Collection

Highlights of 2017

A selection of some of 2017’s most popular articles on our website. Featured image by Max Clements – see more snowy pictures of Oxford here. Fantastic Trumps – and Where to Find Them: On Fantasy Tropes & Political Narrative Alex Waygood ‘Dwindling’ Tom Saer   The Saturday Ritual Michael Leong   What’s New About Fake […]

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Poetry

‘Hollywood’

by Tom Davy Simmonds is on the stage for Whiplash, a film about drumming and abuse. The academy is giving him a thing which entails the usual sing song about the wife and the crew and sometimes the kids and some trite account of charity and, in the same breath, Hollywood fondlers with some charming […]

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Poetry

‘Passage’

by Tom Davy I sit with a bear on a sofa. He tells me of his troubles; The drunkards who stormed in at night Just some months ago: asking for toast, Sipping at tea. ‘None for me, of course’, Or so I’d imagine he’d say In his supine, wordless way. In truth, I was one […]

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Poetry

Inkwell

by Tom Davy   “There’ll be hell toupee” We joked eight months ago in May While remarking on the putrid tan That could orange the seven seas.   And we were laughing to the end, Drinking and laughing, watching A map become increasingly red in the face. “It’s alright, we only need Florida” With another […]

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Collection

Highlights of 2016

A selection of some of 2016’s most popular articles on our website ‘Oxford: A café map’ – Sophie Barnes   Oriel Interviews: “I like to be popular…”   ‘Misinformation in the Rhodes Campaign’ – Madeline Briggs   ‘Periods, Taboos and Female Shame’ – Emma Gilpin   ‘Chicken Run or Ritual Slaughter’ – Jacob Warn   ‘Remembering […]

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Poetry

Dusk

by Tom Davy The audience departs. A discerning moon watches them, Watch-checking coated herds Emerge into the street, phones out Like fireflies as they flutter about. There’s a dusk around all of them, Its tusks tucking night’s handiwork Swiftly over chimneys. One of three Compliments the lead, another agrees, The third sneezes abruptly to the […]

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Poetry

Christopher

by Tom Davy The ceiling splays a fresco for the crowds. The round Sheldonian, Truth lies on high And falls like words of Latin from the clouds Whose black betrays the turquoise of their sky. Time is not ours. So every stroke of brush That paints the ring paints every second too; We find ourselves […]

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