Blame neoliberalism for the rise of the far right—and everything else
On a particularly memorable occasion, caught between reading Atlas Shrugged and going to the pub, I found myself instead scrolling through Instagram. The algorithm—god bless it—directed me to the distant world of late bourgeois society, a generic meme account with a penchant for po
Icon of the Week: The JCR candidates
Oxford seemed to be a surprisingly democratic place when I first got here. The important figures in every student sports club, society, and organisation are peer-elected, and these elections are made meaningful by the large sums of money and responsibility they manage. Right now, hordes of fr
Icon of the week: Becks Morgan
Many prolific artists are more multifaceted than we might first think. Joni Mitchell thinks of herself as a painter first; Andy Warhol thought he’d be remembered for his cinema. All the most interesting people split their time between many different pursuits. I was reminded of this erstwhil
The objectification manifesto
Until last Thursday I was happy to be objectified, as long as I was in—what I perceived to be—control. We may have never met, but you still could have met my ass during a night in Bridge, a pole performance, on Instagram stories. My ass and what I do with it are out there in […]
TT25 Pitch Prompts!
Link to submit: https://forms.gle/zU2cvo5MfitTpKNd6 Deadline: Sunday 27th April, Midday. Graphic by India Matthews.
P*sh boys: if you can’t beat ‘em, fuck ‘em
In my first year at Oxford, posh boys were my snobby, smug, quarter-zip-loving kryptonite. I expected to see them here, meet them, and (probably) detest them. I didn’t anticipate being attracted to them. Yet that’s where I found myself, talking to Tarquins and fucking Ferguses. All of a sudden,
Icon of the Week: Oliver Guilfoyle
Oliver will be a familiar face for anyone who has been to the open jam sessions at the Mad Hatter on a Wednesday evening. Previously the secretary of the University Jazz Society, they are now practically the house pianist of the Oxford bar. But they don’t flaunt it: as I met Oliver at their
The campus novel on vacation
The first thing I did after finishing my exams last May was read Elif Batuman’s quintessential campus novel The Idiot. Although I was checking out of academia for the summer months, I couldn’t help but return to its comforting rhythm in Batuman’s book, which narrates Selin’s freshman year at
Polari Literary Salon: a c+nty night out
Having relocated from the Kate Bush tribute/inspired (still unclear) band performance, we were finally in the right space. Gutted because Baby Bushka sounded like a great time. Don’t worry, we bought merch later to apologise for abandoning their gig. Thankfully Karen McLeod seemed ch