly a million people have lost their lives. But, while incongruous, the soaring demand for pets is nonetheless unexpectedly symptomatic, and not only of people’s needs for affection and companionship. Rather, it has exacerbated existing issues in the ways we treat animals.

The pandemic puppy-buying boom does not end with the sound of paws scampering around new homes. As people return to work, animal welfare charities have warned of pets being abandoned – Dogs Trust has predicted that up to 40,000 dogs may end up on the streets. Others observe newly alone-at-home dogs suffering from depression; some have already been unsettled by disrupted routines, and puppies may have missed out on socialisation during lockdown. Meanwhile the momentum built up for buying pets during lockdown continues, with prices remaining high and breeders’ waiting lists increasing.

Safeguards are needed as these trends will continue with a second wave or another national lockdown. Pets4homes’s Safe Deposit service is a promising start; more can be learned from the pandemic’s consequences to address its complex effects.

Few, if any, examples of literature on pandemics anticipate humans turning to their pets unless, in the case of more cynical dystopias, to destroy. The striking first sentence of J.G. Ballard’s dystopian novel High Rise begins: ‘Later, as he sat on his balcony eating the dog, Dr Robert Laing reflected on the unusual events that had taken place within this huge apartment building during the previous three months.’

While a pandemic does not feature, the novel’s claustrophobic focus on tensions among the building’s inhabitants echo themes of lockdown. It is heartening to remember how we hugged our dogs rather than devoured them; even so, animals have often been victims of human fear. Cats and dogs were commonly killed during the Great Plague of 1665-66 as they were believed to carry disease; World War II, so often invoked for the Blitz spirit today, also saw the culling of as many as 750,000 British pets by largely well-meaning owners.

We love our pets, and this has been proved this year in economic terms, with people panic-buying pet food and pampering them with other treats. The pet industry has significantly benefited, with Pets at Home shares surging by 17% (as designated ‘essential retailers’, the major pet supplier’s stores remained open), with higher annual profits expected this year even as Britain faces the uncertainty of a second wave. And the role of dogs in the coronavirus pandemic is still evolving, with scientists researching the possibility of training them to detect COVID-19 in humans, potentially speeding-up screening processes.

Yet there is the need to go further to protect these animals which we have bred, over the centuries, to be reliant on our care. We talk knowingly of a ‘dog eat dog’ world, but such a metaphor has always spoken more eloquently of human societal flaws than dogs themselves. How so many shall suffer, for our competition.

***

Back home, Juno – here safe, with luck on both her side and ours – scampers out all agog and awake for the world to smile on her. As children from the local primary school spill through the gates, their faces light up behind their face masks as she passes, curious as ever, trusting every one.

Artwork by Emma Hewlett

Review: Phoebe Bridgers’ ‘If We Make It Through December’ EP

Mila Ottevanger
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Review: Phoebe Bridgers’ ‘If We Make It Through December’ EP

Coming off the post-apocalyptic scream that concluded Punisher, Phoebe Bridgers’ 2020 album (my favourite album this year, and possibly ever), the muted buzz of If We Make It Through December acts as a tender balm, and a gentle denouement. If the final throes of Punisher felt like the manifestation of the hellish first six months of the year (it was released in June), this release – as well as her Bandcamp fundraiser cover of The Goo Goo Dolls’ ‘Iris’ with Maggie Rogers, released in November to celebrate the result of the American election, and the strings-oriented Copycat Killer EP, remixing songs from Punisher – seem like the intake of breath afterwards, surveying the rest of the year that nonetheless still stretches out in front of us. A very artistically appropriate accident of the June release date.

On this record, her cover of Merle Haggard’s country song is bundled together with her previous Christmas releases into an extremely potent mix; there is a 2019 cover of Simon and Garfunkel’s ‘Silent Night/7 O’Clock News’, but the news in question is now a report covering (amongst other things, such as burgeoning abortion restriction and impeachment) the murder of Botham Jean by his police officer downstairs neighbour when she broke into his apartment, which was international news in 2019 and particularly potent to hear this year, to be reminded of the long, long list of Black victims of police violence. ‘Christmas Song,’ a cover of another country song (this time by McCarthy Trenching) follows, and the EP is concluded by the haunting, ‘Hallelujah’-esque ‘Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas.’ Like Jeff Buckley before her, Bridgers proves herself a loving melder of previous songs and styles; both select unexpected songs to cover (her country songs, and his Nina Simone and Benjamin Britten) and both manage to bend them to their own voices and styles without compromising the essence of them. 

Bridgers’ decision to release these covers as one record distils the last four years flawlessly and creates a genuinely heartrending resonance and cathartic release. The repeated arpeggio really stands out on this entire release, its fractured nature suggesting at once atomised individuality, and also a wider structure which creates unity on the EP as a whole. It underlines the isolation of this year whilst also reiterating our relation to each other. Bridgers’ hushed vocals lend the tracks the feeling of a lullaby, hastening the end of the year and the wish of a calmer 2021, and the slow and gentle pace of the whole EP, bursting out only once on its third track, seems to embrace this hope, though in a melancholy and reflective mood. Bridgers sings, at her loudest: “you don’t have to be alone to be lonesome” and (whether this track was recorded in 2018 or not) it feels like a sign of the times as we dissect our relationships with others. The quiet wash of percussion on the last song thrums along with swooping theremin and heavy reverb, expanding the space in which you are listening. She is next to you, and the world is wide. You can see the wintry grey skies and silhouettes of stark branches.

This release concludes an electric year for Phoebe fans, one in which we have been endlessly lucky. This is the deeply emotional conclusion to a tumultuous year which does not shy away from the context of its production, forging a strong relationship with it both explicitly and in the general tone, encapsulating the hopes and fears of the last few years.

Image credit: Wikimedia Commons

Christmas Songs: The Hidden Treasures and Epic Failures

James Newbery
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Christmas Songs: The Hidden Treasures and Epic Failures

If you’re anything like me, you’ve been listening to Christmas songs since the beginning of November. Oxmas is without doubt one of the very best things about Oxford; it means I can legitimately start singing along to Mariah Carey’s ‘All I Want for Christmas’ and nobody is allowed to complain.

When I started to compile this list, I thought through all of my favourite Christmas songs. But then I realised that no-one needs to read another article about how essential Frank Sinatra, Michael Bublé or George Michael are to your Spotify Christmas playlist. So instead, I’ve scoured through back catalogues of Christmas hits to find the most underrated, obscure and awful songs out there. Starting on a more positive note…

Underrated:

1. Wombling Merry Christmas – The Wombles

What else could the top choice be other than this absurd nightmarish vision of a song? ‘Wombling Merry Christmas’ managed to reach number 2 back in the UK Singles Chart in 1974. The Wombles, for anyone that doesn’t know, were a British novelty pop group that dressed as characters from the hit children’s TV show of the same name— the Wombles being mole-like creatures that live underground Wimbledon Common collecting human rubbish. Yet for a TV show and a music group that is so utterly bizarre, the song is surprisingly catchy. Extra points have to be given for sheer originality— it’s safe to say you won’t see any song like this debuting in the charts anytime soon.

2. Cozy Little Christmas – Katy Perry

I am saying this completely non-ironically: ‘Cozy Little Christmas’ is one of Katy Perry’s better songs. Sure, it is no ‘Last Friday Night’ or ‘Teenage Dream’. But is vastly superior to the majority of her recent offerings on her latest 2020 album, Smile. It is sickly sweet, but in a certain saccharine quality is necessary in most Christmas songs. The music video itself is particularly entertaining, featuring Santa Claus as Katy Perry’s sugar daddy, and Perry herself floating around in a giant-sized candy cane cocktail. Frankly, I was surprised that this song didn’t take off more when it was released in 2019, only reaching number 22 in the chart. Maybe it’ll be like ‘All I Want For Christmas’— a slow burner that will reach number 1 decades after its release.

3. Snowman – Sia (and pretty much the rest of Everyday Is Christmas album)

The first two songs I’ve included on the list are very much examples of trashy pop hits. But if you prefer a bit more of an alternative Christmas playlist, Sia’s 2017 album is the go-to. I included ‘Snowman’ as TikTok has revived its popularity in the last few months, but the lead single ‘Santa’s Coming For Us’ is also worth a listen.

4. I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus – Amy Winehouse

All credits to Amy Winehouse, who managed to take a slightly forgettable but perfectly pleasant Christmas song and turn it into an absolute masterpiece. I didn’t know this existed until recently. The song is perfect for Winehouse to exhibit her impressive vocals, putting a fresh spin on an old classic.

5. Snow in California – Ariana Grande 

Ariana Grande has become something of a Christmas staple. Her silky smooth vocals feature most recently on the 2020 Christmas release of ‘Oh Santa!’ along with Jennifer Hudson and Mariah Carey. Her two earlier Christmas albums, Christmas & Chill and Christmas Kisses are guilty pleasures. ‘Snow in California’ is not as well-known as ‘Santa Tell Me’, but is certainly a more understated offering that can’t help but warm the heart.

Worst:

1. Christmas Tree – Lady Gaga

It pains me to include this on the list. As anyone who knows me personally, I am a massive Lady Gaga fan. In fact, I scored in the top 0.05% of her listeners this year in my Spotify Unwrapped. Yet her Christmas song is awful. There is no other way of describing it. With lyrics such as “the only place you’ll wanna be is underneath my Christmas tree” and “under the mistletoe, where everybody knows, we will take off our clothes”, the sexual innuendos are cringe-worthy at the very best and lack any subtlety. If you like trash, like I do, you may just about find it bearable to listen to. My question is whether it is so bad that it’s actually good?

2. Mistletoe – Justin Bieber

On the other end of the spectrum is one of my least favourite artists. Justin Bieber. Admittedly, this song, released in 2011, is a nostalgic reminder of the innocent teen idol that Bieber was once during the early stages of his career. The song isn’t terrible, and I have lots of friends that swear by it. However, everything about it is so forgettable and uninspiring. Bieber is strangely uncharismatic (especially in the music video), and the lyrics are flat.

3. Last Christmas – Crazy Frog

What’s so bad about it? It’s a Crazy Frog cover of Wham’s cheesy hit. Enough said.

4. Do they Know it’s Christmas – Band Aid

Now I am completely aware that my inclusion of Band Aid on the worst Christmas songs list is controversial. Whilst it is certainly a tune, even at the time, the press deemed Bob Geldof and Midge Ure’s 1984 hit “underwhelming” when it was released after a period of mass promotion. That isn’t even to mention the problematic lyrics, promoting condescending and stereotypical views of Africa. And given that Ethiopia’s population is majority Christian, yes, they probably do know it’s Christmas.

5. All I Want For Christmas (Is My Two Front Teeth) – Spike Jones

Finally, a particular hatred of mine that features all too-heavily in Christmas songs are the inclusion of children with somewhat grating singing voices. Wizzard falls guilty of this crime with the children’s choir in ‘I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday’, and I’m not sure how anyone can bear listening to ‘Walking in the Air’ from The Snowman forty years after its original release. Admittedly, Spike Jones’ rendition of this particular song is intended to be a joke. The joke wears off pretty quickly after it has come up on my Spotify playlist for the fifteenth time. Don’t even get me started on the Alvin and the Chipmunks version of the song either (or indeed, the rest of their 1999 Christmas album).

Image credit: Wikimedia Commons

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