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Day: 4 February 2014

Men-Hancement

Written by Mancunion on . Posted in Fashion & Beauty.

In the animal kingdom, the lion’s mane portrays signs of intimidation, sexual maturity and vigour with the lion having an increased chance of mating the more impressive his mane. Similarly, in the human world it is no secret that becoming bald is generally an undesirable concept but are the stakes for having less hair as high? Apparently so. Research finds that women on dating websites are five times more likely to contact men with a full head of hair than those who are thinning on top (Telegraph Online). A full head of hair is a strong indicator of a man’s vitality; he appears to be more youthful, active and strong where as balding men are apparently rated as less attractive, inactive and unkind*. So how can those balding amongst us reverse their situation?

Leading hair extension brand ‘Great Lengths’ have introduced new ‘Men-Hancement’ range.  This allows men to add length, thickness and texture to their hair by using extensions that are specifically designed for men, used not as a replacement for hair but to add body and volume. The bonds are cut super small so aren’t visible and since the extensions are made from real human hair they feel and behave exactly like natural hair. Is there a catch? Despite obvious styling and ego advantages, will male hair extensions help or hinder your love life? A study finds that men with bald heads rank higher for masculinity, strength, dominance and leadership potential** and social networking sites reveal mixed opinions from the ladies. But what does this matter? Male hair extensions have become increasingly popular over recent months – could it be possible that this primal mating prerequisite has transmitted between mammals? Or are men just getting vainer? Either way, boys you can get your hair extensions for £60-80 and they last between 2-3 months, there is a ‘Great Lengths’ salon in Deansgate for your convenience.

 

*Subliminally Exposed: Shocking truths about your hidden desires in mating, dating and communicating. Steven Dyan, 2013

**The University of Pennsylvania, 2012.

Let’s visit… Hebden Bridge, West Yorkshire

Written by Moya Crockett on . Posted in Lifestyle.

Nestled in a fold in the Pennines, Hebden Bridge is a town with an unusual blend of old-school Yorkshire and hippyish sensibilities. Like much of the North, Hebden flourished during and after the Industrial Revolution, but during the 1970s and 80s the town saw an influx of artists, writers, and activists. Today, the high street is largely made up of independent stores and chip shops, there are annual festivals for the arts and blues music, and it’s been voted the “fourth quirkiest place in the world.” The main draw for my friends and I, though, was the promise of a good old country walk. South Manchester in the bleak midwinter can feel like a bit of an urban wasteland, and of course, there’s nothing like revision to make you desperate for an adventure. The craggy hills of West Yorkshire are a world away from Fallowfield’s grey pavements and chicken shops, but Hebden Bridge is only 30-40 minutes from Manchester Victoria by train (£6.15 day return with a railcard). So in early January, we pull on our most sensible shoes and escape to the country.

We spend most of the train journey gaping out of the window at the wild green land flying past, like those WW2 child evacuees who’d never seen a cow before leaving London. Going somewhere with a gang of friends will always feel like a school trip, even when you’re all in your early twenties. As we zoom through a particularly pretty village, the boys even join in: “Ah, mate, that’s actually sick.” Upon our arrival in Hebden, we continue to impersonate people who have literally never experienced the countryside before, squeaking with joy at the sight of the town. Hebden Bridge is tremendously beautiful in its stout, Yorkshire sort of way, with yellowish stone houses, grey clouds swirling in a wide sky, and a canal lined with painted riverboats. It looks like it should be populated by lots of mysterious, grumpy nans. It looks like the setting of a really great children’s book.

We’ve barely taken three steps out of the train station before we are accosted by a stout old hippy. “Going up the hills?” she asks, giving Ruth’s white Converse a dark look. “Cos those aren’t walking shoes.” After buying giant chip butties from Crown’s (each weighing as much as a two-year-old child), we pop into the Hebden Bridge Visitor Centre, staffed by an elderly man who seems absolutely thrilled to see us. “What sort of walk are you after?” he beams, spreading a map across the counter. The walk to Hardcastle Crags is easy going: two miles, mainly flat. Or we could make the short but steep trip up to Heptonstall, where Sylvia Plath is buried. “Or perhaps you’re looking for something more strenuous?” Oh, we can handle strenuous, we assure him. We’re young, we’re sort of healthy, we have legs that move.

With a new map and an almost entirely unearned sense of confidence, we set off on the 10km climb to Stoodley Pike, a huge stone monument on the upper ridge of the Calder Valley. The climb is over a thousand feet, and feels it: the hillside is seriously steep, particularly at the beginning. In addition, the old hippy’s warning about impractical footwear turns out to be true. It’s wet and muddy, and while those of us wearing wellies can rediscover the joy of puddle-jumping, Ruth’s poor Converse get stuck in sludge on more than one occasion. But it’s a bright, blowy day, we’re in high spirits, and there’s something immensely satisfying about pausing for breath and seeing Hebden Bridge looking suddenly small and faraway at the bottom of the valley. Student life is spent largely indoors − on sofas or in lecture halls – and leisure time takes place in the dark, in a state of disarray, in black-walled clubs or sweaty house parties. Marching across the moors, jumping over stiles in the middle of green nowhere and giving one another piggybacks through puddles, feels like being seven years old again in the best possible way.

Particularly magical is the wooden shed we stumble across, a little way from a ramshackle farm. Inside is a cupboard of Pot Noodles and teabags, a freezer stocked with homemade ice cream and sausages, a kettle and a camping stove. A note reads, “Please help yourself to anything you like and leave something in the honesty box. Enjoy your walk!” Someone got robbed with an axe near my house recently, but out in the wilderness, somebody’s trusting strangers to pay reasonably for ice cream. It’s enough to make you weep.

When we reach Stoodley Pike, we discover that it has an inner spiral staircase leading up to a stone balcony, from which you can gaze across the Pennines. At the top of the ridge the wind is almost enough to lift you off your feet, but we linger before beginning the journey back to Hebden Bridge. The scramble back down to earth takes us through a wood, across stepping stones, and over a waterfall. As we reach Hebden Bridge, dusk is falling. That night, exhausted in the best possible way, I sleep better than I have in months.

It’s all too easy to get hermetically sealed in the student bubble, and you could shuttle up and down the Oxford Road for three years without ever venturing further afield. But every so often, try spending your Sunday up on the moors, not on a comedown. A change of scenery’s always good.

Live: Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks

Written by Henry Scanlan on . Posted in Music.

15th January 2014

Gorilla

8/10

Indie hero and ex-Pavement frontman Stephen Malkmus brought his sun-soaked rock to a rainy Wednesday night in Manchester. Ambling onstage with the ‘Jicks’, loose-shirted and flicking his hair out of his face, he has the air of a man in perpetual teenager-dom. After a few wry mutterings he launches into ‘Planetary Motion’ and ‘Rumble on the Rambo’ before a swig of beer and some nonsensical back and forth with the crowd. But don’t be fooled by the slacker vibe: here is a supremely skilled and professional guitarist, with a razor sharp band, and he’s not afraid to show it off with a set full of 70s style prog jams that fall just the right side of indulgent.

‘Tigers’ and ‘Senator’ draw the biggest crowd response, but for my money, tracks from the new LP Wig Out At Jagbags are his best in years and the most enjoyable of the night. ‘The Janitor Revealed’ sounds like a classic Malkmus merry-go-round of shifting tempos and lazy crescendos. Breezy new single ‘Lariat’, which Malkmus admits he has “no idea how to play live”, is transformed into something more unhinged in this setting. It threatens to derail until he brings it full circle with a killer solo, which is a common feature in the set. In fact, more than the songwriting or renowned wordplay, it’s Malkmus’ amazing musicianship that holds the attention.

There’s no room for Pavement nostalgia tonight, and no one’s asking for it. The one track from the canon we are treated to is a B-side from their last album – one for the die hards. The biggest slice of nostalgia he affords himself is a tongue-in-cheek cover of Led Zeppelin. “We’re gonna play Stairway to Heaven….Backwards!”, he jokes during the encore. On current form I wouldn’t put it past him.

From the Vault: Aphex Twin – Selected Ambient Works 85-92

Written by Mancunion on . Posted in Music.

Apollo

Released February 1992

Ambient’s juxtaposition between Selected– constrained- and Works– petrochemical- sets the scene. With song titles reading like chemical compounds, where can ambient ease be found in this bleak, industrial landscape?

For 74 minutes, Aphex Twin, or Richard D James, provides the answers in a sonic balancing act between light and dark. Sure, the unnerving, harsh noises one might typically associate with James are there. ‘Hedphelym’, with its demonic clanging, is chilling, as are the just-audible vocal snippets that lie under several tracks. The theme continues with deeper-than-deep bass on ‘We Are The Music Makers’.

But from subterranean depths we’re gracefully brought to the surface again. Melodies and leitmotifs ping-pong around James’ orchestra of early synth and drum samples. This is Aphex to whistle to. ‘Pulsewidth’’s three note charm is an exercise in artful simplicity. Better still, catchy basslines abound. That on ‘Ageispolis’, creeping in half way through, is perfect. With so many light at the end of the tunnel moments, this should be Samaritans’ dialling tone.

Later, we’re again treated to a lesser seen side to James. As it sounds like things are winding down, we’re asked back out again for a sunrise groove on ‘Ptolemy’. The same goes for ‘Delphium’, which is pure booty-shaking fun. ‘Green Calx’ sounds like early 90s house hauled across the Atlantic and dropped onto a roundabout in London. To be precise, Elephant and Castle, where -legend has it- James once took up residence.

You’re reminded of this LP’s prescience when considering its (where-were-you-in) ’92 release. ‘Xtal’’s booming kick drum nods at the UK’s burgeoning rave scene at the time, which managed, just like this record, to find light in a gloomy, depressed landscape. Equally importantly, a decade or so later Radiohead got interesting (see: Kid A). For Thom, “Aphex Twin opened up another world that didn’t involve my fucking electric guitar”. When that world sounds like this, who can blame him?

Live: Swing Ting presents Zed Bias

Written by Ben Allan on . Posted in Music.

17th January

Soup Kitchen

9/10

Following a string of stellar bookings in 2013 including Spooky and DJ Q, Swing Ting returned to the Soup Kitchen basement for their first dance of 2014 and it didn’t disappoint. A sell-out crowd greeted Manchester legend Zed Bias, who topped the bill alongside residents Samrai, Platt and Joey Bashment, with Fox on MC duties.  As I arrived the basement was already full and Platt was setting the pace with a fine hip-hop selection, followed by Samrai with a blend of soca and bashment that has become synonymous with the Swing Ting honcho.

By the time headliner Zed Bias stepped up for his two hour set the party was in full swing. Bias has gained contemporary fame through a number of releases on Loefah’s Swamp 81 label showcasing a sound grounded in House and Techno; most recent being his acclaimed album ‘Boss’, but he reminded Swing Ting why he is one of the godfathers of UK garage. Wearing a t-shirt emblazoned with the words ‘Boss – Zed Bias’ he played anthem after anthem including: ‘Together’ – 24 Hour Experience, ‘Urban Hero’ – Jameson and his own smash-hit ‘Neighbourhood’ which arguably got reaction of the night as it was pulled back.

In the second hour Bias moved towards the sound more recognisable from him now, playing tunes such as Boddika & Joy O’s ‘Mercy (VIP)’ as he wound his way from garage, UK funky and grime to house and techno. He finally ended his set with a few ragga tunes, a nod towards to the resident sounds of Swing Ting before relinquishing control to Joey Bashment for the last half hour, playing dancehall and bashment to keep the party going. The energy in the Soup Kitchen basement was palpable all night long, a testament to Swing Ting’s ability to throw a first-rate party time after time. I’m eagerly waiting to see what the next dance brings.

An Evening With Clifford Owens’ ‘Photographs With An Audience’

Written by Mancunion on . Posted in Arts.

We were unsure of what to expect as we made the short walk from University Place to one of Manchester’s leading arts venues and cinemas, The Cornerhouse, back in mid-October. All we knew is that for two consecutive evenings, an unknown number of ‘participants’ would be encouraged to react to the words and actions of the American artist Clifford Owens, described as the “ringleader and provocateur” of the piece. Photographs would then be taken of the madness that we believed would follow.

The performance was actually very different to what we had pictured beforehand. Around twenty of us sat on the floor of the Cornerhouse’s, ‘The Annexe’, whilst Clifford walked amongst us, musing on various different topics including cocaine, women and suicide. Occasionally, he would turn whatever the topic happened to be on to the audience, asking something like – “Anyone who does cocaine regularly, go and pose for a photograph” and at first, everyone was a little apprehensive, I mean, who wants to admit something like that to a room full of strangers? However, soon people were filling the photographic area after every question!  Clifford’s performance played a big part in this fairly quick increase in audience confidence, as he was eager to establish connections with audience members in order to create the best, most powerful, photographs. However we also sometimes felt that his macho and sometimes aggressively, dominant character alienated some members of the audience; particularly those with which he didn’t express he felt ‘connected’ with. At one stage, a young woman in the audience challenged Owens, questioning his arguably macho and overtly masculine attitude and suddenly the atmosphere of the room completely changed. Solidarity formed between participants as Owens and the young woman engaged in a passionate argument over the effects of his performance and her own involvement in the evening so far. It was interesting in a room of strangers to see how easily the atmosphere could fluctuate. However, although we both had an overarching feeling that we were all pawns in the palm of his hand, the sheer honesty of our fellow participants undeniably inspired a sense of ‘group’ and community between us after the first evening’s performance.

We came back the following evening for the second performance, expecting Clifford to maybe delve deeper into some of the issues, ideas and stories touched upon in the previous evenings’ performance. We prepared ourselves for what could be an uneasy and possibly emotional evening, expecting the performance to be wrought with the same sort of tension found in the previous night. However the second performance became much more about the show; those that had been singled out before as Clifford’s ‘favourites’ came back to take over the stage. People were butting in and making the atmosphere pantomime-esque with heckling rather than the uneasy silence of night before. Quieter audience members were alienated and we were left with a feeling of not wanting to join in.

What was most interesting with this piece was the constant confusion as to whether Clifford had no idea what was going on or whether his vagueness was actually part of the ‘performance’. This idea of ‘performance’ was another interesting aspect – was Clifford performing or was he playing himself? We were sometimes touched by the experience but at other times cynical. It was really interesting to see the reactions of the other participants, observing those who chose to engage with Clifford and on what terms – theirs or his. We came away on the first night feeling irritated, worked up; like people had been slightly taken advantage of. On the second day, we felt maybe like it had been a waste of time, irritated by the audience this time, rather than by Clifford. However in retrospect the experience was extremely valuable and both Clifford and the reaction of his audience left us interested and intrigued. Keep your eyes peeled for more performances in the Cornerhouse’s Annexe, it’s definitely one to watch.

Performance art is my ‘melancholy mistress’

Written by Jasper Llewellyn on . Posted in Arts.

Jasper: How do you feel your work has progressed since you first started? Have you changed you approach to performance or are your initial intentions the same?

Clifford Owens: No not at all. I started out on photography. Performance art is my ‘melancholy mistress’. I wanted to write as a child, but realised I need to be a good reader to be a good writer. I became interested in performance art through my interest in photography. And I’ve been making performances for about 22 years, and that’s including in college and grad school. I never wanted to be a performance artist and I don’t really like to be identified as a performance artist.

Jasper: Why? Do you feel there is negative stigma around performance art?

Clifford Owens: No, but I think it just presumes that I don’t do anything else. And that the presumption is that I come out of theatre or dance. Which I do not. I study art, I went to art school! So the progression has been very gradual and the work I’m doing now… you know, I really think… for me I think that my practice is a conceptual art practice. All art is about ideas but it’s the ideas in my projects that really matter. And the performances, I think, are ways to generate ideas. The progression I guess… 10 years ago I wouldn’t have been able to do Performance With An Audience. Because I didn’t have the experience as a performance artist, because I didn’t have the wisdom to do the project. And the work I’m doing now is incredibly difficult… It’s very hard! I just don’t think that a decade ago I would be prepared to do it.

Jasper: You said last night that you hate actors? Do you not feel that your work has an intense theatricality about it? I feel that there is showmanship tied up in the performance or maybe you feel you hate yourself, as an actor?

Clifford Owens: What I said about hating actors – its more me hating a certain individual who is an actor! But acting is about affect and performance art is about effect. And that’s the distinction for me. I dont know anything about acting. But in the performances do I have a presence? Yeah, absolutely.

J: Do you have a persona?

Clifford Owens: No, I don’t. People have asked that before and I don’t. I mean I’m certainly aware of the fact that to MAKE the performance I have to…

Jasper: Maybe its just how you respond to a group of 30 people?

Clifford Owens: Absolutely, I mean, how do you keep a group of people engaged unless you are somewhat animated? And you bring a certain intensity to the experience. If I was monotonous and boring and limp, I don’t think that the audience would respond to prompts for the photographs. So you are right, a certain showmanship is necessary but so far as I’m aware of the showmanship, I’m not doing anything technically. I’m not consciously coming into a character. I mean, I’m an intense guy! I suppose that’s just my personality – and very emotional. And I suppose when you’re in a room of people talking about very emotional thing, its real for me. Its not affect. My response to your queries and the conversation we were having were coming from a real place.

 

Great Danes

Written by Sophie James on . Posted in Film.

On January 9th 2014 millions of viewers tuned in to the finale of Sherlock series 3. But it wasn’t St Benedict or Mr and Mrs Baggins that caught the eye.  Not even Moriarty could steal the show.  It was the baddie – Charles Augustus Magnussen – suave and sophisticated, good and evil, a powerhouse of a character, blitzing Sherlock and catapulting another Danish star into our midst. Despite being flanked by two of the hottest actors on Earth (or Middle-Earth at least), Lars Mikkelsen dominated proceedings with seemingly effortless ease.  How do these Danes do it?  Denmark is quite simply becoming the epicenter of the world’s TV and cinematic talent in writing, acting and directing.

What’s the secret?  No secret: just don’t compromise, don’t patronise, and don’t stint.  Brilliance comes at a price, but the intricate storylines, the detailed characterisation and the often brutal and graphic honesty of the portrayals of human nature at its best and worst are not just something we can cope with, but something TV and film audiences have been crying out for. Danish-Swedish drama The Bridge is a classic example.  Blazing across our Saturday nights at the moment, it takes characters with a past to overcome and a future to face, and chucks them into the present to create a panoramic sweep of society with colourful characterisation that rivals some of the best TV dramas and novels. Fast-paced yet in-depth, subtle yet impactful, dark yet oddly comic in places, these TV series leave you feeling exhausted yet wanting more week after week.  And the acting is just brilliant too – check out Kim Bodnia from The Bridge, Lars Mikkelsen himself in The Killing and Borgen, or indeed his brother, Mads Mikkelsen best known for producing an incredible performance earlier this year in Thomas Vinterberg’s The Hunt – up for this year’s Academy Award for  Best Foreign Film.

What about directing? Fret not, this year the work of two Danish directors is going to hit screens and shows no wavering in the country’s quality control. Thomas Vinterberg’s The Hunt, having dominated the Danish Academy Awards last week, is also currently one of the Oscar nominees for best foreign film. Set in Denmark, it chillingly explores the power of a rumor, as a man’s life is plunged into nightmare territory by the words of a few children. With a visceral performance by Mads Mikkelsen, this film made a massive impression at Cannes last year, winning best actor and best director whilst being nominated for the Palme d’Or and its rein has lasted right on into 2014 – receiving nominations for a Golden Globe, BAFTA and Academy Award for best foreign film – and rightly so. Unfazed by his success Vinterberg’s next project is actually an English endeavor, directing David Nicholls’ (author of One Day) adaptation of Thomas Hardy’s Far From the Madding Crowd. The cast alone is testament not only to Vinterberg’s work as a director but to the impact that Danish film is having here in the UK and the world:  Carey Mulligan and Tom Sturridge team up with Michael Sheen and Matthias Schoenaerts, best known for Jacque Audiard’s Rust and Bone. Its an unusual yet totally intriguing choice of project for the director, and looks set to be absolutely incredible. Still not enough to convince you? Then simply google Lars von Trier’s Nymphomaniac Parts 1 & 2 out this year. Jens Albinus, Jamie Bell, Uma Thurman, Stellan Skarsgard, Willem Dafoe and Shia LeBoeuf. Good or bad – this film’s provocative title and high-profile director and cast list are going to be the talk of the town this year!

For a country whose population is only 5 million people, Denmark’s rapidly growing influence on the cinematic and television worlds is extraordinary and completely justified. Get stuck in before you miss the action, because you will, I promise, regret it!

Recipe: sweet and sour chicken drumsticks

Written by Josephine Harrington on . Posted in Food & Drink.

Sweet and Sour Chicken Drumsticks

 

2 large potatoes,

4 Chicken legs,

Milk and butter for mashing into the potato

Olive oil,

1 tsp of soy sauce,

1 tsp of honey,

1 tsp of tomato puree,

Vegetable of your choice to serve

30 minutes + marinade

Serves 2

Chinese chicken for the Chinese New Year

 

This recipe is just what you are looking for if you want something cheap, easy and oh my word-delicious.  Marinating meat is a great way to make a cheaper cut, such a chicken legs, really flavoursome. If you’re organised this can be done before heading out for the day and dinner is done within half an hour of walking in the door.

Start by marinating 4 chicken legs in a glug of oil, 1 teaspoon of soy sauce, 1 teaspoon of honey, 1 teaspoon of tomato puree and a sprinkle of chilli flakes. Ideally allow the mixture to marinate overnight, but 3-4 hours will do—the longer the better really.

To cook the chicken, put the chicken legs and the marinade on a baking tray in the oven at 200 degrees Celsius for 30 minutes, turning the chicken halfway through.

While the chicken is cooking, boil 2 peeled and quartered medium-large potatoes until soft. Then drain and mash with a knob butter, a splash of milk and season with salt and pepper.

Serve with anything green that is lurking in the fridge. Enjoy!

 

 

The revising student’s day on a plate

Written by Mancunion on . Posted in News.

7.30: brutally awakened by the shrill siren of my alarm, I greet every new day with a steaming tankard of Lidl’s finest and cheapest off-brand coffee. This burning black liquid scolds my taste buds to the point that everything tastes like lukewarm rice. Breakfast usually consists of two bowls of ‘highly enriching’ porridge, the gruel’s texture reminds me of my revision schedule: mediocre effort, mediocre expectations.

8.30: First can of ‘Fuel-Up’ is opened and consumed. Heart begins to pump properly. Neurons are now fully alert after the equivalent of a 1950’s therapeutic electric shock.

8.45: Second can of ‘Fuel Up’, just for measure. Pupils wide open. Right hand is trembling slightly.

(6 hour revision session)

14.45: The hunger has been gnawing away at my concentration for the past hour. I decide that as procrastination levels are at their nadir and productive revision is actually happening – to treat myself to a lovely Sangam’s £2 Cheesy Chips. Genuinely the breakfast, lunch and dinner of champions with a penchant for cardio-vascular disease…

Is this your standard revising fayre?

16.30: Coffee is brewing in a large badly washed saucepan – our coffee machine was taken away in retribution when my girlfriend dumped me for a man with career aspirations.

18.30: Third can of ‘Fuel Up’, the whiplash is surreal – Not even Charlie Sheen drinks it. Cadbury Crunchie’s are a must to keep the sugar levels constant.

(Wikipedia procrastination session on Charlie Sheen, whiplash and neuro-degenerative diseases)

19.30. Back to work – flat mate brought me back a stale (week-old by the taste of it) blueberry muffin from the Shell petrol station. Nice gesture, shame about the final product.

20.00: I pack a measly made ham and Gouda cheese sandwich in my bag and go on a date with John Rylands (central library). 2 cans of ‘Fuel Up’ are in my pockets. One for energy and the other to make sure people think I’m a street tramp – this way nobody sits next to me on the bus.

20.40: Arrive at library – scoff down a Cadbury cream egg for courage as I scour Blue 1,2 & 3 for a seat. I fail and sit on the floor of Orange 5. This place is genuinely eerie.

22.30: The only sounds in Orange 5 are the humming noise of my DEL laptop every time I open internet explorer, the ruffling of the pages of my three ‘compulsory reading’ books I’ve had since October and the soft but steady crunching of muesli and snicker bars.

23.59: I have finally completed the ‘afternoon’ part of my revision schedule. Cadbury cream eggs celebration is in order. Fourth can of ‘Fuel Up’, just to remind me why I’m here.

01.00: heart begins to pump furiously, eyes become bleary – I’m feeling nauseous.

0.1.09: pass out of exhaustion in Orange 5, some equally distressed student threw a penny at me.

0.6.45: awoken by cleaner’s huge industrial cleaning arsenal – repeat cycle.

I have been doing this since January 4th and today is January 24th. I have my final exam in 3 hours.

 

 

Lunch time hot spots: somewhere a little different.

Written by Ben Walker on . Posted in Food & Drink.

Whether you breezed into 2014 carefree or have been held captive by revision in the year’s inaugural month, a student still gotta eat. With loans in and end of year assessments miles away now is the perfect time to explore, maybe a little off the beaten track, to see what is out there.

Our city’s culinary naissance has been a delicious explosion of Michelin aspiring ten course taster menus all the way down to trendy fish and chip bars and everything in-between. And though James Martin and Aidan Byrne have moved in, here, for now, I will offer up some of the best casual places for either grabbing a bite, longer lunches, or full afternoon sessions of gorging.

For all of the new, there is a select few of the old that have continued to shine bright. Nowhere epitomises this more so than Soup Kitchen (31-33 Spear Street, Manchester, M1 1DF). The cool, partly subterranean kitchen operates a canteen service, a bar, and long communal tables where a cross section of students, the NQ set, and those from the office congregate for a sublime selection of good eats.

Why dip bread into soup when you dunk a door wedge sandwich? It is just this logic that has got Soup Kitchen into this elite group of diners. Soups made daily and are rich and wholesome, the sandwich menu is full of well executed classics—and though either on their own make for a nice lunch, when combined you preside over one of best British lunches in Manchester. There of course is a whole range of daily specials, salads, and stews but I always find myself unable to resist the seductive soup and a sandwich.

If lunch, for whatever reason, must be found and eaten at more of a canter than say the ambling of SK, you busy students look no further than Umami for Japanese splendour (149-153 Oxford Rd, Manchester M1 7EE). Umami literally mean delicious taste, I can have no qualms with such a boisterous name after a recent visit.

The 2 course lunch deal is super value and super tasty. There are soft gyoza dumplings, filled with pork and water chestnuts with a pokey dipping chilli sauce. The chicken yakitori, often used as a bar snack, are little skewers of poultry delight. Last time I had the chicken ramen, served with a deeply savoury soup, soft and tender chicken, and greens. Such a bowl of warming friendliness is thoroughly revitalising on such wet dreary days.

Umami relies on university lunch time trade and thus execute a very efficient and brisk service, and when it comes down to it, for 2 courses off the lunch deal at £5.95, this is real value for money.

Now, Tex-Mex is taking off in a big way across the spectrum, and whilst Barburrito remains as good a burrito in the North West, Changos is offer some stiff competition. Situated just past the Palace Theatre (91-93 St. James Building, Oxford Street, Manchester, M1 6FQ) this joint is almost on our doorstep.

The vast blanket of tortilla is dressed with all the vivid colours and bright flavours that is the signature of Mexican food. Since each ‘little donkey’ is assembled to order, you call the shots of the filling and thus whether you’re a heat-freak, an extra guacamole kinda guy, or an ‘Athletico’ brown rice and wholemeal wrap sort of gal, Changos has you covered, so mariachi yourself up Oxford Road to Changos. 

Dry January: road to perdition or salvation?

Written by Ben Walker on . Posted in News.

January is a month quilted in a dense gloom, leaving home in the morning in the dark and returning at night only by the light of the street lamps. The angry wind has made the umbrella redundant and one has now conceded to getting rather wet on a rather regular basis. I’ve dragged myself through exams with the downcast dead eyed expression of one returning from the Somme. The landlord hasn’t yet fixed the heating and I sleep, or attempt to, in 3 jumpers and a knitted balaclava. Foolishly I chanced a cup of tea with milk three days over, a mistake never again to be made. Life has plodded from dreary to dire to desperate—but for all the disasters unfolding in front of me, I shall never break the solemn vow that I, along with so many others made on January 1st: thou shall not drink alcohol for an entire month, a whole 31 days, not a beer or cider, spirit or wine—and even remain suspicious of the steak and ale pie.

The world is against the student in January and thus abstaining from liquor is quite some feat. Exams having already finished long before we bid farewell to January, to restrain oneself requires will power and a whole lot of non-alcoholic beer just to feel part of it, even though as your friends descend into the warm embrace of an alcohol fuelled stupor, you remain stone cold sober pretending to be enjoying yourself but really all you are doing is watching your company slowly drift off into inebriation.

To those who have completed a dry January successful I doth my cap, and those who lapsed for just one beer then I offer my commiserations for your failure. To those who never entertained the notion of surrendering the joys of an aperitif here, and degestif there, I say to you, how very sensible you are.

Instasham

Written by Beth Currall on . Posted in Lifestyle.

Let’s face it: pretty much all of us who own a smartphone or have an internet connection are guilty of scrolling through Twitter, Facebook and Instagram, sighing over others’ seemingly perfect lives and wishing that our own was as good. A vast number of obsessives- and I will openly count myself as one of these people- check their news feeds every day to keep updated on the lives of people they might not even know. In fact, I have paused from writing this article no less than three times to stalk to wedding of an Australian entrepreneur on Instagram, to look at photos taken by an old work colleague of her Saturday night out, and to rile myself over a girl’s constant stream of pessimistic tweets. Why is it that we have become so fascinated with other people’s lives? And why do we let this affect our own?

I see so many people handing out likes to ‘thinspiration’ accounts on Instagram, or reposting photos to share their motivation for their perfect bodies. Forget being happy in your own skin: nowadays you’re a social reject if you don’t strive for a thigh gap, 20-inch waist and a bubble butt (which is actually physically impossible to achieve without the help of Photoshop), or for males, a gym-honed six pack with thighs and biceps to match. On social networking sites, the more attractive a person is, the happier they are. We have become motivated by likes, favourites and retweets; my sister often rings me to tell me that my nephew has received 70 likes on a photo she has uploaded on to Facebook- that makes him cute, apparently.  For us students, we post as many snaps of nights out as we can to show all our acquaintances- and most importantly, our enemies- what a fabulously crazy life we are living at university. I don’t want to see photos of people’s large piles of textbooks or 32-page essays, I want to see what they were wearing on their last night out, or the Jimmy Choos they’ve blown their loans on. If you look happy over the internet, you’re happy in real life. It’s as simple as that.

But what we never stop to consider are the parts of everybody’s lives that we tend to miss out when creating personalities for ourselves on social networking. Of course, people will write about their stories of success, but how many people actually openly talk about the hardships they have suffered? We feed off happiness, whether we regard it with sheer appreciation or envy. I mean, who wants to see a photo of someone crying or a status moaning about how crap their lives are? Unlike the fake smiling shots, that is some serious attention seeking. What we fail to remember is that Instagram is not real life; if it was, we’d probably all grow pretty bored of it after a while. For when you take away the edited pictures and the perfectly posed shots, you’re actually just left with reality. But will we ever snap out of this illusion that our lives should revolve around what will be appreciated by our followers? That remains to be seen.

On your bike, if you dare

Written by Charlotte Green on . Posted in Opinion.

Cycling is good for you. It gets you fit and healthy, whilst reducing carbon emissions and lowering congestion within cities. David Cameron, himself a cyclist, has called for a “cycling revolution” in Britain, and has backed the cycling boom occurring in the South-East of England; the so-called ‘Wiggins effect’.

Politicians are predicting that soon UK towns and cities will have similar levels of cycling to cities in Holland or the Netherlands, where cycling is the most common form of transport within centres. However a revolution is impossible when   British roads continue to be fundamentally anti-cycling. The Government needs to work with Councils and the Ministry of Transport to create a safe environment for cyclists across the UK, you can’t endorse cycling as a means of positive alternative travel and then fail to protect those who join the great “revolution”.

Six cyclists have died in London in less than two weeks. The politicians’ response? To blame the cyclists. Following the deaths London Mayor Boris Johnson has stated that he is considering a ban on cyclists wearing headphones, saying that it is “absolutely nuts” to wear them and that it terrifies him to see cyclists “bowling along unable to hear the traffic”.

This is such an absurd misappropriation of blame that when I read the quote I was slightly staggered. Headphones or no headphones, it makes no difference when a six-tonne articulated lorry indicates late and then turns across your path. What BoJo is doing is picking on the easy option. By attacking something as relatively small-scale as headphone wearing, he is choosing to place the blame on the cyclists, those people who put themselves in a risky position in the first place, not addressing the inadequacies of the current roads in accommodating cyclists.

As a cyclist myself I will admit that I wear headphones whilst cycling the busy roads of Manchester. And yes I accept that it may not be the most sensible idea in the world, when you have to be constantly alert and aware of your surroundings. But so do cars. And yet Boris is not considering banning car stereos or sound-proof windows. It doesn’t matter how loud Bowie is singing Suffragette City, I can still hear the magic bus coming up behind me on the way into Uni. I wonder if the same can be said for the  cars with stereos so loud you can hear the bass pumping from 100m away.

If we need further proof that headphones are only a tiny part of the wider issue we only need to examine the figures. According to road-cycling statistics released by the House of Commons in June,   the total number of fatalities on rural and urban roads in 2011 was almost exactly the same, 52 urban fatalities to 55 rural fatalities. However the serious casualties totals are very different and highlight the disparity between safe cycling in  cities and the countyside. In rural areas the number of serious casualties totalled at 745, in urban areas it was 2,340, over three times the rural amount.

It seems unlikely that in all these cases headphones were responsible for a cyclist being involved in an accident.

What I resent most is the perception that as a cyclist I am somehow invading the domain of the motorist, that my presence on the roads is an intrusion that is permitted, but not supported. By this reasoning any accidents that occur on those roads must ultimately be my fault, because I chose to endanger myself by entering the car-zone in the first place.

In Manchester since 2005 the number of killed or seriously injured cyclists has doubled, from 7 to 14 in six years. In Withington on the other hand, the number of KSI cyclists has declined from 10 to 3 over the same period.. The answer is obvious; cycle lanes. Oxford Road is a prime example of a road that makes no allowances for the existence of cyclists. Weaving in and out of the busy bus lane whilst avoiding speeding taxis is stressful, and at times, exceedingly terrifying.  One evening I ended up being trapped between two buses as one tried to overtake the other. The  sides closed in, inside the passengers stared at me as I pedalled desperately, and I remember thinking that there was nothing I could do, no way of making myself visible or preventing the oncoming collision. That time one bus pulled away, and we carried on as if nothing had happened.

Every cyclist has their own near-death story where it was only by luck that they escaped unscathed. Yet we should not have to be relying on luck. The way traffic currently operates in urban areas presents a significant danger to cyclists, one that won’t be solved by continuing to hold cyclists solely responsible for their own accidents. By targeting headphones Boris Johnson is sending the wrong message. He is demonstrating the state’s reluctance to embrace cycling, despite publicly encouraging it.

 

The ‘No Platform’ policy needs to end

Written by Mancunion on . Posted in Opinion.

Both sides of the no platform debate are concerned with solving the same problem: how do we reduce, and eventually end, oppression towards oppressed groups? History shows us that oppression is best overcome through engagement with the oppressive force.  Engagement allows us to understand why people hold views and thus how best to reason with them; it lets us become better informed as a result of hearing things we often find objectionable; and it allows us to scrutinise and denounce the arguments we find most perverse, and eventually defeat them.

We need look no further than the BNP and Nick Griffin who is currently ‘No Platformed’ under NUS policy for a perfect example of why the policy is so counter productive. It is particularly harmful in two ways: firstly Mr Griffin’s views cannot be challenged by those who disagree with him, they are instead left to foster in places populated by those who already agree with him. “No Platform” allows him to exist, for the most part, in right wing echo chambers surrounded by his own supporters. Thus when videos of him are uploaded to YouTube with no opposition, he appears coherent as there is no-one to challenge him, and his inadequate arguments are punctuated only by the applause of his supporters. Ending ‘No Platform’ allows Nick Griffin’s views to be challenged and exposed; it forces his supporters to listen to the other side. Without this exposure, they can only become more hardened in their views.

Secondly, people like Mr Griffin derive legitimacy from their status of being “No Platformed.” Most supporters of people with extremist views already view the establishment with suspicion, believing institutions such as universities to be bastions of politically homogenous liberals whose only desires are to propagate political correctness, and to sneer down their noses at those less educated than them. People like Mr Griffin use “No Platform” as an example of how he and his supporters are ‘oppressed’ by this establishment who are too afraid to allow him to reveal the ‘truth.’ This makes people like Mr Griffin appear to be fighting against some repressive force which is an easy narrative to exploit in order to win more disaffected people to his cause. Ending ‘No Platform’ would mean people like this could no longer use these narratives and their supporters would instead see them humiliated, in the way Mr Griffin was on Question Time in 2009, after which, support for the party collapsed.

Allowing the people whose views we find most offensive to lurk in the intellectual shadows of un-moderated internet forums and YouTube videos empowers them, as opposing voices are shouted down by the vitriol endemic to these parts of cyber-space. Universities offer the perfect platform of moderated discussion to challenge the most dangerous ideas that manifest themselves in oppression. Unfortunately, “No Platform” prolongs the oppression that groups suffer because it legitimises the views of those who are denied a platform to speak, and it prevents them being challenged and having their arguments exposed and falsified. We want to see oppression towards minority groups and women ended. To do that we need to end the policy of “No Platforming” speakers; bring the proponents of oppressive discourse into the mainstream, and debunk their arguments once and for all.

 

Britain doesn’t need a lower age of consent

Written by Lauren Wills on . Posted in Opinion.

A blunt message from Downing Street this week was communicated to Britain’s leading public health expert (and the public at large) that the current age of consent for sex in the UK is 16, and “there are no plans to change it”. There is no widespread agreement of what the age of consent should be internationally; on one hand the Independent comments that in Yemen, at age 9 (or upon showing signs of the ‘onset of puberty’) one can legally have sex, whereas in Tunisia unmarried couples must be 20 years of age to consent. Recent news has shown, however, that any attempt to change the law would be politically impossible here in the UK.

On first hearing about this topic, it is easy to jump to conclusions and immediately decide that the age of 15 is too young to be able to consent to sex, and that it is evidence of the lack of ethics and traditional values in our society. However, Professor John Ashton; the public health expert at hand, argues that lowering the age of consent would help teenagers obtain sexual health advice. This is of utter importance, as according to the Telegraph statistics in 2008, four out of ten girls have underage sex – more than any other country in Europe. Judging by the statistics, it appears something must change; either Parliament accepts that young people are having underage sex and takes steps to ensure teenagers are both informed and protected in a number of ways, or Parliament reject the proposal (which they have on this occasion) and take steps towards educating those under 16 on the seriousness; physically and emotionally; of sexual intercourse.

Professor Ashton argues that the current age of 16 sends ‘confused messages’ about the age at which it is okay to have sex, and that Britain should look seriously at changing the age to 15 so that a line may be drawn, and as a society, ‘we can actively discourage sexual involvement under 15’. From a legal point of view, however, the rules are very clear at the moment that it is illegal to consent to sex under the age ofsixteen, and if sex education is being taught properly then teenagers should already be deterred from having sex until that age. Looking at the evidence at hand, it appears sex education needs to be drastically improved so that young people can properly understand the implications of their actions, especially in a legal sense. Instead of lowering the age of consent, why not lower the age of sex education is taught, and make sure it is up to standard, including the legal implications as well as personal implications?

It’s true that whilst society increasingly accepts the occurrence of casual sex, its implications on the younger generation are that they may fail to take into account the emotional, physical and mental effects that it can have. Lawyers have also alluded to the important issue of child safety, Liz Dux, the lawyer representing 72 victims of Jimmy Saville, saying lowering the age of consent would give legitimacy for predatory adults to ‘focus their attention on even younger teenagers’.

Because of this evidence, one may be inclined to agree with Downing Street that the age of consent needs to stay at 16 and should not be lowered. This debate, however, appears to have brought further evidence of society’s confused values in regards to issues with young people, one example including being allowed to join the army at 16 but not being allowed to play ‘Call of Duty’ until the age of 18. If the age of consent is 16, then make it clear and teach young people about its repercussions. Once the government makes a decision on its values, it should seek to enforce the appropriate laws in order to deter illegal behaviour.