Harry Shocker

This year, 70 second-year Durham students took the plunge and entered the university’s controversial module, ‘Harry Potter and the Age of Illusion’. With a core reading list comprising the seven Harry Potter novels, the module sparkles with lectures such as ‘Love and Death in Harry Potter’ and the eternal question, ‘Four Houses or One?’

Students taking the module are also signing up to the Harry Potter experience. The first lecture saw a recreation of the Sorting Hat Ceremony in Castle’s Great Hall, where participants picked marbles out of a hat to determine what house they would be in. Each lecture is preceded with a rousing rendition of the Harry Potter theme tune through the speakers.

The pioneering intellectual nature of the module has moved Durham’s Pro-Vice-Chancellor, Professor Ray Hudson, to stirring praise. “’Harry Potter and the Age of Illusion’ is a serious and innovative academic module”, he commented.

Unfortunately such enthusiasm has not carried through the ranks and some students taking the module have expressed discontent. “A complete waste of time is probably the most concise summary I can give you”, was the evaluation of one.

This is only the opinion of a disillusioned few, assures the module’s tutor, Dr. Martin Richardson. “External examiners have described the module as ‘inspirational’. Students have said the module is ‘absolutely brilliant’; ‘It was fun, informative and challenging’; and ‘This has been quite possibly the best module I have undertaken in three years of intellectual study’.”

According to some students, there is no shortage of passion on the course. “There are some terrifying people taking the module, they could name you every sweet in ‘Honeydukes’ without pausing for thought” one recalled. “I wouldn’t be surprised if some students owned cats called Crookshanks” added another.

The enthusiasm arguably roots from the module’s tutor, Dr. Richardson, who has been described as a prophetic figure and “definitely one of the most animated tutors I have encountered”. Besides signing his emails off as ‘Gilderoy’, Richardson knowledge of the Harry Potter texts has been depicted as “biblical”.

Prospective employers, however, might not share this interest. Rob Case from sales recruiter, Tomka, suggested it showed the person had little desire to engage with the real world. “I suppose I might contact the candidate just because it’s so wrong that I’d be intrigued to talk to them”.

A judge working in London who has been responsible for looking over legal applicants was more optimistic. “On the basis that the student was able to place this fiction within a wider academic context, I would see the studying of the module as an interesting attribute of any undergraduate,” he suggested.

Durham is one of the first British universities to offer a module devoted entirely to Harry Potter and Hudson believed this was inevitable for Durham. “It is only fitting that a leading university like Durham responds to new development in our academic and wider social and cultural environment. Harry Potter is a culturally iconic phenomenon,” he stated.

It’s inclusion has come under criticism and one Durham student was incensed upon learning of its existence, saying “I am offended that Durham have included this because it makes the university seem like a joke”.

According to Richardson, the module, which is located in the Education department, has undergone Durham’s rigorous academic standards. It has been approved by Durham’s Faculty Teaching and Learning Committee, along with an external examiner. The essays questions posed by the course include, ‘To argue that the Ministry of Magic is a totalitarian regime is misguided’. Discuss.’

Richardson located ‘The Age of Illusion’s’ themes amongst a wider social context; “It allows student to explore in detail a number of contemporary issues, such as prejudice and intolerance, peer pressure, good citizenship and ideals of adulthood.”

Occasionally, one student commented, the links could be quite tenuous, “sometimes when you are being asked to compare the treatment of pure blood wizards and mudbloods with the treatment of Jews in Nazi Germany it can be quite challenging to maintain a serious perspective.”

Durham Police to Hand Out Sweets

Durham students are used to putting a lot of things into their mouths after a night out and now, thanks to a local policed-based initiative, boiled sweets could be added to that list.

Following numerous complaints of rowdy student disturbing the peace after a night on the lash, the Old Bill have devised a scheme to hand out sweets to students to encourage them to be quiet.

The pleasure patrol have amassed a supply of 10,000 fruit-flavored sweets, paid for by a number of organizations includingDurham University, the Durham City Council, and Teikyo University of Japan. The scheme is part of the Safe City campaign and the sweets will feature messages such as ‘Shush’ or ‘Quiet Please’.

One student commented, “it’s a shame such initiatives weren’t conceived before the UK riots in August, it would have saved a lot of damage. Maybe ‘millions’?”

Inspector Paul Anderson reportedly claimed that Durham was a pioneer for the initiative. “We think Durham is the first to include a message aimed at those who might otherwise make a racket.” It seems Durham’s success in the university rankings is finally paying some dividends, with the purple brigade getting ahead of bitter rivals Oxford and Cambridge to land the lucrative confectionary supply.

Durham isn’t the first place sweets and lollipops have been handed out at the end of the night. The South London district of East Croydon is allegedly the first place the scheme was trialed but it was forced to close prematurely, after demand for the sweets became unmanageable.

Anderson lauded the scheme as another point of contact between the police and population. “It also provides another way for officers to engage with students and other revelers when they are out of town.” Other schemes considered included making balloon animals, impressions and magic tricks.

University liaison officers Phil Raine and Paul Coburn will be carrying out the scheme with the support of the local neighborhood policing team. Reports that local ambulances will be using scientifically-modified Curly Wurlys as stretchers are unconfirmed.

For more information, such as what flavours are being considered, contact Phil Raine at: Philip.raine@durham.pnn.police.uk.

Corruption Scandal at Durham Uni

This Friday, the court trial of 71-year-old Cumbrian businessman, Bill Lowther, will commence following accusations that he made corrupt payments for the son of a Vietnamese government official to attend Durham University.

Following global investigations, the Serious Fraud Office has alleged that the packaging magnate helped in securing a place for the son of the previous governor of Vietnam’s state-owned bank, Le Duc Thuy.

These corrupt payments are being linked with Lowther, who allegedly paid the fees and accommodation costs to secure a favorable business contract with the Vietnamese government. He will appear at Southwark Crown Court, London.

The governor’s son and Durham alumni, Le Duc Minh, attended Durham’s business school from 2003-4. The accusations are that his university fees and living costs of over £10,000 were paid for by Lowther through corrupt payments.

Now living in Hanoi, Minh reportedly denied living a life of extravagance at the university, “I believe that none of my school friends or lecturers at Durham ever thought that I looked like a rich boy at school.” He also claims his family covered the payments.

Due to the fact the legal case is on-going, the Durham University press office were unable to comment. It is unclear whether a university representative will be required to give evidence in the case.

In July, Vietnamese local papers reported that Le Duc Thuy had been retired by Vietnam’s prime minister, Nguyen Tan Dung, from his position as State Bank Governor. This was in reaction to revelations that banknote security firm, Securency International, had paid for his son’s education at Durham University.

The case comes after the introduction of the UK Bribery Act in July to cut-down on corruption in the corporate world. The Act will be targeting aspects such as tax evasion and backhand payments to government officials.

Second-year Economics student, Oliver Lubbock has called for the university to employ more vigorous checks on how its fees are paid. “This is a wake-up call to the university that some students may not be here under ethical circumstances and, in that respect, it should be adopting more measures to prevent being linked with similar scandals in the future,” he commented.

‘Why I Left Manchester United’

Ask most boys their childhood dream and walking onto Old Trafford with Wayne Rooney on the flanks to the roar of 76,000 fans is an overriding favourite. Stewing in a packed lecture hall at Elvet Riverside, drawing Demand Curves as last night’s bottle of Tesco Value Gin winds it’s way through your innards, not so much.

But this is the choice that Economics fresher, Ollie Gill, made when he turned down a professional contract for Manchester United, to study Economics at Durham. Ollie, who is the son of the club’s Chief Executive David Gill, was voted the Red Devil’s reserve team player of the year (previous winners include Darren Fletcher and Giuseppe Rossi) and had made the subs bench for a number of United’s outings before opting for a shot at uni life.

Durham One caught up with the 21-year-old Cuths student for a quick chat at the Swan. For someone who spent their formative years in one of the world’s largest football clubs, brushing shoulders with the greats, he was remarkably down to earth. If you were hoping for Durham’s own Super Mario Balotelli, setting off fireworks in the bogs and amassing parking tickets on the Bailey, you might have to wait. He’s still trying to get his gown on. 

What was it like working under the legendary Sir Alex Ferguson, any hairdryer incidents?

It’s funny because Fergie has this reputation for being quite an angry guy but I never saw him lose it. You’d spot him around training and he’d come up occasionally and ask how everything was, especially with the younger players. He gave me a lot of advice on behaviour off the pitch and not indulging too much in the party lifestyle.

How was the United Dressing Room?

It was very professional, there’s a winning mentality and confidence embedded in all the players. You have people like Rio Ferdinand and Wayne Rooney who command a lot of attention and then there’s your Paul Scholes and Ryan Giggs who won’t say much but when they do, everyone listens. There is a huge amount of self belief in the team, I remember when we went in at half-time 2-0 down and Fergie came in and said calmly that if we scored the next goal, we would win. The game finished 3-2 to United.

Why did you choose to come to Durham over a potentially successful football career?

I loved my time at Manchester United but any football player hoping to make it big is taking a huge risk. You hear stories about an injury that ruins a career or people who just don’t make it and succeeding at a team like Manchester United is extremely tough. My future just wasn’t at United. Last year I deferred my UCAS offer to continue playing football but I would have been loaned out this season and I chose to accept Durham instead. Plus, studying Economics at somewhere like Durham gives me a lot more career options. That being said, I haven’t ruled out being a footballer.

Has being the son of Manchester United’s CEO affected your time there?

Not at all, obviously some players will occasionally joke about it but it’s all light-hearted. I read a story somewhere that, during the unrest over the Glazier ownership, some of the fans had turned their attention to me because of my dad’s relationship with the Glaziers.  But everyone who I met was hugely supportive and fortunately I never bumped into any of those red-blooded fans.

What’s it like going from Old Trafford to Maiden Castle?

Well perhaps playing for the Durham first team, the standard is slightly lower but we have a great coach and the training sessions are actually quite similar. There’s a lot less pressure and more of a social element. You go out a lot more as a team whereas with United that was only once or twice a season (The Daily Star will fill you in on more details). Durham have started off well with two wins out of two and promotion is definitely on the cards.

Do you still keep in touch with the United team?

Fergie stays in touch to see how I am and I was friends with people like Darren Fletcher and Wayne Rooney, who could empathise with me as a young player coming up. I have a few of their numbers but some people in my college stole my phone on a night out and started ringing all of them, I think Nani picked up.

Photo by Lucy Swinton

Tequilla Warfare

Newcastle student night and refuge to the Durham tippler, Tequila, is no more after a series of episodes which culminated in a suggestive promotional flyer sparking dissatisfaction among some local residents. Since it’s release onto Tyneside this October the raucous night has run four times and never shied from the spotlight. Last week they gave away a convertible VW Golf to a Newcastle fresher and, previously, two female clubbers had fallen into the river Tyne before being helped out twenty minutes later by police. Some Geordies apparently do drink like fishes.

Most recently, a promotional flyer showing a member of the fairer sex crouched down while champagne spurts from a censored sign where her head is has sparked controversy. When questioned on the flyer the club’s event manager, who gave his name as Tarquin Van De Vaart to Sun journalists, replied honestly. “We at Tequila see no problem with the flyer. it depicts a girl bending over to tie a man’s shoelace while he fires a bottle of champagne over her shoulder. I am astounded that peoples’ minds have become so polluted.”

Unfortunately local residents did not take the image with a pinch of salt. One woman reportedly claimed that the flyer was pushed through her letter box before her young son picked it up. The director of the night’s venue, Riverside, has dissociated himself with the flyers in question and terminated his contract with the promoters. Members of the Newcastle City Council are seeking advice on legal action.

Held every Wednesday at Riverside club on the Tyne waterway, the night has earned notoriety for it’s innovative combination of Tequila and whipped cream, boasting “more naked bodies than For Your Eyes Only Strip Joint at 3am!” According a promoter, they get through 100 cans of whipped cream and 70 bottles of Tequila per night.

In an exclusive chat with Durham One, Tequila’s event manager remained defiant in the prospect of legal pressure. “We got banned by the club because they did not want to lose their licence but we are going to re-open at another club soon.” And if the papers label it as the most debauched student night in the country? “We overtook our rival night by a country mile and had to turn 1,000 people away.” Any press is good press.

According to the manager there are also plans to extend the night to Durham. Reports suggest the Cathedral is interested in hosting the photo shoot for the next flyer.

Police Raid Wine Soc Bus

In scenes akin to downtown Baghdad, a bus carrying guests of the Durham Wine Soc Ball was pulled over by a squadron of five police cars in the early hours of yesterday morning.

The force, including armed officers and a riot van, was called into action after the driver of the bus phoned the police following an incident where a passenger stood up while the coach was in motion. A direct breach of the international coaching standards. 

The incident occurred on the way back from Lumley Castle where the Wine Society was hosting its Christmas Ball. The passenger had stood up to retrieve his dinner jacket but only succeeded in arousing a great anger within the bus driver, who demanded that he leave the bus and face the early morning wilderness of rural Durham.

The passenger doggedly refused and, it was only after the bus driver’s forceful attempts of persuasion failed, that he took it upon himself to call the police. Believing it was a simulated conversation, the passengers of the bus engaged in some mild goading and it was only when a police officer boarded the bus that the driver revealed his hand.

Visiting Bristol student and passenger, Livi Ingleby, was shocked by the sluggish response time of the Durham Police. “If we had an incident this serious in the South then they would at least have the decency to set up roadblocks” she commented.

The enigmatic driver’s identity is a mystery but, upon further research, he was described by a colleague as “just the kind of bastard who would do a thing like that”.

This is not believed to be the first time the police have been summoned on account of this particular driver’s overpowering affinity with the law. Last week, search dogs were dispatched across County Durham after a passenger was alleged to throw his drinks can out the window halfway between Durham and Sunderland.

Due to the raid’s size, rumours have surfaced that the operation had an ulterior motive; for the police to follow up on theirreservations over the Wine Soc president, Ollie Horbye. They have been tracking the oenophile for several months on suspicion of embezzlement, he was last seen speeding to the Home Counties in a green Land Rover with four cases of wine stashed in his boot. The hunt continues. 

The Sex Files

The library; a refuge for the damned, deadlines and, over at Oxford University, a bit of how’s ‘yer father. The university’s illustrious Oriel College was forced to close its library after incidents of students caught having sex, bookcases being moved and books found scattered in the Theology section.

In an exemplary demonstration of British restraint, the Senior Dean Julia Kercheker sent an email to the students saying, “this is not acceptable. The library is not being treated with appropriate consideration.”

Boasting a rich list of alumni, including explorer Sir Walter Raleigh, Oriel College has been forced to close its library during weekends and shut after 5.30pm on weekdays. Prime coital time, by the calculations of the librarian.

Kercheker’s email made reference to the mess in the Theology section as the principle reason for closure, describing the whole affair as a “disregard for the library and its rules and a lack of a sense of responsibility to the community.”

However, inside sources reveal that the main motivation was students being caught by the porter bumping uglies between the bookshelves. The primeval state one enters into under marathon library shifts appears to serve as an aphrodisiac for the blue brigade.

The sordid history of Oriel library comes as no surprise to second-year Oxford student, Fred Alliot. “I had to get a book on political theory from the bookstacks there once, and the combination of seedy lighting and an abundant supply of women’s fiction had me perusing the shelves at half-mast.”

One Oriel student, Robert Flick, was not hit by cupid’s arrow. “It is irritating that some students feel it acceptable to behave in a way that threatens to take the privilege of the library away from all members of college,” he reportedly commented.

While there is suggestion of Oxford’s innovative approach to incorporating sex into student life with their traditional ‘Bump Supper’. This is regrettably a celebratory dinner if a rowing team manages to successfully bump another boat on every day of Eights Week.

There is some semblance of respectability intact for the Durham University Library. Despite suggestive reports of students bringing bedding to their studies, hand shandies in the emergency exit staircase, The One has been reliably informed, are an urban myth.

There are dire consequences for anyone looking to get their leg over in the library warns Deputy Librarian Pete Maggs. “If students want to engage in that behaviour we cannot prevent them, but there is an extremely high-risk of getting caught and we would regard it as a very serious matter.”

Whether this concrete bastion soon falls to sword of the Durham doggers, who have previously restricted themselves to nighttime establishments, is another question.

Durham’s Stripping Sensation

“If Dairylea did strippers, they’d probably look like this”, “I’ll never look at Turkeys in the same way”; this is merely a selection of the heaps of praise lavished upon Durham stripping sensation, Debbie Dumpling. The plus-size performer has become a household name at student house parties and a wholesome alternative to the harlots you might encounter on a bruise cruise round Newcastle. Warn your underpants, mind. It’s quite the show.

According to eye-witnesses, Double D’s act takes on a sporty slant by requiring the lucky participant to perform press-ups on top of her and do sit-ups while she straddles their torso. All rounded off with a can of whipped cream and a shot at motor boating’ her ample bosom. One student recalled, “I imagine it to be a similar experience to waterboarding”.

Of course, if you are deemed to have behaved badly then you can look forward to a good spanking at the hands, and leather belt, of Debbie Dumpling. She also keeps a bottle of moisturizer handy incase you elect to splash out on the extra tenner required to liberate her barrel-like chest from brassiere. These gravity-defying wonders are something to behold but you might not have the chance while she’s lying on top of you, gyrating like a wild banshee.

There is also an element of cheekiness that Dumpling brings to the party. If, say, you’re asked to kiss her ‘dumplings’, you might end up entrenched in the Grand Canyon by way of a firm embrace. “She wields those things like Tomahawks”, commented one student.  However, any cocksmen out there, looking to get a quick leg over, will have to keep Jabba in his Hutt. Her husband allegedly drives her to work.

All of this and more are available to Durham students with minds in the gutter through the door-to-door service offered by the cunningly named www.kissogram-northeast.co.uk. Rather than lure any old stripper down the mountain with a hunk of beef, Debbie Dumpling is a seasoned and reputable performer. If you needed any more convincing, type her name into Youtube.Her most popular events are undoubtedly birthday parties, for the extra-thoughtful present that says you care. And if it does happen to be your birthday? Well, chins up.

Doorstep Defecator Strikes in Leeds

When you open your door in the morning to embrace the new day, you are entitled to expect a gentle and sobering breeze or perhaps a glass milk bottle tucked by your door. Unfortunately for students of Leeds University, some are having to add a coiled turd to that list after a wave of complaints have flooded in about a mystery figure taking a dump on their doorsteps at night. Branded the ‘poopertrator’ by the Leeds student newspaper, this deuce bandit has apparently been laying some brown carpet right under residents’ noses as they sleep at night.

One such victim, Leeds University Linguistics student, Genevieve Osborne-James, reportedly came across the excrement as she was leaving her house in the morning. “You could see where the person had relieved themselves against the wall beforehand and there were scraps of newspaper around, which had obviously been used as toilet paper.” At least the villain had the decency to wipe his own arse,  David Cameron’s Big Society is at least a hygienic one. Albeit with a confused way of showing it.

The local police force have been following through with complaints but there is no sign of the crap count dropping off any time soon. According to sources at Leeds University, the vile act has turned into a serial trend, taking on some form of ritualistic facade with members of the gang seeing it as a way of crowning off a night out.

It was originally proposed the faeces may have been the product of a small woodland creature, such as a fox, but freelance expert Will Beaving confirmed the darkest fears. “Judging from the taste and a brief inspection of the layout, I can conclude this was the work of a human. Admittedly one with moderate dietary issues” he reported.

There has been no evidence as of yet of a copycat operating in Durham but experts have commented that the city could be the Number 2 destination, as the gradient of some student houses offers a favourable angle for would-be poopertrators.

But if you’re planning on firing off the cannon anywhere near Durham doorsteps then plan again is the stern message from DSU Education and Welfare Officer, Scott Parker. “It isn’t big, it isn’t clever and it most certainly isn’t Durham. We haven’t had any reports here at the DSU and long may that continue. Quite frankly, it’s vile.”

Durham One- Guide to Durham’s Gyms

 

The new term is upon us and rolls of fat are clinging to your undercarriage like refugees on a trans-channel Lidl van. What better opportunity then, to flop around in some of Durham’s choicest fitness establishments. Unless you want to enter the Teutonic torture chambers that college gyms resemble, Durham One recommends you look further afield.

Marriot Leisure Club

http://www.marriott.co.uk/hotels/hotel-information/fitness-center/xvudm-durham-marriott-hotel-royal-county/

Location 5/5. Couldn’t ask for better, a stone’s throw from Elvet Riverside.

Price 3/5.  £65 a month for Full Membership (£103 for a double membership), £48 a month for Student Off Peak (facilities can be used from 6 am to 4.30 pm, Monday to Friday). Plus a one-off £25 joining fee.

Facilities 4/5. Proper classy joint with all the markings of a Roman palace; plunge pool, steam room, Jacuzzi, just without the young children swimming around nibbling on your privates (we’ll leave that to one Emperor Tiberius). It’s let down by the below-average gym.

Atmosphere 2/5. Retired policeman and farmers’ wives.

Talent-Spotting 1/5. If watching OAPs massaging ointment between their folds is your thing then you should come here. You should also volunteer for some kind of sex offender’s list, it will save time in the future.

Best for: Post-lecture Jacuzzis.

 

PACE Health Club, Radisson Blu

http://www.radissonblu.co.uk/hotel-durham/services/fitness

Location 2/5. Free parking means this is ideal if you own a car but otherwise you’re looking at a 15 minute walk from the city centre. As soon as you pass the all-you-can-eat Chinese, it’s bandit territory.

Price 3/5. £50 a month.

Facilities 5/5.  Couldn’t ask for a better gym and changing rooms. The Jacuzzi, sauna and steam room also do a job and the tanning booths add some Northern spice.

Atmosphere 4/5. An eclectic mix of hotel guests with some wildlife thrown in- a sight for sorry eyes when squeezed into a bikini.

Talent-Spotting 3/5. The occasional Durham student and (part-time at best) local table dancer.

Best for: Nursing hangovers.

 

Freeman’s Quay

http://www.durham.gov.uk/Pages/Service.aspx?ServiceId=7206

Location 3/5. Down the steps from the Gala Theatres, quite out the way.

Price 4/5. £120 for Michaelmas Term, £95 for Epiphany Term, £100 for Easter Term (all including holidays). £300- Annual.

Facilities 4/5. A decent fitness centre and the largest swimming pool in Durham, if not the cleanest. The changing room is, at times, a mire.

Atmosphere 4/5. There is something about the site of a tattooed Geordie body gliding gracefully through the Centre’s swimming pool that the painted word cannot convey. Watch out for the amber hue the water takes after an old people’s workout class/kids’ swimming lesson. The gym is more relaxed than Maiden Castle’s.

Talent-Spotting 5/5. Some have been known to have wardrobes dedicated to Freeman’s Quay, a veritable fashion show with some flexing on the side.

Best for: Committed talent scouts.

 

Maiden Castle Gym

http://www.teamdurham.com/fitnesssupport/fitnesssuite/

Location 1/5. The journey is an epic, not for the feeble hearted.

Price 5/5. £40 per term, £100 for a full year. (free membership available for sport’s scholars and most first team athletes.)

Facilities 3/5. An apparent refurbishment over the summer was a case of less is more. The gym is still well-stocked, you won’t run out of muscles to train but the proximity of the machines means you sometimes feel part of an industrial Soviet work-out scheme, ‘for make arms bigger’.

Atmosphere 4/5. A sense of competition hangs in the air. The facilities are also used by the Durham prison inmates, but it’s not as if there are any blunt weapons in a gym.

Talent-Spotting 4/5. Nothing beats prison ass.

Best for: Gym Hounds.

Durham One- Curveball Season

The Sherminator

Curveball: A person you meet in the early weeks of university who appears to possess the necessary social skills and etiquette for you to reward them with a friendship but, upon closer investigation, you discover they are in fact dangerously abnormal. Tossing you the hand grenade of a companionship with the Charles Manson of Freshers.

Example of usage: That guy you were chatting with last night was a serious curveball. I saw him buying Scotch eggs and firewood at Tesco’s this morning.

The unique opportunity that university affords to reinvent oneself means that some students seize the occasion with both mitts to build a new persona. They do so in the beautiful knowledge that four months in a darkened attic, jacking off to the Sims can be re-imagined as a summer romance with elegant swathes of John Travolta.

Any re-branding campaign can be bolstered with investment in a gap year.  Volunteer and join up with the band of perfumed laborers as they tour Africa, digging holes and uploading Facebook photos. These people love nothing more than to sleep under the stars.All five of them.

Gap years are also well-suited if the character you possess is hollow and lifeless, like chrome Terminator balls. You can then simply plaster over any personal inadequacies with tales that have been milked from South American coke dens or table tennis in Bangkok. Yeah, they’ll like that.

Consider the gap year as curveball preseason, the real grafting starts at university. Here the curveball must earn the trust of their peers, often by engaging in extravagant acts of showmanship; dirty pints are often involved. Be wary of the curveball that uses chunder as social currency. Throwing up for the amusement of others ranks slightly above being a back-up dancer for Lil’ John on the scale of self-respect.

Curveballs base their research on popular media, trawling through episodes of Skins for pointers. As a result, expect them to be well-versed in skills such as pint-downing and flat cap maintenance. You might have the pleasure of meeting a curveball that chucks the text book out the window in favour of the big-game play. This high-risk strategy involves undertaking an act of such outright social rebellion that it demands the attention of their year, brushes with the law being a popular option. A night in a jail cell should be penciled into the CV of any prospective BNOC ( see Big Name On Campus, http://www.durhamone.co.uk/features/a-day-in-the-life-of-a-durham-bnoc/).

With all this re-branding under their belt, you might think it difficult to identify a curveball. Not if you know where to look. Facebook is the traditional testing ground. ‘Favorite quotes’ on the profile along the lines of “Is Egypt a continent?” and liking novelty Facebook pages such as ‘Calling your penis Ronaldinho cos it can lob Seamen from 40yds.’ All classic curveball behaviour.

Smoking out a curveball often requires efforts above and beyond the digital sphere. Do they bring their own condiments to the dining hall? Is their iTunes library composed of ‘Now’ compilations? Investigation people! A popular method of examination employed by students is playing the drinking game ‘I never’, but any curveball worth their salt will breeze straight through this.

Like a yeast infection, curveballs can be notoriously difficult to shake off. Outright rejection is the worst thing you can do; no one wants a potential Norman Bates with your photograph on their dartboard. When confronted with a curveball stay calm and simply dial the local pest control . I’ve met the Durham man, his shotgun’s loaded and he has a Fiat Punto parked outside. In other words,Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.

DurhamOne- Are you taking the M.I.C?

The Cast

Made in Chelsea, the latest concoction to be fired headfirst out E4’s tight leathery anus, is the hideous bastard child of London’s infamous King’s Road and television producers with the creativity and imagination of a Hounslow janitor.

You may have encountered a Sloane Ranger, the larger-than-life caricature the program looks to ridicule, fornicating wildly in the aisles of Harrods or, dare I say, on our very own fair streets clad in wayfarers and a hoodie with “Jagerbombs and Off Piste” stamped proudly on the back like cattle brands at a Farmer’s Market.

Either way, as an answer to the charmingly common ‘The Only Way is Essex’, E4 has taken every Sloane stereotype and crammed it into their personal Frankenstein’s Monster. The beast can then be wheeled out to the delight of the channel’s bovine audience so they can point and bleat at this ridiculous, inhuman poshness.

That’s all well and good, but the problem is the cast are about as interesting as dialect between the Chucklebrothers. Take Spencer, who looks like a deceptive vole you would meet in Narnia. One minute you’re having tea in his tree house and the next, BAM, you wake up slumped in the White Witch’s sled with a sore arse and her dwarf sidekick standing over you with the grin of a Cheshire cat. See how much Turkish delight it takes to erase that memory.

I digress, Spencer’s problem is he’s a bit too normal, well aside from that permanently inquisitive look caked over his face. Doppelganger for the Portugese footballer Deco anyone? His main dilemma in the first episode was whether to attend an old flame’s concert, for heaven’s sake man you’re from Chelsea; punch a hooker, bosh some gack. You square.

But wait, surely Ollie can be of some interest. After all he’s so effeminate that if you kicked him in the balls, which trust me is highly tempting, his pelvis would swallow your foot like a denim Black Hole. As you read this, Geordie professional pintlifters sit motionless in their conservatories, desperately groping their Newcastle Brown Ale, who have soiled themselves in protest to this girlish abomination.

The producers have flung any notion of subtlety with character portrayal out the window and grabbed his scrotum, shoving it directly in front of our eyeballs and screaming, “Look, look he straightens his ball hairs, what kind of self-respecting member of the male sex would do such a thing!” What do you want from us you fascists? To round up a posse and burn down his house?

But wait, there’s a twist. This preening, cooing temple to effeminacy has a girlfriend. Wow, bet you didn’t see that one coming.

I’m afraid the others just sort of melt into a grayish background, occasionally squawking one of the show’s catchphrases like, ‘yah’, ‘totes’ or my favourite, ‘let’s get out of these wet suits and into a dry martini’. The last being an incantation from the show’s very own Nordic God of Arseholeness, Frederick. The blonde- or alternatively Elrond’s cadaverous younger brother -also shares a painfully uncomfortable friendship with failed human, Francis Boulle. Each of their meetings are how I would imagine two foreign students would behave, who have been made to go on a play-date together by their parents to stop them from wanking on chat roulette in their free time. Just more awkward.

The whiff of fabrication doesn’t end here, it recently emerged that the first episode’s nightclub scene in Raffles was entirely staged, being shot in the day and using extras. Looking at other scenes, such as Spencer’s … well, all of Spencer’s scenes, you have to ask how much liberty E4 has taken with their disclaimer that ‘some scenes have been created for your entertainment’.

But who by? What creature of earth is capable of birthing this monstrosity. My money’s on Kim Jong-Il, he’s kidnapped the cast and built his own set in North Korea, writing the script himself from Korean audio guides to London and reruns of Jeeves and Wooster. That or our television is officially ranked below Bravo.

DurhamOne- Dispatches From the Paint Line

The glamorous side of paintballing

Heroic, gallant, virile. Students who pledge their thumbs to the digital deity Call of Duty are none of these and less. Because to waste such god-given militancy prancing round a pixelated wonderland, knifing the odd dissident, is a sin answerable to Ares alone. As any self-respecting war monger will tell you, true glory can only be won in the smoke and heat of the battlefield. Or in the case of an intrepid band of Durhamites, on the paint-spattered grounds of a Geordie forest that, come nightfall, boasts the North’s highest dogging rate. And that’s saying something.

The paintballing was an impulse buy. Besides a wave of regret that I hadn’t gone to Bristol, paintball tickets were the only thing I had picked up from the Fresher’s Fair. Students who’ve had Durham’s cultural zeal sufficiently caned into them need not concern themselves with paintballing and other soiled distractions of the ‘broleteriat’. True people of Durham wipe their arses with such degenerate filth, before it morphs gratefully into sheet music or a provocative play script on bi-curious terrorists.

Unfortunately I’ve still got some lashes to go and the paintballing base camp was a glorious two-fingered salute to the culture vultures, nested around Durham. Urine-soaked excitement hung in the air, courtesy of marauding bands of adolescents, while the more experienced participants menacingly stroked helmets, or any other SAS equipment they had brought from home.

As chance, or the vindictiveness of the organizers, would have it we were pitted against a crack squad of locals more than twice our number. Their sheer aggression and enthusiasm suggested they were on the back of a monstrous winning streak, including stints in Libya and Charlie Sheen’s pool house, and had been airdropped in for the occasion.

With a bamboo shoot for a family tree, the sorry-looking gaggle of yokels that made up the rest of our team looked more adept at holding a barn dance than a gun. Their leader was a man of deceptive size who looked like Bryan May and took to guarding our extreme rear. He was a paintballer who would not go down in history but, thanks to a gangly ponytail and a moustache that would put Ron Jeremy to shame, he would go down on your sister.

It would be a massacre.

The opening rounds proved true to speculation. Our natural survival instincts took over and led us galloping aimlessly through the foliage like twisted genetic experiments that had gone wrong and been released into the wild for the warped amusement of a Japanese game show. It was not long before we were hunted and felled without mercy by the well-oiled Geordie machine.  Based on that evidence, in Prehistoric times we would have been assigned the foraging duties.

From his entrenched defensive position Bryan May attempted a guerrilla resurgence but soon fell ingloriously in a shower of paint. With his greased locks he may have been the ‘Che Guevara’ in the cut-throat world of dry weather crop-harvesting but he was a 40-something playing paintball and I just couldn’t trust him.

I won’t bore you with the heroic tale of our comeback. For services in the field one of our rank earned the much-coveted ‘Top Gun’ award, which came with its own shiny certificate. Although later reports suggest that he had offered the Warden sexual favours for the prize and, failing that, his packed lunch.

All I will say is we may have been approached by Channel 5 and other mediocre broadcasting stations to televise the account and victory was achieved mainly through the use of paint grenades. Yes you read correctly, GRENADES THAT EXPLODE WITH PAINT!

Now if that doesn’t fire up the loins then we may as well just be done with it and drown ourselves, chained to our games consoles, in a sea of spirits, pederasty and Tesco’s 99p Curry. Or failing that, dress up as pirates and head to Klute. They’re equally degrading.

DurhamOne: Fear and Loathing on the Durham Lash

 

As the debate on Durham’s nightlife rages on allow me to wade in, clad appropriately in Hunter Wellies that are the ubiquitous calling card to this fair city of ours. If, like me, you would rather see Lady Gaga in a Burmese prison than on the charts its difficult in Durham to find any music that ventures outside the top 40. Our headline act last term was Tim Westwood. The DSU, meanwhile, is attempting to resurrect their Saturday nights with a new offering called ‘Bad Habit’, but as the saying goes, ‘you can’t polish a turd’.

Perhaps the problem lies in our perceptions of a good night out. The main asset of living under the hallowed roof of St. Johns College is not the smugness of capping off a prolonged and fruitful visit to the college privy by greeting your unfortunate successor with, “if you’re going in there, may God be with you!” No, the highlight has to be the privilege of hearing every drunken chant that wafts up like room-clearing bouts of flatulence from the college socials on the Bailey beneath my window. It has been a downright honor.

After spending the early evening engaged in hardcore pre-lash, and no doubt cemented to their college corridor as if they were on leashes, these groups descend upon the Bailey with the manufactured rowdiness of a middle-class football firm. Their objective; to down each college’s specialty cocktail, which are often over-priced and some, like the ‘Skittles’, have the florescent color and texture of Mr. Blobby’s piss. Then, with new levels of liquid confidence, they charge down the hill crying God for England, Getting Lairy and St. Whatever-the-hell college they’re in. (Unless, of course, it is Josephine Butler, which sounds like a municipal leisure centre.)

Don’t let the knuckle-dragging exterior fool you mind, our uni compatriots in the Dirty South couldn’t hold a candle to these demonstrations of sheer ladestry. In fact, I would be prepared to personally sponsor a pub golf tour around South London as some missionary work for our unenlightened brethren. Just make sure to catch it all on camera, as the police may want the evidence from the ensuing bloodbath. You could at least sell the footage to Bravo.

Durham certainly holds a place in its heart for the chant, which I hold no aversion to. Neither do I have a problem with the fairer sex belting out the occasional rib-tickler. After all, there’s nothing like a lady with the mouth of a sailor to warm the cockles of the soul (and light a fire in one’s loins). However, this intoxicated enthusiasm was conspicuous for its absence when Durham was called upon by students across the country to demonstrate against the rise in tuition fees. Here, in true Durham fashion, the protest was not led by baton-wielding maniacs, armed to the teeth with knuckle-dusters and civil disobedience, but rather a jazz band called ‘Kinky Jeff and the Swingers’.

In order to truly gauge Durham’s rowdiness, you have to appreciate the socials in their natural habitat. This being locked in homo-erotic acts on the d-floor of one of Durham’s many night-time establishments. Fuelled by Tesco’s value trebles and equipped with a genidar (genital radar), they are led innately to one another’s private parts. If I wanted to do shots of lighter fuel and whatnot from betwixt my goalkeeper’s arse cheeks, I would have followed David James to the World Cup.

Also, unlike most rugger buggers, I’m not sporting a John Thomas that’s big enough to attack a city. So perhaps understandably, I’m not a fan of getting it out, willy-nilly. Don’t get me wrong, mine could probably damage a few suburban retail outlets but, as a rule of thumb, I keep Jabba in his hut… especially in the queue for Subway.

So if you’re not a born chanter, you leave stripping to the professionals and think fancy dress constitutes more than ripping a t-shirt and wearing a headband, what does Durham hold on a night out?

Newcastle anyone?