Monday 13th October 2025
Blog Page 966

Review: Dreamgirls

Sam Purnell
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Review: Dreamgirls

When I first got the tickets to the West End revival of Dreamgirls, I was unsure whether it would live up to the masterful performances of Jennifer Holliday in the 1981 Broadway Premiere and Jennifer Hudson in the 2006 film. However, after the first five minutes of the show, I knew I would be in for an amazing night.

My main reason for wanting to see the show was Amber Riley, and I believe many in the audience shared this desire, since they erupted into applause every time she came on stage. Despite being too ill to perform on the two previous nights, Riley’s vocals were breathtaking. She effortlessly belted out some unbelievable notes and accented her character with a poignant depth. Her version of the show’s most famous number, ‘And I Am Telling You I’m Not Going’, was the clear highlight of the show. Coming just before the intermission, she poured so much raw emotion into the song that the audience was caught between tearing up and jumping to their feet to applaud this sublime performer.

Although Riley’s Effie White was clearly the star of the show, the rest of the cast held their own, particularly Liisi LaFontaine. LaFontaine displayed her vocal mastery in both the powerful songs and the more intimate, raw ones. Her duet with Riley, ‘Listen’, was unforgettable; the two vocal powerhouses complimented each other faultlessly. Other notable talents in the cast were Ibinabo Jack’s Lorrell, whose bubbly personality brought a grounding element to the trio, and Joe Aaron Reid’s Curtis, the perfect villain in the story with an effortlessly smooth range.

Some technical faults, such as lighting errors and awkward song transitions, did unfortunately weigh the production down at times. However, the audience’s attention was quickly diverted by the spectacle produced by the staging. The costumes were another highlight of the production, particularly the array of sparkling and elegant gowns.

There was a truly touching moment in the curtain call, as all three Dreams took their final bows together. This nicely tied up the main theme of the show—the women’s relationships with each other—and brought an empowering closure to the performance. During the curtain call, it was easy to see that the entire cast was in love with the show. Their joy was infectious as they danced together when the curtain fell one last time. The audience couldn’t help but be swept along in this elation, the entire theatre giving a very deserved standing ovation to the cast.

The production was still in its previews, officially opening on 14 December, yet it was almost flawless at this early stage. It certainly surpassed my expectations; Riley’s vocals will stay with me for a long time to come. If the show can fix its few remaining technical issues, I have no doubt that it will quickly become a runaway hit.

The death of irony: in defence of Giles Coren

Susannah Goldsbrough
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The death of irony: in defence of Giles Coren

This December has seen a small-scale media battle played out across The Times, Cherwell and The Telegraph. One very flippant journalist has been roundly admonished in both the university and national press by a few students whose end of term exhaustion took the form of a serious sense of humour failure. It is now about time to set the record straight. Giles Coren does not believe that terrible teaching is what makes Oxford special, nor is he a racist. He is simply a master of the apparently rapidly disappearing art of irony.

It all started when Faiz Siddiqui, an alumnus of Brasenose College, announced his intention of suing his alma mater for £1 million on the grounds that the “negligent” teaching he received reventing him from obtaining a first-class degree, and seriously impaired his career prospects.

In response, Giles Coren, a columnist and restaurant critic for The Times, penned a dismissal of Siddiqui’s suit entitled ‘Terrible Teaching is what makes Oxford Special’. He explained that “one goes to Oxford precisely because the teaching is rubbish” and mused that perhaps “the problem stems from Mr Siddiqui being of foreign origin and somehow mistakenly equating Oxford University with ‘learning’ and ‘teaching’ and getting value for money.” The article provoked outrage among students.

Speaking to Cherwell, Magdalen College JCR Vice President Amanda Turner commented, “The tutorial system in Oxford means students receive some of the best standards of teaching in the world, and there is a good feedback system for students to use if they aren’t happy with teaching standards.

However, remarks like Giles Coren’s prevent students from speaking up if they aren’t satisfied with how they are being taught.”

Tony Diver, writing in The Telegraph, argued that comments like Coren’s are “exactly what puts off state school applicants to Oxbridge” and that Coren should “stop spreading lies that could do some real damage.”

Reasonable responses, you might suppose. Certainly, if taken seriously, Coren’s airy dismissal of an Oxford education—which thousands of teenagers sweat and struggle to earn the right to every year—as rubbish is in very poor taste, particularly considering anyone who does manage to get there also pays £9000 a year for the privilege. And undoubtedly, his characterisation of student life as “drinking and playing tennis and nicking books out of the Bod under your cricket jumper” could have been lifted straight from the pages of Brideshead Revisited. It does not exactly scream accessibility to an applicant intimidated by Oxford’s reputation as an elite, upper-class playground. But the crucial point here is whether we take him seriously.

In the same article, Coren tells us that he has “never fully recovered” from missing a 13th birthday party which would have enabled him to begin his sex life early. In the last two months he has described ordering food in a restaurant in the terms, “We just shout, ‘PRAWNS CHICKEN CHOCOLATE CAKE’ at some guy” and his own laughter as “so hard that it hurt my face, rattled the chandeliers and caused the mounted stag heads on the wall (if there were any, which I cannot be certain of) to turn and stare and tut.” My point being, we are not expected to take everything he says at face value.

Coren is a good writer. He understands that humour and mockery are a better way to criticise something than simply stating that it’s wrong. Which is why he wrote an article in nostalgic praise of terrible teaching and smug behaviour at Oxford. Because what he was actually doing was tearing the place to pieces. The line, “Maybe the problem stems from Mr Siddiqui being of foreign origin and somehow mistakenly equating Oxford University with ‘learning’ and ‘teaching’ and getting value for money” is not a xenophobic expression of an antiquated viewpoint but a sarcastic condemnation of an institution that defied its international reputation for excellence to provide awful teaching for himself and Siddiqui.

His image of Oxford as a place for drunken undergraduates to lob books at tourists is fully intended to sound equal parts repulsive and fictional because his point is that is precisely not what Oxford is for. In the sharpest and funniest way Coren is making some serious criticisms—the standard of teaching as he experienced it was unacceptable and education should be about more than posh boys behaving badly.

If you don’t believe me, you need only read some of Coren’s other writings on his time at Oxford. He is admirably honest about how miserable he was. Perhaps Diver should have done so before describing his work as “pompous […] Oxford nostalgia”. As Oxford students, I’m pretty sure we’re smart enough to know when someone means the opposite of what they’re saying. Coren may not like the place much but, if he is ever tempted to come back, I think we could all do with some lessons in irony.

‘Last Christmas’: a lingering recollection

Emma Leech
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‘Last Christmas’: a lingering recollection

A jingling synthetic beat begins and a voice croons a wordless melody. It ignites an image in my mind.

It’s the smell that comes back to me first. Warm cigarette smoke surrounds me, enveloping not suffocating, and fills my lungs with its stinging nostalgia. It is intermingled with the scent of a newly opened box of wrapped sweets, a strangely comforting blend of chocolate and manufactured plastic. Elsewhere in the house, potatoes are being roasted, inevitably just past the point of burning which will cause the first point of contention at the Christmas dinner table.

The music continues, bringing back with it more memories as the voice begins, “Last Christmas, I gave you my heart.”

The room, as I remember it, is warm, heated by an overcrowding of cousins and candles. Outside, there is no picturesque field with newly fallen snow, but rather the slushy street of an industrial town with cold pavements and flickering street lights. Some venture out, dragging on their cigarettes to warm their insides as they stand in the icy air. At that young age, I do not realise the irony of their actions.

“Once bitten and twice shy, I keep my distance but you still catch my eye.” The layering of synths resonates, and the landscape of my memory deepens.

My grandmother is there. She towers over me, imposing, intimidating, yet warm. It is strange which parts of a person stick in your memory, strange that I cannot for the life of me remember what she said to me but I remember her soft dressing gown and the way that she slept with her mouth wide open, snoring noisily. Her home was the epicentre at Christmas time and the festivities ripple out from her. She sits in the middle, the root of this family tree whose branches stretch out in front of her as her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren gather in her tiny living room.

As the notes build to a climax, I am fully immersed, I am a child again. “Last Christmas I gave you my heart, but the very next day you gave it away“.

Standing a few feet lower than most others in the room, conversation swirls above my head and out of reach of my understanding as Christmas songs play on a loop quietly in the background. I like it that way. I play with newly opened toys as those dearest to me mill around, sharing, for the briefest of times, the same room, the same air, the same memories, before we all return to our own lives. This collective feels stoic, unchangeable, and makes me feel untouchable. The ever opening and closing door never brings a dark stranger but rather a familiar face and the steamed-up single-paned windows are the sturdy walls to this familial fortress.

The song descends into a fade and, with it, my memory fades too. I am left with reality, cold and harsh as it is. And yet, the warmth lingers for just a moment more.

That house seemed concrete and its inhabitants and visitors seemed like characters in a play, frozen in the timelessness of my childhood. I know now, however, that I was wrong. I drive past that house sometimes and try to picture my family members in the window but it is impossible. All are changed by time and some are no longer with us. It is only through the channels of music, of certain songs, that I can return there, return to my childhood, and recapture that ‘Last Christmas’.

Merkel’s ‘burqa ban’ shows she’s in trouble

Myfanwy Craigie
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Merkel’s ‘burqa ban’ shows she’s in trouble

Angela Merkel—long seen as the bastion of liberal values in Europe due to her open-door policy during the refugee crisis—has endorsed her party’s proposed burqa ban “wherever legally possible”, saying that they are “not appropriate”. Speaking at the CDU conference in Essen to launch her re-election campaign, the German Chancellor highlighted the precedence of German law above “honour codes, tribal customs, and sharia” and suggested that full-face veils were a barrier to integration. Her appeal to the right wing of her party was received with the greatest applause of her 80-minute speech.

The reality is that the burqa barely exists in Germany. The Interior Ministry, upon request, has been unable to publish statistics on how many people in Germany wear the burqa, so it seems the German government itself may not even know.

However, it is estimated that the figure lies somewhere between two and three hundred; an almost negligible amount. Merkel’s new position is manifestly a political, not a practical one.

Her stance bears similarity to France’s 2011 ban of the full-face Islamic veil, in all public places. It seems nothing has been learnt from the effects of such prescriptive legislation. When Muslim women are not allowed to wear the veil in public, many will simply stay home. If the burqa is a symbol of the oppression of women, then a burqa ban is equally so. More pressingly, when the government appears to harbour anti-Islamic feeling it leads to a fractured society and radicalisation with a potential terrorist threat.

Merkel’s acceptance of an estimated 890,000 refugees into Germany last year was a remarkable humanitarian effort. However, since she acted alone without the support of her party, if she is to win the next election, she must now introduce legislation to placate those to her right and win back their trust and support.

In Britain, Ed Balls, speaking in January 2010, said it was “not British” to tell people what to wear in the street, in response to UKIP’s call for a burqa ban. Merkel, on the other hand, said of the veil that it “doesn’t belong to us” (i.e. the German people), which implies a narrow view of what it is to be German, despite the apparent generosity of her immigration policy. This is a disappointment for those who saw British and German principles as aligned. It is also a great disappointment for those who saw Merkel as the new leader of the free world, since the recent US election left an opening for this post.

Britain has not been so welcoming to refugees (supposedly there are only around 4,000 refugees in the UK at this time). Yet the refugees who are here are able to choose what they wear and how they practice their religion.

Merkel has been in power since 2005 and, throughout this time, has been a symbol of stability, especially during a decidedly unsteady 2016. Are these the lengths she must go to in order to ensure her longevity? Or is she no longer the face of liberal Western democracy to which we can turn?

It’s hard not to become disillusioned with politics when, as with Trump, our best hope is that Merkel’s statements, during her leadership campaign, do not translate into policy if she wins.

Christmas around the world: Hungary

Rosie Gyorfi
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Christmas around the world: Hungary

When it comes to celebrating Christmas, most people have some kind of ritual in mind. In the UK, this usually features the opening of presents on Christmas Day morning, sending and receiving glossy cards, singing and listening to festive carols. Some listen to the Queen’s Speech, or so I’ve heard. And, of course, there is the compulsory mammoth meal of turkey, stuffing, the odd boiled vegetables few seem to like, and a surfeit of dried fruity goodness (read: calories) under the names of Christmas pudding and mince pies. For my family, however, we have another tradition to accommodate into our celebrations – the Hungarian Christmas ritual.

Christmas in Hungary kicks off on the 6th December. Children place their shoes out on the windowsill for Mikulás (Father Christmas) to leave packages of chocolate and peanuts for the well-behaved. Schools and work-places also put on Mikulâs-courts, often as part of their annual Christmas parties. These events can be anything between fantastic (if you’re under six years old), to awkward and risible (for everyone else).

There is also always the small chance that Mikulás decides that you have been naughty. The impending judgment is all the more threatening when you fail to note the similarities in appearance between Mikulás and your mum’s weird old colleague, who has been unknowingly absent from the room since Mikulás’ entrance. However, the fear of being beaten and taken away by Krampusz, Mikulas’ devil-like companion, is, of course, never realised. No child is ever found to be naughty. Nor should any child ever try, as I did, to later make sense of Krampusz’s symbolism; terrifying Google image searches ruin over-sentimentalised memories, period.

‘Holy Eve’ on the 24th December is the main event. Gifts are exchanged before dinner, a tradition that my family has maintained since moving to England. After all, who wants to wait when you can justify opening presents a day earlier? Present opening occurs alongside copious sugar consumption, as ‘little Jesus’, who we believe delivers the presents (not Santa Claus), is also credited with decorating the Christmas tree with szaloncukor (a fondant and chocolate-based nibble) and other sweet treats.

Christmas dinner contains notably less meat, due to the influence of the Catholic fast. And, about ninety-eight per cent of food contains compulsory red paprika. Even more importantly, what is dried fruit or minced meat in the UK is replaced with sweetened poppy seed. Flavoured with honey, sugar, rum or cognac (because everything tastes better with sugar and alcohol), it is used to fill everything from strudels, known as mákos beigli, to shortbread croissants, called pozsonyi kifli. Christmas is a sorry time for those who dislike poppy seed.

Whilst some parents nowadays insist on spending Holy Eve alone with their children, mass family gatherings are unavoidable. No excuses are accepted, especially not by love-hungry grandparents who demand a full three to four day access pass to their descendants. For my family, this results in a rapid succession of meals after which one’s sole desire is to crawl up on a sofa, hoping not to burst after the consumption of unquantifiable amounts of ‘lovingly prepared Christmas goodness’. Food, of course, cannot be refused without mortally offending our hostesses.

To keep ourselves entertained throughout dinner, quite a few families, including mine, find time to get into colossal arguments. “You do realise that you are a Nazi?” has previously featured, and no, I don’t think alcohol was involved. In fact, at least in my family, drinking does not usually extend beyond the odd glass of mulled wine or some sickeningly sweet cream liqueur. Serious inebriation is reserved for New Year’s Eve, or ‘Szilveszter’ as it is known in the region.

And, if you were wondering how the above incident ended. Well, my grandmother, well-accustomed to such theatrics, responded by offering said relative another piece of poppy seed strudel, and then ushered him into the living room where he could peacefully drift into a nap whilst watching either Home Alone or one of the Sissi films on the TV.

Recipe: Let the festivities be-gin

Julia Alsop
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Recipe: Let the festivities be-gin

Christmas and alcohol go hand in hand, and whilst your standard mulled wine or glass of prosecco may be classics, sometimes shaking up (or perhaps stirring) your winter party cocktails can be the best part of festive drinking. So here I have a few yummy favourite cocktails of mine.

You’ll see that I don’t offer exact amounts of each ingredient to use: I prefer to use ratios, and even then, I recommend tasting it to ensure the drink is exactly to your preference.

Sloe gin fizz

Sloe gin is probably the nectar of the Gods (what is a cocktail without gin, am I right?). If you have homemade sloe gin then this is a great way to use it, but if not, many supermarkets stock it. If you want to stay down the locally made path, Demijohns on Little Clarendon Street stocks a very tasty sloe gin made in Worcester. A simple cocktail that not only tastes good but looks beautiful too.

Ingredients:

  1. Sloe gin
  2. Champagne
  3. Lemon juice
  4. Sugar syrup
  5. Edible glitter

Each glass should be 1/5 lemon syrup, 2/5 sloe gin and 2/5 champagne.

Method:

1 – Start with decorating your champagne flutes – this isn’t optional because it looks amazing, and you’ll feel like a domestic goddess. To do this, moisten the rim of each glass with lemon juice before gently placing the glass upside down in the edible glitter on a plate until the rim is covered in glitter.

2 – Combine your lemon juice, and sugar syrup together and mix, before adding to a Boston shaker along with the sloe gin, and shake the ingredients together, (alternatively, stir vigorously).

3 – Pour into your glass and fill it up with champagne.

 

Mulled Sloe Gin

Once again sloe gin is making an appearance (sorry not sorry) in our second drink on the list. Finding a really tasty juice to make this with is a key part; I was lucky to pick up some of the highly coveted apple & pear juice made from fruit in the orchards of Worcester College. However, Marks & Spencer has a brilliant one too. This is the ideal drink for if you’re a little bored of mundane mulled wine (if that’s possible).

Ingredients:

  1. Sloe Gin
  2. Apple & pear juice
  3. Mixed spices (star anise, cinnamon sticks, cloves etc.)

Aim for ¼ sloe gin to ¾ juice here.

Method:

1 – Put the juice into a pan and leave it to simmer.

2 – Add in the cinnamon sticks, star anise and cloves.

3 – Then add the sloe gin, gently stirring the juice and spices with it.

4 – Take off the heat and serve into your glasses.

 

Cinnamon Bellini

So this one doesn’t have any gin it, BUT as a bellini is such an elegant celebratory drink, I shall allow it as an exception – at least for the Christmas season. Also, cinnamon is delicious. Cinnamon tea can be difficult to find, but there’s a great 3 cinnamon tea made by Pukka. Equally, if you struggle to find cinnamon syrup, you can make your own using liquid sugar and ground cinnamon.

Ingredients:

  1. Cinnamon tea
  2. Cinnamon syrup
  3. Prosecco
  4. Cinnamon sticks (optional)

Method:

1 – Brew your cinnamon tea, trying to make it quite strong. Once you are satisfied, place it in the fridge to keep it cool, alongside your prosecco and cinnamon syrup.

2 – When the ingredients are chilled, stir together your syrup and tea before filling half the glass with the mixture.

3 – Add the prosecco and place a cinnamon stick in the glass for decoration.

 

Enjoy and drink responsibly this Christmas season!

Oxford University brands MailOnline story about its ‘snowflake’ professors “misleading”

Marianna Spring
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Oxford University brands MailOnline story about its ‘snowflake’ professors “misleading”

Oxford University has called the MailOnline’s claims that it “shields its snowflake professors” by offering counselling to avoid traumatisation from research “very misleading”.

It has also taken issue with the MailOnline’s assertion that “‘Mr and Mrs’ is banned” at the University.

An article, published on 18 December, states that “experienced academics at Oxford University are being offered counselling so they can avoid being traumatised by their research”, which critics are calling “the latest example of pandering to the emotionally delicate ‘snowflake generation’ who are over-sensitive to difficult situations”.

A spokesperson for Oxford University said, “The courses that they referred to are only offered to a very small number of individuals who are doing research involving fieldwork in physically dangerous and emotionally distressing environments.

“As a university, we research some of the most challenging and distressing social issues, such as sexual abuse, genocide, natural disaster or domestic violence. Our vicarious trauma workshops were designed for researchers whose work involved traumatic situations such as war or conflict zones, and whose own safety may have been in jeopardy.

“The health and wellbeing of staff and students working in these areas is a priority for the university. It is important that researchers are also aware of the effects that their research can have on them and their personal and family life.”

These trauma workshops have been offered since October. However, they appear to have been used by the MailOnline in light of the Sunday Times’ claim that Oxford University Student Union (OUSU) had released a leaflet that “told” students to use ‘ze’ as a gender neutral pronoun in place of ‘he’ and ‘she’, which Cherwell revealed to be untrue last week.

In their headline, the MailOnline explicitly states, “First ‘he’ and ‘she’ became ‘ze’. Now ‘Mr and Mrs’ is BANNED: Oxford University tells colleges to ‘remove gender-specific titles'”.

The guidance on the use of non-gendered titles that the MailOnline refers to in its second article, which was also published on 18 December, has been on the website of the University’s Equality and Diversity Unit since 2013.

In a statement, a spokesperson for Oxford University explained that the guidance is “just a suggestion for staff”.

They commented, “Their suggestions arose out of discussions about what was supportive for transgender staff and students, but also from a wider question about whether gendered titles such as Mr and Mrs were outdated as in the academic, collaborative working environment, first names are generally used and marital status is usually irrelevant.”

The MailOnline has been contacted for comment.

OUSU campaign takes consent classes to France

Jack Hunter
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OUSU campaign takes consent classes to France

It Happens Here (IHH), Oxford University Student Union’s (OUSU) sexual harrasment campaign group, has recently taken their consent classes to France.

Several members of the IHH committee ran the workshops with students aged 15-18 at the Anglophone Section of the Lycée François Premier in Fontainebleau, a commune close to Paris, from 24 to 27 November.

The consent classes, which are similar to those IHH organise through JCRs for freshers’ week, mark the first international trip of the group’s latest initiative to offer adapted versions of consent workshops in schools outside Oxford.

The workshops were some of the first of their kind to take place in France, where the idea of consent education is relatively unknown compared to the UK.

Josh Rampton, the co-chair of IHH, which is “committed to raising awareness of sexual violence, supporting survivors, and promoting consent and first response education”, described the work as “a great success”.

Rampton told Cherwell, “The committee members were pleasantly shocked by how quickly and fervently most of the students became engaged with the subject. The students, much like those in Freshers Week, were horrified but often not surprised by the statistics that were discussed. They were given French statistics illustrating the prevalence of sexual harassment, assault, and rape in these workshops.

“Despite many comments to the effect of ‘but this is obvious…’, quite a few very basic misconceptions surrounding sexual assault were successfully dismantled. Many students were surprised to learn of the controversy these workshops provoked in the UK.”

One sixth-former at the Lycée, Antoine Sacco, shared the optimism of IHI. He said, “It was definitely a good idea, and the fact that we had data for both France and the UK was very pleasant. Students liked it much [sic], even though it would have been great to have different activities. Reading comments about sexual harassment was quite boring from the fourth one.

“I believe everybody enjoyed it and praise the initiative taken there.”

On behalf of the University’s Faculty of Modern Languages, Simon Kemp, Associate Professor of French at Somerville, told Cherwell, “We’re very proud of our students’ determination to make a difference and delighted to have the university associated with such important work. I’m glad that the consent workshops in France were a success, and that French media interest means their efforts may have a broader impact.”

For the first time this October, every Oxford JCR ran ‘compulsory’ consent classes.

Similar workshops were met with backlash at some universities. Undergraduates at York University and Clare College in Cambridge boycotted the “patronising” consent classes.

The Department for Consistent Failure

Matthew Roller
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The Department for Consistent Failure

1,000 drivers on strike. 156 stations, in a part of the country stuffed full of commuters, rendered useless. More than 600,000 journeys disrupted. This week the biggest rail strike since privatisation, 22 years ago, has led to a collapse in the operation of Southern Rail’s vast network, causing turmoil on some of the most economically important rail services in the country.

The strike has been organised by Aslef and the RMT Union, whose head, Mick Whelan, will enter into talks with Transport Minister, Chris Grayling, to attempt to find a resolution to this carnage. If unsuccessful, more industrial action can be expected next week, the week after Christmas, throughout January, and for “ten more years” according to Whelan. Unfortunately for Grayling, who previously denied Boris Johnson’s proposal for Transport for London (TfL) to take over suburban rail services on the ground that it might give more power to a Labour mayor, there remain very few companies that demonstrate any kind of confidence in the Department for Transport—and rightly so.

Even before this fiasco, the list of errors that the ministry had made since the Conservatives came back into power in 2010 was vast. Under Phillip Hammond, the current Chancellor, the government decided to adopt Labour’s vague plan for a high-speed train linking London and Birmingham, proposing to spend £42.6 billion on the project. Likewise, under Hammond’s successor Justine Greening, the department cost the taxpayer some £40 million by making, what was later admitted to be, a “terrible mistake” in awarding the West Coast rail franchise to FirstGroup, stripping Virgin of the contract. Under the leadership of Hammond, Greening and recent incumbent Patrick McLoughlin, the department decided to continue to convert several major British motorways into ‘smart motorways’, at immense cost, despite safety risks.

Whilst the recent controversy surrounding the department has rightly focused on the railways, the ‘smart motorways’ proposals should not be allowed to slip under the radar.

These ‘smart motorways’ have seen hard shoulders converted into permanent driving lanes in an attempt to ease congestion on some of Britain’s busiest routes. However, breakdown companies, such as the RAC and the AA, have expressed safety concerns about the scheme, and an inquiry by MPs on the Commons transport select committee suggested that the proposals had not been properly considered.

The Department for Transport has insisted, throughout the running of these schemes, that the move towards ‘smart motorways’ is “an incremental change” that has “almost halved” journey times on some of the routes on which it has been implemented.

But the AA’s president Edmund King has retorted, saying “right from the outset, the AA raised substantive safety concerns, also voiced by our members, over the dangers of breaking down on a motorway without a hard shoulder or with an inadequate number and size of lay-bys. Whilst we need to increase capacity and reduce congestion we must ensure that we are not cutting corners, which compromise safety just to reduce costs.”

The current roadworks on the M3—a motorway which links London to much of the South including Guildford, Woking, Basingstoke and Winchester—are examples of the ridiculous nature of the Department for Transport’s policy.

In January 2015, a £129 million contract was awarded to an infrastructure company to upgrade a 13.4 mile stretch of the motorway. This has resulted in a 50mph speed limit on much of the road, as well as consistent closures of the whole road at night and the build-up of traffic jams, which often stretch for several miles. Somewhat inevitably, the project is set to miss its initial completion date of January 2017 by a minimum of six months, due to “additional unforeseen works.”

With questions being raised about the safety of ‘smart motorways’, it is entirely possible that, by the time these roadworks are completed, the Department for Transport will have been forced to introduce a new set of schemes to extend the width of the M3, and that the Hampshire/Surrey area will be further plagued by delays on its most important road. This would not only be an inconvenience to millions of road users, but yet another huge waste of public money.

The Department for Transport has an annual budget of £5.3 billion and it is the role of John Hayes, the current Transport Minister and potential future Transport Secretary, to co-ordinate with Highways England to make sure that England’s roads are as safe and efficient as possible. But the current state of the whole department, with regards to both roads and railways, demands investigation. This is not an issue that should be focused on one administration—its work under the Blair/Brown governments was equally poor—but instead on the department itself. Someone within the department must hold the ministers accountable for their shoddy work over the past decade, and sort out the mess in which British transport finds itself.

Christmas around the world: Austria

Jack Schofield
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Christmas around the world: Austria

To describe Christmas as one holiday alone is perhaps an understatement. In Britain, it much rather feels like a series of holidays, a weeks-long chain of rituals, that monopolise December and the proceeding months. This is a sentiment, as I have realised during my year abroad in the sadly-not-yet-so-snowy Alpine mountains, that seems all the more true of Austria and its captivating traditions.

The ritual of Krampusläufe (the Krampus processions) is the stand-out example. Sankt Nikolaus (Saint Nicholas, of course) may gladly take responsibility for the good children, but it is Krampus who is left to deal with all the bad ones. It soon transpires that Santa giving naughty children coal simply does not suffice for these hardy mountain dwellers.

Throughout folklore, Krampus has whisked disobedient children away in sacks to be drowned, or taken them straight to hell (they really don’t hold back, apparently…) and the practice of today is not so thematically dissimilar. In early December, a Krampuslauf takes place in many towns where adults dress up as the demonic part-human, part-goat, and wholly-terrifying horned beast. Parents take along their children to the ocassion, one can only assume, out of a desire to see them scared absolutely shitless. The night-time event features fire and sticks with which the Krampuses (Krampusses? Krampi?) beat the children to whom they run up to at random. Think less ‘walking in a winter wonderland’ and rather ‘attempting survival in any horror film you’ve ever had the guts to watch’. That pretty sums up Krampus and his festive role in western Austria.

You can watch a summary of this year’s event in the Tyrolean ski resort town of Sölden for the least Christmassy thing you have ever seen, and to prove that I’m not making it all up:

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2VSdrH3B6JE&w=560&h=315]

There is, of course, much more to Christmas in the Austrian Alps than Krampus. On 6 December, Sankt Nikolaus visits the houses of families with children, giving them small gifts that are usually heavy on the chocolates. The Immaculate Conception is also marked throughout Catholic Austria and Italy with the day off on the 8th.

Christmas markets, the staple of the Germanic advent, spring up in towns from Innsbruck to Vienna. They are filled with handmade and local products, be it knitted scarves or fruity jams, mulled wine, Bratwursts or Kaisershmarrn (sugared pancakes with raisins). The imitations of such markets in the UK are a positive sign of a lovely cultural event catching on, but they often seem fake and lack the spirit of their European counterparts, despite many having come directly from there. Perhaps this is because of the lesser importance Brits place on the market as a place where friends and family spend time together, defying the cold. Indeed, in the UK, the market itself takes on a far greater role, making more necessary the fanfare of the likes of Hyde Park’s Winter Wonderland.

During my year abroad, it’s been an incredible experience to witness the traditions integral to the Austrian Christmas calendar. Indeed, I was surprised to hear that in the more Catholic areas of Austria and southern Germany it is baby Jesus himself, rather than Father Christmas, who is believed to deliver the presents. Given that in the UK we have a hard enough time trying to convince children that a fully-functioning adult, equipped with a sleigh and elves, does the job, I very much pity Austrian parents. However, I suppose that this aspect of winter festivities, as with Krampus’ hard-to-forget role in the run-up, says a great deal about the surreal aspects of Christmas here, and the significant mix of pagan traditions with the country’s relatively more recent Christianity.

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