Tuesday 28th April 2026
Blog Page 842

Let’s talk about: Imposter Syndrome

Meha Razdan
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Let’s talk about: Imposter Syndrome

I don’t think I’m alone in admitting that the day I received my Oxford offer was among the best of my life. It was overwhelming, to realise that the very thing that had been a pipe dream for so long was suddenly my reality. And however much we settle in and realise that Oxford is, at the heart of it, just a university, filled with ordinary students living their lives, it’s still hard not to feel at least a little overwhelmed by the sight of the throngs of subfusc-clad individuals filing into the Sheldonian and finding themselves declared members of the oldest university in the English-speaking world.

For many people, the change can be dizzying – the realisation that what has been a distant goal you’ve been working towards for months, even years, is here. Then the haze of dreaminess starts to evaporate as reality sets in. And reality isn’t always pretty. Sometimes it’s study sessions in the ambience of the Rad Cam, or dressing to the nines for Formal Hall, but reality is also frantic 3am essay crises, reality is a whole group of students used to being among the top of their academic spheres at school suddenly hearing things like “a somewhat flimsy argument” or “not your best essay, I’m afraid.” And then the panic starts to set in. The odds of making it to Oxford were slim to begin with, but when you’re not excelling 100% of the time, the fear emerges: why am I here at all?

It’s a conflict that arises in part from the fact that many people have spent the longest time looking at Oxford as a destination: hard work and stressed all-nighters are supposed to be part of the long journey get you here. And we’ve all heard the warnings about what we’re in for – intense tutes, a deluge of essays, brutal exams – but at some point, all of us made the decision that it was all worth it, if we could only earn our place in these hallowed halls. But the fact is, hard as it is to get in, being here is often harder – there’s more work, more expectation, and more doubt.

The offer letters and UCAS notifications that validated years of effort in school are things of the past now, and suddenly we’re small fish in a very big pond. People used to getting As and A*s without blinking are suddenly left panicking with the unhappy realisation that receiving a First is more fable than fact for many. For better or for worse, the fact is that Oxford often invites a group of people who are used to measuring their worth by any kind of results-based, external validation: exam grades, competitions, certificates…tangible proof of excellence. This means that the realisation – and however prepared we think we are, it’s hard to truly realise this until we’re actually here – that Oxford is not simply another sign of achievement, but a challenging, strenuous journey unto itself can be disorienting.

I don’t mean that everyone came here expecting to just rest on their laurels. The fact is that getting into Oxford requires hard work, and for some people, being greeted with yet more intensity can lead to a feeling of being burned out. It’s hard to reconcile that with the intellectual enrichment you feel like you’re supposed to be gaining from this education. Add this to any number of other factors – maybe you don’t feel posh enough, maybe you’re the only BME person doing your course at your college, maybe you feel self-conscious about an accent – and it’s unsurprising that people are often left feeling like they’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, for someone to tell them that getting here was an elaborate prank and they’re not cut out for it after all.

Perhaps the only way to work past the imposter syndrome is to realise that your place at Oxford isn’t supposed to be a stagnant position to be consistently maintained: your offer was a gateway, not a podium. You didn’t get in because you fooled your tutors into thinking you were the ‘Classic Oxonian’, you got in because your tutors thought you could gain something from Oxford, and Oxford could gain something from you. It’s easy to look at the dreaming spires and forget that first and foremost, Oxford is an institute of learning. So next time you feel like you don’t belong, remember that Oxford is only as good as its students, and now that you’re in here, you’re one of them, and that you do in fact belong.

Women’s contribution to science is everywhere

Eleanor Frew
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Women’s contribution to science is everywhere

Last Sunday was International Day of Women and Girls in Science, a day created by the UN to celebrate the achievements of women and girls in a field historically dominated by men. According to the UN Secretary-General, Antonio Guterres “We need to encourage and support girls and women achieve their full potential as scientific researchers and innovators”. But how well are Oxford doing at this?

I study chemistry at Hertford, a degree with one of the highest numbers of contact hours possible at Oxford. I’m the only girl reading chemistry in my year. Doing 25 hours of chemistry a week with only four boys to keep me company is a daily battle.
I walk along Robinson Close every day, a road I imagine is named after Carol Robinson, not only Oxford’s first female chemistry professor, but a dame as well.

Robinson is an icon, both for women and for science. But the naming of the road is never discussed. Its name may even be a coincidence. Much like the historical achievements of women in science in general, the significance of the road name is accessible only to those who go looking for it. The majority remain unware of the road’s namesake and many of the women whose discoveries underpin our scientific knowledge today.

This is not to say women in science are not honoured at all. Behind the Oxford chemistry complex lies Dorothy Hodgkin road, clearly tied to its namesake Dorothy Hodgkin, the famous British chemist and noble prize winner. Though it’s surely an honour to have that road named after her, I feel she may be disappointed.

When her work on penicillin was published Hodgkin stated: “Today I lost my maiden name’’. She had been persuaded to use her married name when she contributed to Hans Clarke’s book the Chemistry of Penicillin, despite already being a prominent researcher. Perhaps Dorothy Crowfoot Hodgkin road would have been a more appropriate name.

Nevertheless, it is an honour to walk these two roads and to work in the same labs as such pioneering women. At Hertford College, I’m lucky enough to be tutored by Professor Claire Vallance, president elect of the Faraday division of the Royal Society of Chemistry. Perhaps more important than her exhilarating teaching was the support she offered me after the tragic death of my father last October, exhibiting the human side to academia that we don’t see in research journals or in 180-person lecture theatres.

When we think about women in science we must acknowledge the wider, structural issues that form barriers to female scientists, problems that cannot be solved by individual female scientists. But we must also acknowledge the brilliant work of inspiring, individual women, who help others on their journey, often through their brilliant discoveries and academic pedigree but also sometimes through something as simple as their support – which in a field dominated by men makes all the difference.

This International Day of Women and Girls in Science, I am thankful to the pioneering woman that started our journey, to those continuing along it as we speak, and to those that are dedicated to helping and inspiring students who are just starting their journeys like me.

Blind Date: “His T-shirt was just baked beans”

Henry Williams and Sophie Gibson
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Blind Date: “His T-shirt was just baked beans”

Henry Williams, Second Year, Engineering, Mansfield 

After arriving two minutes early, Sophie came in looking confused. She then walked out, so I went up and bluntly asked “are you here for blind date?”. Her response was unexpected but not unwelcome as she greeted me with a very polite and cordial handshake. I was a little bit disappointed that she didn’t call me out for wearing a beans t-shirt (see picture). She’s a lawyer and – plot twist – we talked a lot about law. What was even more shocking was that despite me being the rower, she was the one to talk endlessly about rowing! I was slightly saddened that we didn’t get food – I was hungry the entire time. Also, I couldn’t hear most of what she was saying because of the height difference. But overall, I had a great night chatting as we bonded over our mutual love of dogs.

First impressions? 

She looked mildly confused.

Quality of the chat? 

I think I’m now a qualified lawyer.

Most awkward moment? 

My rumbling stomach.

Kiss or miss? 

Miss.

 

Sophie Gibson, Second Year, Law, University College 

Baked beans. That was my first proper impression of Henry. We sat down in a cosy corner of a rather empty Kings’ Arms pub (unsurprising for 5pm on a Wednesday) and took our coats off. His t-shirt was just… baked beans. Along with his phone lock screen. The chat was good, at least from my perspective – we had enough conversation for two hours, so that’s a good sign. We bonded over our love of dogs and hatred of student kitchen antics, such as toastie makers which short circuit the whole kitchen, and scouts who complain that your bedroom is too messy to clean, or barge into your room in the early hours of the morning and wake you up (and maybe your night time companion). I don’t think there were any awkward moments and overall, I enjoyed myself.

First impressions? 

Baked beans…

Quality of the chat? 

Did he love dogs or baked beans more?

Most awkward moment? 

Just don’t have one!

Kiss or miss? 

Kiss (maybe on the cheek).

Missing Oxford comma leads to $5m settlement

Fred Dimbleby
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Missing Oxford comma leads to $5m settlement

A class action lawsuit, which rested on the use of the Oxford comma, has been settled for $5 million (approx £3,500,000).

The suit was brought by five drivers of the Oakhurst Dairy company who argued that they were entitled to overpay.

The Maine-based company said their actions were legal under state law. However, the lack of the Oxford comma in a piece of state legislation led to a settlement in the case.

The Oxford comma, otherwise known as the serial comma, is a controversial piece of grammar which requires a comma to be added before the final item of a list. For example: “Eats, shoots, and leaves.”

The comma gets its name from the Oxford University Press, who recommend its use. However, the Maine guide for drafting legislation says the Oxford comma should not be used.

The specifics of the case centred on the lack of a comma in a piece of state legislation. A judge from the Court of Appeals for the First Circuit, David Barron, said: “For want of a comma, we have this case.”

The sentence of Maine law that caused the controversy referred to overtime law and where it doesn’t apply.

These included: “The canning, processing, preserving, freezing, drying, marketing, storing, packing for shipment or distribution of:“(1) Agricultural produce;(2) Meat and fish products; and (3) Perishable foods.”

The case revolved around the lack of a comma after the word “shipment”

In 2017, Barron said that the law’s punctuation made it unclear if “packing for shipping or distribution” is one activity or if “packing for shipping” is separate from “distribution.”

Climenko Fellow and Lecturer on Law at Harvard Law School, Ian Samuel told NBC news that: “The reason the lack of a comma matters here is because it’s not clear if the overtime statute is supposed to exempt packers of food – those whose work involves the ‘packing for shipment or distribution’ of perishable foods (which milk is) – or if it covers
both packers (people who ‘pack for shipment’) and drivers, whose work is the ‘distribution’ of the foods.”

Samuel said: “The court concludes that at best the phrase is ambiguous. In other words, the text by itself just doesn’t tell us the right answer syntactically.”

He added: “So we have to rely on a substantive presumption in favor of workers, which the court says is used in Maine law to resolve ambiguities like this.”

The settlement covers 127 drivers for the company. The named plaintiffs will receive $50,000 each and other drivers will have to le claims to be entitled to the funds.

Oakhurst has not admitted any wrongdoing in Thursday’s settlement and the deal needs to be rubber-stamped by a federal judge.

Global disasters have local solutions

Felix Heilmann
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Global disasters have local solutions

Last Friday, a £120m flood alleviation scheme was announced. The project is due to transform at least five hectares to protect our town from future disastrous flooding, after major floods hit the city in 2007, 2012 and 2013/14.
This announcement comes after a year of disastrous global flooding: In South America, over 400 people were killed and many more injured by disastrous flooding, and in South Asia more than 41 million people were affected by a monsoon of a scale unseen in previous years. Floods are not just expected, unfortunate accidents. They are the deadly consequences of climate change, as has been confirmed in several studies, including one that analysed the latest Oxford flood.
As the seas warm in a world that is heating up they evaporate more easily, and as the air above them warms it holds more water vapour, making storms, floods and related crises ever-deadlier phenomena. The people affected worst are those living in the Global South, suffering from a crisis they did not cause and did not ask for.
But it is not just those far away from the UK that will suffer. Spending £120m is a difficult decision for any local government. That it has become necessary highlights the threat we are facing.
For many years, climate consequences were perceived as invisible problems that harmed those we treat as invisible, the poor and the voiceless. But the consequences are beginning to emerge.
The council’s decision to invest in the flood alleviation scheme is the right one. Arguably this money could be used even more effectively if it were focused on more widespread changes upstream that prevent such floods from assembling in the first place.
But preparing for the consequences of a self-made catastrophe is only the second-best option. We – in Oxford, and around the world – need to stop closing our eyes and start channelling our energy into where it is most needed: We can avoid the worst and at the same time improve the quality of life in communities around the world if we take positive action now, and if we do it quickly.
Various studies and expert bodies have shown that the emissions caused by the burning of dirty fossil fuels need to be decisively lowered over the next few years if we want to achieve a safe future.
Internationally, this requires fighting the monopoly power of those fossil fuel companies that refuse to transition into a renewable economy and creating incentives that reward necessary behaviour, such as carbon taxes, and investing into the research and development of the solutions we need.
This may be a global problem, but it does not mean that we can’t find local solutions. Change happens on the ground and in Oxford, there is reason for hope.
The City Council’s proposal to cut down on toxic air and emissions in the city centre by implementing a Zero Emissions Zone is an example for a clever policy choice that encourages future-proof behaviour. It can only be hoped that further such measures will be announced as part of Oxford’s 2050 vision.
The University, too, has a major role to play. It needs to commit to a full divestment, both directly and indirectly, from fossil fuel companies that are not ready for the future.
You probably think that the relationship between colleges and environmental policy is minor, based only on the annual election of an environment rep and the collection of recycling bins. This is not true.
Colleges still invest the money they get from students and alumni into fossil fuel companies, directly funding the world’s worst polluters. This practice that needs to stop as soon as possible.
Furthermore, the University and Colleges need to ensure the facilities we use are not wasting valuable energy by installing further insulation and ensuring that they are powered in the most sustainable way possible.
Lastly, faculties need to recognise their unique responsibility in educating students for a life in a world that is facing new major challenges and include issues of climate change in the curriculum of relevant courses.
One of the most common misconceptions about climate change is that it is a problem so vast, so much greater than us that we cannot begin to tackle it. We are implicitly told time and time again that we should focus on more manageable causes, causes closer to home.
The Oxford Flood Alleviation scheme reminds us that these problems are much closer to home than we think. It reminds us that despite the enormity of climate change we can begin to tackle it on a local level, that often, the solutions to global issues may be found locally.
Whether it is avoiding plastic packaging, changing to a renewable energy supplier (if you’re living out), choosing the train rather than the car or plane, or just engaging in this conversation about our common future: every one of us can make a difference, and we should act now so that we will be able to enjoy a safe future worth living.

Jorja Smith review – euphoric, intense and soulful

Priya Vempali
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Jorja Smith review – euphoric, intense and soulful

“This one is basically about how crap the government is,” Jorja announces to the audience, before launching into her song ‘Lifeboats’. She stands tall and proud on the stage, as the crowd chants her lyrics back at her. Having been mesmerised by the gigantic stage presence of her supporting act, Mahalia Burkmar, I was surprised by how stripped back and minimal Jorja’s choreography and interaction with the audience was during the first half of the set. Rather than trying to hype up the audience to a state of rhythmic frenzy, she simply walked up to the mic, smiled at us, and launched into ‘Something in the Way’ – a soulful tune off of her 2016 EP Project 11 – with her silky, sultry vocals.

It was in this spirit that the first 45 minutes of the set proceeded; she moved through the slower songs of her oeuvre, taking us on an emotional ride as she progressed through ‘Goodbyes’, ‘Don’t Watch Me Cry’ and ‘Beautiful Little Fools’, so intently focused on perfecting her stunning vocal manoeuvres that she barely looked at the audience. This wasn’t an issue, the opposite in fact; as the entire crowd watched, entranced in the moment of musical expression, it felt as though each of us had been given access to some deeper part of Jorja’s life, some moment that we were privileged enough to witness as she relived it on stage. Her slight raspy undertones, combined with her characteristic alto smoothness and soft R&B lilt, were perfect for articulating the messages of loss and heartbreak that permeate her works. As she performed one of her new songs, ‘February 3rd’, she gave the audience a taste of the intimacy that is to dominate her upcoming debut album.

Jorja rounded off the slower, soulful section of the set with a hypnotising rendition of Frank Ocean’s ‘Lost’. Once ‘Blue Lights’ came on, however, the crowd were no longer able to contain their excitement to simply swaying and singing along. Electrified by the stunning performance of her most popular song, everyone in the venue was dancing along, echoing Jorja’s lyrics word for word. Despite this, Jorja’s vocal powerhouse still resisted being drowned out. She proceeded through all of the fan favourites: ‘Teenage Fantasy’, ‘Imperfect Circle’ and ‘Let Me Down’, to name but a few. Her upcoming ascension to musical stardom was evident in the way that she commanded an audience with nothing more than a melodic voice and some heavy beats.

As she closed the set with her track ‘On My Mind’, produced in collaboration with the UK grime authority Preditah, it was clear that this was only the beginning of a long, incredibly prosperous musical career. To everyone in the room, it felt as though we were witnessing the birth of a new kind of voice. A voice which was able to express the concerns, heartbreaks and euphoria of this generation with a soulful simplicity and undeniable intensity.

Disposable Perspectives – Hope and despair in the margins of Paris

Isaac Pockney
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Disposable Perspectives – Hope and despair in the margins of Paris

In so many ways these could be the snapshots of any group of young people visiting Paris; pictures of friends posing with the Eiffel Tower, trips to the Sacré-Cœur, and views of the Seine. But dispersed amongst these images, visions of life in Paris’ Port de la Chapelle refugee camp brings home the fact that, for these photographers, life is no holiday.

Disposable Perspectives documents the lives of eight refugees living in an all male camp north of Paris. Though disposable cameras were given to fifteen men, seven were lost, in at least one case due to Police brutality.The prints, mounted on a cardboard backing and accompanied by a postcard message from each photographer, provide a personal insight into the global refugee crisis.

Immediately the value of such a project becomes clear; so often we only see distant news coverage of disorder and unrest in refugee camps or fear-mongering propaganda. These eight people’s snapshots of day-to-day life in Paris is a genuinely different perspective of the plight of the people at the heart of it.

What’s most striking is what these men chose to document. There were some pictures of the sprawling tents, reclaimed buildings and the basic amenities that you expect from documentaries of life in camps, but these were far outnumbered by portraits of friends, tourist attractions and streetscapes of Paris.It was almost as if, given the opportunity to capture their experience, they almost unanimously, chose to document the silver linings in a desperate situation.

Some of the photographers even chose to emphasise the beauty of the city they’d found themselves in and the hope given to them by their camera. It was humbling to see that, in spite of their circumstances, they were still choosing to capture the beauty of the sunset over Paris.

Further adding to the mix were the errant snaps of novice photographers; patches of blank wall, fingers partially blocking lenses or two shots of one mans right leg. I’m glad they included these. They were at once slightly ironic, in a ‘wouldn’t expect to see that at a photography exhibition’ sort of way, and added gravity to the event. Leaving the inexperience of the cameramen bare made the rest of the work feel more honest.

Despite the positivity of the images, its clear that the experience of the photographers varied widely. The complaints of lack of food, water and respect registered on individual postcards at once draws attention to how difficult their experience is and contextualises their photography. The physicality of the card and the handwritten testimonies of abuse and disrespect really breaks down the separation between audience and subject, anchoring the whole exhibition.

I do think the exhibition makes it a bit too easy to forget the seven photographers who, through police brutality or otherwise, could not share their stories. Naturally, selection bias has ensured only those who hadn’t had their property broken, lost, stolen or vandalised had their pictures shared. The only space actually used to represent these men was also probably the most powerful of the whole exhibit; a single, blown-up text message explaining that a violent police raid and theft had left one man, Farshad, camera-less.

Walking around St. John’s Barn it was clear that this exhibition is not where Disposable Perspectives ends; this project was developed to leave its audience with a lasting impression and I think its fair to say it did. It was hard not to be moved some of the stories of hope that shone through desperate circumstances.

Night Out: the Oxford experience

Anonymous
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Night Out: the Oxford experience

Any Oxford night out inevitably starts with pre-ing in your corridor. Almost equally as inevitable is the arrival of a junior dean, who reminds you more than three people in a room is a ‘party’ and that you will be ‘deaned’ if you don’t stop making such a racket.

Don’t they understand our need as students to relax after an intense day of skipping lectures, endless repeats of Friends, and a brunch outing? So you proceed to your college bar. Despite being ‘heavily subsidised’, the drinks are of course the same price as those at a rooftop bar somewhere in trendy East London. But, unlike trendy East London bars, your college bar is a sweaty basement with sticky tables and peeling wallpaper. And what’s that funny smell?

When the bar staff tell you ‘you can’t drink your own drinks in here’, you explain that it isn’t your drink but your friends. Yet they’re still intent on halting your consumption. But there’s no way you’re arriving at that club sober. No. Way. There’s nothing for it but to down the bottle on the walk to the club. It’s the sensible thing to do.

As usual you forgot to buy a ticket, so as you arrive at the club and all your friends proceed to the door, you are consigned to the very back of the queue. It’s fine though, you’re just tipsy enough to bear it and you still have more to drink. The queue inches forward, and so far you can ignore the cheers of the ‘lads’ behind you. Actually, they’re pretty close behind you. Some personal space please?

After drunkenly reassuring the bouncer that the photo on your learner license is indeed you, they let you in. Even though you’re in the second year of a law degree, and you’re pretty sure there are discrimination laws against charging men more than women, you hand over your money. You’re in.

In hindsight, the hurdles you have to jump over before even being admitted into the club and the just about average – or, depending on the club, below average – night you’ll have, don’t make the experience seem worthwhile. I’d rather watch another episode of Friends – the one where Rachel turns 30, or ‘The One Where Chandler and Monica Get Engaged’ (gets me every time). Hey, don’t let me stop you – but you should probably start queuing now if you want to get in.

Oxford beat Imperial to secure league title

Freddie North
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Oxford beat Imperial to secure league title

The Oxford University men’s water polo team secured the Bucs Southern Premier League title last Wednesday with victory over Imperial College London, becoming the first Oxford team in over a decade to win full Blues for water polo. Oxford’s victory at the Rosenblatt Pool at Iffley was the culmination of an already successful season.

Impressive wins at home to Bristol and away to Imperial early in Michaelmas saw the campaign start full of promise, but a narrow 12-11 loss to the University of the West of England ended hopes of an undefeated season before Christmas.

Yet, Oxford bounced back in Hilary, grinding out results in an intense schedule of games. A 6-6 draw at home to perennial table-toppers Cardiff was followed by a decisive 11-4 away win at UWE set up a high stakes situation for the final game of the season at home to Imperial. Win, and they would go top. Lose, and they would miss out on full Blues.

Given what was at stake, the first quarter of the Imperial game was predictably cagey, with the away side struggling to break through a fierce Oxford press, while at the other end of the pool the home side repeatedly found shots hitting the posts or flying over.

However, with two minutes left of the quarter the pressure began to tell, and Oxford managed to breakthrough, two goals from pit forward Seh Woon Neo sending them into the second quarter with a 3-1 lead. The game was won in the next eight minutes of play, as Oxford proceeded to shut out the Imperial attack, winning the quarter 3-0 and going into halftime with a comfortable 6-1 lead.

From there, experienced pit defender Joe Ortiz led a stifling defence that kept the Imperial attack out of range of the Oxford goal and allowed outside players to steal the ball and make their opponents relinquish possession by forcing turnovers. Oxford ‘keeper Luca Rottoli managed to maintain the shut-out, saving a penalty as well as making several key steals that saw he and Ortiz keep the Imperial pit forward locked out of the match.

From that point on, the game was fairly comfortable for the home side. Formulaic polo saw Oxford continue to find success playing the ball into goal-scorers Richard O’Halloran and Seh Woon Neo, while also attempting to wind the clock down.

A series of well executed moves saw Oxford move the ball around the pool with ease, finding O’Halloran in space on the left-hand side multiple times and extending their lead to 9-2. In the final quarter, Imperial began to show signs of revival, drawing the score back to 9-5, however the pace of Oxford’s counter-attack through the legs of Blues swimmer and crowd favourite Dominic McGloughlin soon stretched the game out.

A series of attacks back and forth saw Oxford continue to frustrate Imperial, answering two of their goals with three of their own. By the time the last minutes of the game came around, Oxford were comfortable enough to sit back and let time run down, until the game ended with a final score of 12-7.

In this game, as over the course of the season, a core of players entering their final years at Oxford proved the value of experience, while his year’s crop of freshers provided a massive boost. Five of the players who featured against Imperial were in their first year with the team.

Victory sent them to the top of the league, a feat not achieved by Oxford since the Premier Division format was introduced.

They also secured a bye into the quarter-finals of the cup competition to add yet more momentum to carry them into the Varsity Match in two weeks’ time.

Victory review – ‘Julia Pilkington’s direction places us on a knife edge’

Tony Wilkes
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Victory review – ‘Julia Pilkington’s direction places us on a knife edge’

“I love this fucking nation. But what is it?” asks Charles. It’s a good question. At first glance, the world of Julia Pilkington’s Victory’s is one of luscious costume. Mia Parnall creates a Reformation enmeshed in elaborate corsage, peering out behind frivolous frills. Abigail Allan’s marketing presents us a world with an emphatic connoisseur’s precision. We are seduced by the folds of a fabric, a blotch of rouge on the cheek. “This fucking nation” is beautifully composed.

So it’s surprising to find soiled sheets hanging from the ceiling, serving as ornately decorated banners. ‘HARMONIA BRITANNIA’ is printed in block capitals down the frayed edges. Instead of perfume and powder we find hay strewn on the floor. The view is accompanied by a striking soundtrack, produced by Nathan Geyer. I’m told it’s a harpsicord, “processed” and “manipulated”, the result being an erratic strumming of strings, applying a kind of pressure that we know must break. Before the play has even started this ‘HARMONIA’ is on the brink. It’s gonna get messy.

Britain is in a mess. It’s 1660 and Charles II is back on the throne. “This is a new world”, and the anti-monarchists are sweating. The tension is played out by the story of John Bradshaw’s widow – the High Court Judge who tried Charles I. Heads rolled. Now, Bradshaw’s torso hangs on the Strand. His head sits on a spike. But that’s history. His widow Susan vows to retrieve the mutilated parts. What follows is a “baroque ‘n’ roll…tragedy”, one and a half hours of grotesque and comical chaos.

Immediately we are inundated with obscenity. Dick jokes spring out of nowhere. We hear of smutty sex – “cunt leisure”. The King’s mistress cries at his coronation, “Charlie! You are hurting my arse!” The cast’s distorted and exaggerated delivery had the audience in stitches. There was something special about every actor: Stas Butler’s gawping face; Olivia White’s stony ‘I’m done with you’ face; Adam Diaper’s careering body; Alex Rugman’s pathetic contortions; Esme Sanders’ delightfully sickening grin. Rosa Garland’s eyes spoke volumes. I kept jotting down the same word for Livesey’s performance: ‘hilarious’, underlined. His comic timing meant he didn’t even have to speak to make us giggle. The only problem arose when these grotesqueries drowned out the words. There were moments when some characters omitted a funny-sounding gabble, making it hard to follow the plot. It is lucky, then, that Howard Barker’s play is unashamedly chaotic. The play is fragmented by total blackouts. We are meant to feel lost, but we’re swept up in the romp.

It is Bea Udale-Smith’s performance that provided a stunning psychological realism. There were moments when the artifice seemed to slip away, as if she was really feeling. Emotions flickered across her face. Her eyes glimmered. Being told her husband has been found dismembered and displayed we witnessed a complete mental and physical collapse. It was unbearable. It is Susan that articulates the play’s fundamental drama: what happens when man turns to “an animal, in times of animals.” To see Victory is to witness what fills harmony’s gaping absence – to indulge in diabolical disorder. The beautiful composure we expect visibly unravels. The white face paint begins to smear. Costumes tear. Dresses are dishevelled. Hands are bloodied.

The result is a constant shift between hilarity and brutality. Julia Pilkington’s direction places us on a knife edge. She masterfully turns the scene in a moment. A raucous wedding turns to torture when a dissident is presented on a kind of platter – his tongue cut out. Alex Rugman triumphed playing a man reduced to maimed animal. We winced with him. The same can be said for Adam Diaper’s portrayal of Charles. His ability to play both a tyrant and a clown is testament to the power of his acting. He a line he stops our laughter in our throats. Amidst the laughter we had an underlying sense of trauma – of blood in the air.

But it is not only this we sense. Victory is a powerful reminder that student productions can dazzle.

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