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Year: 2010

Jump!

Cooper’s Jump!, pulls to the front of the reader’s mind the likes of Francis Drake and Julian Fellowes, as she creates a world revolving around equine activity and class-climbers.

The crux of Jump!, is the trials faced by a recently widowed granny, whose children selfishly enlist her to take care of their spoiled children, and force her to give up her house and live a life of misery with them. It is impossible to dislike our shy, rosy-faced granny, particularly when she discovers an abandoned filly who she nurses back to health.

The tale proceeds to take place around the courses at Cheltenham and Aintree; the nouveaux riche who stalk it, and the upper class who run it. It is these sub-groups who supply the frisky business, what with hastily ripping off jodhpurs and lovers named ‘Valant’.

Jump! is a good read for the characters alone, yet lacks where Coopers peers succeed in plot.

Mrs Dalloway

In times of bitter rejection or ultimate betrayal, nothing is more satisfying than imagining the punishment you dream to deal your cold-blooded nemesis.
It’s my belief that nothing would be more painful or uncomfortable, than forcing your victim to read Virginia Woolf’s Mrs Dalloway, famous for its ‘stream of consciousness’ narrative mode ostensibly used to build an intricate picture of character development, and inter-war social structure.
Sentences that take up a whole page, extreme abuse of the semi-colon and a supreme lack of action combine to create a laugh-a-minute novel that’s about as exciting as a Susan Boyle album, and far more time-consuming. Such extended sentences demand full concentration; which would be fine, if the reward at the end was in any way desirable. Instead, Mrs Woolf takes three paragraphs to describe a man sitting on a bench, or multiple pages to wonder whether a car driving past a flower shop has the Queen in it.
No matter how determined your mindset when you start this book, sooner or later the age-old question inevitably sinks in: who cares? Maybe I’m too simple, or maybe I’m too old-fashioned, but when I read a book, I expect a plot and a light at the end of a 200-page-long novel.

The Handmaid’s Tale

The Handmaid’s Tale takes place in the Republic of Gilead, a totalitarian state. The Republic has resorted to assigning fertile women, to the society’s prominent figures to ensure its survival after the plummeting birth rates. The reader is exposed to the harsh reality of the community through the narration of Offred, a handmaid who serves the Commander and his wife Serena Joy, in their attempt to produce a child. As she desperately clings to her previous identity, Offred discovers that her body is her only chance of surviving a regime wrought with corruption and deceit at every level. While Atwood’s style is easy reading, she doesn’t shy away from some graphic descriptions, which emphasise the oppression within the dystopian society. This is certainly not an emotionally uplifting read, yet Atwood’s tale will leave you contemplating whether aspects of Gilead already exist in our modern society?

The Female Eunuch

At its heart The Female Eunuch is a call for freedom from a constricting conformity that still exists. Although flawed and occasionally quaint today, it’s a furious book that’s far from obsolete.
It’s at its best when angry, which is often. The strongest chapters, such as ‘The Object of Male Fantasy’ and ‘The Stereotype’, are those that attack social conventions, particularly the doll-like ideal of passive femininity. Here the writing is both elegantly mournful, ‘It still comes as a surprise to most people to learn that Marilyn Monroe was a great actress, most pitifully to Marilyn herself, which is one of the reasons why she is dead’, and viciously witty, in gleeful lines like ‘No woman wants to find out that she has a twat like a horse collar’. Its combination of detail and vitriol makes it both academic and engaging.
There’s a lot to digest; slang, class, communism, marriage, education, employment, violence and, of course, sex. Inevitably there are weaknesses. The statistical and psychoanalytical sections feel irrelevant now, some parts are too anecdotal, and occasionally Greer tries too hard to be controversial; ‘Hopefully, this book is subversive’. However, these flaws don’t affect the force of the book’s main arguments.
The final chapter, on revolution, is optimistic, and since its publication in 1970 much has improved. However, as long as ‘c*nt’ remains the worst word one can say and politicians have to defend being unmarried, The Female Eunuch will remain powerful and unsettling.

Judge a Book by its Cover – The Death of Bunny Munro

Judge a Book by its Cover – This week The Mancunion Literature section decided to have a little experiment, and see if the classic theory of ‘judging a book by its cover’, really does work.

Clair Gordon, a 2nd year Linguistics student, was sent into a bookshop and told to pick up the first one that grabbed her attention. First of all Clair headed for the Erotic Fiction section, but was gently steered away to the tamer, good old fiction section and this is what she found.

Meet Bunny Munro, a self-centred, chain-smoking, irresponsible sex addict who “just found this world a hard place to be good in”. After his wife kills herself, Bunny hits the road with his nine year old son going from door to door selling all sorts of beauty products, to women he tries his level best to sleep with.

Despite being a tragic story in many ways, I found it difficult to sympathise with Cave’s protagonist, a man that comments on the fact that his wife’s “tits look good”, whilst she lifelessly hangs from the security girdle in the bedroom of their council flat in Brighton. However, after having time to reflect on the mess of a man that is Bunny Munro, I guess his awful attitude and one-track mind is what makes him interesting.

The relationship between Bunny and his son is where the heart and emotion of the story lies. The boy is a quiet, intelligent and adorable splash of colour, in the cold and raw illustration of Bunny’s life. Despite Bunny being a terrible role model, Bunny Junior adores his father and, unfortunately, you get the feeling he wants to be just like his Dad when he grows up. I wanted to pluck the boy out of the book and take him under my wing. As Bunny Junior is left alone to his thoughts whilst his father drinks, smokes and pursues anything with a vagina, he begins to see his mother’s ghost from time to time and the conversations he has with her are moving, but I wanted more.

On reading the blurb I expected a father, son relationship similar to that of the characters in Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, but unfortunately I found it was lacking. It was more about the two Bunnys’ separate experiences of one life, and I would have liked more attention paid to them as a family unit.

Cave’s crude narration and explicit descriptions, “he dispenses a gout of goo into a cum-encrusted sock he keeps under the seat”, are slightly too much at times but rather amusing all the same. “A potentially hot Arab chick…(oh, man, labia from Arabia)”, is a personal favourite. I enjoyed Cave’s writing style, but the excessive mentioning of Avril Lavigne’s vagina, and Kylie Minogue’s famous behind, was just unnecessary in my opinion.

Despite being touched by Bunny Junior’s character, and having the occasional giggle at Cave’s unusual style, I wasn’t satisfied when I came to read the last page. I enjoyed the book, it was different, but what I thought would be an intricate story of father and son turned out to be a fairly two-dimensional read. The cover grabbed my attention, but unfortunately the book itself didn’t.

Perhaps I would’ve been better going for the erotica section after all.

An Idiot Abroad

As many of you will no doubt already know, Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant sent their pal Karl Pilkington around the world to see The Seven Wonders. ‘Ah, isn’t that lovely’, I hear many thoughts a’thinking. Well no, it was very cruel as both the series and the diary Karl kept on his travels portray. However, Karl’s nonchalant approach to life, even in Mexico, Egypt and Jordan his main concern is running out of Monster Munch, makes the book worth a read. Even if it obviously is scripted sixty per cent of the time, with the diary entries matching what is said in the series almost word for word.

Gervais’ reasons for sending Karl the ‘round, empty-headed, part-chimp manc’, to see The Seven Wonders is to fulfil his desire to provoke Karl to his limit. A task at which he succeeds in, as Karl is a home-bird and not particularly adept to change of any sort. Gervais and Merchant conclude that, ‘He’d’ve been happier in medieval times in a village where you didn’t travel beyond the local community. That would’ve been fine for him.’
‘Yeah, making up his own theories about the moon.’
‘Terrified because he doesn’t know where it goes during the day.’

Perhaps the funniest of Karl’s entries is during his trip to Petra, where he meets ‘Jesus’. Prior to his meeting with ‘Jesus’, Merchant explains to Karl what the condition, Jerusalem Syndrome is, and that he will be meeting a man who is ‘pushing at the very parameters of consciousness.’ Karl’s response, ‘What does the ‘H’ stand for? People always say Jesus H. Christ- what’s his middle name?’ The meeting between Karl and ‘Jesus’ completely surpasses all expectation in its hilarity, and it is these gem-like entries that make the book worth reading, as it really doesn’t matter that it’s scripted when you’re falling off your seat laughing.

Whether or not Karl is a Gervais creation, which I dearly hope he isn’t, appreciate it for what it is and laugh heartily.

The Aurora Teagarden Mysteries

As a newcomer to the world of Charlaine Harris, I began reading with an open mind and high expectations due to the excitement that has previously surrounded her novels. The first mystery in the series is ‘Real Murders’. The reader follows the life of a young female librarian, Aurora Teagarden; an unlikely character to have avid interest in historical murders. Aurora is easy to warm to, as her fascination in murder is contrasted with her plain appearance and nervous disposition.
The plot moves slowly and simply through the first part of the book, following the brutal murder of a member of Real Murders; the club that Aurora belongs to in which they exchange stories and views on high profile murders. Harris doesn’t over embellish her writing, often making the chilling subject matter appear comical and light hearted. However, this style makes the storytelling itself seem realistic, in a way that murder mysteries of this kind occasionally are not.
The mood darkens as it becomes clear that the death of the club’s vice president was not an isolated case, and Aurora becomes more involved in solving the mystery. Nothing is left for the reader to realise for themselves, as Harris details every aspect and possibility of the developing plot. This makes for an easy read and certainly not a challenging one. As Aurora comes closer to discovering the member of her small community responsible for the horrifying, copy-cat murders, she enters herself and her family into situations far more dangerous than her character at the beginning of the book could have imagined. The murders she has read about become real life, and are more frightening than the reader expects Aurora to cope with. The ending, as in any mystery worth reading, is an exciting and unexpected conclusion to an enjoyable read.
The Aurora Teagarden Mysteries: Omnibus 1, is a series of four stories; Real Murders, A Bone to Pick, Three Bedrooms One Corpse and The Julius House.

Heartstone

Heartstone is the fifth novel in Sansom’s best-selling ‘Shardlake’ series; Dissolution, Dark Fire, Sovereign and Revelation. However, do not think that it necessary to have read the first four before embarking on the fifth. Heartstone does not require a previous, in-depth knowledge of the characters involved as the crux of the tale and those involved are explained as the story unfolds.
Heartstone is not an easy-going read, it takes a certain level of commitment to get through the first two chapters in-particular, as the reader is hurled in to the 16th century and King Henry VIII’s invasion of France. It is summer, 1545, and the hero of the tale is Shardlake; an un-likely hero, with a hunch-back, and unacceptably sympathetic for a lawyer in the severe King Henry’s rule. Shardlake is to look into a case of ward-ship, as a favour to the Queen, Catherine Parr. This is quickly revealed to be no ordinary case as it begins with suicide, or possibly murder, and as Shardlake is attacked in an attempt to have him desist his inquiries in to the already disturbing state of affairs.
Shardlake and his clerk Barak, must out-wit slimy lawyer Dyrick who they suspect to have something to do with Shardlake’s attack, and Master Hobbey his client, whose ward-ship of Hugh Curteys is under investigation as requested by the Queen. The plot is thickened by Shardlake’s acquaintance with Bedlam inmate, Ellen Fettiplace, who was sent to Bedlam nineteen years prior, after she was raped aged sixteen. Ellen should have been discharged the following year, yet someone continues to pay her fees and she refuses to leave, claiming agoraphobia to be the cause. As Shardlake, Barak, Dyrick and his clerk the puritanical preaching Feaveryear, travel from London to Hoyland, the home of Master Hobbey and Hugh Curteys, more of Ellen’s history is revealed as Shardlake asks questions around her home-town of Rolfswood.
Sansom merges historical fact with fiction seemingly effortlessly, as what is a complex web of information is kept linked together by Shardlake’s narration. The narration from our hero has the added bonus of allowing a certain amount of informality in the more serious situations, and is often

Mini Shopaholic

Reading Sophie Kinsella’s newest novel, ‘Mini Shopaholic’, I attempted to reserve judgement about the book based on the front cover graphics of mother (Becky) and toddler (Minnie) laden with shopping bags all displaying designer names. Obviously, a book has more to it than the front sleeve. Surely. Maybe Becky Brandon would be a more complex character than this picture would give credit for, and overturn the limited characterisation of women as only being interested in shopping. Sure she wants a ‘shopping friend for life’ in her two year old daughter, and can’t stand those mothers who wear ‘crocs over nubbly homemade socks’. ‘Nubbly’? I know, I’m not too sure what that means either. My hopes weren’t high.
The novel is set against a ‘silly’ financial crisis, which keeps getting in the way of Becky’s plans of spending copious amounts of money on designer clothes. Which are described in detailed bracketed sentences alongside Becky’s stream of consciousness, acting as some sort of literary subtitles to the, almost inert, action of the plot. Becky herself is never given an extensive physical description, and Kinsella states that this was a conscious decision so that ‘anyone’ could identify with her. I guess most women spend £110 on a cardigan then. The disparity of descriptive detail between Becky and her clothes generates a voyeuristic emphasis on what she is wearing. The reader cannot picture Becky, but does know exactly what colour of Burberry bag, Louboutin shoes and Dior sunglasses she is wearing. She is not a character but a walking clothes horse which the reader is invited to jealously drool over. The woman disappears behind the clothes, literally becoming ‘all fur coat and no knickers’.
However, limitations to her shopping habits pushes Becky towards engaging in an empowering project to prove to her friends just how resourceful she can be – a surprise birthday party for her husband. With what could be called ‘Stepford suburban reserve’, the trials and tribulations of this feat somehow manage to last the entire book. Fear not prospective housewives it does not all end in tears. The label obsessed shopping stereotype lives on, men are from mars and women are from Harrods?

Eat Pray Love

As sceptical as I was about this, like many novels come- Hollywood blockbusters, this book pleasantly delighted me. Eat Pray Love is a word-of-mouth bestseller, and a celebrated account of one woman diving head first into indulgence, enlightenment and spirituality – it’s a grown up gap year.
At 34, writer Elizabeth Gilbert found herself in a life that she never expected to see herself living; an outwardly perfect scenario including a suburban home, loving husband and successful writing career. But instead of embracing this, Gilbert finds herself lost, consumed with confusion and questioning herself and the world that she is now a part of. After leaving her husband, Gilbert tells of her bitter divorce, a failed attempt at rebounding love and a bout of depression, before finding herself with a choice to make. The reader is then taken on Gilbert’s soul-searching journey, as she packs up with the advance for this novel, and heads for the rest of the world.
A year spilt between; the pursuit of pleasure in Italy, devotion and self-reflection in India, and the balance of everything in between in Indonesia. From native spiritual gurus and gelato, to an elderly medicine man and unexpected love, this eloquent and irresistible tale is self discovery at its best. Not a clichéd gap year of enthusiastic teenagers, which you may have come to expect, but a candid account of a woman who for the first time in her life is going at her own pace. Beautifully written by an author that you instinctively like, she writes of herself ‘my one mighty travel talent is I can make friends with anybody’. You believe her, and you believe in her, you want her to be your friend or your ‘tandem language exchange partner’.
Her honesty and ability to poke fun at herself, enables her to captivate even the most disbelieving of audiences. Gilbert ultimately goes through a place in her life, where many people may find themselves in one form or another. Hopefully not clouded with divorce and depression as hers is, but of finding out about themselves and what they put their belief in. For budding writers it is worth reading for the writing alone.

Terry Pratchett- I Shall Wear Midnight

Terry Pratchett
Terry Pratchett is a man of many thousands of words, hundreds of which are wittily twisted into the nonsensical phrases that make up the fictional Discworld series, and fifty-plus other collaborations that span across a 30 year career as a novelist. The apparent rambling that is about to commence, is to entice those who have yet to discover the Discworld into doing so, and those who have already been seduced will learn some interesting facts about one of their favourite authors.
Born 28th April 1948 in Buckinghamshire, Pratchett’s first published story was ‘The Hades Business’ for his school magazine ‘Technical Cygnet’ at the ripe young age of thirteen, the story was re-published commercially two years later in ‘Science Fantasy’ magazine. Pratchett left school in 1965 to pursue journalism at ‘Bucks Free Press’, whilst there he took the two year National Council for the Training of Journalists proficiency course and passed A-level English; both on day release.
In 1968 Pratchett married Lyn Purves, and was writing the novel ‘The Carpet People’ which was published and launched by Colin Smythe Limited in 1971. Pratchett left ‘Bucks Free Press’ in 1970 to work for the ‘Western Daily Press’, before returning to ‘Bucks Free Press’ as sub-editor in 1972. In 1973 he joined the ‘Bath Evening Chronicle’, and by this time was producing a series of cartoons describing the goings-on at the government’s fictional paranormal research establishment.
In 1980 Pratchett became publicity officer for Central Electricity Generating Board, now known as PowerGen. Whilst at CEGB, he wrote ‘Strata’ in 1981, and the first of the Discworld books, ‘The Colour of Magic’ in 1983 which was originally presented as a series of four tales. However, it was not until the publishing house ‘Corgi’ took over the reins in 1985 that Pratchett’s career really turned into the phenomenon we see today.
It may seem strange to have presented you with all that information for the sake of discussing his most recent novel ‘I Shall Wear Midnight’, but just as Pratchett draws parallels of real life into his work, it makes sense to have an understanding of the roots of the man before looking at the book. Especially when all of the above hasn’t even made headway in discussing his achievements, did you know he was knighted earlier this year?
In 1998, Pratchett was awarded an OBE for his outstanding achievements in literature; the same day Radio One veteran John Peel received his. This was followed by an honorary Doctorate of Literature from the University of Warwick in July 1999, the University of Portsmouth in 2001, the University of Bath in 2003, the University of Bristol in 2004 and Trinity College Dublin in 2008.
In the summer of 2007 whilst on tour in America, Terry Pratchett announced that he had been diagnosed with a rare form of Alzheimer’s disease; posterior cortical atrophy. Since then Pratchett has donated money and heralded for more research to be done into the controlling of, and curing of the disease. How many books do you think he has produced since his diagnosis? One, maybe two? Wrong, it’s five!
The most recently released, as previously mentioned, ‘I Shall Wear Midnight’. Featuring some of Discworld’s favourite characters; Tiffany Aching, Nanny Ogg and Granny Weatherwax. The tale unravels around Tiffany’s on-going friendship and conflicts with the ‘Nac Mac Feegles’. They stalk her every move, including bath times when a screen is required for the sake of modesty, yet are there to encourage a fire to a light, using their kilts, in the face of Tiffany’s enemy; the man with no-eyes, the wreaking ghost of the infamous witch-hunter, the Cunning Man. Tiffany must defeat the ghost she herself awoke, and who if she does not will pollute the minds of every human, or more specifically anyone who is not a witch, into thinking evil prejudice thoughts. Yet, alongside dealing with the Cunning Man, Tiffany must conquer her hormones to the point that she almost ignores them until questions such as “Do you have any passionate parts, miss?” are asked of her from inquisitive eight year olds, and later from a bride-to-be duchess on what may be required of her on her wedding night.
The Discworld is fantasy at its best, all of it, not just the odd novel. It’s not full of orcs and elves, but witches, wizards and sometimes Cohen the Barbarian.

Reclaim the night

It was with great sadness and anger that I learned of the horrific rape a female student was subjected to in the Fallowfield area a few weeks ago.  And it was with similar emotions that I observed the responses to it, both official and unofficial, within this University and beyond.

Advice was immediately issued to female students on how to protect themselves from similar attacks, from tips such as carrying personal alarms to never walking alone after dark.  I carry a personal alarm; doing so makes me feel safer and far from infringing on my liberties it actually increases them by enabling me to sometimes do things or go places with or in which I otherwise wouldn’t be comfortable.  The alarm is a tiny key ring and was free from the Women’s Office in the SU; the obtaining and use of it requiring virtually no effort on my part.

If someone were to ask me whether I thought attack alarms were beneficial, I would say yes.  However, if someone were to ask me whether I thought all women should carry them, I would say only if they want to, and if they don’t want to then that must be respected.  The key issue here is choice.  A woman must make her own choices with regards to this matter and furthermore she must not be judged for those choices.  Feeling safe is entirely subjective and can be dependent on a number of factors – past experience and environment being two that spring to mind – but is often random, and always personal.  I have female friends who have grown up in large cities who would never leave the house without an attack alarm, ones who have grown up in the countryside who would, and vice versa.

It is imperative that self-defense classes be widely offered in spaces used by women, such as community centres, workplaces and educative environments.  Having taken these classes in my second year I can say that I found them to be a largely positive and empowering experience that like the personal alarm increased rather than infringed on my liberties.  But again, attendance must be down to a matter of personal choice.

Removing this choice, by stating that these are steps women ‘should’ take, facilitates a situation where if women haven’t taken them then they become, in the eyes of society, partly responsible if something does happen to them.  This is dangerous and damaging in so many ways; it contributes to self-blame amongst victims and the shockingly low conviction rate for rape in the UK (estimated at around 6.5% compared to 74% for murder).

A woman never has a responsibility to ‘protect’ herself from rape.

A man always has a responsibility not to rape in the first place.

We don’t teach people who live in areas with high instances of gun crime to dodge bullets.  Why are emails not being sent out, posters put up, reminding men that no means no?

The matter of walking alone after dark (or not) is of particular importance.  I consider carrying an attack alarm and taking self-defense classes to be positive actions that enhance my life; they’re things I do rather than don’t do.

Not walking alone after dark however is a negative action, something I’m not doing.  It is an infringement of my liberties.  The fact is that personally I would not feel comfortable walking home alone in the early hours of the morning (I’m usually on my bike, but if not I would get a taxi).  But my housemates do not necessarily feel the same, and may enjoy walking more than I do.  And although I might not walk all the way back to my house on a quiet street in Victoria Park at 3am, I would walk a short distance from a bus stop or a long distance down Oxford Road after dark, and I will not be made to feel guilty for doing so.  Taxis are exceedingly expensive and unaffordable for some women – should they be denied a social life?

People often forget that in the vast majority of rape cases, the perpetrator is someone the victim knows, and will not attack her in a public place anyway.

I’m not actively advising women to walk the streets alone at night, or not carry an attack alarm, I’m merely stating that they should do whatever makes them feel comfortable, and if that is the aforementioned then they should not be made to feel like they are committing some sort of crime.

There is only ever one criminal in rape – the perpetrator.  I carry an attack alarm in the same way I use a burglar alarm.  But living in constant fear and planning your life around crime is no way to live.  Sadly it is inevitable that fear will seep into women’s lives from time to time, but when institutions start feeding this fear, what hope is there of keeping it in perspective and thus enabling women to enjoy their lives?

The chemists are winning

Sarah McCulloch investigates our relationship with Mephodrone, until recently the drug du jour among many students, and asks whether our entire debate on the use of legal and illegal drug use needs to change.

In April 2010, after a media storm, the British government passed legislation to classify Mephedrone as a Class B drug. Mephedrone is a stimulant somewhat similar in effects to MDMA and cocaine. It is chemically based on substances found in the African stimulant Khat, but it was sufficiently chemically different to not have been previously included under the Misuse of Drugs Act, which regulated drugs in the UK. The drug was actually first synthesised in 1929, but rediscovered in 2003 by chemists looking to manufacture a “designer drug” that could get round existing drug legislation.

Mephedrone first started hitting the news in late 2009, but as the scaremongering grew so did the coverage. By early 2010, the papers were full of tales of people who had allegedly become addicted to the drug. A particular highlight was a story in The Sun, detailing how a man had ripped off his own scrotum under the influence of Mephedrone (which later turned out to have been an internet hoax taken seriously). The General Secretary of the National Association of Head Teachers called for a ban after two teenagers in Scunthorpe died after allegedly taking the drug.

After the ban, the coroners’ report for the two discovered that neither had taken Mephedrone and they had, in fact, been out drinking alcohol the night they died. Subsequent studies have determined that, of the dozens of deaths linked to Mephedrone worldwide, only two have ever been conclusively proven to have actually involved that drug as a cause of death – but the media wasn’t going to let facts get in the way of a campaign against this ‘deadly killer’.

Mephedrone was available at every house party and ‘headshop’ and accessible from just about any house with an internet connection. You could buy anything up to 20 grams at a time from online sellers, giving you a bulk buy price of £4 a gram. Purity was high, and dosage cheap. However in April 2010, despite the misgivings of several
advisors of the Advisory Council on the Misuse of Drugs, including its former chair, Professor David Nutt, who protested that Mephedrone and its effects were as yet not researched, with a much longer timeframe needed to investigate it.

Alan Johnson, the former Home Secretary, made Mephedrone illegal, claiming, “Mephedrone and its related substances have been shown to be dangerous and harmful”.

You can, of course, still buy Mephedrone in Manchester, though the price has gone up to £20 a gram from £10 when it was legal. However, purity has dropped significantly since control of the supply has shifted from people buying it off wholesalers on the internet and into the hands of people who have a financial incentive to cut it with
anything from talcum powder to concrete dust. So you can still take the drug if you have the cash, but now it is not just illegal, but also much more dangerous.

People also forget why Mephedrone suddenly became popular so quickly; more than the price, its perceived purity was much higher than other available street drugs and that appealed to users – no one would choose to take worming powder, after all.

Cocaine purity had fallen from 60% in 1999 to 22% in 2009; people were literally getting less bang for their buck. More significantly, 33 tonnes of Sassafras oil, the precursor to MDMA and a vital ingredient, was seized in Cambodia in June 2008. It has been estimated that it could have been used to make 245 million doses of MDMA. Such tightening of controls on Sassafras oil and other substances meant that purity tests in mid 2010 have revealed that virtually all the pills seized by the police didn’t contain any MDMA at all – and 20% of pills seized since 2009 contain Mephedrone. Market forces drove people to Mephedrone, and when the cost and the convenience became too high, people just moved onto something else.

Cat and Mouse

Other drugs have been in the pipeline since the banning of Mephedrone. NRG-1, or Naphyrone, a stimulant chemically similar to Mephedrone, was banned two months after Mephedrone on the same grounds. ‘Ivory Wave’ was the latest legal high to hit the headlines in August, though it seems no-one is really sure what it is. Producing intense euphoria but with a vicious comedown, some test samples have discovered it contains MDPV, or methylenedioxypyrovalerone, a cathinone which was banned at the same time as Mephedrone. Mephedrone itself was banned shortly after the well-publicised criminalization of GBL, BZP and Spice last December. So with those out the way, we can just wait for the next legal high, and the next one, and the cycle of discovery-use-popularity-ban can continue.

Of course, in the excitement of talking about the dangers of Mephedrone, Ivory Wave and the next deadly designer drug that will come along, people forget about the most lethal legal highs, simply because they are embedded into our culture: alcohol and tobacco.

Tim Hollis, the serving Chief Constable of Humberside Police and chair of
the Association of Chief Police Officers’ drugs committee is currently the most senior police officer to call for the decriminalisation of possession of drugs for personal use.

His greatest concern, however, was not illegal drugs. Hollis stated, “My personal belief in terms of sheer scale of harm is that one of the most dangerous drugs in this country is alcohol. Alcohol is a lawful drug. Likewise, nicotine is a lawful drug, but cigarettes can kill.

“There is a wider debate on the impacts to our community about all aspects of drugs, of which illicit drugs are one modest part.”

The facts bear Hollis out – 25,000 people are killed a year by alcohol-related illnesses, and 106,000 people from smoking. By contrast 3000 people a year die as a result of all illegal drugs combined, including 10 from ecstasy every year, and precisely none whatsoever from Mephedrone, LSD, or even Cannabis, the most widely used illegal drug in the UK. Despite strictly regulating advertising, taxation and labelling, no government has sought to ban either alcohol or tobacco.

It seems likely that the endless government attempts to ban every drug under the sun sold for recreational use will continue to push users into more and more unknown, and therefore more dangerous, drugs. The research done on the more conventional street drugs, such as ecstasy and LSD, now fills whole libraries – more recent research is even starting to turn up medicinal uses for drugs that have previously been the exclusive remit of trippers. LSD, for example, was discovered in 2006 to be unexpectedly effective at curing cluster headaches, a condition where sufferers can have headaches so painful and debilitating that some have committed suicide. It seems unlikely that LSD will be available on prescription anytime soon, however, through long study and, yes, usage, scientists have determined that LSD is safe and in
some cases, useful. The same cannot be said about Mephedrone or any of the legal highs.

The race between amateur chemists developing new designer drugs that exist just outside the law and the government to try to ban them without any understanding of their long-term effects has now been running for forty years – and the chemists are winning. But as recreational users are pushed more and more onto drugs about which we know less and less, a better question than “Who are the winners?” might be “Who are the losers?”

The Manchester student experience

Right, I’m going to go ahead and just say it. It’s cheesy and perhaps toe-curlingly cringing but I don’t care; by choosing to embark on a degree you have begun a life changing experience. The opportunities available to you here as a student at the UK’s largest university are vast.

Around this time of year thousands upon thousands of students go through exactly the same experience. Whether you’ve parachuted here straight from sixth form, or you’ve decided it’s time for a change and have chosen to return to education, you’ll want to know what to expect from your student experience here. Welcome Week can be a little nerve-wracking if you are a first year but don’t worry; being new is just something all students go through.

As one of the most bustling, student-friendly cities in the country and one with a rich cultural heritage going back a few hundred years, you’re bound to find something that excites you here.

Opportunity knocks

This might not come as any great surprise but your experience here is whatever you choose to make of it. Student activities play a great part in student life and are guaranteed to enrich any student experience, no matter what age you are. Whether you fancy volunteering in the community, trying student media or simply meeting people who share your interest in all things Estonian, with over 200 societies you can decide to get involved as much or as little as you want. You’ll soon learn what works and doesn’t work for you.

I’m speaking from experience here. I will never forget walking into Academy 1 to explore the Students’ Fair during my Welcome Week and feeling like a rabbit trapped in the inviting headlights of a truck. It was an intoxicating experience. It seemed like thousands of different student societies, charities and campaign groups had set up their stalls waiting for the throng of newcomers to sign up to what they had to offer. I must have signed my name on about thirty outstretched clipboards without necessary realising what I was signing up to. Fatefully, one of the first stalls that attracted my attention was that of the student newspaper, which is how I found myself here.

United we stand

All of these activities and societies are made possible by the work of the students union, which has two buildings, one on North campus and the one on Oxford Road. The students union, of which we are all automatically members, does a great deal of work in ensuring students have the best time possible while they are here. So, if you thought that all that the union comprises is a building with a bar and a shop in it, think again folks. Our Union is a body completely independent of the University and is led by representatives that are elected every year by you lot. You may be completely oblivious of this fact now but you won’t be come March, when every morsel of free space along Oxford Road will be covered in election posters. Every hopeful will have to fight for wall and pavement space to display campaign slogans. By the end of voting the campus will resemble a manic jumble sale.

A fourteen member body called the Executive are in charge of the day-to-day running of the union. The Executive is made up of four current students, each of whom represents a university faculty, and ten people in sabbatical positions. Those in sabbatical positions, have either graduated from their courses or have taken a year out from study to do their job. This means that they can dedicate all their time to their year long (minimum wage) paid role.

But don’t fret, having student elections once a year does not mean that the Union’s decision-making process ends there. We regularly take decisions as a union by holding general meetings and voting on motions, or policy on what we want as students. This is the democratic way of putting across students’ views about how the Union should be run. From determining what the Union’s official attitude towards important current affairs to whether we should install more water fountains in the building, these decisions are taken at general meetings, meaning that every student has a say. Any student can submit a motion to be voted on, so if you are unhappy with, say, the quality of feedback you receive from your course tutors you can act to change this.

Challenges ahead

Unless you’ve been living under a hulking great rock for the last two years, you’ll know that the country’s economy is currently undergoing a shaky recovery after nose-diving spectacularly. Add this to the government’s mammoth spending deficit and it would be one of the most epic understatements to say that for many people times are going to be somewhat harder. This has meant that with employment prospects more scarce than at anytime in the past few years, higher education is seen by many as a way of remedying this problem. Since the introduction of top-up fees by the last Labour government in 2006, the issue of how to finance university degrees has been a highly contentious one. Next month sees the publication of the results of a big review on higher education funding and student finance. The review is being led by the former BP head honcho Lord Browne. This has come after many universities, particularly those in the Russell Group, have made clear that the current fees paid and means of funding higher education is not sustainable.

What will all of this mean for students now? Whether you study on full or part-time courses, undergraduate or post-graduate, the financial landscape is set to change. While the Browne Review hasn’t officially reported its findings yet, it has been suggested that there could be two possible outcomes.

The first possibility is that students may have to pay higher fees, some figures suggesting around £7,000 a year. This policy is favoured by many in government and by scores of universities, our own included, as they have been waxing lyrical about the fact that public funding to universities has dropped significantly over the last 20 years.

Another possibility is the often-debated and controversial ‘graduate tax’ that we could all pay after completing our education.

The Browne review has invoked strong feeling on all sides of the student funding debate. Our union’s own Academic Affairs Officer, Kate Little, has particularly harsh words about it, describing the review itself as a ‘stitch-up’. According to Little, “Labour and the Tories selected a panel largely comprised of businessmen so that they could ensure the outcome they both wanted – higher tuition fees. The two major parties have been trying their hardest to keep tuition fees off the general election agenda until the National Union of Students forced them to acknowledge it, and neither committed to a position on the issue before May 6th came along. The stage was set for an easy win for those who want students to pay more.”

Unsurprisingly, student finance is one of the biggest issues on campus. With looming spending cuts on public services, universities are set to make tough decisions over the coming years. I know this better than most. At the beginning of the summer I received a letter from my course’s department, the School of Combined Studies, telling me that in a couple of years time my course would no longer exist.

The future may be uncertain but there’s no way you can let that stop you enjoying your time here.

Accommodation Outrage

Over three months has passed since I moved out of Halls of Residence but the nuisance of accommodation charges still hangs over my head and many other students.

Returning from a holiday in mid-August I switched on my Blackberry to be greeted by an unexpected e-mail from the accommodation office informing me that I had been issued with a £30 fine to carry out required repairs – ‘settee drawn on’.

This I assume is a charge that had been issued to all eight of the residents of my flat equalling a grand total of £240, enough to buy a brand new sofa? But surely a bit of pen on a settee doesn’t necessarily result in the need for a brand new piece of furniture?

Friends of mine in the same Halls of Residence were also issued with fines to cover repainting of the corridor – a whole £12.50! The need for repainting was in fact due to damp caused by a leaking shower that the maintenance department failed to repair on multiple occasions. Residents issued with fines were invited to appeal within 15 days which I and many others were keen to do. A month or so passed without any contact from the accommodation office and suddenly September was upon us with the need to register.

However, unbeknown to any of my friends, flatmates or myself this simple task proved impossible due to the above charges. Leaving us unable to register, select course units, take out items from the library, receive bursaries or scholarships or ultimately graduate. Some continued to appeal the charges and others simply gave up and paid in order to register; one justified this “it seemed like the only thing to do in the end”.

On the other hand another (the victim of the £12.50 hallway charges) continued her appeal and with some commendable badgering managed to get her and her flat’s charges alleviated.

One of her e-mails to the accommodation office stated; “The somewhat highhanded approach here seems to be a deliberate attempt to discourage students from appealing charges, as there is a need to pay the charge in order to commence with the following year”.

The way in which these charges and fines are applied to student accounts strikes me as unfair as staff are not concerned with how the damage occurred or who specifically is responsible for it.

Within the Terms and Conditions of Residence in University Accommodation 2009-10 it states that staff  “will use reasonable endeavours” to identify who has caused the damage. Yet, as someone who spent very little time in my lounge area or using the supposedly damaged settees I feel that staff have not done this adequately. Nor have they endeavoured to repair the damage to the settee instead it seems they are just choosing to replace it.

Understandably it is not always possible to establish the cause of damage, however the instances that I have encountered strike me as an opportunity for staff to swindle money out of students to cover due refurbishment or general wear and tear that is not the responsibility of the students but rather the accommodation and maintenance services of the university.

Don’t judge me

Psychiatrists have a terrible time at parties as when they tell people what they do for a living the other guests will be struck down in fear that their every move is being analyzing by the shrink.

Another example of this kind of job hazard is being an etiquette consultant, like I am. When people get told this they somehow seemed to seize up and panic about how they are behaving. When I started teaching etiquette and manners at my school about five years ago I was accosted by a parent (whom I had known for years) who said ‘ever since you started teaching manners I am scared of you’. Scared of me? Have you met me?! I couldn’t hurt a fly!

The condition gets worse when I find myself at a dinner table. People will instantly assume I am going to be waiting to pounce on them if they butter their bread the wrong way. In truth, I may occasionally pick up the odd faux pas, but I would not dare pass comment: I would lose a lot of friends that way. The reality is that when I am not working I switch off and any misdemeanors will oft pass me by. I go to great lengths to explain this to people, but sadly they do not believe me.

It gets worse when it comes to dating. People soon find out what I do (if they have not already heard about me or seen me in a newspaper, magazine or on television) and will presume I am a pompous windbag and ignore me. This means it has become very difficult to meet people. Of course, this is not helped by the fact I do not drink and thus rarely set foot in nightclubs and the like. By eleven o’clock on a Monday most people my age are footloose and legless; at eleven o’clock I’m in bed, watching Newsnight.

My ‘fame’, and I use that word very loosely indeed, also prevents internet dating. My friend one evening suggested that he put me on such a website. Reluctantly I agreed to go along with it. Within 36 hours I had a message from someone asking me if I was ‘that guy who does the etiquette’. I swiftly removed myself from said website. It gets worse: the guy that recognized me wasn’t even fit!

People that know me will tell you that I am not judgmental, snobbish, or indeed prudish (quite the opposite!), so if you know of any potential boyfriends for me, do please do come and find me. And if we ever find ourselves breaking bread at the same table, please do not worry that I am critiquing your every move. I’m really not. I am actually one of the nicest people I know.

A Tory take on ‘Red Ed’

Yes, you read correctly – a Tory writing about Labour; more specifically, the Labour leadership election. For those of you not yet up to speed, allow me to fill you in – Ed Miliband is now the leader of the Labour Party. This is implicit of a few things; new policy will follow, a new dimension is going to be spun onto British politics and the next Christmas dinner at the Miliband household is going to be very, very awkward.

Truth be told I’ve not been following the leadership election, feeling about as much need to keep track of who will next be leading Labour as, well, a Tory keeping track of who will be the next Labour leader. Contrary to what many people might have thought about what my slant on the Labour leadership election might be, I’m going to try my damnedest not to berate Red Ed too much and try and focus on speculative niceties of what this might mean in the near future.

First, it is evident that the Labour party doesn’t care about having a good-looking leader. Ed is, to be fair to him, gormless. Not that it matters how one looks when it comes to politics (neither John Major nor Gordon Brown could particularly be described as ‘lookers’ and David Cameron, despite what my politics might suggest, isn’t going to win too many beauty pageants) but I thought that I’d get petty personal insults out at the start. Second, the son of a Marxist theorist, Ed may well have his sights set on the left. Only this Sunday he declared New Labour ‘dead’ and has been supported by the biggest trade unions (Unite and UNISON) in his leadership campaigns.

This lattermost point needs some further consideration – by Parliamentary and Constituency votes alone, David should have won the election in the final round of voting, achieving 140 votes amongst MPs to Ed’s 122 and 67,000 votes to Ed’s 56,000. Ed, however, swept along almost 120,000 of the Trade Union and socialist society votes; almost a third more than his brother. The implications of this may be profound – although Ed has declared that he will be ‘his own man’, one wonders if the Unions will remind him when embarking on policy not supportive of their interests that it was they who put him there. Whilst this may not equal a lurch to the left, it may result in Labour losing a little support from middle England who had originally joined up under the auspices of New Labour.

Another dimension that might be quite difficult to predict will be the first PMQ duel between Ed and Dave. Having viewed how Ed reacts to goading and teasing that seems to be a staple of Commons procedure these days (read: badly) there is the potential for things to, over the course of a debate, go from bad to worse for the opposition. Conversely, Labour can now be bolstered by their having a legitimately elected leader behind whom they can unite and who can now start to issue policy statements. Personally, I’m not sure policy will be too forthcoming in the first few months – many may want him to whet his teeth with a few bilious (and yet ultimately hollow) rants concerning coalition policy, though I am genuinely interested to see how he lines himself up with regard the deficit.

Two questions therefore remain. First; am I, as a Tory, concerned? No. It still remains to be seen whether or not Red Ed will make good his election pledges and provide and adequate challenge to the coalition. It also remains to be seen if the public will warm to him as a politician.

Also; will Labour win the next election with Ed at the helm? I don’t know. If a week is a long time in politics, then 2015 (and the next general election) is an ice age away.

Culture Shock

You know something’s bad when Boris Johnson says it’s gone too far. This is a man who seems to blunder into situations like a verbal Frank Spencer, muttering about ‘wiff waff’ and ‘chicken feed’ in situations important enough that everyone else keeps their mouth shut. But yes, even Boris Johnson says that the cuts have gone too far.
In the midst of a deluge of cuts following the General Election, labelled the ‘100 cuts in 100 days’, it is easy to shout about cuts to the NHS and the BBC, and all the things that will make such an obvious change to the way we live our everyday lives, and rightly so. But there is one part of Britain that is really beginning to suffer in the wake of all the cuts, the arts and culture industry, but it’s being bypassed in the main body of outrage. The world of culture has no protest groups, no politically active collectives, and it is this that will inevitably cause its decline in Britain, and indeed across the world.
So far, there has been £19m worth of cuts across the board from Arts Council England, with more certainly to come. Smaller theatres and theatre companies having to sacrifice around £2000 from their annual budgets, something that can hit a small group harder than people may think, especially one with limited funding. The bigger groups are being hit too, with the Royal Shakespeare Company taking £80,000 cuts and The National Theatre taking £100,000 worth. Alongside this, public programmes are being postponed and cut left, right and centre.
This isn’t the first time that this has happened though. Whenever cuts are needed, it’s always the arts that take the brunt of the bill first, and the last to be repaired at the end. Cuts to culture and the arts are the often forgotten cut, and without all the protests and pressure groups, they don’t stand to be one of the first things that are returned to full funding.
While David Cote in a recent article about the cuts to the arts urges artists to fight, and to be prepared by what the cuts will do to their programmes, but nothing can really prepare Britain for the detrimental effect of the arts cuts. While a theatre production may not change a life, a painting might not make someone change course in their life, the importance of culture and the arts should only be ignored at the jeopardy of the country and the citizens.

Tolerance is paramount, but sanity is a pre-requisite

As an American citizen, I was dismayed when my summer was agonisingly torn apart by the news that a terrorist-worshiping super-mosque was being ungracefully plonked on to Ground Zero, as a big “Hey America!” to the victims of the 9/11 attacks on New York. As I struggled to come to terms with what was happening to my once great nation, I read further into the debate, and was shocked to learn that Ground Zero is soon to become an Al-Qaeda stronghold, with secret nuclear weapons capabilities, and an elite underground training facility for would-be terrorists which include bomb-making lessons, a Hercules-esque gauntlet, and a rather fun “pin the nuke on the Obama” game in the crèche for the kiddies.
And before you ask, no of course I haven’t actually read or heard any interviews with Imam Rauf, the man behind the controversial plans. Everything I need to know about the project and about Islam I learn from Glenn Beck, or by listening to the ramblings of Newt Gingrich, the former Speaker who described the ‘mosque’ as an “intolerable act of triumphalism” for Islam. Furthermore, I wouldn’t want to run the risk of being subjected to his Islamic propaganda, for fear that similar mosques will start sprouting on British shores on the top decks of buses, in a direct celebration of the 7/7 bombings.
The reality of the matter is that campaigners with such views are champion peddlers of make-believe, on a monumental scale. And their tales have become so loud and so angry that the world has taken notice. This is damaging, not only as it promotes the rise of Islamophobia across the western world, but also to the Ground zero debate. The outrage is forcing the debate to change from one about the practical role of Islam in America, to one about rage and intolerance. This is shameful because once we strip away the anger the necessity to have a calm debate becomes clear. Even recognising that Park51 (the organisation behind the ‘Ground Zero mosque’) will be promoting interfaith relations with a prayer room, restaurant and swimming pool, the point remains that building the faith centre is still a sensitive issue for many Americans, even the moderate ones we don’t see on Fox News.
Unfortunately, the distortion of truth seems to have spiralled far out of control, and reached the God-fearing irate population who don’t seem willing or reasonable enough to listen to the truth about Park51 or about Islam. This was most infamously displayed two weeks ago when Pastor Jones really pulled the crazy out of the bag and decided burning the Qur’an might be a good idea. But if people like Jones were more reasonable, then perhaps they might grasp the concept of tolerance, see the positives to an Islamic community centre and realise that despite religious and cultural differences, the overwhelmingly large majority of Muslims don’t want to harm the west. Truth be told, it sounds like Jones, Gingrich and others could really do with a nice relaxing building where they can have some down time, a delicious meal and a bit of a swim.

Enjoy the party

I go to a party, you offer me a toke, what do you want me to say? I say “No, thanks”, even though from the look on your face I suspect that’s not the etiquette. The truth is, I feel uncomfortable with drugs. But I feel like a bit of a kill-joy, saying no. You’re persistent “Go on, just a toke, it won’t do you any harm, help you relax.” You’re probably right, and most people are having some, but I don’t fancy it. Obviously, the fact that I don’t know you very well is part of the reason, but my main concern is that I don’t even know what’s in it.

That’s the only valid reason I can see for legalising drugs, proper labels would mean that you would know what’s in them and there would be trading standards.

It’s not all black and white, why do I have to be either for drugs or against them? We wouldn’t have a pro-life pro-choice debate at a party, so why this one? I wouldn’t class myself as anti all drugs; they just make me feel uneasy. Yet drugs have become such a staple of the student partying lifestyle that it’s become a taboo to say that. People look at you like you’ve reached middle age 20 years too early; they assume that you don’t know how to have fun. What a lot of people miss is that you’re having fun already and you don’t need drugs to do it. Friends that do take drugs may start to see them as an essential part of a night out, and begin relying on them, or worse, they take something and have a bad reaction. It could be that I’m wary of drugs because I have never tried them, and if they were legal I probably would. After all, I drink alcohol-, which some doctors argue is worse than cannabis.

There are many people that don’t drink though, and again there’s that silence in the room, people find abstinence a strange concept to grasp: If you drink, smoke, snort, pop, inject be in legal or illegal, there may well be some people in the room that might not want too, be it for health, social or personal reasons.  If they’re ok with you putting stuff in your body, be ok with them not.  And enjoy the party.