Quench Issue 7 - 2 Feb 2004

Amber Duval with some invaluable advice

Mirror editor Piers Morgan shares his wisdom

An audience with So Solid diva Lisa Maffia

Tim Westwood:keeping it real. Man

Fashion make a pilgrimage to New York

Travel discover the joys of staying at home

Food investigate the benefits of bacteria

Features list

Gay explore the union’s seedier side

DC Gates: a voice of rust in a world of

Executive editor Tristan Thomas Quench editor Alex Macpherson Arts Lizzie Brown,Rachel Pegum Blind Date Kerry-Lynne Doyle Books Maria Thomas Columnists Riath Al-Samarrai,DCGates Debate Jessica Webb Digital Gareth Lloyd,Simeon Rosser-Trokas Fashion Caroline Ellis, Bex Singleton Features Vicky Corbett,Rhys James Film Mat Croft Food Jane Eyre,Mari Ropstad Gay Ian Loynd Going Out Katy Davies,Jenny Duxbury,Lisa Walkley Interviews Rob Plastow Music Jamie Fullerton, Anthony Lloyd One Trick Pony James Anthony Photography Gemma Griffiths,Anastasia Nylund Travel Tim Clark,Laura Tovey

Contributors Sarah Ahmed,Gary Andrews,Elizabeth Bodinger,Chewie,Sam Coare, Sarah Cummins,Andrew Davidson,Lyndsay Davies,Natalie Donovan,Craig Driver, David Ford,Luke Grahame,Debbie Green,Tarro Heyes,Holly Howitt-Dring,Emma Langley,Perri Lewis,Eleri Lloyd,Kim Lyon,Sam Mills,Claire Owen,Andy Parsons, Katy Read,Ross Redfern,Nick Rosenthal,Florina Schwander,Nathalie Southall, Alys Southwood,Rob Telford,Alex Thomas,Barry Thompson,Jake Tupman,Jim White,John Widdop,John Williams,Ben Wright,Hannah Wright Photographers and illustrators Tim Alban,Simon Shoulders Assistant to the editor Elaine Morgan Cover design Mat Croft

Lex’s Law

So,Tony Blair survived the 48 hours which supposedly held his premiership on a knife edge. Narrow victory in the Commons over top-up fees was followed by the BBC emerging as a very definite loser in the battle of the Hutton Report - and though the government hasn’t been completely exonerated from any wrongdoing in the Kelly case,it’s likely that its image won’t be tarnished any further than it already is.

And it very possibly wouldn’t matter in any case. Blair’s approval ratings are at their lowest since the fuel protests of 2000,but his not-so-secret weapon is that while support may be ebbing away from Labour,it is not being transferred in any significant amount to Labour’s rivals. The 2001 general election saw a turnout of under 60%; it’s not inconceivable that non-voters could outnumber voters next time round. Pissing away one’s democratic rights with such apathy is, of course,inexcusable - but the government has increasingly brought disillusionment on itself,while the most which can be said for Her Majesty’s Opposition is they can be quite entertainingly incompetent at times.

All of which means one thing: if there is to be a sea-change in British politics (and there desperately needs to be),there needs to be a repoliticisation of those who have been alienated from the political process - and right now,that’s quite some challenge. It’s a tactic currently being used to fascinating,if probably not victorious,effect by Howard Dean in the USA; the time can’t come soon enough for the British equivalent to emerge.

Alex Macpherson

One Trick Pony

IAmber Duval Amber Duval

Amber discusses sexual self investment...

f wanking could prevent cancer,as new research has shown,then it seems that we are all blessed with our own inoculation. If you’re female,you’ll pretend that masturbation is something never even discussed in your ‘girly’ chats,let alone actually done in private (unless you’re in porn,in which case you’ll say that you’re doing it because you’re being paid).

Everyone wanks. But technique will always differ. Making up my own general rule,based upon worldly experience; I would say that most desire privacy but some others enjoy a bit of –well... exhibitionism?

A friend used to share a house with a rather sweaty female specimen,who never left the sitting room. It was all rather ghastly. She never left because she was always on the shared computer,because she was always on the computer,looking at porn,naked. This is a shared house,remember. My poor friend moved out as soon as possible,but only after ‘wankwoman’ requested that she clean the comput-

er chair of its porn-induced moisture.

And although this story makes my stomach turn,I do salvage some moral from the tale. This lady loved porn. I for one think that girls need as much visual stimulation as boys, especially when you’re wanking. There’s nothing particularly exciting about the patch of damp on the magnolia ceiling,the state of your pillow or the bedspring that sticks right into your coccyx. Sometimes you don’t want to see the reality of your situation,and it really puts you off the job in hand. There’s nowt more frustrating than a failed wank. So follow the golden rules to ensure perfect satisfaction. Girls! Look at porn or read smutty books to ensure clit-twinkling mental imagery. Bring it out whenever your hands disappear into your diamantebacked thong. You know you like to touch yourself. I personally like a little friction – try using something with a rough surface. Boys! Dampen your fingers with lubricant – spit is convenient – and make sure you focus on the head. Stand up and get a rush!

God,I hate January. You’d be forgiven for thinking that I’m using this column to indulge my predilection for complaining about things,but that’s because I am,and I like to. It’s cheaper than therapy,and I avoid Vicodin addiction. You get to enjoy this cheap thrill vicariously,leaving your daily lives full of good-natured cheer.

Hope your Xmas wasn’t spoiled in the same way that mine was by the death of Pharos,the Queen’s dearest Corgi. It wasn’t Dotty’s fault; she probably thought Pharos was a toddler or something. Although calling your mental English Bull Terrier "Dotty" was a stroke of fucking genius…

On a happier note,I love seeing Blair squirm. The man with no reverse gear still won’t back down,no matter how many times we protest.

Even the Americans are admitting to the absence of WMDs,and they lied to their people about how many votes it takes to win an election! But Brave Blair soldiers on,insisting that if he keeps saying the same thing over and over,it’ll be true eventually, like Dorothy clicking her ruby slippers. "I don’t think we’re in Kansas any more,Tone-Tone!"

Right,I’m off to Heathrow airport to make some droll quips about the quantity of explosive Anthrax-flavoured bird-flu canisters I have in my luggage. Pow!

Not really ‘overrated’,but I feel compelled to warn people of its unmitigated evil. I’ve drunk eight litres of Irn-Bru in the last three days,and my addiction shows no signs of abating. It’s chock-full of nasties such as sugar,caffeine and something called ‘ammonium ferric citrate’ which,if I’m not mistaken,is a sort of iron derivative. The ‘diet’ version is even worse,containing a source of phenylalanine and aspartame (which in large quantities can allegedly be used as a mind-control drug). It’s like smoking – if you don’t drink it,don’t start. ( O v e r r a t e d ) ( U n d e r r a t e d )

How the mighty have fallen. How innocent were those heady days when I laughed myself to the point of messy urine-related accidents,watching the first series of Bo! Selecta. Then all the ‘schelabrities’ cottoned on to the shenanigans and the joke disappeared up its own ass. The second series raised barely a snigger,as the guests’ complicity and repetitive formula began to grate. I can only laugh at a bear with a dildo strapped to a car-aerial motor so many times… Christ,now there’s a thought.

I’m showing my age here... but I’d rather use my own vomit as an exfoliant than listen to Sara “Sucks” Cox at any time of day. Chris Moyles made me chuckle when he arrived at Radio 1,but that was seven years ago,and now he’s a supercilious cokehead,and I’m sick of hearing how much weight the fat gobshite has lost. Bore off. Anyway,go listen to Wake Up With Wogan on Radio 2 as a quality early-morning alternative. This morning the paddy was on about “giant nibbles". Yeah. I dunno either. Probably something to do with Lucky Charms

Finally,I can admit to watching BBC4 without being handed a pipe,and some comfy slippers. The Alan Clark Diaries is witty and irreverent,a bit like OTP really,only… witty,and irreverent. I’ve long rated John Hurt as an actor,ever since I watched an Alien Chestburster munch through Kane’s ribcage at the tender age of six. I was too young to have taken an interest in Alan Clark the politician the first time around,but this programme makes me wish I had. 10pm Thursdays.

James Anthony

( L e g e n d )

Holy crap. The comedy everyone thought Americans would never grasp gets a bloody Golden Globe. What’s next? Steptoe & Son getting an Oscar™? GR favourite The Office beat heavyweights Will & Grace and Friends - it’s the first time a non-US show has been nominated, let alone won.

Unfortunately,this now means that greedy US TV-execs are remaking the series,while simultaneously lauding the original as a "classic TV creation" – which smacks of the old "if it ain’t broke,don’t fix it" chestnut.

G e r v a i s

The remake will probably face the same fate as the Yank versions of Red Dwarf and Coupling – ie oblivion. Gervais was up for a reprisal of his role as Tristan Thom- I mean,David Brent,but wisely declined when he asked the producers whether his accent should be British or American. They answered with a shrug,and the word "either". It’s a far cry from his (hilarious) stint on the 11 O’Clock Show ,when everyone thought he would be a pitiable replacement for Ali G. However,this can only mean that the sole way to communicate with anyone in GR Towers for the next six weeks will be via the medium of Office quotes. Which is why I’ve avoided it here… shame. (Damn!)

( T o s s e r )

Be afraid,be very afraid. The world’s wealthiest man is to receive an ‘honorary’ knighthood. As British as Budweiser,Gates can’t call himself "Sir Bill" but can use the letters ‘KBE’ after his name, meaning "Knight Commander of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire".

There’s bugger all difference,and if you’re into paranoid conspiracy theories,the sinister machinations of this will be all too clear. Lizards. Yep,big green Illuminati Lizards. If David Icke is to be believed,the global elite,who dominate every aspect of our lives, are genetically descended from an extraterrestrial race of chameleonic

reptiles that came to earth some time ago in the form of humans. This means the Queen and all of her cohorts. And now their ‘circle of trust’ includes Gates. That would explain a few things; no one gets honours like this without some sort of clandestine tomfoolery going on.

Before the clamour to cart me off to a funny farm starts,think about this: Icke’s been making these claims for years,and no one has sued. There are only 63 countries in the world whose GDP is bigger than Gates’ personal fortune. There’s every chance that Icke might be mad as ten balloons,but if he’s right,it’s gonna be one hell of an "I told you so"…

G a t e s o f H e l l

"The liberty of a democracy is not safe if the people tolerate the growth of private power to a point where it becomes stronger than their democratic state itself. That, in its essence,is fascism - ownership of government by an individual,by a group,or any controlling private power."

Franklin D Roosevelt

final thoughts ( . . .

)

T P 5

“On second thought,let us not go to Camelot,it is a silly place.”

"Democracy means simply the bludgeoning of the people by the people for the people."

Oscar Wilde

"We will not introduce top-up fees and have legislated to prevent them."

Tony Blair’s election manifesto

“Name’s Thomas.Tristan Thomas.”

Relationships

Is coupledom worthwhile or should you take advantage of being young,free and single? You decide...

Alys Southwood FOR

Coupledom is fighting for the duvet; arguing over the washing up; bickering about which video to rent. Coupledom is driving each other mad and yet irritatingly,irrationally still being in love. It is compromise,sacrifice and,occasionally,sulking. It is not Disney. It’s better.

So relationships are difficult. They need time,effort and lots of patience. And when they work it’s all worth it. Even the smallest things are nicer when shared with the person you love: beans on toast,bad reality TV,the Sunday papers… you don’t need big,empty,‘romantic’ gestures. A fancy meal at an expensive restaurant lasts an evening; flowers last a week; chocolate lasts milliseconds. All you really need is each other’s company.

Inevitably,I’m going to mention sex. As a singleton you have two options: you can indulge in one night stands or you can fly it solo. At least with the latter you don’t have to subject yourself to the awkward,morning-after "sorry, what was your name?" scenario. Or the walk of shame home in last night’s glamour rags. Let’s face it; sex without intimacy is like non-alcoholic beer. It satisfies your thirst but it doesn’t give you what you really wanted. And it has a nasty aftertaste.

Relationships aren’t just about sex. (If you disagree with that last statement,feel free to sign up for a special episode of Trisha on the ITV website.) There are practical advantages to being in a couple. Girlfriends tend to be helpful with the latest celebrity gossip,getting served in a busy pub and explaining why PMS doesn’t exist. Boyfriends,on the other hand,can be good with heavy shopping,high shelves and pretending to understand all things mechanical (remember girls: feminism means that you have the right to do anything that men can do – not that you have to. Make ’em work.)

Above all,coupledom is finding that one person you will grow to love. So keep on looking – the perfect partner’s out there for everyone.

BKerry-Lynne Doyle AGAINST

eing single means loneliness,misery,and social exclusion,right? Forget Bridget Jones though,because being single is the best way to spend your uni years. Firstly,think of time consumption. You don’t need to waste time on leg shaving/waxing and (ouch!) bikini-line maintenance. And guys,you can get away with doing your laundry just once a month (although this may contribute to your single status!). You’ll also have enough time to go to some lectures – admittedly,less fun than a sneaky sex session but at least you’ll graduate.

Then,there’s the money. Being single you save money on posh dinners/sexy underwear/pointless anniversary presents which means more money to spend on yourself and,let’s not forget,alcohol! Being single is the perfect opportunity to be absolutely selfish and not give a damn about it; you don’t need to split your Tesco Value pizza or share your minuscule uni residences bed so you end up squished against the wall/on the floor. Being single lets you embrace your inconsiderate side with pride!

More importantly is the fact that at uni you have thousands of fellow singletons just waiting to be chatted up. You don’t need stomach control pants to pull – just get down to Come Play,have a few vodkas and circulate. It really is that easy (nb: clean/matching underwear is always a good option). And if you do get lucky you get all of the fun without the responsibilities of a relationship – just remember the condom machine.

If you’d prefer to aim a little higher then just think of all the single celebrities – Britney,Nicole,Renée,Hugh and Mr Clooney? So singletons,just sit back and wait for Ms Spears or Mr Grant (even both for the real fantasists among you) to turn up at your door…

It’s official. Being single does not mean nights in watching chick flicks and consuming your weight in ice cream; it is the source of opportunity for a more,ahem,fulfilling university life. So,what are you sitting around reading this for? Get out and enjoy yourself!

A date with destiny?

We sent two single students on a blind date to see if romance was in the air in

Guy’s profile:

Name - Harrison Belley

Age - 22

Studying - MSc in Comparative Political Economy

Harrison on Natalie:

By Kerry-Lynne Doyle Blind Date Editor

What were your first impressions of Natalie? She was a beautiful girl and very nice. We had a good time.

How was the date?

Great,it was exciting. I enjoyed it. It was cool. Were there any awkward or funny moments?

We had fun but nothing awkward or funny. How was the conversation?

Very nice because every question I asked she responded to. It was very nice.

Did you swap phone numbers?

Yeah,we swapped numbers.

Did you go out afterwards?

Just walked home together. Are you going to meet up again?

Yeah,we have planned to meet up again I think. Kiss? Anything more? No.

Describe the date in a few words. It was fantastic.

Girl’s profile:

Name - Natalie Donovan

Age - 20

Studying - BA Journalism

Natalie on Harrison:

What were your first impressions of Harrison? A very polite,nice man. How was the date? Nice!

Were there any awkward or funny moments? There were a couple of silences but generally I was talking away! How was the conversation?

Fine. It was nice. I learned a lot about him and he learned a lot about me.

Did you swap phone numbers? Yes,we did.

Did you go out afterwards?

No,we didn’t.

Are you going to meet up again? Possibly as friends,yes.

Kiss? Anything more?

No.

Describe the date in a few words?

Nice atmosphere. It was good to get to know someone new!

Piers Morgan tells GaryAndrews about celebrity spats

like Keith Chegwin Man in the mirror

and being

Newspaper editors are not the type of people you normally find filling column inches. No matter how personable,charismatic or larger-than-life they are in the office, they’re not the type of people you usually read about in the press.

Not so with Piers Morgan. The Mirror editor is not the type of person to keep himself locked in the office until the early hours of the morning and avoiding publicity at all costs. If any editor is going to appear on the news to vigorously defend the tabloids,chances are it’ll be Morgan.

He’s probably the most well known national newspaper editor since Kelvin MacKenzie at the Sun (whom he worked under).

Never one to shy away from speaking his mind,in the past Piers has become embroiled in arguments with people such as David Yelland,ex-editor of the Sun and Ian Hislop,whom he labelled a gnome.

With Yelland especially,the press spats could go on for days,as entertaining insults were fired out of both camps. Surely Piers must miss the little scuffles with his rival?

"He really was such a loathsome turd that I quite liked hammering him, but it was getting a bit boring towards the end."

Yelland was replaced earlier this year with Rebekah Wade,with whom Morgan is on more friendly terms.

"The Sun’s definitely improved under her editorship,but obviously we’ve given them a complete kicking this year with various royal scandals and everything else."

Morgan is no stranger to the Sun, having risen his way through the ranks to edit the Bizarre column before moving to take charge of the News of the World,where he was the youngest newspaper editor for 50 years.

In 1995 the Mirror came calling and he’s remained editor ever since.

Yet things have not been plain sailing for the Mirror in recent years. Whilst Morgan’s commitment to serious journalism has won the paper awards,the tabloid has been losing readers and last year its circulation fell under the two million mark. I suggest to him this is because readers want more celebrity news in their papers these days. Morgan agrees.

"Yeah,we tried after September 11 to make it a bit more serious but the reality is that when there’s not a lot going on… [people] like a dose of celebrity in their paper every day.They like to be entertained and titillated and that’s why tabloid papers sell much more than broadsheet newspapers do."

Celebrity is a subject Morgan is perfectly positioned to comment on, having recently presented The Importance Of Being Famous on

Channel 4 and is working on a second series of Tabloid Tales for the BBC. Given the fact he’s on TV a lot these days,does he consider himself a celebrity?

"Yeah," he laughs,"but I’m C minus,down there with Keith Chegwin,hovering on the brink of celebrity. I’m trying to get on a slightly better rung than him but its proving quite difficult."

Celebrity shooting has become a bit of a sport for journalists these days with exclusives about their lives plastered all over the tabloids,but there must be limits to what the Mirror will publish?

"If they’ve really gone out of their way to be private and haven’t cashed in on their christenings and weddings,I think it’s a different argument and we have to be careful about not being too intrusive,but if they’re selling their privacy then all bets are off."

When TheMirror isn’t celebwatching,it can be found criticising the government,particularly Tony Blair and his decision to go to war in Iraq.

"[Blair’s] been a bit frosty recently but we’ve got back to speaking to each other and its fine. I’ve always found him very charming,but he’s been suffering from having no opposition so the only opposition has been from the media."

Throughout the interview it’s impossible not to notice Morgan’s enthusiasm for the job he’s doing,especially the unpredictable nature of journalism. Yet when I bring up the word stressful,he’s quick as a flash to deny this. "It’s a breeze,mate. Stressful is when you’ve got three kids on a Toxteth council estate. It’s not stressful at all."

Even so,he must relax somehow.

"I go and watch Arsenal,I have a season ticket there and I’ve got three young sons who keep me busy,so there’s not really any time to relax.”

Anthony Lloyd goes pawn shopping with Jason Stollsteimer of The Von Bondies

STORYTELLER

The NME tour is scheduled to make its annual appearance in the Great Hall on February 8. It has fast become an eclectic representation of what is about to come in the music world for the following year,and this year is no different. The acts range from Wales’s own emo sensations Funeral For A Friend,to the disco-punk of The Rapture and Franz Ferdinand. Right slap bang in the middle of these young talents is the experience of Detroit garage rockers The Von Bondies. Arriving with a slew of other garage rock bands,The Von Bondies appeared in 2001 with their debut album Lack Of Communication. And now they’re back with an even heavier, more powerful offering in Pawn Shoppe Heart, which lead singer Jason Stollsteimer got on the phone to talk to us about.

You’re about to start the NME shows. Are you excited about touring with the other bands and have you heard anything by them?

“We have not heard anything by any of the bands and that’s why we’re excited. I’m a huge judge of bands live,they can make the greatest record in the world but if they can’t pull it off live,I couldn’t give two shits about them. So I’d rather not listen to the record and have no expectations of them.” You’ve got a new album coming out,

what was that like to make?

“It was so much fun! On the last record we only had two days,but on this one we had a month and we got to do the record exactly how we wanted to.”

Did you feel there was more pressure making a follow up album?

“There was a lot on me,but I had written these songs over a year ago because I’m not the type of songwriter

“We aren’t a pop band,here to just sell records. We’re here to get a point across.”

that takes a year to write four songs,I mean I wrote three songs last month. But I’m the biggest critic of my songs, so if I write five in a month I’ll drop three of them.”

So,how do you decide which ones to drop?

“Well,the song has to make sense,it has to be a true story,it can’t be some clichéd pop lyric.”

Are the songs short stories then?

“Oh yeah,90 per cent of the time,first hand experience. The rest of the songs are me looking through someone else’s eyes in my life,like my friends or my band.”

Do you find it hard being the frontman and writing all the songs?

“I did,but now I look at it differently. I really do have something to say in the songs,and want to make sure people understand that. We aren’t a pop band,here to just sell records,we’re here to get a point across. The songs on our record are factual,they’re not just some made up bullshit that I got from reading a book,you know?”

So what can people expect from Pawn Shoppe Heart?

“If you heard our first record then the new one sounds nothing like it. The first one sounds more like a stereotypical Detroit band and this one,well we think we’ve come into our own.”

And indeed they have. Many garage rock bands have come and gone since The Von Bondies first appeared but with their new album they are about to show that they are a whole league ahead of everyone else in their class.

For a review of The Von Bondies’new album,see p31.

Godmother Interviews 10

Alex Macpherson talks to Lisa Maffia about So Solid Crew,being a mum,and her role in finding the next generation of underground talent

The First Lady of UK garage is enjoying herself tonight. Though her three-song PA at Cardiff University’s Christmas Ball is unlikely to rank too highly on Lisa Maffia’s list of memorable showbiz moments,the So Solid Crew frontwoman/award-winning solo artist/company director is making the most of it. Her lively entourage fills the cramped backstage area,the champagne flows in rivers, and she even ventures back out after our interview to shake her stuff to Tim Westwood’s superb DJ set. It’s reflective of Maffia’s attitude towards her success in general - and make no mistake,she has succeeded.

Life wasn’t always so enjoyable for the small,shy girl brought up by a single mother on a Brixton council estate. A teenage mother herself - an experience which Maffia has "absolutely no regrets" about - music was her proverbial way out. Not,of course,that it was easy as the meteoric rise of So Solid would suggest: initially,Maffia suffered from extreme stagefright. "The boys helped me overcome that because they pushed me to the forefront of things all the time. And eventually you kind of get used to it because you have to."

Judging from her charismatic,confident stage presence tonight,it’s an obstacle which,like so much else,has been efficiently dealt with.

It’s easy to forget amid the endless,blinkered ‘debate’ over So Solid’s connection to violence exactly why they succeeded.

When SSC stormed out of the underground in 2001,they not only introduced a radically different sonic texture to the British charts - all grimy beats and harsh productionbut also a fertile breed-

ing ground for future artists to follow in their footsteps. "So Solid was never,ever just about the music," asserts Maffia,but she’s not just referring to the scene’s flash image. Up-and-coming artists explore their creativity and connect with others through London’s network of pirate radio stations,while - despite sensationalised stories of violent rivalrythe garage scene is infused with a spirit of community. Maffia herself has set up her own company,New Star/Maffia Entertainments,for the express purpose of helping young talent,and it’s clearly a project she takes great pride in.

"I like being responsible for bringing new stuff through,I want to break more artists - there are hundreds of very talented people out there just waiting to get deals and stuff,and I want to be part of that." Maffia launches into an advertising spiel for the forthcoming album from Chyna, her sidekick at live appearances,and can only be deflected when Quench begins to sing the praises of teenage phenomenon MC Shystie. Maffia counters with the chipmunk-on-helium tones of Lady Stush,and the exchange culminates in her insistence that I start up Cardiff’s very first

garage pirate station. Watch this space.

Mother; businesswoman; artiste. It might seem a formidable workload to most,but Maffia seems genuinely bemused that anyone could think it difficult for her. "I love it all," she explains as her eyes light up. "I absolutely adore being a mum,I wouldn't miss that for the world - after having a child,everything else is a bonus,because she's made me work harder,she's made me want more things in life. And I'm enjoying it so much because of her." It’s clear,too, where her priorities lie: her daughter, Chelsea,comes above all else - and at this stage in Maffia’s career,nurturing her fellow artists seems to have relegated her own career to a distant third place. Though she makes vague noises about breaking America and Japan,there’s no hesitation when Maffia is asked whether she prefers being an up-and-coming bright young thing or helping her scene’s future talent: "We opened the door,led the way - now it’s time to help others. I want to give back. I need to give back."

It’s a good look

James Anthony talks to TimWestwood about the nature of the game,and dealing with the misconceptions...

In the realm of UK hip-hop,few people divide opinion like Tim Westwood. Why must he insist on playing the ‘jiggy’ American styles, and ‘ignoring’ UK acts? Is he the real deal,or the fake industry cat that he’s habitually written off as? There’s a lot of snobbery in the hip-hop world,as trainspotters,DJs and backpackers alike constantly search for the freshest underground sounds possible. In many circles,it can seriously damage your credentials by admitting that Westwood is part of your musical canon. He can’t be ignored – his influence on the UK scene is undisputed, but people seem to have a problem with his assumed American-centric ideals,in both playlist and mannerism.

Those who say Westwood is "trying to sound black" are missing the point. Westwood is the white son of a church minister,the late Bishop of Peterborough. But every day of his life is steeped in American culture,which due to US commercial marketing is produced by "black culture",and consumed largely by a "white audience". Devote such a large portion of your life to something,and eventually it will rub off on you. It would be more accurate to describe his accent as

pseudo-American,rather than ascribe any racial basis to it.

The other ubiquitous rumour regards the authenticity of his shooting. Was it set up to give him more ‘credibility’? This riddle can be easily solved by Occam’s razor. There are much easier ways to raise your standing than being shot by some Kennington yardies.

Contrary to popular belief, Westwood has produced an all-British album,but it met with poor sales. Comparatively,his US-based hip hop compilations consistently go platinum. He once said: "maybe UK artists aren’t making the right kind of records"; I wondered if he still felt this way.

“Different artists are like different people in your community – there might be some crazy man down the road and that’s Ol’ Dirty Bastard”

"I like rockin’ the parties,and that keeps my playlist tight. Some [UK] records,their beats aren’t right for a club,some of those records are lyrical,it’s just a different style of hip hop. Roots Manuva rips the joint,that beat is incredible,and what he’s saying is incredible. I believe if you make hot club bangers,you get in the club, you get on pirate radio,and that’s how you start some heat. We support UK –I produced London Posse’s Monie Love,all that shit.”

What is Westwood’s opinion on the artists who are important to many British hip-hop fans? I mentioned some of the names blowing up the UK scene right now,such as Jehst, Taskforce,The Nextmen and Skitz.

"What you gotta understand is that people who shout them out,some-

times don’t shout out cats from London,like SAS. I think SAS is the hottest cat out of the UK..."

The people at the party tonight were there to get pissed and dance to the club bangers. As a DJ myself,I’m familiar with the precarious equilibrium of personal taste on one hand,and crowd-pleasing on the other. But what about his radio show? Surely,that would provide scope for the gangstas and the backpackers to co-exist?

"I think hip-hop is a lifestyle,a culture. Within that,there are a lot of different people involved,different types of artists make different types of music. What a young guy growing up going to university experiences and wants to appreciate is different to an inner city kid."

Here I was,not just having my preconceptions about Westwood shattered,but I was beginning to feel that I was guilty of the divisionist attitude that many people accuse Westwood himself of.

"Different artists are like different people in your community – there might be some crazy man down the road and that’s Ol’ Dirty Bastard. There might be some thug,and that’s 50 Cent. There might be some white guy who’s mad down,and that’s Eminem. It’s just hip-hop reflecting life,which is varied,it’s not one dimensional – we’re not all the same."

Westwood is nothing if not misunderstood. But the misunderstanding is perpetuated by those who don’t care enough about hip-hop music to look beyond affectation and glamour,and see the vital service that this man has done for hip-hop in all its forms,all across the UK.

Guess who?

Roses are red,violets are blue,the Quench fashion team are here to help you

By Caroline Ellis Fashion Editor

It’s the night before the big date and the dilemma hits you as it does all females: what are you going to wear?

The confusion kicks in; should you go girly and feminine and show a bit of flesh,or should you wear the most upto-date attire to look funky and trendy? Ladies,your worries are over for this Valentine’s Day,though,as the key look this season is feminine chic. The spring season is set to be an array of pastel colours,big bows,ribbons,pretty patterns and flower motifs which evoke a girlish innocence.

The key look to this season is a 1950s-inspired selection of circle skirts,capri pants and three-quarter length tight jumpers. As in every season,the primary and most inexpensive

Make up for men

By Lyndsay Davies Fashion Correspondent

With the prospect of another dateless Valentine’s Day in the offing,it makes perfect sense that people are making an effort to look smarter,smell sweeter and most importantly try to conceal the alcohol-induced dark circles that haunt the peepers of all students.

With this in mind, Quench decided to probe into the potential of cosmetics and their ability to transform from best to beauty.

However,with the launch of Jean Paul Gaultier’s make-up range for the contemporary male,we thought it important to challenge traditional masculinity and penetrate the world of metrosexuality.

In recent years,guys have made the switch from secretly lifting some of the girlfriend’s moisturiser to owning enough beauty products to outshine a drag queen. This indulgence in traditionally feminine pursuits differs immensely from the David

Bowie era where camping it up with vibrant slap was the epitome of 80s cool. This is about men being able to forgive,if not totally overlook,the complete dominance of relevant literature which – once limited to women’s magazines – has now emerged in leading men’s titles.

It’s about being comfortable with the fact that upon opening your bathroom cabinet a bronzing powder may tumble into your sink. And it is definitely about the timeless art of looking good.

So whether it be lipstick or eyebrow pencil concealer,using cosmetics is no longer exclusive to gay men. Make up is an essential element in a man’s grooming,making it not just acceptable but embraced.

So lads,to increase the chances of picking up a fine looking trophy to swing from your elbow for the upcoming day of romance,perhaps a smattering of Gaultier’s new range,available at Debenhams,will do the trick. Ah,the things we do for love.

way of achieving this look is to accessorise. Fake pearls are a must this season. Not only will they make any outfit get the 1950s look but will also add a touch of glamour to any outfit especially when you are going out on your hot date on Valentine’s Day.

Liven up your winter wardrobe with a bright coloured handbag,whether it be a clutch or strap. The 1950s were not only a decade of ultimate femininity but also a time when women with curves were considered the sex goddesses; Marilyn Monroe was a prime example of this.

As the temperatures last week hit below zero,make sure that you don’t ruin your date by getting a cold. Go out and purchase a Audrey Hepburn inspired trench coat,and wrap yourself up in glamour. Let’s hope you won’t need your coat to warm you up.

Fashion Valentine’s Special 13

Suits you sir!

Oswald Boateng: a profile

By Alex Thomas Fashion Correspondent

The business suit has been the predominant form of men’s attire worldwide for the past 100 to 150 years. The idea that English tailors have wielded more influence over how gentlemen dress than anyone else is a well-founded one,the world does business in a uniform that essentially came out of the tailoring houses of Savile Row.

A sense of tradition has weighed heavily on English style; however,the emergence of “Cool Britannia” has made great fashion strides in recent years by way of young talent with new ideas and a penchant for classical looks. Oswald Boateng innovated the concept of fusing traditional tailoring with contemporary looks. The effortlessly cool designer movedto Savile Row with the express purpose of taking the traditional concept of bespoke tailoring and creating fashion. Boateng challenges the tradition to modernise with purple frock coats and navy blue suits with raspberry pinstripes.

Oswald explains: “My view on what you should and shouldn’t wear is quite varied. You can get away with a bright coloured shirt and still look formal,provided the tie and the shirt work together and the shirt has a double cuff.” And don’t forget to always polish your shoes.

By Hannah Wright Fashion Correspondent

February 14. Valentine’s Day. The day when you are meant to show your loved one how much you care, or confess your undying love to an unsuspecting victim (sorry,I mean lucky lady).

To me,Valentine’s Day is all about making the right decisions (and there are serious consequences to making the wrong ones!). Are roses too much of a cliché? Do I send a funny card or a romantic one? Do I buy her a teddy or some naughty underwear? Decisions, decisions,decisions.

Though I can’t advise on the correct gift that is not going to get you a) dumped,b) laughed at,or c) castrated, I can give tips on the general consensus of opinion for correct attire for that romantic dinner date with your Snugglebum.

The main aim is to look smart but effortlessly dressed (guys,take note that ‘effortless’ does not mean forgetting to do a few buttons up). A stylish top or shirt with smart jeans or trousers is always a winner,but make sure there are no high trousers à la Simon Cowell. Any style goes really,but always remember to wear clean,freshly ironed clothes. An obvious point you must say,but one very much overlooked by my first year housemate, whose good looks and charm were dashed (or should I say fumigated) by his lack of cleanliness.

Shoes are very important. Be warned: lots of women judge their men by their shoes,so no sports trainers, no cowboy boots,no sandals,no dirty shoes and absolutely,positively no white socks! Underwear should be brought into the equation also just in case one gets lucky. A nice pair of boxer shorts is a safe bet,but again they must be freshly washed,not just worn because you’ve thrown them against the wall and they haven’t stuck.

It is important to wear a nice fragrance. Old favorites include Eternity by Calvin Klein, Issey Miyake and Higher by Dior. It shouldn’t be overpowering,but enough so that when she is sauntering through the perfume department in Debenhams and she smells it again it reminds her of her styled-to-perfection, dinner date with you.

The look of love

No 7’s answer to that perfect Valentine’s date

No 7 make up artist Linda Heath has worked her beauty magic alongside the likes of Charles Worthington – and now she comes to rescue the students of Cardiff,just in time for Valentine’s Day. So for that sweet yet sexy look,sure to seduce your very own Valentine,look no further!

Fashion Editor Caroline Ellis models a mixture of No 7’s old favourites with the new Spring collection which is sure to set your Prince Charming’s heart on fire this February.

Linda advised that an important part of any girl’s make up routine is to

Before...

After !

prepare the skin before make up is applied. This includes cleansing,toning and moisturising. Cleanser and Toner from the Revitalising Range (£6 each) removed the dirt and tightened the pores to prepare the skin. Energising Moisture Cream (£6) was used as a full-coverage moisturiser, and alongside Time Resisting Day and Night Eye Care (£16) this helped to reduce puffiness.

Next Intelligent Colour Foundation (£12) provided for a a flawless,light finish. “The Spring look is a natural look. We want to use the make up to enhance your features rather than change the way you look; this make up is perfect for that as it gives a really natural finish,” said Linda. Instant Radiance Concealer(£16) was then used around the eye area rather than foundation (which,we were told,is too harsh for an area of such delicate skin). This item of No 7 make up impressed us the most, girls! It’s a concealer in the form of a pen brush. You may recognise this description; yes,it has been duplicated,but is still arguably better than its market leaders! Volcanic Eyeshadow and the New Spring Colour Perfect

Quartet created a sexy,smoky look. Lash Extensions (£8.50) coated the top and bottom eyelashes,and to finish off Lash and brow definer (£7.50) was applied. For the lips, Caramel Lip Pencil (£5.25) Sheer Matte Lipstick in Fig (£7.50), and High Shine lip gloss in Sand Storm (£6.00) produced the perfect pout! Finally, Medina Bronzing Powder (£10) was the final touch for that sexy Valentines glow.

A BIG farewell 15

SexAndThe City begins its final fling Fashion

The first of the last eight episodes was shown last night. If any of you are in turmoil that you missed it,don’t fret,the repeats are shown late on Wednesday. In the last season we left Charlotte newly wed to Jewish husband Harry; Miranda reunited with the father of her son,Steve; Samantha in danger of being tied down with Smith; and Carrie dating Aleksandr Petrovsky. Could he finally be the man to make Carrie forget about big once and for all?

It is sad to think that the programe that most of us girls would miss a night out for is nearly over. Where are we going to get all our dressing inspiration from now?

Sex AndThe City isn’t just a television series any more,it’s a cultural and style icon. The programme has not only increased the sales in cocktails and forced bar staff to try to make Cosmopolitans, but is also like a weekly dose of Vogue magazine.

We envy the the four girls’ style,their lunches and their confidence with men. Most of us feel that we can relate to them all in one way or another but will also take advice when it comes to the eternal problems of the opposite sex.

We all want their lives to be our own,and deep down all girls would love to be them. The programe was based upon a book by Candace Bushnell’s that has since become an international sucess. But what are us women meant to do with our two favorite programmes - Sex And The City and Friends - about to finish? We will

New York, New York – so good they named it twice

By Lisa Walkley Going Out Editor

Therecomes a time in every girl’s life when you have to experience New York,not just for the sites but also for the shopping; after all,a trip to the Big Apple is like a pilgrimage to the Mecca of fashion. I packed my bags with all my best Sex And The City kitten heels and outfits ready to mingle with the Carrie Bradshawesque New Yorkers in trendy cocktail

bars fending off all the hot,rich New York men. The fantasy was over when I looked at the weather forecast (in the minuses!) and remembered I was going with my boyfriend. Oh well,at least I could shop! In New York I had the ultimate shopping experience. Say hello to your new best friends: Macy’s,Bloomingdales,DKNY,Calvin Klein – and,of course,Mastercard!

New Yorkers,even in the middle of winter with snow and icy cold wind, still looked fashionable,sexy and

sophisticated. I was dressed in my trusty trainer jeans,massive coat and matching woolly hat,gloves and scarf, which I thought was fab but not compared to New York women. They’ve got dressing for the seasons down to a tee. With funky hats and sassy ear warmers,they looked like they had stepped straight off a catwalk. The main trend I noticed for the winter,not one which is common in the UK,was the combination of light blue fitted jeans with cream suede Eskimo boots,which were available in many different styles in Bloomingdales. The make up was light,big lashes and a natural but pinky blush.

New York men are big on labels with the high salary rates. Gucci, Prada and DKNY clothes are sleek, smart and ultra hip. Other styles involve big baggy skater jeans from Sean John and Rocawear. Jeans are generally very faded with strong designs including detailed stitching, patches,bleach and wear marks. This look is very easy to achieve by customising a pair of jeans,though Topman also has some great new designs this season at bargain prices.

Bute-iful world

Agoraphobic? Broke? There’s no need to go far to see the wonders of the world,you can do it all right here in sunny Cardiff. Emma Langley and LauraTovey show you how

If you dream of foreign locations and exotic climes,stop. There is no reason to leave Cardiff ever again. Whatever you want to visit, from beautiful natural features to historical sights,you can do it in the comfort of your own city. So if you have a tight budget or a strange phobia of straying more than two miles from your own front door, fear not. You can be fabulously well travelled and see all the sights the world has to offer - just follow our simple guide.

1. Central Park / Bute Park

Compared to its New York counterpart,Bute Park has so much to offer: all the fun of an arboretum,gravelled paths and ducks. And if you go after dark,you can make friends with all the dodgy guys in long macs. While you are there,check out the stone cir-

cle:

2. Stonehenge / Standing Stones

One is an ancient and mysterious temple. The other is,well,some rocks in a circle. But is it really worth trekking to Salisbury Plain to see what you can see here in Cardiff? Stonehenge has been fenced off so you can’t even vandalise it,and you’ll have to share it with robed druids. The standing stones in Bute Park only have to be shared with a few magpies and a tramp eating a sandwich. There’s even an altar stone,suitable for sacrifices,although I wouldn’t recommend it if you have a problem with spending time in jail.

3. River Amazon / River Taff One of the greatest rivers in the world,surrounded by breath-taking flora and fauna. There’s even some nice bridges over the Taff. The Amazon,in contrast,is full of mosquitoes and crocodiles,surrounded by pesky jungle. All that trekking through rainforest,not to mention expensive flights and a foreign language. Now doesn’t a nice game of

Bute park: it’s central and it’s a park

The mighty Amazon (above) and the mighty Taff (top)

4. Las Vegas / Grosvenor Casino

Cardiff has other casinos – I’m starting to wonder if there is some kind of mass gambling problem,in fact – but this one is a perfect example of the kind of attractive frontage and charming location that compares so favourably with the glitz and glamour of Las Vegas. In Nevada,you have dancing girls,mini versions of Paris and Egypt and world-famous performers. In Cardiff,you have the lovely Lloyd’s bar,and if you go on a Monday the giant monkeys from nearby Creation might give you a banana. Best of all,there’s no chance of acci-

Above: Las Vegas

Below: You can lose lots of money right here in Cardiff and dust bunnies. What will you find?

So there you have it,your complete guide to the wonders of the world, Cardiff style. Just think,we can have camping holidays outside the Welsh Assembly,build sandcastles on Atlantic Wharf… and we found that a white quilt (just take the cover off, fool!) placed on some stairs makes an excellent replica ski slope. Try sledging down it,and if you get tired after all that activity,you can just wrap yourself up and have a nap.

Forget African safarithere’s plenty of wildlife around your own house. For a change of scene, visit a friend.

All Thai-ed up

Quench recounts a harrowing tale of a traveller’s Christmas in prison. The Beach it certainly isn’t

Illustrations:Tim Clark

Life here took an unexpected turn four days before Christmas when I got into the festive spirit a little early,got a little too pissed and thought it a good idea to jump over the wall at the back of my house. Little did I realise or think about how far the drop might be on the other side and after tumbling over I found myself with blood dripping down my arm,completely stuck at 3am in someone else’s back yard.

Stupidly I banged on the window, leaving a massive blood smear down the window and completely terrorising the next door neighbours. By this point I was terrorised myself; dogs were barking and some old man was shouting. I summoned every last inch of my strength and hauled myself back over the wall and into the safety of my own house. Relieved,I sat back down on the sofa and continued watching a film. We had a knock at the door;

thinking it must be some local coming round for a smoke I stood up and lifted the garage door which is also our front door to reveal,to my horror,a complete platoon of policemen.

“Passport!” one barked,barging his way in,I gave it too him and then he cuffed me and drove me down to the police station. Thinking this all a little over the top,we got there and started apologising,before coming out with the classic and stupidly fearless “You better hope I don’t see you again” They locked me in a bare cell and started kicking the plastic stool they had given me across the cell. Next thing I knew I was taken out of the cell and thrown into another with about ten other guys. The place itself was foul, damp and gloomy,we all had to sleep on the wooden floor,they handed out what you could hardly call blanketsthey were full of holes. In one corner was a communal toilet,I was too tall for the cubical wall,so everytime I needed a piss; first,in order to avoid stage fright I had to wait till I was about to burst,then I’d have to bend right down over the toilet to prevent some of the dodgy motherfuckers from peering over the cubicle and copping a look. It was foul. To make matters worse I hadn’t showered and was beginning to smell and I was desperate for a shit I couldn’t bare to take.

That evening I began having a chat as best I could with a guy who had committed credit card fraud,I asked him if he new how long I was supposed to be in here. He asked the

guard and then turned and told me that I caused a crash and that they were waiting to take me to court. I was suddenly in a state of complete terror. Had I done something I couldn’t remember? had I been that pissed? Had I caused a car crash? Had I inadvertantly committed manslaughter? I had no idea.

Finally we were taken to court. At this point I still had no idea what they were going to charge me with. I was the last of our still cuffed group to be called up infront of the judge/prosecutor. He said something in Thai and there was a moment when I had no idea what in the fuck was going on. Then some smooth talking weazle stood up and translated for me. I was being charged with breaking the peace/domestic disturbance and did I want to contest. Unable to properly remember what had happened I just agreed to the terms. The judge told me that I was to be reprimanded for 12 days. As I left the court,a broken

man,I had no idea where they were going to take me,I knew it was either back to police station or to a prison but I didn’t know which one. They loaded us into a caged vehicle and to my relief returned us to the police station,and to the damp,gloomy,crowded cell.

The days dragged on. There was a guy who kinda controlled what was going on in the cell. He didn’t look Thai to me,more like his mother had mated with an ape and produced this half human half creature. There was a girls cell that looked into ours and he’d spend most of his time swinging on the bars showing off,he was about 30 and took a dislike to me, perhaps because I took some of the attention off him. I hated him. Sometimes I’d just imagine smashing his ugly face in.

Christmas eve came and finally I found a couple of friends. Two opium smugglers were chucked into the cell and set up camp next to me. One of them spoke pretty good English and we exchanged life stories as best we could. I shared my nostalgia for a family Christmas and he told me that he had been out of prison for only six months,he’d been convicted for the same thing,smoking opium,before and was sentenced to a year and a half,when he’d got out his wife had died a week later and he’d gone back to smoking opium,he had a sevenyear-old child and his mother was on her last legs. He faced up to seven years in prison. Suddenly things felt a little better.

up and was chatting to one of the newcomers,who it turned out had beaten someone to death the previous evening with a bat. This was the first murderer I had ever met,and he turned out to be a seriously nice guy. The other guy it seemed had been in a group and he had defended himself. Quite where he managed to get the bat from was a question I didn’t bother to ask.

“This was the first murderer I had ever met, and he turned out to be a seriously nice guy”

Then the cell door swung open and I was told I had a visitor. An old white guy,maybe 60 stood up and said “Jake?” Without thinking I grabbed his hand and started vigorously shaking,“Hi nice to meet you” I said “Do you know who I am?” He asked a little surprised. “Nope” I replied. It turned out that his name was Frank Smith,and that the supposed “victims” of my actions worked for his wife,we had a chat he handed me some fresh fruit and then said the magic words “Right then let’s see if we can get you out of here today”. I could’ve hugged the guy.

That afternoon the victims themselves came to see me. I told them that I was sorry too and then they hit me with the bad news. They had told the authorities that they didn’t want to press charges but the police had to keep me in until the court date unless I could pay bail.

I phoned my parents,It’s best not to go into the next five minutes of conversation. Needless to say they agreed that they would pay the bail right away,however it was a bank holiday,and the weekend was coming up. “Did I have anyone that could lend me the money till then?” they asked,I didn’t. “Who’s phone was I on?”

“Franks” and passed my father over to Frank who left the room. When he came back he looked at me and told me that he’d bail me out. I shakily signed a piece of paper and was released into the sun light where Frank and his wife picked me up and took me home. I have to go to court but I won’t get a criminal recordm,all because a stranger who had never met me,stepped in and did everything in his power to help me.

On Christmas day,a herd of carol singers filtered into the station and begun to sing songs like “we wish you a merry Christmas”. That’s when the full extent of my worse Christmas ever sunk in,I was completely devastated. I picked up a cigarette and a pen and began to write words on it like,prison,nostalgia,hell,etc I lit it and smoked it. Afterwards,for some reason I felt so much better. For the rest of the evening I taught Sharom, the opium smoker,to play noughts and crosses,a lengthy but extremely amusing excercise. That night I prayed and I prayed. I don't believe in God but I prayed seriously hard. I just wanted to get out. By this time I had been in the cell five days,I still hadn’t showered,and in the far corner I could hear apeman and some other hair combing silent assassin giggling away,I looked up and saw them entwined around one another in an almost sickening way. I didn’t sleep. On boxing day the miracle that I had prayed for happened. I had got

Shattered I returned to my cell,frank brought me a KFC and a Bangkok post. I couldn't believe this generosity,I had only met him that morning AND I had scared his Employees. He told me that bail would cost about 450 quid. Did I have anyone to call who might help,my parents maybe? I didn't want to tell my parents or put them through the ordeal of having to pay 450 quid for the act of my stupidity. "But you do get it back," Frank said,I looked at him blankly and he informed me about how bail works.

Jake Tupman currently lives and works in Thailand for an international expedition team. To visit his other work log on to, www.archaengeloni.com.

Are you still digesting the mince pies and Christmas puddings we gave you the recipes for in the last issue? Kim Lyon has some bacteria up her sleeve that might help

Call yourself cultured?

Many of us will have resolved to be healthier this January. If you always seem to fall short of munching your five fruit and veg per day quota,though,here is another way to look after yourself.

Most of us only pay attention to our guts after vindaloo take two, or the morning after several pints of cider. In the world of the healthconscious,however, the gut has reached celebrity status. Increasing numbers of stars report the wonders of colonic irrigation (no comment). On supermarket shelves,ranges of probiotic products are growing.

they mate,and in their procreation they crowd out the nasty bugs.

While the name ‘probiotics’,meaning ‘for life’,may sound futuristic, such products have been taken for years in other parts of Europe and Asia. In Japan,home of Yakult,people munch on probiotic coated sweets, such is their belief in bacteria. To investigate the truth claim of this I decided to swallow my doubts about drinking bacteria and try out all of the available ranges.

I’ll leak you a few secrets on this. The digestive tract is the largest part of our immune system. Bet you didn’t know the average male has 1kg of bacteria in his colon. OK,so maybe you weren’t that interested either. We have about 400 different species of bacteria dwelling in our guts,collectively termed gut microflora by science boffs.

Of these,some are friendly probiotic bacteria. Their not so nice counterparts,pathogens,include the notorious tyrant of the food-poisoning kingdom,E. coli.

Stress,too much alcohol and antibiotics are all enemies of these ‘good’ bacteria. The harmony of the gut is jeopardized,leaving us jaded and at a higher risk of infection. If you have IBS,candida,or are on antibiotics,taking probiotics may be particularly beneficial.

The idea behind probiotics is kind of cute: squillions of diddy bacteria swim unscathed through stomach acid,enzymes and bile until they reach the large intestine. Here

Out of all the probiotic supplements that I tried,Yakult was least palatable. I attempted to down my shot of ‘friendly bacteria’ only to spit it out. It was just too sweet,with a strange mouldy fruit twang.

Similarly untasty was Actimel. I tried the original and orange varieties. The former left a strange aftertaste,while the latter actually had little bits of orange in it. At least,I hope they were fruit remnants. I’ve always thought citrus and dairy are best sampled in separate mouthfuls, and this flavour faux pas proved it. Strawberry and fat free versions are available,along with a new multi-fruit flavour. These sound more palatable, but I couldn’t find them anywhere. I was beginning to get disillusioned. Maybe bacteria is best left lurking under toilet seats.However,I then tried the Müller range. Its Vitality Probiotics were unanimously the favourite amongst my flatmates. It is available in peach and strawberry flavours,both of which are comparable to Yop. One of the tastiest ways of staying healthy,I’d say.

For those of us who don’t know their bio from their BO,certain yoghurts also contain probiotics. Danone Activa are yoghurts which have a culture called bifidus essensis added. As well as helping maintain the balance in your gut,this makes the yoghurt milder and

creamier. I couldn’t quite figure out how Activa yogurts were different to other bio yogurts, other than the fact they’d patented their strain of bacteria. Still, the cereal flavour is moreish and not as sweet as Danone’s bottled products. Alternatively you can save your taste buds the adventure,and buy bacteria in capsule form. These are available from most good health shops.

Before you all rush off on a bacterial (shopping) trip,I should say that the evidence supporting probiotics is inconclusive.

BACTERIAL RANKINGS

1. Müller strawberry Great taste. Yum,yum.

2. Multibionta tablets No taste really; just swallow and let the bacteria do their job.

3. Actimel original Are they really sold out for everything else?

4. Actimel orange Look out for the fruity bits.

5. Yakult Don’t even go there,it’s just not worth it.

Frankenstein food?

Sam Mills reports on the major arguments in the GM food debate and offers his opinion on the subject

Over the past few years there has been a furore in the media regarding genetically modified crops. Be it government support or opposition,environmental groups or the interest of Joe Public; you would have to have moved to the wilds of Antarctica to not know something about GM food.

There are two main questions which need to be addressed on this sensitive subject:what effects can GM food have on humans,and how will it be legislated should it ever arrive in Britain?

Your tomatoes won’t grow teeth,jump up from the plate and take a bite from your face,but is the term ‘Frankenstein food’ really too far from the truth? Professor Dalton,Chief Scientific Adviser to the Department of the Environment and Rural Affairs has a “concern that we are moving specific genes,often just one at a time as opposed to the many thousands you do with normal plant breeding. What we don’t know is the implications of what one foreign gene might have on the other proteins in the recipient plant material.”

What is needed is a serious scientific study of the effects of GM on the plants themselves and the human population. In the 1950s,the pesticide DDT was believed to be safe and so was used near areas of population. As a result,people and wildlife as far away as the South and North Poles are suffering the consequences today in the shape of cancers and concentrated levels of the DDT chemical in their body tissues. It is imperative that a mistake on the magnitude of this is not repeated again.

That may however prove difficult. Research into the health risks of GM food has frequently produced inconclusive findings.

Consequently,statements such as that of the British Medical Association are not uncommon: “We cannot at present know whether there are any serious risks to the environment or to human health involved in producing GM crops or consuming GM food products.” It’s like saying “hey,eat this – it may be bad for you or it may be OK, but we can’t be sure”. Would you risk it?

Another implication of GM is that of labelling and legislation. The New Scientist claims that cloned animals are probably safe for human consumption. At the moment it is economically unviable,due to high costs (with an individual burger costing a mere $20,000). But if the costs were low enough for cloned meat to compete on the market it would not have to be labelled as cloned on supermarket shelves. So basically you could be eating exactly the same joint of beef from what is,scientifically speaking,the same cow,as you did last week,and you wouldn’t even know about it.

Why do some people believe GM to be the way forward? GM can produce crops which are resistant to pests. The environmentalists know this will lower biodiversity even more than intensive farming already has. And believe it or not,pests are still actually important parts of a very delicate ecosystem

which can easily be disturbed. Equally,pests eventually acquire resistance to normal pesticides. Who is to say the same won’t happen to GM?

Another argument states that GM crops will have higher yields than normal crops. The idea is that it could give famine ridden countries the helping hand they need. The problem here is that GM is a science only practised in the western world. For less developed countries to take advantage of GM crops they would have to rely on the rich west,as if their existing debt wasn’t enough.

Another issue to consider is the role of organic farming if GM crops are introduced. It could in fact be almost destroyed. The bee doesn’t know a GM crop from a standard crop,therefore cross-pollination is inevitable. This means that higher steps would have to be taken to ensure that organic really is organic,and the price of non-GM food could rise considerably. There is no obvious solution to the GM discussion. There are strong views for and against in addition to the large number of experts and scientists who sit on the fence. Britain should take in important lessons from an already GM ridden America,but a proper scientific study is also needed. It has been six years since GM crops were planted in Wales. Most Welsh farmers refuse to have it on their land,with good reason.

Feeling a bit sluggish after the festive season? Why not sample some Horny Goat Weed to fuel your appetite?

Elizabeth Bodinger explains

Beans: not just for health freaks

Another Christmas and New Year has been and gone. It is likely that most of you have now stopped eating turkey, depending of course on how crazy your family went with shopping this year; I know plenty of my fellow students who returned to their term time abodes with hampers brimming over with mouth-watering Christmas leftovers.

However it is unlikely that you have managed to shrug off the guilt of gluttony and the sluggish grey feeling of over-indulgence. Do you groan at the thought of sitting in front of the TV, remote control in one hand and a box of Roses in the other? Do you remember the second,third and, even,the fourth helping of Christmas dinner you went for,and do you begin to sweat at remembering the pain? If the answer to these questions and others like them is “yes”,then it’s time for a serious detox.

In the past 20 years or so areas such as organic produce,food supplements,vitamins and self help literature have become commonplace in our regular food and retail haunts; they now constitute a multibillion pound industry.

One company that has gone from strength to strength since the late seventies is Bean Freaks. Situated on St Mary Street and established by Kevin and Hilary Bowles,it sells products for a wide range of consumers. I spoke to Alison James,manager of one of the four Bean Freaks shops in the area, and having worked previously as a beauty therapist,she explained that “the thinking has moved away from looking good on the outside to feeling good from within,” with a greater trend towards people wanting to understand how their bodies work and how they can improve their health.

I remember the health food shops that my parents visited; badly labelled cellophane packets of beige,dried out foodstuffs which resembled cat litter

lined the shelves,with an invigorating smell of soaking tofu hanging in the air and over the socially challenged individual attending the counter. The shops were not user friendly to say the least. My parents never appeared to buy very much and this,I reasoned,was because these matters were very serious and that only a few carefully chosen items were required for optimum health giving.

However,now that I am older,I believe it was likely that they had very little knowledge of what they had actually purchased and consequently had no idea what to do with it on returning home, so the packets remained in the cupboards for many months and our visits to the local health food shop were infrequent. The likes of Bean Freaks and the national chain Holland and Barrett could not be further removed from this unappetising vision of healthy living. The shops are bright and airy,with colourful displays and packaging that explains rather than deters. The shops sell everything from books to supplements,from products suitable for body builders to diabetics and vegans,to products for those of us who just want a seasonal pick me up.

Testament to the power of the products sold is the fact that Alison and her staff are careful to ensure that customers are not taking certain prescription medicines in conjunction with things like St John’s wort,one of the most popular natural anti-depressants available. Another top seller is echinacea,which is said to help in fighting colds and generally bolstering the immune system. Just before Christmas I spotted a sign outside Bean Freaks informing the unsuspecting public that they now stocked Horny Goat Weed,an ancient Chinese medicine made from a plant called epimedium,which increas-

es libido in men and women. Forget oysters - this is a proven aphrodisiac!

Alison went on to tell me that resident in the shop were a qualified nutritionist and herbalist to help with any queries that you may have and that all the staff have a good knowledge of the products for sale. I also asked her opinion on the many heavily publicised celebrity diets,for example the Atkin’s Diet. Her diplomatic response was: “They get results but we would never advocate the removal of an entire food group from the diet. Always get professional advice when undertaking anything of that nature.”

Kevin and Hilary Bowles also run a complementary therapy clinic,where they offer a free consultation and a range of therapies,from colour therapy to food allergy testing. The world of therapies and supplements is no longer the preserve of the rich and famous,we too can enter the mysterious world of health.

Unsurprisingly the busiest times of year for Bean Freaks and undoubtedly shops like them are post-New Year,the season of the healthy kick-start: “In winter and spring people come in with colds and so on,and after New Year everyone has their resolutions.” Indeed they do Alison,but how many of us actually stick to them?

Try this health-boosting concoction to help your liver after all that boozing and ward off those pesky colds that stop you being the diligent student we all know you want to be:

Makes 2 drinks

1 grapefruit 4 oranges 2 lemons

2 limes

Peel the fruit then blend the ingredients together. Drink immediately.

Ross Redfern explores the darker sides of

While the semester begins this week,I feel it is an appropriate time to write about a subject close to my heart.

I first went to university in September 2000. After four months I had dropped out and returned home. What then followed was a succession of doctors, counsellors and psychiatrists. I had been diagnosed with anxiety and depression.

Depression is something that will affect one in four people at some point in their life. Just three years ago I was forced to come to terms with certain things from my past. I began the long and often difficult journey of accepting not only my sexuality,but also more importantly who I was as an individual and what the negative aspects in my life

student excess

tionship to university and student life.

We live in a culture where drinking is deemed socially acceptable. As students,we are seduced by the happy hour and two-for-one offers that feature regularly in our lives. Having seen first hand the effects of drinking on behaviour,on physical and mental health,I feel confident in saying that there exists a real problem amongst the student population that many turn to alcohol to deal with their problems,whether academic,social or emotional.

Clearly,this is a problem that affects wider society to a lesser or greater extent,but,with specific focus on university life,I have been shocked at what I see to be a significant number of students who,unable to come to terms with their situation,whatever that may be,‘drink to forget’ their sorrows by con-

tain feelings or insecurities, but never truly deal with them or get to the root of the problem. These problems can then explode to the surface in the future and cause great harm not only to the individual concerned but to those closest to him or her.

Alternatively they can be faced,dealt with and worked through without suffering hangovers and aggressive displays of intimidation,let alone debt and potential health problems along the way, as can also be the case with gambling and casual sex.

If ever you have considered seeking counselling,my advice would be to give it a try. What have you got to lose? The university has a great resource that is available to all students. It is free and confidential,and there is no commitment if you decide it is not for you. The first step is often the hardest and new paths may seem daunting at first,but from personal experience it is a journey that is well worth taking.

Please don’t suffer in silence. My story is not as uncommon as is often believed.

were that needed to change.

A long way down

I spent the summer of 2003 considering my options. Part of me felt ready to give ‘the whole studying thing’ another go,but I was also all too aware of the (anxious) part of me saying that I would not cope on my own and was still not ready to study. After much thought and a decision to take anti-anxiety medication once again,I packed my bags and headed for Cardiff. I have not regretted that decision once in the past four months.

I have not been without my bad days here. Life is all about ups and downs and riding with the waves. Nowadays,I can usually sense why and when I feel bad,having become more in tune with myself,my emotions,desires and intuition.

I have for as long as I can remember had an interest in understanding society in the general sense of the word,but more specifically,how individuals learn to integrate and interact with each other and sometimes even break down within that superstructure.

It is from this point today that I feel able to express my views and my concerns about mental health and its rela-

suming excessive amounts of alcohol.

It is not just alcohol but drugs, gambling and casual sex which are also commonly used and abused as means of escape and/or self- harm.

Many of these have extremely addictive qualities that make you feel great in the short term,but leave you feeling empty and craving more in the long term. I don’t believe many things in life come for free and there is all too often a high price to pay for instant gratification.

I am no prude,no moral crusader nor a teetotal recluse (not that I am judging that choice of lifestyle in any way). As a student,I am all too aware of high workloads,social commitments,family pressures and a whole host of things that can often make life a struggle.

We all like to relax,let off steam and forget about these ‘stresses’ whenever we can. Neither am I saying that everybody suffers with ‘issues’ and that alcohol is the Devil’s drink; everything in moderation,right?

I wish only to highlight certain habits that if gone unchecked have the potential to intensify and indeed worsen cer-

Right royal mess Features

After a messy year the royal family are hoping things are now looking up, Victoria Corbett reports on the year they would prefer to forget

When the royal family gathered together for their own New Year celebration they must have raised a glass in thanks and hope. Thanks that this nightmare of a year is over and hope that 2004 will bring fewer headline shockers.

Of course with the inquest into Princess Diana’s death underway,it does not look like they are going to get off that easily.

The royals of course will always be a tabloid dream. Not only do they have celebrity status across the globe but they are conditioned by the nature of their position to be proper and perfect at all times. So when one of them does screw up,as human beings tend to,the press have a field day.

2003 was not Prince Charles’ year; first he was accused of being a homosexual and then a murderer. The vague revelations of Charles being caught in a ‘compromising position’ with a servant really got the rumour mill churning,but surely even the tabloids wouldn’t buy into the Diana murder conspiracy story. Would they?

The problems began in March

“The internet has once again provided a place for conspiracy theories surrounding that night in Paris.”

when Sir Michael Peat (the Prince’s private secretary) published a report describing there had been deficiencies in the way royal gifts were dealt with. A slight bump in the road but not a complete melt down.

A former royal footman called George Smith sold a story to the Mail on Sunday in October that claimed he had been raped by a male member of the royal staff. In his interview he claimed he had also witnessed Charles partaking in homosexual activity with another member of staff. The specifics of the activity itself were never revealed,but by these claims you can imagine the Palace must have been a

It’s been a tough year for the Queen

party platform which could rival even that of Michael Barrymore.

A swift PR strategy seemed to quell the newspapers’ speculation,but the internet provided an open forum to find out what Charles was actually supposed to have done. The strong army of lawyers at Charles’s disposal would have dealt with any news organisation

“You can imagine the palace must have been a party platform which could rival even that of Michael Barrymore”

that did publish the full story of the allegations swiftly.

Paul Burrell of course wrote himself off the royal family Christmas card list years ago. He crops up every now and then to show the world the next bit of Princess Diana memorabilia he choos-

es to sell,then disappears in a flurry of book sales. The unveiling of a letter in the summer written by the Princess to Burrell claiming that someone (the name was initially blanked out) was planning a fatal car crash for her got him on the bestseller list. But was it proof that Diana had been murdered?

The story reared its ugly head again in December last year when the Mirror declared it was Charles that Diana had named as her future killer. The Mirror was condemned for publishing the letter,this incident showed the paper had absolutely no thought for the feelings of Princes William and Harry.

Since the surfacing of the letter an inquiry has been opened to investigate its possible truth. The verdict of this is due some time in the

next month,the result of which is anyone’s guess. However testimony from witnesses has revealed no unusual circumstances.

The internet has again provided a place for conspiracy theories surrounding the circumstances of that night in Paris in 1997 on which Diana and her lover Dodi Fayed were killed. People have speculated that she was assassinated by MI6,others say that business enemies of the Fayed family murdered her,and some even say the Princess faked her own death to get away from the constant press attention.

But when the chapter on Princess Diana is finally closed and a definite explanation is stamped on the case, will the rumour mill begin to slow down? The two princes,William and Harry,have always been shielded from the press,but how long can this continue? Is 2004 going to be another year in the headlines for the royals?

Charles: They say Idid what?

Princess Anne and her beloved bull terriers, Florence and Dotty

Bog o off

By Ian Loynd

The union is central to a Cardiff student’s way of life. It is an environment in which we work and socialise,reassured by the knowledge that we do so safely. Unless you go to the toilet,that is.

The infamy of the union toilets has plagued its staff and executive body for years. They have become increasingly popular as cottaging grounds for gay men in Cardiff. Cottaging is the name given to a homosexual act in a public toilet.

In our union’s history,this has resulted in glory holes (holes drilled through cubicle walls for the purpose of two men pleasuring each other) being bored with battery operated power tools in the building’s toilets. It has encouraged people into the union who would otherwise have no reason to be there.

Upon the discovery that the students’ union was being advertised on the internet as a ‘good place’ for cottaging,a remedy was immediately actioned by non-sabb Ian Hibble. It was felt that the act of cottaging posed a hygiene risk to other users. Furthermore,if the toilets were being used by external members of the public for the purpose of meeting gay students,there was clearly cause for concern for such students’ safety. Union staff fixed steel plates to the cubicle walls to prevent holes being

bored,and were wholly successful in their task.

With the notoriety of the union established,though,the toilets continue to be used as a meeting place for gay men. With glory holes now almost impossible to drill,graffiti is the preferred method of choice for arranging a meeting.

The idea is a simple one; one man writes a message on the wall. It is invariably extremely explicit. He may leave an email address or a mobile number. Another man writes a date, time and place alongside the message. I presume a meeting then takes place.

My research thus far begs two questions: Is this a method genuinely used by gay men to meet in Cardiff? And how much does it really put people at risk?

In response to the first,I decided to test the validity of these messages. Under a pseudonym,I sent text messages to the numbers brandished across the toilet walls. They read "I got your number from the union toilets.You interested in a meet? TB". I received the following in response: "Age,looks,likes,from,name etc." and "WHAT U LOOK LIKE WHAT U INTO WHERE U LIVE". To save my blushes, and those of my new acquaintances,I did not persist. I sent emails with a similar message. The response? "Sure,I’d just like to **** *** ***. Thursday night do ya?". The graffiti is clearly genuine.

In response to the second question,risks are small yet present. In the most extreme claim,one male student reported that he had contracted chlamydia through using union toilets. This was neither confirmed nor disproved and no formal action could be taken.

Larry Daley,Cardiff Students’ Union House Services Manager,commented on his concerns over this matter. He claims that his staff worry for their own safety as well as that of the students who use the union building:"I have no opinion on cottaging. I have concerns about the hygiene dangers it presents. Graffiti should be discouraged. A student who chooses to meet another man in this way may be putting himself at risk.

"Please stop the use of graffiti. For reasons of health,safety and cost."

Cottaging does no favours for gay students in Cardiff. The explicit nature of the graffiti offends. It attracts mindless responses such as “Jesus loves you,but not if u r a sh*tkicker” and “Gays OUT”. Cottaging is not representative of the gay community and most gay students would not wish to be associated with the act. Yet let us not assume that this is the fetish of dirty old men. Perhaps cottaging is the only way for gay men who feel they cannot come out to explore their sexuality.

Cardiff students pride themselves on the union. It is a shame to see it so misused.

Gay Zto

Johnnies

Condoms are as integral to sex as the cigarette afterwards. They may really spoil the moment but we know only too well their importance. The availability of free condoms in gay bars and clubs is a telling reminder of the gay community’s pro-active response to education about STDs. How long until you can pick them up for free in Creation,I wonder?

King’s Cross Lush

The name really does say it all. Lush is a newly opened bar,opposite the King’s Cross. It’s not the cheapest of drinking establishments but well worth it if you want a quiet drink in fantastic surroundings.

Though one of Cardiff’s oldest gay venues,it is the least popular amongst students. Located in the Hayes area of Cardiff,the King’s Cross offers little more past its cheesy glitz and drag queens. If you’re the karaoke type,I’m sure you’ll love it.

Would you like to contribute? Send your articles or ideas to grgay@cardiff.ac.uk or come in and see us on the fourth floor of the students’ union.

We are looking in particular for articles relating to being a gay student in Cardiff. Has being gay affected your academic work? Did you get the support you needed? Do you feel safe as a gay person in Cardiff? What’s the gossip from last Wednesday night?

Such Is The Way To The Stars

Human Recordings

Yet another example of how the British Rock Youth have been corrupted by the spectre of American radio-friendly emo. All One Surface are proficient enough to have crafted a solid debut of carbon copy rock fodder which, whilst being reasonable background music,has very little of merit or distinction to recommend about it. Fans of the genre may enjoy tracks like Compensate and One Last Throw but the rest of us will be no worse of from giving this a miss.

Andy Parsons

MICHAEL ANDREWS

Donnie Darko:Official Soundtrack Sanctuary

Described in the sleeve as "hauntingly beautiful" the score for the film Donnie Darko is a mixed bag at best. Some of the tracks stand out as perfect orchestra and piano demonstrations of the fragility portrayed in the film, and sound great as pieces in there own right. Others just don't hold their own on CD; out of the context of the film they seem somewhat incomplete,and do not make for great listening. If moody instrumental music is your thing,or you loved the film, this soundtrack is decent enough; otherwise,steer clear. The Gary Jules cover of Mad World is still as good as ever,but what happened to the other 80s brilliance that was in the film? Because it doesn't appear on here!

Sam Mills

The Red Printz EP Wichita Bumblebeez' second EP is seven tracks of Australian electro-hip-hop which starts

wait long to get stuck in: opener We Come In Peace is a steel toe-capped boot straight to the smellybridge (that’s that wobbly bit between your arse and your balls,fellas) of the Blair ‘n Bush brigade. And being the most danceable cut of cloud searing disco heard in a year,it’s forgiven all its lazy anti-war clichés. Relax has a bit more IQ; "Relax… if they’re suspicious we can change the facts" Conn sarcastically croons,along to a Princely slap of glitter funk. "I’m making love to you!" he gasps over and over on My Special Friend. Truly,this stuff could loosen the panties of every American pie-scoffing,jock-riding, “God’s on our side” hickchick going. Surely protest music shouldn’t be so brilliantly jizzy? Jamie Fullerton

r e n c h b l i s s

Talkie Walkie

Source/Virgin

Chill-out music is shit,right? All that Zero 7,Lemon Jelly palaver; nothing more than lukewarm bath music. Air have always been beacons in the genre however; thanks to their peerless pedigree and an ear for an angelic tune. Having hugely hooked singles like Sexy Boy and Radio Number 1 has helped rather than hindered too.

There’s no such top-ten troubler in their new set; just ten tracks of deitic loveliness (think Moon Safari at a mermaid’s party),that’s almost enough to save the pool of what we grossly call ‘ambient dance’ from ditchwater mediocrity by itself.

So if this is bath music,think of it as the most expensively pungent Radox Boots has to offer. You know,the kind that gives the girl an orgasm in the adverts. Jamie Fullerton

averagely with Brooklyn,but improves steadily. Think The Neptunes with even more talent,humour,and a healthy dose of self-mockery. They're at their best when combining moody basslines,messy noises and rhymes about how great they are,such as on Pink Fairy Floss,and they look all

set to become the next big thing with fans and haterz of the genre alike. David Ford

Kill The Last Romantic Jive

The Homeland Thrill Jockey Jeezus,Conny Boy doesn’t

Kill the last romantic? More like kill the rock’n’roll. Easyworld,the cutest toiletplaying band of the last five years,may have lost their edge. Pia-pia-piano can secure their already adoring fans but might not create any new ones. Despite this, the Casio kids’ instruments and Dav’s soaring vocal could still win you over. These eyelinered lovelies are a welcome diversion from the ‘new-vintage’ cool that the music scene remains so desperate for. Nathalie Southall

B e s t F r a n z

FRANZ FERDINAND

Franz Ferdinand Domino

Archduke Franz Ferdinand’s assasination 90 years ago caused enormous amounts of shock and awe around the globe. Similarly,his namesakes have caused just as much divisive debate. Their second single, Take Me Out,hit number three in the charts and had rave reviews,but are the Glaswegian lads another one rock hit wonder? Absolutely not.

With this album,Franz Ferdinand have taken 70s new wave and punk,and added the excitement of a young Brit going to bash the bosh in the trenches. Their two singles pale in comparison to the brilliance of Matinee,which could so easily have been released by Blondie without anyone knowing. Michael is a joyous celebration of

dancehall gods,while This Fire verges on going out of control,but Franz are so tight that even a World War I artillery battle couldn’t throw them off their timing. Even the slow,mellow songs such as Cheating On You fail to resist the urge to touch on the slight disco feel that makes you want to dance to every track.

The hype is hard to resist but it is in no way undeserving; the album lives up to every expectation that the singles have created and, oh fuck it, album of the year. Easy. Anthony Lloyd

GARY

Trading Snake Oil For Wolftickets

Sanctuary

Gary Jules was vocalist on this year’s Christmas number one. However,on his debut long player, Mad World is the only ethereal piano ballad and it feels out of place at the end of a set of listenable Simon & Garfunkel-esque folk songs. There’s no doubting the distinctiveness of his voice and the sincerity of his words,but surely it’s not right that the second best song is the hidden track?

Rob Telford

KINOBE

Wide Open

Pepper

As in “you might remember us from that Kronenbourg ad”. Kinobe pitch their own output firmly in the chilled/ambient camp, which predictably means plenty of skilled sonic soundscaping but very little in the way of actual tunage. Unfortunately,while Wide Open grazes ‘eclectic’ with its fusion of skanks,beats ‘n samples,it doesn’t come within a country mile of ‘interesting.’ Gareth Lloyd

Square One

Warner

Despite having some of the worst artwork ever to grace Quench's corridors,Irelands answer to Jim O'Rourke minus the misanthropy returns with a third album of jolly but unthreatening folk-lite. Over two years since relative breakthrough Big Romance won many friends but few lovers,the progression in sound from the acoustic + drum machine drizzle to a bigger, multi-instrumental downpour does Kitt favours in terms of size,though matching the triumphant brass and pastural strings with his own thoroughly undramatic voice leads to a bit too much waterlogging in places. It's not without

DAVID KITT

its charm (the cheeky melodic thieving from Nick Cave on House With Trains and the drifting Saturdays sparkle),but overall the general absence of lyrical interest means the lag between Kitt and the aforementioned O'Rourke is somewhat gaping.

John Widdop

Blaen Troeder

Dock Rad

...Or the Super Furry Animals of hip-hop. Akin to the Furries in more than just nationality,moustached Welsh-language rapper MC Saizmundo knows his way around inventiveness,and clearly doesn't misplace the idea that originality is more than a benefit when it comes to this sort of thing. Moving aside from oh-sohilarious stereotypes of the language making rappers ‘spit’ better rhymes,the almost entirely Welsh Blaen Troedar is musically competent in its accompaniment: catchy,at times destructive, stark and plaintive (particularly on closing track Yn Enw Duw,an anti-war effort rapped down the phone to

the Oval Office to the backing of a local children’s choir and,naturally, machine gun fire). Consequently,the lyrics often take second place to the genuine brilliance of their foundations. However, if you do happen to be blessed with bilingualism, then the soundclashes of superhero themes,staccato strings and haphazard beats will no doubt,sound even better. The valley Streets never sounded so good. John Widdop

MOTÖRHEAD

Live At Brixton Academy Steamhammer

This new release from the dirty and diseased grandaddies of rock marks the 25th anniversary of their neolithic existence. Never a band to compromise,the entire set showcases their brutally effective ability to write tunes made from guts and mortar. While a little repetitive,I would rather listen to Ace Of Spades a thousand times than the New York whinings of some mediocre 'The' band. All in all,a rock’n’roll tombstone of efficiency and grit. Craig Driver

Get Saved

Rykodisc

This band have been getting plenty of attention recently and it’s not hard to see why. They take the quirky indie rock of bands like Franz Ferdinand and and inject it with a shot of beefy DC style post hardcore. Many of the songs also have the same powerfully melodic rockage that Samiam do so well. Really, really good shit! Luke Grahame

Pawn Shoppe Heart

Sire/Reprise Garage rock. It’s been,it’s gone,it’s been back in disco-funk form and now The Von Bondies are showing that you can be stripped down and still be heavier

Moby: Voodoo Child/Monkey Boy; delete as applicable

Written and produced by Moby,but by no means Moby in essence. Moby uses the pseudonym Voodoo Child to enable him to 'concentrate on the music' rather than commercialism. This theory appears to have flunked since the tracks can seem repetitive and quite frankly boring! While the album fulfills Moby's aim to create an underground electronic dance sound,such a sound appeals only to a select few. This album is most likely to remain underground and unnoticed. Debbie Green

than three days at Ozzfest. The Bondies seem to have been around for ages but this is still only their second album,for which they have kept the simple rock’n’roll but cranked the volume and distortion up to blow The White Stripes back to Chicago. Broken Man has a strange irony to it given Jason Stollsteimer’s recent appearance and the guitars have an indescribable sense of urgency,as if

the next half an hour had their lives depending on it. Not That Social sees the first outing for guitarist Carrie Smith on lead vocals,a Breeders-esque track which continues to show that The Von Bondies aren’t your usual onedimensional,let’s look cool, forget the music garage rock band. Anthony Lloyd

Baby Monkey Mute

PILOT TO GUNNER

VOODOO CHILD

MC SAIZMUNDO

Singles

Man Bites Man EP V2

OK, it’s not dying and it’s in a bus, but you try finding a picture of a dog dying in a hot car.

Catalyst Beggar's Banquet

Although the start gives the impression this song is numetal,it is not. Switches between sections of rock and calm melody keeps the song gripping. Although nothing original,if a rock version of Elbow sounds appealing,then have a listen. Barry Thompson

er tedious one-single-airplay forgettable Scandinavian quintet with quirky titles played by Mark and Lard once,and also being friends with the Libertines. Great! John Widdop

The Wild Son

Rough Trade

Sometimes,you’ve just got to say goodbye and move on. Now might be one of those times. While there will always be a special place in our hearts for The Strokes,it looks like 2004 will be the year that the fuzz of garage rock clears,and whip-smart sun-seeped tunes are given their time to shine. With the likes of Franz Ferdinand and Hot Hot Heat offering a pedigree of precision that matches their trouser stitching,the clean-cut fist-pumping songwriting The Smiths first polished us with is back. Man Bites Man shows that Dogs Die In Hot Cars want in on the action too; it’s a frantic,gobby rattle complete with jumpy piano hops,Madness-but-good bursts of flowering brass, and the kind of churning,wobble-along chorus that makes your heart do the tango with your brain. It’s your new best friend; it’s to die for; it’s hot property. It’s every lazy ‘lets wittily integrate the band name into the conclusion’ going. Jamie Fullerton

blues to clear the winter cobwebs away. Andy Parsons

Change My Mind

Domino

Blessed with more slide ‘geetar’ and frantic banjo strumming than you can shake a stick at,The Blueskins explode into 2004 with this two-minute redneck masterpiece. The bastard offspring of Deliverance and AC/DC, Change My Mind is the perfect blast of warm summer

The Smell

Kennel Records

“Liar,cheater,bogey eater / Look out everyone,here comes Peter!“ Engerica don't seem to take themselves too seriously and are all the better for it,as this extremely catchy and enjoyable blast of punk rock shows.

David Ford

Stumble & Fall Vertigo

If the Strokes had a frantic one night stand with The Libertines this would be their snazzy sprog of an offspring. Where Busted are the foul toilet stench of music Razorlight are the toilet duck. Sharp name; sharp song. Craig Driver

Volcano 14th Floor

Rice's album O is arguably one of the best folk records of the last 10 years,and Volcano is a swirling, delightful duet that'll seap into your soul and make your heart thump in your chest. Eat his dust,Starsailor.

Rob Telford

Pigs And Their Farms

Shifty Disco Indie-schmindie upstarts The Unisex, aside from having the least applicable name in history given the gruntyyet-floppy band shots on the sleeve,can also lay claim to being yet anoth-

A song full of sweetness and grace that sounds like The Divine Comedy with a little less wit and a little more thrust. If this were a colour though it would be magnolia: nice,comfortable,but not particularly clever. Craig Driver

Sire/Reprise

Slightly disappointing compared to previous material. It’s good though – a short, sweet blast of a song that’s over before you know what’s hit you. Packs more energy than a Lucozade factory. Tarro Heyes

THESTROKES

Reptilia

Rough Trade

Infectious guitars accompanied by the husky vocals of Justin Casablancas define this as another quality track from The Strokes. Catchy and vibrant it makes even the morose want to shake their heads up and down. Definitely one for your record collection.

C’mon C’mon

Turbonegro: He’s a bank clerk in the day y’know

Photo:Tim Alban

frenzy. Crowd favourite Get it

TJ’s,Newport

Tuesday 9 December

Four years after splitting up in the psychiatric ward of an Italian hospital, Turbonegro returned to these shores to promote their new LP Scandinavian Leather. With a stage act that would make The Village People proud, the Norwegians have managed to build up a worldwide following in their 15 plus years of touring,with such music luminaries as Dave Grohl and Jello Biafra counting themselves as members of the denim demon's fan club. Now adopting a sound that owes more to mid-period Alice Cooper than the band's death punk anthems of old,the band soon whipped the TJ's audience into a sailor hat tossing

On (which includes a respectful amount of riff-copping from The Dictators) inspired the blood and sweat drenched crowd to do just that. The call-and-response of their unofficial theme song I Got Erection puts an end to the evening’s proceedings,and the band disappeared into the cold Newport night. Homoerotic posturing has rarely tasted so good. Jim White

Millennium Stadium,Cardiff

Saturday 20 December

One of Cardiff’s last concerts of the year also turned out to be one of the biggest,as Stereophonics played a Christmas Millennium Stadium gig on the last leg of their latest You Gotta Go There To Come Back tour. The evening began with a half-

hour slot from Ocean Colour Scene minus their recently departed bassist; who,despite frequent yet undeserved media criticism,managed to get the crowd warmed up nicely for what was ahead,with the superb Day We Caught The Train the highlight. Likewise,Feeder’s longer set featured similar crowd-pleasers, none more poignant than Just The Way I’m Feeling ,introduced with a dedicationto "absent friends".

By the time the ‘Phonics took to the stage,the atmosphere was one of excitement,the crowd anticipating that the band had saved their best gig till last. This was reiterated by Kelly,who told the thousands of loyal Welsh that it was good to be home. Sporting a typically patriotic Welsh flag and occasionally a retro black hat,the lead singer led the band through their well-known repertoire of songs from all four of their albums. Although the crowd reacted enthusiastically to the newer stuff,it was earlier songs,those which got most into the band such as Just Looking,Local Boy and Thousand Trees ,which received the biggest ovations early on. These were well complemented with interludes of the Beatles’ Don’t Let Me Down and Manfred Mann’s Handbags And Gladrags . If there was one criticism to be made,however; it would be that the best tunes were all played in quick succession in the first hour and a half leaving only the latest,less popular tracks for the encore. The evening was rounded off unexpectedly yet topically with Slade’s Merry Christmas Everybody - a fitting conclusion for one of Britain’s bestloved exports. Nick Rosenthal

Stereophonics: Sleeping up with the Joneses. ‘Cos they’re boring, like. Sorry. It’s late

Bath Pavilion

Sunday 7 December

On a chilly Sunday evening in an oversized village hall,the West Country collectively strapped on its stripy scarves and ill-advised fringes to unite under the banner of finely crafted indie tunage. First up are Franz Ferdinand. They are officially high brow (they’ve been on Radio Four) and officially about to be pretty darn famous. It’s not hard to see why. Despite looking like extras from Gregory’s Girl,the stare-iest band in rock bang out a perfect half hour of angular,quite brilliant music. Glassyeyed lead singer Alex Kapranos perfectly occupies the middle ground between Ian Curtis and Billy Mackenzie.

As all 900 members of Belle & Sebastian take to the stage,they’ve got a hard act to follow. Despite somewhat lacklustre beginnings,they are soon on fine form,treating us to whimsical,heart string tugging songs from recent album Dear Catastrophe Waitress. Even a man persistently shouting “play the Smiths!” for the entire duration of the set fails to dampen their gentle,melodic glow. All in all the self proclaimed new Scottish gentry and the,erm,old Scottish gentry treat us to a rather special evening. Maria Thomas

THE STROKES

Wednesday 3 December

The Strokes have undoubtedly acquired a cult following. Hoards of

twenty-somethings sporting blazers, ties and 'just got out of bed’ hair descend on Cardiff on a Wednesday night. They were a clear example of a band with a brand that works.

Whether you follow the view that The Strokes were simply in the right place at the right time (the media were looking for something different to liven up a dragging market for the new millennium),there's no doubt they deliver a unique performance to a crowd that loved them.

Their late entrance only enhanced the already charged atmosphere. Furthermore,favourites such as Last Nite and New York City Cops quash fears of it being purely a plug for the new album Room On Fire

The Strokes epitomised rock starchic. They exuded edgy sophistication and a self assurance which could only come from the immense success of their debut album Is This It.

Although The Strokes are good at delivering the tight,melodic tracks which characterise their first album,the inexact sound of new tracks such as Automatic Stop stand to show that they are capable of more. While the crowd weren't as responsive to the new stuff,it won’t be long until tracks like 12:51 and Under Control get the same reaction as favourites such as Someday

Yet everything from the drooping fag in Nick's mouth to Julian's monotone American drawl screamed plastic. It all seemed a bit too contrived,a bit too perfect. Spontaneity wasn't even saved for the encore,as there wasn't one! Instead the set ended with a shrill,high-pitched sound that resembled a university residence fire alarm.

Ultimately the set was functional but bland. The crowd got what they expected but the delivery lacked personality,or spark. Claire Owen

LINKIN PARK

Cardiff International Arena

Tuesday 25 November

Whilst Linkin Park may not do anything life-changing,they must be given credit for doing what some bands could do with trying: simply playing their material,and playing it well. At least,that’s what the first half of the night’s show demonstrated. It was a shame they felt the need to slip into every American rock band cliché: from the nauseating expressions of love for Cardiff and Wales to their Green Dayesque stunt of getting audience members to play guitars on stage,LP tried it all. While most songs proved worthy of the CIA stage,one of their better tracks, Pushing Me Away,was horrendously tortured by their rendition of the remix that appears on second album Reanimation,the first of their Hybrid Theory penny-squeezing ideas. Nowadays,they’ve decided that charging 20 quid for a T-shirt is a lot easier. Sam Coare

IRON MAIDEN + FUNERAL FOR A FRIEND

Cardiff International Arena

Tuesday 16 December

Richey Edwards once declared that “all rock’n’roll is homosexual”. I didn’t quite believe him until tonight. This tour,defiantly named the Dance Of Death tour,is camp blood‘n’thunder rock at its most gloriously decadent. I was worried that the ageing rockers had watched Spinal Tap believing it to be a template for rock’n’roll excess rather than a spoof. Thankfully the quality of the music relieves any such anxieties and lives up to the grandiose setting. Bruce Dickinson leads the charge as he jumps and wails like a satanic Peter Pan determined to let Wendy have it. The rest of the band,looking slightly arthritic it has to be said,play with an exuberance and professionalism that puts most NME rock wannabes to shame. During the show Maiden treat us to a five-minute WWII drama,simulated lightning storms,20ft high Grim Reapers that walk the stage attacking the guitarist,and a visit from a 15ft high cloaked Eddie that attempts to claim our souls. Funeral For A Friend, although highly promising,are made to look somewhat amateur and out of their depth in comparison. If rock’n’roll is indeed homosexual then tonight, Matthew,Iron Maiden are Dale Winton and rightly so. Craig Driver

Cardiff International Arena

Absolutely fabulous

MUSE

Cardiff International Arena

Monday 1 December

Many bands these days seem unable to reproduce live performances fit to grace an arena full of adoring fans, which match both the sound and expertise displayed on their studio albums. Fortunately for the elite bunch of Muse fans however,this isn’t the case. Indeed,not only does their band produce performances which confirm what talented musicians each of the trio are,they also demonstrate a unique on-stage energy,more original and thrilling than the majority of their contemporaries. The ability to change the mood in the CIA so radically from one moment to the next,playing explosive Rage Against The Machine-

inspired tracks followed by Rachmaninov-influenced classical pieces,shows a truly remarkable talent.

After a soft-sounding but melodic support slot from Manchester group Elbow,which seemed to warm up the crowd nicely,Matt Bellamy and co took to the stage for a 90 minute plus set which did not disappoint. With a couple of thousand enthusiasts chanting every chorus,sometimes drowning out the lead singer,the group went through some of their most popular material,the majority coming from their latest album, Absolution Throughout,Bellamy’s intense vocals soared through the arena,sometimes hitting unbelievably high notes,a gift which makes him stand out as one of the most distinctive sounding front-

men in music today. The highlights were undoubtedly past singles New Born, Plug In Baby and Time Is Running Out,but every song on the setlist appeared to provoke frenzied excitement in the predominantly younglooking audience,who were rewarded with Muse’s customary giant inflatable balloons and a ticker-tape sprinkling at the finale.

Clearly,while it is Bellamy’s talented vocals,guitar and piano playing,that has brought them to the fore of the public’s attention,the skill and musicianship of all three members remains as admirable as anything else about the band. Nick Rosenthal

Photo:Simon Shoulders

h e e s y D i c k

Great Hall,Cardiff

Saturday 13 December 2004 is likely to be a crunch year for Electric Six. One suspects that they should be asking themselves some serious questions about how much

Valentine’s gay: Electric 6 charge up the Great Hall

jure up an Endless Nameless,let alone a Heart Shaped Box

Kid Symphony show some signs of hope,but someone should inform them that we’ve already experienced Mansun once and that was plenty enough. They play with energy and charisma and keep the crowd entertained,though good tunes seem to be the missing piece in their puzzle.

Electric Six,however,have energy, tunes and charisma to spare - so why does their set seem listless and flat? Perhaps it’s the sheer lack of substance to many of the songs,or maybe the arrogance Dick Valentine displays on stage as he counts notes from his wallet during a blistering Danger! High Voltage. After 12 months of meteoric success it seems clear the band must make a serious choice: either embrace the novelty act schtick they’ve cultivated round themselves and write some more killer singles before it’s too late,or start taking it all a lot more seriously and using their talent to better effect. Anything else and it may not be long before they’re headed for the bargain bins. Andy Parsons

BROADCAST

+ THE PROJECTS + TRANSPOSER

ClwbIfor Bach,Cardiff

Monday 8 December

Transposer kick off tonight's proceedings by swapping their guitars for a humble laptop. The result is some uplifting,tuneful,but ultimately uninspiring synthesised sine-wavery. The standard is raised however,by promising new band The Projects,who captured the imagination of all who witnessed them. Their playful sunny electronica gets the room shaking their hips,if not actually dancing, and was topped off by the use of that underrated instrument,the triangle.

more mileage their novelty act and two good singles can give them before the inevitable backlash arrives.

Little Nikita,however,have no such worries – a backlash forms after their very first song tonight. Ripping off the Pixies wholesale might have worked for Kurt Cobain,but tonight this trio show little sign of being able to con-

The mood was thus all set for gentle Warp label indie electro-poppers Broadcast to finish off the night in style. Songs from their latest album Haha Sound blended well with the older material,and while the audience can still not be persuaded to dance, the mood is tranquil and appreciative. Vocalist Trish Keenan is resplendent at the helm,her voice finely complementing the band's mix of keyboards and guitars,all in all making for a very pleasant night.

David Ford

Photo:TimAlban

Welsh gold!

In the coming weeks,we take a look at the best recent Welsh literature happening right under your noses

AS I WAS A BOY FISHING

Lewis Davies

Parthian

The publisher text on the back cover of the book claims that Davies’s collection of essays animates the lives of ‘people on the margins’.

As I Was ABoy Fishing is a collection of short essays, poems and anecdotes with themes from everyday life,accompanied by photographs taken by the author’s partner. Some of Davies’s essays have been published before in other books and magazines. One of the essays (“Pieces Of Happiness”) is an edited version of a PhD thesis submitted to Cardiff University.

The lives we hear about in the essays are the lives of people who really don’t make a difference in the world. Their activities are largely irrelevant to others. In many cases they live those rather boring ordinary lives most students swear they’ll never lead. Can essays about ordinary lives be meaningful? Yes,if they are written by Lewis Davies.

Seemingly out of nothing,Davies creates compelling questions and thoughts on diverse subjects such as socialism,religion,gender,race,the Welsh identity and the memories of childhood. The essays are in most cases overtly political or philosophical and this acts as a red line which connects the different bits of text and photographs with each other.

The book seemed rather random at first,but the persistent reader will discover that there is a meaningful basis on which all the stories are built. If you are not the type to look for links and similar ground the book can offer an occasional poetic and subtly emotional style of writing. A definite high-

light in this respect is “Gone From Under Your Nose”,in which the nostalgic mood of the writing is perfectly consistent with the theme of a foregone era of Welsh rugby. If only this style appeared more frequently! Davies should have spent more time on adding some flavour to the rest of essays,an effort which the book as a whole would have benefited from. Even so, As I Was ABoy Fishing is an experimental book. It is worth reading if you are after something totally different or want to support some local Welsh talent. Mari Ropstad

WHITE STAR

Robin Llewelyn Parthian

“It was after the paper revolution,on the night we gained our freedom,that my troubles started.” These are the opening words of this novel and our first meeting with Gwern,its unlikely hero. The plot is simple enough. Gwern Excuses,Saffron Tinker and Pilgrim World are sent to the frontlines by the Answer Keeper to defend Small Country from the evil Heartless Bodies. The Heartless Bodies are the army of the Exile States who have decided to regain control over Small Country after Gwern managed to hack into their software. The three heroes blunder their way across the states such as Sunless Summer,Great Winter and Bhaarata in search for support to the Alliance fighting the Exile States.

They encounter many obstacles on their way,but manage to outwit several Swarthy Cavedwarves,Wire Bandits and Heartless Bodies. Gwern is able to secure independence for Small Country,but he dies trying to save his

beloved Caress Heart who has been taken prisoner by Rausman,the prince of the Exile States. Sounds familiar? White Star does bear a striking resemblance to the Lord Of The Rings trilogy.

The novel was originally published in Welsh in 1992 and won a number of prices,including the Arts Council of Wales Book of the Year Award and the Prose Medal at the National Eisteddfod. The English version is published this month,impeccable timing if you are not suffering from Tolkien overdose.

Language-wise,the story is successful,although the sad fact is that it probably sounds better in its original language. The journey is described playfully and imaginatively. The book is also a brave experiment with genre. In an attempt to place the novel one would end up with a description of part sci-fi,part quest with elements of fantasy and adventure,a rather bizarre mix which failed to impress this reviewer. It also takes too much time to get into the plot and understand what is actually going on. Stick with it though,and you will discover and ending so beautifully sad and perfectly told it will make your eyes water.

Alternatively,you will discover subtle references to the political situation of 2004. There are a number of situations where cultural and religious prejudices prominent today are craftily explored. More poignant is perhaps Gwern’s choice of words when persuading states to support the war efforts of Small Country. He does,for example say to one state official,"you are either with us or without us",a phrase we heard from a President preparing for a similar war almost a year ago. It is slightly creepy that a book written in 1992 and set in an unspecific future can be so easily adapted to the present. 37

Books 38

FISHBOYS OF VERNAZZA

John Sam Jones Parthian

It’s never a good sign when all an author can find to write about is his or her own sexuality. Books written specifically and solely about being gay (or black,or a man,or any other arbitrary human characteristic) can tend to come off as slight and unimportant. John Sam Jones’s second collection of short stories is a classic example of the dangers of self-ghettoisation: one never senses that he writes about gay Welsh men because he feels that their stories are conduits for a greater theme,but because he knows of nothing else.

Jones’s characters never transcend either their sexuality or nationality. Shy men,closeted men and out-andproud men blur into each other with increasing monotony; over the course of 10 disparate narratives,the cumulative impression is of a caricature of a gay man whose life revolves around his own sexuality. Jones resolutely refuses to dig deeper; it’s as if he’s smugly and unsubtly asserting that these men are GAY and WELSH,and that those traits should be big enough to satisfy anyone. Thus,an endless succession of non-characters who ironically appear more tokenistic than any gay figures in the heterosexual mainstream and plotlines which drag and droop their way to head-bangingly obvious conclusions.

With all that victim status weighing them down,it’s no wonder that the characters of Fishboys Of Vernazza can only speak in trite,sub-Mills & Boon language; this is stuff which should shame anyone caught uttering it into immediate celibacy. It’s hardly breaking the mould.

This writing isn’t about empowerment,or equality,or gay rights. It’s about being completely consumed by a relatively unimportant aspect of humanity,and lacking the imagination or insight to place it in any sort of interesting context. It’s about being

trapped in one facet of your identity; it doesn’t celebrate so much as commiserates. For the most part,gay men have moved on from such a reductive worldview,and this book has been thankfully rendered redundant.

Alex Macpherson

TOTES MEER

Dai Vaughan Seren

Described as a "narrative in four parts" this book is more like four short stories interwoven by common themes and ideas. Each tale could stand alone and they do not appear to share characters.

The overwhelming impression Totes Meer left me with was the fearsomely powerful intellect behind it. Weaving together such unlikely subjects as slugs and the French Revolution with a hypnotic and seductive tone, this is an intriguing narrative that is not so much story as fullscale assault on your perceptions of the world. It is a heavily philosophical book, but always in accessible manner: Vaughan convinces you that the questions he ponders are relevant, and even necessary, to everyday life rather than mere intellectual exercises.

Light reading this is not, yet the book never felt a chore to read as some ‘original’ and ‘intellectual’ works have (James Joyce step forward). Instead, I was continually propelled to read on by the persuasive writing and intriguing characters. The only criticism I would level at it is that occasionally it feels as if Vaughan is using the characters as a platform to vent his own opinions on subjects such as genetic engineering, but as he poses intelligent and eye-opening arguments, it doesn’t really detract from the work as a whole.

There are many themes permeating the book – recurring ideas include war, death and overall, the nature and meaning of creativity. Each character approaches these subjects in a different way,sometimes overtly and sometimes by implication,but a pattern builds throughout while in the background the Welsh landscape hovers unobtrusively.

One character mentions "temporal vertigo" and this is what Vaughan gives the reader. Crossing periods as disparate as the Stone Age to 18th century France to 50s Britain,the text effortlessly jumps through time and space,leading you on a dizzy chase through the ages.

Totes Meer is an intense,in-depth experience. If you don’t mind having your brain stretched in new directions then it is an excellent read. Laura

REAL CARDIFF

Peter

Tovey

The cover and the content of this book makes it look like a guide book that most likely outlines the areas,and promotes the multi-million pound developments happening today. Refreshingly, native Cardiffian Peter Finch does not mention the Capital of Culture runnerup prize,nor does he give endless statistics about the Millennium Stadium. Instead,the reader takes a tour of the more public places to the areas only to be seen on road signs,meeting other natives and tourists on the way. The sections are great to dip into, but it does have the ‘feel’ of a novel –Finch introduces us to some of his friends and other amusing characters on the way. Originally a poet,Finch also has published some of his poems in the book and the photographs also bring the narrative to life. With the odd sentence written in Welsh the reader is brought closer to home. Having said that,this book is not just for the Welsh; armchair travellers and people who have moved to Cardiff would also find this book entertaining and informative.

Written by an old Welsh man,the book is inevitably long-winded at times,but thankfully not over-burdened with flowery descriptions. Both past and present are presented to us,so as we learn the history of St Mary Street we also get a frank description of who and what is there now. Finch is down to earth and seems to enjoy learning about the town he has lived in all his life. Real Cardiff provokes thought,as Finch does not answer all the questions. He learns about Cardiff at the same time as we do,so we don’t get the feeling of reading a dull text book. Instead the quirky humour, historical and contemporary fact make this topographical book very ‘real’.

Natalie Donovan

Finch Seren

ZZ Packer

Canongate

Packer describes the experiences of young blacks in different time periods from the 1960s onwards and captures the difficulties facing them and their varying responses with realism and integrity. Her characters display great versatility,from a diffident young man forced to go to protest marches to a naïve,evangelical nurse. Her prose is fresh and intense,but sometimes too self-consciously so,with slightly forced imagery. Some descriptive passages could benefit from heavier editing to prevent attention wandering.

and racial divisions,this seems an odd attitude.

Packer must be applauded for staying true to her own vision of the world,realistic rather than revolutionary,tough but not entirely bleak. Yet it seems a narrow vision,of interest but little appeal to those not actively involved in poor black America. It is a generally well-formed collection of stories,each self-contained but part of a larger picture when considered as a whole. Student budgets make for rigorous criticism: I was interested by the collection but a re-read seems unlikely. One to borrow not to buy.

Laura Tovey

Two central themes throughout the collection are the power of religion, particularly Christianity,and race. Generally white people are on the periphery,present but not central to the story. This is a refreshing change; frequently in this country books with such a focus have to be sought out under the label "Black Literature",as if it is necessary to be warned beforehand.

However,I find it odd that when they do appear white people tend to be mere caricatures,either actively hostile or condescending and passive. There are a few exceptions,such as the fat,lesbian Heidi but reading that the whites’ "hard,nervous smiles fit into two categories: the ‘don’t mug me!’ smile,or the ‘gee,aren’t black folks something!’ smile",I felt attacked,as if I was automatically wrong for being of a different background from the characters. For a writer so concerned with segregation

Another poetry book. Unfortunately, another reworking of the traditional anthology. “101 poems on various subjects” should be taken to mean “we are scraping the barrel trying to find copious categories in which to place the most well studied poems”. Anything which has a broad and tenuous connection to ‘imagination,sense and nonsense’ is a poem that doesn’t fit into more mainstream categories of ‘women’ and ‘love and courtship’. And when the poems are exhausted there’s always the Shakespeare extract thrown in for good measure. With a subheading of ‘natural phenomenon’, one expects material more prolific that Matthew Arnold’s “Dover Beach”, as beautiful as the poem may be.

The poems,though highly regarded, are not exactly original in their selection. As an English student by now fairy bored of the seeing the conventional canon of Shakespeare,the Romantics and the odd token women writer repeated in numerous different collections,I would not consider Twixt Ape And Plato particularly inspiring. There are some useful biographical snippets but nothing to shout about. Overall I was expecting more modern or unknown poetry and was sadly disappointed.

Don’t be fooled by the ‘various categories’ and the funky orange cover; there is certainly nothing you couldn’t

Books 39

find in a regular English Literature anthology. At least if you buy one of them you get all the poems in this books collection plus the even more boring mainstream poetry thrown in: altogether better value for money.

Emma Langley

Competition Corner!

That’s right kids,it’s time for another exciting books page giveaway! This week, you lucky people can win a copy of The Crow: The Story Behind The Film by Bridget Baiss. Courtesy of the truly amazing people at Titan Books,you could be reading the full story behind the making of the tragic movie. If you’re not tempted yourself,it would make a perfect early Christmas present for the 14-yearold goth in your life. All you have to do to win this fantastic prize is answer the following easy-peasy literary question:

Which famously glum poet published a volume of poetry entitled Crow? Email grbooks@cf.ac.uk

John Luo,ed. Adnax

TWIXT APE AND PLATO

LOSTINTRANSLATION

Dir: Sofia Coppola

Cast: Scarlett Johansson,Bill Murray

Setting your movie in an exotic location is a safe and reliable –and therefore creatively redundant – way to create an involving,and memorable,visual style. Lost In Translation,which is set in Tokyo, sees Sofia Coppola and cinematographer Lance Acord avoid this temptation admirably. The city is bright and hazy for Bob (Bill Murray) and Charlotte (Scarlett Johansson),who are jetlagged and overwhelmed. Deprived of sleep,company,and amusement,the two deeply likeable strangers are drawn together into an intimate and intriguing friendship.

Murray is great: he just loves oneliners,and although he has certainly played funnier roles,the depth and occasional intensity of his performance will surprise many. Johansson was surely the obvious choice for Charlotte,having played a similar role in The Man Who Wasn’t There,and is bound to be huge. Her performance is assured yet subtle,and she’s gorgeous too.

The success of Lost In Translation lies in both its dedication to characterisation and Coppola’s tender and intelligent direction. Neither script nor plot are remarkable,except in their economy: both allow space for real interpretation of the lead roles. The result is a film which charts the minutiae of a relationship; a modern and evocative document of beauty and integrity. Chewie

BIG FISH

Dir: Tim Burton

Cast: Ewan McGregor,Albert Finney, Billy Crudup

His remake of Planet Of The Apes was infamously dull,but Big Fish sees Tim Burton return to his natural habitat: the world of the weird. The story concerns Edward Bloom (Albert Finney),who spends his life telling tales of his unbelievable achievements. Now on his deathbed, he is confronted by his adult son (Billy Crudup) who wants to know the truth behind the stories. Cue plenty of surreal flashbacks which recall O Brother Where Art Thou? and Burton’s own Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure

It’s in these fantasy scenes that

the film works best; the gothic fairytales of witches,giants,and bank robberies are handled the way only Burton can. Ewan McGregor is perfect as the young Edward,a cheeky chancer who wrestles a giant fish one minute and goes on deadly parachute missions the next. He’s assisted by a great cast including cameos from Danny DeVito and Steve Buscemi,two men who could write books on acting strange.

It’s no surprise that Burton excels in these areas; the film’s problems lie the scenes set in the real world. Finney is touching in the father-son bonding scenes but Crudup is ineffective as the son and the hopelessly sentimental script doesn’t help. Yet despite these flaws,the charm of the film wins through.

Dir: Christine Jeffs

Cast: Gwyneth Paltrow,Daniel Craig

Sylvia employs the talents of Gwyneth Paltrow (Shallow Hal) and Daniel Craig (Tomb Raider) as acclaimed 20th century poets Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes. It’s easy to be cynical,especially since original director,Pawel Pawlikowski,abandoned filming once Gwynnie (How To Lose A Guy In Ten Days) was enrolled,apparently muttering something about “Hollywood bullshit”.

Unsurprisingly, Sylvia focuses on romance rather than poetry – possibly due to necessity,since both estates denied use of the poets’ work. Furthermore,Frieda Hughes penned a scathing poem condemning the plans to portray her parents on the big screen.

But with typical British spirit,the BBC made it anyway. And it’s not bad. There are obvious flaws: the casting isn’t ideal; dialogue is sometimes bland; Hughes’s character lacks complexity; plot seldom digresses from what’s found on page-long “Plath’s Life” synopses,and,unfortunately,we already know the ending.

It’s also difficult to fathom what audience Sylvia is intended for. Intellectual types are likely to find it inadequate and uninspired,while people without an interest in literature might find poetic tragedy a bit heavy. It seems to encompass what Virginia Woolf dismissed as ‘middlebrow’.

Nonetheless,Paltrow’s performance is sensitive and considered,the cinematography is often impressive and the direction resists the temptation to over-sentimentalise. It could be better, but then again it could be worse. Eleri Lloyd

Reality’s Plath (above) vs Hollywood’s version (below)

sion of Samara looking like a member of the Murderdolls with kickboxing training. But it’s the 8 Mile pastiche that works best,with a white rapper called George reprimanding his father (Charlie Sheen) “You just hate me ‘cos I’m black”. George and his homies go on to expose the rhyming dictionary behind hip hop: “rap schmap”.

In a film full of copies,the main surprise is that Scary Movie 3 ally fairly (and I mean fairly) funny. It’s full of enough tits,arses,flying limbs and slapstick to make any 15-year-old boy happy and maybe the odd student or two. On a serious note,there is a final warning. The film indicates the location of the ring’s killer videotape: it might just be mixed up with Muffy The Vampire Slayer in your local Blockbuster. Nathalie Southall

Film 41

collection of mediocre actors and a mediocre script,then used his own mediocre directing abilities to create a less than mediocre film. It blatantly wants to be Cape Fear,yet it’s more like Cape Crap! Harsh,but so utterly deserved.

The film focuses on the Tilsons, who move to the country to escape the city. They buy an old Manor,discover some twisted photos and dodgy farming equipment,encounter numerous mental locals,and finally discover some dead bodies. The only highlight is Stephen Dorff. Whilst not his best role (as the mental ex-owner Dale Massie),he does the most absurd greased Chippendale fantasy poses I have ever seen. Seriously,if you like Mr. Dorff,then go and watch him strut around in nothing but jeans whilst he sweats and grimaces like an inane turd.

All in all,a film so bad it makes Gigli seem a classic. It seems that I must once again say “damn Hollywood,and damn this film”.

Craig Driver

The scariest thing about this movie appears within the first few seconds: Pamela Anderson’s breasts. That brown meat off the Christmas turkey that no-one wants? Well,that’s them. Tits are abundant in this profoundly stupid film and,speaking of plastic,it also features a ‘Michael Jackson’ shedding his skin as well as cameos from Simon Cowell (who dies) and Macy Gray (who perhaps should have). The Ring takes centre stage; their ver-

This is apparently a horror film. I arrived in eager anticipation of some ghosts and ghouliesand maybea little dab of the grotesque. Unfortunately I found myself watching a film with none of these qualities. Mike Figgis has gathered together a

Dir: David Zucker

Cast: Anna Faris,Leslie Neilson, Charlie Sheen

Dir: Mike Figgis Cast: Dennis Quaid,Sharon Stone

COLD CREEK MANOR

SCARY MOVIE 3

Swinging into 2004

By Mat Croft Film Editor

ThisDirty dancing,zombies,and a geriatric Elvis...welcome to 2004!

sort of article should usually be about all the great new films we’ll get to see this year. But sod that: some of the year’s most interesting films will be those that have been around a while. This year we should finally get to see Vincent Gallo’s follow-up to Buffalo 66, Brown Bunny. When it was hailed as “the worst film ever shown at Cannes,” Vinnie broke down in tears at a press conference and apologised for ever making the film. So now we gotta see it,right? Another movie getting dusty in the basement is Bubba HoTep,in which Bruce Campbell from the Evil Dead movies plays an old man in a geriatric home who believes he’s Elvis. With an ancient mummy terrorising the old folks’ home and Don “Phantasm” Coscarelli behind the camera,this should be unmissable.

Speaking of the walking dead,there’s an unusually large amount of zombie movies on the horizon. Genre king George Romero is working on a collaboration with the composer of The Rocky Horror Show,while his Dawn Of The Dead had been remade for release this year. Nerds will be happy to see ace zombie-shootin’ arcade game House Of The Dead arrive on the big screen in a few months. But Film Desk’s money is on Shaun Of The Dead. With the director,writers and stars from underappreciated sitcom Spaced behind it,it should be great. The trailer’s on the internet and looks too funny for words. From the warped pen of scriptwriter Charlie Kaufman (Being John Malkovich, Adaptation) comes Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind. It stars Jim Carrey as a man who has an ex-girlfriend erased from his memory with no doubt hilarious consequences. If Jim can keep his stupid face under control,

there’s nothing to stop this being one of the films of the year.

One of this year’s true oddities will be a remake/sequel of Dirty Dancing called Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights Let’s hope they keep all the original’s classic lines. “Nobody puts baby in the corner!” And there’s gonna be more rom-com fun with the return of Bridget Jones,too. Plus there’s hunksa-plenty in the coming months: Orlando Bloom and Brad Pitt are stripped down to sandals and loincloths for Troy,while bit-of-rough Colin Farrell gets all dressed up for Alexander

This year’s roster of big budget,big name blockbusters looks as full as ever,with the void left by Lord Of The Rings’ passing to be filled by the likes of Spiderman 2,Guillermo Del Toro’s Hellboy and the sight of Vin Diesel muscling his way through the Chronicles Of Riddick. A hugely exciting prospect comes in the form of Sky

Captain And The World Of Tomorrow, starring Jude Law as a dashingly stiffupper-lipped fighter pilot in a retrofuturist movie that looks incredible. Angelina Jolie wears an eyepatch in it, so it has to be good. At last,we get to find out if Bill gets killed in Kill Bill Volume 2,which is due out soon. Film Desk will be taking a spare pair of trousers in case the excitement gets too much. More Japanese swordfighting is promised by Zatoichi,in which Japan’s favourite hardnut,‘Beat’ Takeshi Kitano,plays the titular blind samurai. With Takeshi behind the camera too,it looks set to behead Tom Cruise’s latest vanity project with its eyes closed.

STOPPRESS - The Oscar nominations have just been released. Quench’s money is on Lost In Translation winning something and Belleville Rendezvous walking home with the Oscar for best animated feature.

Kill Bill Volume 2

Alexander

Zatoichi

The Chronicles Of Riddick

Troy

After a hard-earned break it’s time to get back to work - hmm.It’s been an exciting new year on the arts scene,anyway.There’s been a host of events going on,catering for both your inner child and your more cultured self

Northern lights

Hannah Jackson RNCM,Manchester

pieces,rapping,spoken poetry and visual images projected on to a backing screen.

The recent Christmas break was not only an excellent opportunuity for me to polish off 6,000 words of essay,but also to experience an innovative and eclectic performance in the heart of the ever-developing city of Manchester.

Emerge is a project directed by an ex-RNCM (Royal Northern College of Music) compositon student,Hannah Jackson,who has recently also set up her own urban arts development company,MassiveUK. The night promised a fresh look at performance,focusing on a break with the traditional aspects of concerts. It all began with a fantastic breakdancing set,DJing backing it all up,moving into ensemble group

The night was mixed with pieces of work by new and emerging artists, demonstrating their talents on the piano,violin or the decks, showcasing the best in Manchester’s new urban artists.

Eclectic was the word,and it worked,expanding the boundaries for both the performer and the audience.

“Breathe” was a piece looking at the relationship between breath,time, life,death and their structures. Spoken poetry with a violin riff underneath,this piece was powerful,breaking in between different sorts of musical performance. The focus here on structure was one that was more widely questioned throughout the night. What is structure? What is the need for it?

The backdrop of the RNCM concert hall both served to further this idea of new combinations and structures of music and performance,with a magnificent pipe organ on the wall,but also kept the separation between the audience and the performer established. There was a desire in the performance to remove or lessen the boundaries between the audience and the per-

The night was mixed with pieces of work by new and emerging artists,demonstrating their talents on the piano,violin or decks

former,creating a sort of interactive concert. However,the seating arrangements did not at times help this,with every one seated in rows,all facing the same way. Possibly,as the production grows,these barriers will be further broken down,completely interspersing the spectator and performer.

One of the best things about he night was the range of people who attended. From pensioners to preschoolers,the audience was made up of such a range of people. The night seemed to be about bringing the outside in,weakening the boundaries between the two,changing the perspective for the audience and performer. It was possible for every person to leave the night with slightly different interpretations of the night, according to whichever part they particularly identified with. There was not a single view offered here,but a multiple one. Watch out for this sort of performance - it’s going to be big. Rachel Pegum

Sell out sensation

You may or may not have noticed that the new jazz singing sensation Jamie Cullum is making an appearance at St David’s Hall on Sunday February 22. Recently called “Sinatra in sneakers” by the

Guardian,Jamie has taken the musical and media world by storm with his energetic approach to performance. However,you’ll be hard pressed to get tickets - they were sold out months ago! Looks like it’s not just the likes

of Westlife who can fill a concert hall. Watch out Cardiff,here comes jazz!

A beautiful mind

ART IN MENTAL HEALTH

Howard Gardens Gallery,UWIC

TheHoward Gardens Gallery at UWIC hosts an exhibition run by The Partnership Board of Artworks in Mental Health,showcasing the talents of those people affected by mental illness,both directly and indirectly. As the opening statement in the exhibition brochure states,the use of arts and creativity is well established in helping people to improve their mental health. One of the other roles of the exhibition is to move towards removing some of the stigma that is associated with mental illness.

The exhibition is a relatively small collection (150 pieces) of poetry,prose and visual work,of which the standard is very impressive. The creative writing entries,for example,were selected by the current Poet Laureate Andrew Motion. While some of the work in the exhibition is predictably quite dark, none of it is overly shocking or sensationalist. Most of the exhibits chart the pain,fear and confusion of mental illness,which we can all relate to in the much slighter forms of neurosis and insecurity that we all suffer from occasionally.

There is also a strong underlying sense of optimism and coming-toterms-with-life in many of the pieces,

TheAct One Cyrus Theatre

king and I

theatre distinctly smelt of church hall. The humble setting was not mirrored in the production. I had never seen an Act One production so was not sure what to expect,but I was more than pleasantly surprised.

While some of the work is predictably quite dark,none of it is overly shocking or sensationalist

which is quite touching and brave. Like that of Stephen Nobes who says of his work,“I do not consider this work as a product of my agoraphobia but as a product of my intellect and creativity,I regard it as a testimony of my individuality of which I acknowledge mental illness is a part.”

In another piece,artist Patricia Buckley exhibits a nude photograph of herself after receiving treatment for breast cancer as part of her psychological readjustment to the way her body now looks. This optimism and strength, shown throughout the works in this exhibition,work well to help remove some of the stigma attached to mental illness. This,coupled with the originality and high standard of the pieces, make it well worth a viewing. John Williams

The first part of the drama for us was finding the Cyrus Theatre, which I was previously unaware existed. Located at the side of “that glass church” on Richmond Road,the

The acting rarely fell short of superb...the casting was intuitively and intelligently done

The curse of A-level Shakespeare meant that I envisaged King Lear as a white-haired,doddery grandfather figure. Nick Phillips was certainly not that; he was however,a brilliantly convincing vain king,and Lear’s madness,complete with Hawaiian shirt, was even better.

In fact,the acting rarely fell short of superb. Pim Gregory could not have done better as the malevolently charming Edmund. The casting was intuitively and intelligently done. I had never expected the Fool,played by Paula Beard,to be assigned a female gender,but wearing combats,woolly hat and hair in bunches,it was unfathomable to imagine anyone else playing that part in any other way.

The only thing that let this production down was that we did not get the

dramatic ending we were hoping for. Goneril and Regan’s otherwise convincing portrayal of the evil sisters was not consistent in their killing of each other. The way in which they collapsed,falling on the floor in that typical dramatic dying manner,veered slightly too far towards towards comedy. Lear and Cordelia’s last words were over before we realised what was going on.

The small setting was beneficial to the audience because we were closer to the characters who walked in and out of doors around the audience,and you could not help but be dragged into the play. The problem, though,was that this was overall such an excellent production you couldn’t help feeling that it was deserving of a much larger audience. Emma Langley

Arts 46 Scare tactics

and becomes sinister and sad.

ple of exceptions!

Everyman Theatre

Chapter Arts Centre,Canton

Leprechauns,fairies,ouija boards and ghosts all feature in this play written by Conor McPherson. The Weir has run on Broadway and received great critical acclaim – and none of

The Weir grows into a huge and powerful story

this quality is lost in the Everyman Theatre’s small production.

The entire cast consists of five actors,all on stage for an uninterrupted hour and a half,who play a group of Irish characters gathering for another night in their isolated local pub. They are joined by a woman who has recently moved to the countryside from Dublin. Their attempts to welcome her involve the telling of local ghost stories,which she eventually adds to by revealing her motives for living alone in such isolation. She has had contact with her daughter,recently killed in a tragic accident,which haunts her and prevents her recovery from grief. With this the atmosphere of the play shifts

Despite this,the script includes many wryly observed humorous moments,which occur in the colourful conversation between stories. The oddball Irish characters all searching for something in their tiny rural community are played incredibly well by the cast, each of whom has a talent for comic timing. Every character is brought to life,from Jim the gentle-hearted simpleton to Brendan the observant barman. In particular,Stephen Bush’s Jack,with his admittance of loneliness and regret in old age,and Sarah Barnes’ Valerie,in her touching account of her daughter’s death won my admiration. The cast’s Irish accents were almost faultless – with only a cou-

Despite a slow start,during which I found my attention wandering, The Weir grows into a huge and powerful interweaving of the Irish love of fable with human needs and belief in the afterlife. I was surprised by my strong reactions to the play; when any character stepped out of the pub into the dark night I found myself wishing they would come back. Of course,their clever use of stormy sound affects and my ability to be scared of any horror movie may have had something to do with it. This production impressed me in every sense,and stayed in my mind long after I had seen it. I am a new convert to Everyman Theatre.

Katy Read

On a wet day...

If you fancy expanding your cultural knowledge on a rainy day – and we get a few of those around here –then take a trip to the new Cardiff Arts Centre in West Canal Wharf. There are regularly a variety of exhibitions there,showcasing works,often for sale,but there’s no harm in looking! At the moment,it’s Eric Gill with some really different and inspiring engravings. Showing a mixture of the spiritual and the sensual,these carvings are really different and striking, as you can see from the picture. It’s certainly well worth a look if you’re heading down to the Bay.

And while you’re down there,the Norwegian Church (the white building on the waterfront) has a photographic exhibition on from February 10 to March 9,looking at the changing face of Cardiff’s docklands. Featuring images of older businesses and the ways in which the livelihood of much of Cardiff’s population was constructed,this is an interesting insight into the capital.

Return to your childhood

THE BORROWERS

Sherman Theatre

Children’s theatre at Christmas time is often a torrid affair. Hoards of screaming kids,bugeyed parents and lines such as “he’s behind you” spring to mind. But the Sherman Theatre Company have excelled themselves in their take on Mary Norton’s classic novels about the Clock family.

The play doesn’t begin as most plays do,with the curtain going up or the opening line. In fact,as soon as you enter the foyer of the theatre, that’s when the story begins. A man juggling clubs on fire,another on stilts and a string quartet instantly immerse you into the narrative world of the Borrowers. And by the time the first

Simply joyous. Infinitely better than the 1997 film version

note on the piano is struck and reverberates around the theatre,there is an instantaneous feeling that what you are about to witness is something enchanting.

To the unfamiliar, The Borrowers is about a minuscule sized family of three (Arietty,Pod and Homily),the Clocks, who live under the floorboards of a

wealthy but strict 19th century family. The lead character,Arietty (Lucy Rivers),feels trapped at having to live in the confines of this small space and longs to escape into the unseen wonders of the great wide world,much to the despair of her cautious parents Pod (Gareth Wyn Griffths) and Homily (Nia Davies). The story focuses on an ever inquisitive Arietty venturing upstairs into the household of Mrs Driver,which results in the Clock family being mistaken for mice and literally smoked out of their home.

Musical performances by cast members fit the story line excellently,and when mixed with the amazing and mind

A learning process

Martin Tinney Gallery

On now at the Martin Tinney Gallery is an exhibition of one of Wales’ best artists. Young explores the human form in its relation to others and to the natural world. In their concentration on the interaction between people,at a dinner party,on the beach,the pictures have a vivid quality and seem to ask questions about what painting and perspective is.

It is his ability to capture the moment,the movement and conversations of the people in his pictures that really brings them to life. They vary

widely in their composition; from the serene landscape of the beach to the gabbled workings of a dinner party. A lot of the pictures focus on the beach landscape,juxtaposing the sweeping,natural lines of the sea and the wind with the hardedged lines of a jetty or building. It seems as though Young wants to explore our perception of the natural world and our relation,as humans, to it.

Indeed,a lot of his paintings question what perception and art is in itself. The process of painting seems to occupy a lot of his pictures,in particular one of which, “The perspective lesson”,shows the learning process of working out a picture’s content. Rachel Pegum

boggling set design you cannot feel that you are not simply an audience member,but peering into a crack into the wall and observing these little people.

It’s so easy to be cynical and write this off as a play for kids,but by doing that you will miss out on a magical and captivating piece of theatre. Sure,it’s not Pinter or even Shakespeare. But that doesn’t stop Way’s adaptation and the Sherman Theatre Company’s version of The Borrowers being any less enthralling as anything on at the West End or Broadway.

Simply joyous. Infinitely better than the 1997 film version. Ben Wright

STEPHEN YOUNG

Ghost in the machine

That’s what it means,y’know.We’re so smart. Gareth Lloyd reviews Deus Ex:InvisibleWar on Xbox (and PC)

The original Deus Ex is often criminally overlooked these days; with massive environments,freeform gameplay,and a keen sense of trenchcoat-mafia style that out-Matrixed The Matrix,it pushed the limits of what a mere videogame could achieve. What,then, can a sequel like this hope to do after such a stunning warm-up act?

First impressions are mixed; a ropey CG intro and a clunky interface don’t instill much confidence from the off,but the wonderfully detailed environs of the apartment complex in which you start out are enough to sustain perserverance. I spent some quality time here: throwing basketballs at people,piling bins onto toilets and such,and just generally messing with the game’s lovely physics,but then I’m easily entertained aren’t I? I

think I’d be happy with a stick and hoop some days.

The open-ended gameplay is still present and correct: need to get those files from the lab complex? Simply sneak past the guards and hack the computer. Or why not stage an epic one man (or woman) assault, flamethrowers an’ all? Or,there’s usually a third option in addition to these obvious two,which requires a bit more lateral thinking but turns out to be more fun in the end: turn the security system on to the guards,lure them into a poison gas trap,or just put your gun away and talk your way in. You also choose your mission based on your alliegances,as a number of factions will vie for your support,and it’s up to you who you work for. I’d of course recommend being an awkward bugger and attempting to piss as

So games like IW offer total freedom? Yeah. Right. There’s a title out soon called A Dog’s Life,where you can do a poo,then pick it up in your mouth and throw it at people. Until I can do this in every game ever,I just don’t think I can really,truly be happy. It’s a free world

many people off as possible.

So far so good,then; yet a number of filthy maggots threaten to spoil this tasty apple (that’s,like,a metaphor, man). Most of the flaws here are issues unresolved since the first game: severely broken enemy AI,sterile and unfathomably dark levels,and a weak stealth mechanic. Amazingly, though, IW makes a few mistakes that the original didn’t; no body-part specific hit damage,a poor inventory system,and a cut-down scheme of character development.

Perhaps the biggest let-down of all was when I realised that the extravagent promises made by the game’s developers were utterly hollow; true, emergent AI,a fluid,branching storyline,and improved combat. None of these features are recognisably present. A disappointment of sorts,then; however,it would have taken something very special for IW to be anything but.

Backdoor antics

BackyardWrestling, then;a fair euphemism for anal sex,but now also a PS2 game! Craig Driver gets right on in there

Ohdear. Yet another fighting game. You’d think after a while those nerdy boffins of computer land would run out of ways to ‘Punish Your Opponent’ or ‘Inflict Maximum Carnage.’ While not entirely inept this game does unfortunately possess a testicle where it should possess a brain. You can traverse fully interactive environments fighting idiotically with instruments of pain such as bricks,tables and hammers. While there’s a fairly wide selection of fighters to choose from,I just wish they would be original in their characterisation: I dream of the day I can fight as a plucky midget named Tim in a battle of wit against a mutated,200ft tall pigeon. Until that day comes it seems we must be content with male wrestlers who have bigger man breasts than their female counterparts.

Insult of the week: “Oh look, if it isn’t Baron von Burd Turglar”

If you want immediate,mindless, brutal gratification then do buy this game. But then if you do I would dare to wager that you live all alone but for

Everything2What?

Perri Lewis delves into perhaps the most useful website that’s ever been devised,ever

www.ever ything2.com

Ina nutshell,a complete encyclopaedia of everything you ever wanted to know about anything in the whole entire world.

To give you the general idea,type in any word you fancy and read about fifty articles relating to that subject. Registered writers can offer their ideas about the importance of the green bean to daily life,their interpretations about an Islamic slant on The Office or any number of ridiculously wonderful pieces of work submitted

by real professors,highly comical amateurs and geeky computer kids. Most writers demonstrate a highly tuned humour (which is a requirement when you’re chatting about the contents of Tunisian camel excrement!) and all share a great deal of knowledge and enthusiasm for the subject they discuss.

To say that this site is worth a look is a total understatement. Log on and I swear you won’t be able to drag yourself off it.

Christmas Compo Update!

Well, Greg A Wilson,it’s your lucky day. You correctly told us the answer to our Christmas competition (which was Gameboy Advance by the way) and receive a copy of Backyard Wrestling as well as a rather snazzy

BYW T-shirt. You can can pick up your prize from the office should you care to saunter up (NO grifters!).

Big thanks go to Eidos for the prizes. Please send more!

your extensive collection of porn. In the end,a game for those of you who believe Sean Paul to be talented.

iLoveyou

name’s Gareth and I’m an Apple-holic. No,I don’t have a frightening need to obtain sexual gratification from fruit; I crave expensive,overpriced electrical gadgetry of the highest order. The polished white curves of Apple’s iPod (the MP3 player at the top of every technophile’s wish list) has had me salivating at the bit for the last six months. So,the announcement of the iPod Mini has threatened to push me over the edge; to turn me into a walking jukebox,more machine than man. MORE

MACHINETHANMAN!

And to empty my wallet,like. So,why not buy one of these lovely devices for your loved one this year? They’re not officially released here till April, but you can import one now for the bargain price of 135 quid. Or,if there’s nobody special in your life,buy one for me. Please. I’ll do anything. Any. Thing.

50 Going out

Ifyour New Year’s resolution is to eat,drink and party then we are your solution. Exams are over,so you’ve no excuse not to clear up the January blues by “Going Out”.

8 Mill Lane

Despite a large variety of Mexican food,you’ll struggle to find iguanas on the menu here! Inside Las Iguanas you’ll soon be escorted to your candlelit table where you’re offered something to eat "while you decide"; this is ideal if you’re eating with someone impatient while you wish to ponder over the menu and attempt to work out what is the difference between an enchilada,burrito or chimichanga. Just ask,the staff are only too happy to explain.

Go between midday and 6.30pm and you won’t be complaining about the value: a three-course meal is only £7,ideal for students who fancy some variety from the regular pub grub. Downstairs you’ll find a Mexicanthemed cocktail bar where the staff can make delicious concoctions to suit your taste - and they can do more than Sex on the Beach here! Try their "caipirinhas" for a change. And during the two-for-one happy hour between 12-7.30pm,they’re pretty cheap as well (normally £4.50).

The food looks very appetising,and although tasty,you’ll find yourself still hungry if have only ordered a main course as they are not overly generous with the portions,which are priced at around £8 (take your 20% off voucher from Student Pages along). Don’t despair,though; Chip Alley’s only a lane away!

Jenny Duxbury

The Yard is just one of the new pubs opened up in the flurry of new development on St Mary Street. You’ll probably all have noticed it by now, but if you haven’t been in yet we have to say that it’s worth investigating. It’s a funky bar with sultry,smouldering lighting and an original décor. It almost feels like you’re in some kind of factory or demolition site,and this lays the foundations for a very cool place to embark upon on a drunken pub crawl. But be warned: the winding stairs may be a bit of a hazard if you’ve had one too many!

The toilets are worth a mention as they are so darkly lit you really do need to pee with caution. You won’t find washbasins in the toilets either; The Yard opts for communal basins outside the toilets. Very strange. There are two floors,both large and fully packed with a wide range of people. Drinks are quite expensive so I’m not sure that this bar is aimed at students,but it’s nonetheless definitely worth popping in just to experience the atmosphere and very yard-like feel they’ve ingeniously managed to create. They also offer reasonably priced, tasty daytime food. Katy Davies

imagining another version of KFC. However on entering the South American decorated restaurant you will be greeted by friendly staff who explain exactly how Nandos works, making you realise this is something quite different. All orders are placed at their counter,saving the hassle of working out who ate what and splitting the bill.

Dishes are cooked to your taste; you can choose how spicy (or not) you want your meal to be,ranging from the mild lemon and herb to extra hot for the adventurous,a mouth-burning experience. The helpful staff add to the relaxed atmosphere and are only too happy to advise how hot to go and what exactly a nata is (a Portuguese custard pastry,if you’re interested).

Although this place is aimed at chicken lovers alternatives are available; we especially recommend the tasty Prego steak roll,and for vegetarians the delicious Mediterranean salad or spicy bean pitta. Meals are priced around £5 to £7 for half a chicken.

Nandos is open until midnight on Fridays and Saturdays,and until 11.30pm on all other nights,so you can pop in after a drink in town or a trip to the cinema. (The food is also available to take out.) Jenny Duxbury

Our reviews are honest; if you think you can do better don’t just sit back and complain, have a go yourself (it’s an excuse to go out, after all!).

Email: grmagazine@cf.ac.uk

When you first hear Nandos,Cardiff’s new chicken restaurant,described to you,you may find yourself immediately

The Old Brewery Quarter,St Mary Street

The Old Brewery Quarter,St Mary Street

LAS IGUANAS

THE YARD

NANDOS

Photo: Jenny Duxbury

Photo: Lisa Walkley

BONEMACHINE THEBELLJAR

Tom Waits (1992) Polygram

Throughout the 70s,Tom Waits released a string of albums based around drunken piano tales and beatnik bar room jazz. Then in the 80s,through an incredible trio of albums –Swordfishtrombones, Rain Dogs and Frank’s Wild Years – he opened up his talents to other genres. These albums covered everything from sea shanties and polkas to Vegas crooners and avant-garde clanking. If they sound aimless,it’s because they were. It was not until Bone Machine that this experimentation was assimilated into a cohesive style.

The album opens with Earth Dies Screaming,boasting the mightiest roar since the microphone-shattering days of Howlin’ Wolf. It sets the tone for the following hour: atmospheric space, strange,clanking percussion (footstomps,pan lids and woodblocks, among other things),deep double bass, morbid imagery and a range of personae. Waits’ ability to transform his voice is akin to that of an actor: he can be the drunken poet,the town cryer of the underworld,the ghost of your greatgrandfather,the preacher or,just once or twice,the piano raconteur of old.

The album is as eclectic as ever,but rather than genre exercises the different styles are melded together to form such indescribable nuggets as Goin’Out West,a mix of country,surf,grunge and boasts like "I ain’t no extra,baby,I’m the leading man". Elsewhere there’s gospel in the form of Jesus Gonna Be Here - a tune so soulful that it was covered by the Blind Boys Of Alabama - and the funereal croak of Dirt In The Ground

Perverse screams and alien instrumentation sit alongside the heartbreaking piano balladry of A Little Rain, Whistle Down The Wind and the rousing closer, That Feel,with harmonies courtesy of Keef Richards. Waits would later separate these sides of his work on 2002’s mental Blood Money and sumptuous Alice,but here the breadth of his oeuvre shares space on one disturbing, heartfelt and powerful album.

It’s an album teeming with madness, obsessed with death and littered with dark corners,but there’s humour in hearing a man in his forties belting out the punkish I Don’t Wanna Grow Up,and manic glee in hearing him report a Murder In The Red Barn: at its heart Bone Machine is a both a celebration of the sadness of life and a reminder of the inevitability of death. Mat Croft

THISISSPINALTAP

Dir:Rob Reier (1984)

Starring:Christopher Guest,Michael McKean,Harry Shearer

Released in 1984,this definitive ‘rockumentery’ follows the fictional British rock behemoths Spinal Tap on a US promotional tour for their Smell The Glove album. Acclaimed director Marti De Bergi takes us behind the scenes of a band whose time has come,gone, come,and seemingly gone again: David St Hubbins (lead vocals and guitar), Nigel Tufnel (lead guitar),and Derek Smalls (bass). With such classic rock‘n’ roll tunes like Big Bottom and Sex Farm this is truly what comedy was intended to be: sharp,witty,and gut-wrenchingly hilarious,whether the band are cranking their amps up that little bit louder to 11,releasing such seminal albums as Shark Sandwich,or performing live alongside dancing dwarfs and 3ft high Stonehenge set props. If you like your rock’n’roll then I advise you to watch this film and revel in the joy and splendour of comedic genius at it’s most complete.

The scene where the band releases an entirely 'black' covered album is one of the funniest moments in celluloid history. Even the songs themselves (actually written and performed by Guest,McKean,and Shearer) are so perfectly terrible that some of the greatest moments are reserved for the 'live' concert footage/carnage.

Never again will you be able to listen to Iron Maiden or AC/DC in quite the same light. That is not to say the film despises or condemns rock’n’roll. Rather,it satirises with obvious love and affection the high camp and lowbrow aesthetics of the music,the image,and the lifestyle,making it a film which deserves to be seen and noted by all preening and prancing rock hopefuls.

This is a true classic that refutes comedic mediocrity and complacency. This is what satire does best. This is, of course,Spinal Tap. Craig Driver

Sylvia Plath (1963) Windstone Press

Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar is Plath’s brutally honest autobiography,centring around her mental health problems in her early life. Published in 1963 under the pseudonym Esther Greenwood,the novel is a poignant insight into one person’s battle against mental illness.

Anyone who is familiar with Plath’s poetry or the tragic circumstances of her suicide will find this novel stark, bittersweet and painfully truthful. It deals with the everyday anxieties and pressures that many youths encounter,such as relationships and fitting in,which makes the novel very easy to relate to. However,it also analyses Plath’s decline into mental illness and her struggle to conquer it.

The novel documents Plath’s life from her youth,through her first suicide attempt,until her discharge from a psychiatric institution. However,it is not a harrowing read. Plath’s genius makes reading the novel effortless and her sardonic wit tinges the saddest scenes with humour and sorrow. It provides an understanding of what dealing with mental illness does to the sufferer and also depicts its effects on the relationships between the sufferer and their loved ones.

Overall,the novel is not only worth reading if you are a Plath fan; it is a fascinating and insightful read for anyone who would like a better understanding of mental illness. It highlights the pain and isolation of the sufferer in a witty and fantastically written manner.

It is the perfect read for any Girl, Interrupted or Prozac Nation fans. Tragic and funny,truthful and stark, this is quite simply an unmissable read.

Kerry-Lynne Doyle

Postcards from France

By Andrew Davidson,Grenoble

Back in the beautiful land of cheese-eating sur- render monkeys,all hell has broken loose over the wearing of bandanas in school.

The constitution of the French Republic states that all state affairs must be laïque – that is,sec- ular. Thus,no ostensible signs of any religion or philosophical bias can be displayed in a state institution. In his infinite wisdom,French Home Office minister,Nicolas Sarkozy,considers ban- danas to be too similar to the Muslim headscarf for them to be secular. Thus,as a teacher in a state-funded school,I am obliged to refuse to teach any student wearing said head-covering.

Rather ironic,considering that within such a sacredly secular education system students and teachers uphold the Catholic tradition of being served fish in the canteen every Friday,cancel afternoon classes for an annual Christmas dinner and take holidays based on a Christian calendar.

Clearly in France,the iron fist of laïcité only punches back the manifestation of religions other than traditional French Catholicism. It makes one

wonder if France really is that differ- ent to its more widely acknowl- edged trigger-happy American- European counterparts. The smoke- screen made up of policies of inte- gration and immigration is just that, a smokescreen.

Liberal-lefty softy surrender monkeys? Perhaps less so than you’d think.

Postcards from Sicily

By Sarah Cummins,Catania

Recently I came across an article in our local paper in which the infamous Italian fashion designers Dolce and Gabbana said "All foreign women dream of having an Italian man".

On bringing this up on a night out with the English Erasmus girls in Catania,Sicily we swapped tales of Italian men.

Between the six of us,we had received offers of trips to Rome,moonlit passagiatas on the beach (via Vespa no less),numerous dinner date invitations and private Italian lessons - all on one of our first nights out here.

On printing off an email at my local interneterria,one of the baristas took it upon himself to note down my email address and proceeded to send me an essay of an email detailing his life story – finishing with how much he loves to watch me smile as I read my emails!

The men here are extraordinary; as we walk down the street they reel off every English sentence they can remember from their school days of ‘the cat sat on the mat’. We are close to applauding anyone that thinks up something

other than "Ciao bellissima". And singing? That wins them extra points! The originality of their dates is what made us giggle the most. Sicily is full of beautiful,scenic spots and Italian men know it! An evening date always consists of a drive to Aci Castello,wine in a cosy little bar,followed by a ‘drive’ along the beach front.

We have come to realise the risk of letting someone walk us home though. Harnoop was called on,emailed and left notes for by an Italian every day for a week!

So,while we may dream of having an Italian man, the reality is definitely not the ‘Italian stallion’ we are led to believe.

Postcards

Our final Switzerland postcard

By Florina Schwander

Whilewriting this,my last postcard,I am already back home in Switzerland. At the moment I am trying to do some revision in the mountainous region of the Engadin,the beauti- ful eastern part of Switzerland. Looking at those big snowy-grey summits,I reminisce about my time in Cardiff. I realise I haven’t missed the Swiss moun- tains at all,but I do miss the British sea now. All those beautiful shells and those soft pink stones I found on my way from Penarth Pier to Cardiff Bay,looking like chewing gum!

After the first wave of euphoria of being home and of seeing fam- ily,friends and alike,eating real bread and visiting Mango,I now realise what I miss from those four months I lived in Cardiff. Most of all I simply miss the people.

Next to all my new friends,nat- urally,I miss the already dis- cussed British friendliness. Imagine that in Switzerland no one thanks the bus drivers when getting off the bus. Nor do people offer their help while one is looking forlornly at a map on the street.

Furthermore,no Swiss guy would ever enquire friendly,where you come from just because you’re wearing trousers on a Saturday night out...

But,best of all,I have never experienced a pro- fessor telling me in an email that it was a joy,hav- ing me in class. Now that almost brought me to tears. Back home I have written weekly emails to one of my professors just to finally get an appoint- ment at 8.15 am on a Monday morning to discuss my upcoming exam. And please,think of me next time you’re standing in the library with 38 editions of the same book. Here you would have to order them months in advance to get that one copy!

There are some things,however,that I definitely won’t miss,such as those funny basins with two separate water taps. Or those early morning struggles with the light cord dan- gling in your face. Or that funny smell around the city centre on a Sunday morning.

All those little things,however, seem to sink into oblivion when I remember hearing that sweet seag- ull’s cry unexpectedly in merely any part of the city. In connection with that,I also miss English as a language. So,if any of you would like come over for a visit in Switzerland (it’s worth it,promise!), don’t forget to bring along a tape with some English sound as well as the seagull’s cries!

“He talks a good game”

Every time a terrified referee is seen cowering behind a whistle, praying his two coloured cards will provide shelter from Roy Keane’s verbal artillery,football takes on an all too familiar walk of shame.

Analysts,commentators and spectators routinely condemn the men "bringing the game into disrepute." Fingers are waved,and self-satisfaction broadened as we look down from our pedestals,chanting each letter of the law book at Keane and his red-shirted henchmen as they hang from the gallows for tarnishing the beautiful game.

Granted,sport needs ill discipline like a Catholic priest needs condoms, but,the FA’s unswerving defence of the men in black is equally despicable. If a referee is incompetent,then action must be taken.

But all too often the diplomatic inadequacies of those directly involved undermines the cause for change – Sir Alex Ferguson’s poker face in a heated situation does little to veil his volatile temperament,while the Gaelic expletives uttered by Keane rarely translate into an olive branch,and each instance of un-harnessed passion allows a scapegoat for the FA to conceal the pressing issue.

Referees are only as good as the rules they uphold,but with English foot-

Oi ref, are you blind? Sports writer of the year Riath AlSamarrai demands better refereeing

ball’s governing statute making as much sense as a plate of alphabet spaghetti,they have become inevitable targets for the boo-boys. Confusion clouds each and every chapter of the referees’ handbook,with "the application of common sense" leaving many people scratching their heads.

Whenever a situation is opened to the referee’s personal interpretation, the game becomes farcical. What constitutes a penalty in one match is

“Sport needs ill discipline like a Catholic priest needs condoms,but the FA’s unswerving defence of the men in black is equally despicable”

deemed a dive in another,and in the high stakes environment of the modern game such discrepancies should receive short shrift,not staunch protection from the sport’s ruling body.

Football’s rules need clarification –that is the only common sense necessary here – and it is where the FA should earn their fat pay-packets,not

dispensing harsh fines on a manager speaking out against the error-strewn system.

The FA need to configure a solid set of rules covering all aspects of the game so when a situation arises there is a protocol in place that can be followed and the referee is relieved of the decision making burden. And it will be a relief.

Mark Halsey was the sacrificial lamb sent to the slaughter at Villa Park last month when charged with the task of "applying common sense" in the tie between Aston Villa and Arsenal. Halsey distracted thousands of supporters from a good game when he allowed Thierry Henry’s goal to stand from a quick free kick despite not allowing the defensive wall to form. Henry danced perilously close to the line separating bad sportsmanship and good use of initiative,but is exonerated for his part in the subsequent distaste in the Midlands,because while the goal was unfair it was well within the shoddy rules of the game.

Referees like Halsey have their jugular exposed each week by a loopholeridden structure,where they are required to act as fall-guys for the FA, taking the flak and abuse for a problem thats source is far away from the field of play.

It is time for the FA to put their hands up,take responsibility and do what they get paid amply to do – control the game. The current system has to be changed,with the lists of ambiguous and flexible laws replaced by solid statute,dictating the way the game should be governed.

Mistakes will still be made – imagine tennis without bad line calls,or cricket in the absence of an ambitious appeal – but while the human errors of sport play an integral role in its allure,inconsistent referees confused by a riddled rule book should have no part.

bangers and

Well,happy new year readers. Unfortunately,you won't be reading this until February,by which time all thoughts of Yuletide festivities will be vomitflecked memories,tinged with distant regret.

Thankfully,this means that you don't have to endure another feature that a) pointlessly reviews the events of 2003,or b) predicts those of 2004 in hi-hi-hilarious fashion (always called something like “Old Gates' Almanack”,for instance). Let's face it: both these things suck,so much that the use of the word 'suck' is entirely justified. And we are led to ask questions of ourselves. Why has Garry Bushell got a job? Will no one kill Richard Littlejohn? Friends,I'm not going to answer these questions,partly because I'm a lazy swine,but mostly because it's better for you to come up with answers yourselves. I'm just going to snipe and babble,like so many of our distinguished wordsmiths out there.

Anyhoo,this piece was initially intended to be a tirade against the media,especially newspapers. However,in light of Nick Griffin’s daughter declaring her ambitions to follow in Daddy’s footsteps as Führer of the BNP,I thought I’d be a little more contemporary. As might be expected,Griffin junior’s rhetoric was the typical neo-Nazi claim that they don’t hate anyone and are merely trying to protect British (read: English) culture and heritage. Which is strange,really,as you don’t hear the BNP complaining when art galleries or theatres are closed,or a civic park is destroyed to make room for private investment. Nor will you see them on picket lines when a firm is sacking its employees in lieu of cheaper (ie, sweatshop) foreign alternatives. Hmm. I wonder why? Oh yes – that’s it; these noble patriots don’t like trade union activity,industrial action, or any form of public protest that isn’t centred on racial hatred,as these bodies are ‘hotbeds of Marxism’. The British National Party prefers its voters to have no specific community spirit and no political insight,for ignorance and suspcion are its bread and butter. But then again,the BNP is a lot better at telling us what it is against than what it is actually for. And so we get to the question: what, if anything,is British culture? Let’s leave aside the simplistic images of the BNP and the Tories,who imagine it as cross between the Last Night of the Proms,the Changing of the Guard and an Orange march – after all,

these are not so much cultural events as displays of force. Is there any nation-wide cultural trend that can be said to be genuinely ‘British’?

Garry Bushell writes: Why,watching football,drinking gallons of beer and having fights when your team loses. That’s as British as bangers and mash!

Gates wearily replies: What,like they do in Italy and Latin America,and many other places? See what I mean? Oh,and by the way,sausages were invented by the Romans,and potatoes came from America. Silly man, Bushell. Go back to promoting Oi! bands. Unfortunately,the sympathies of this sort of lazy reasoning cannot always be dismissed with such apparent ease. It doesn’t help that our beloved media prefers not to think about the truth but emblazon itself in the Union Flag,ideas of Britishness and “Victorian Values” (more on this at a later date). Even the more leftleaning papers,who might discuss this issue,do so in such a snobbish fashion that they might as well not bother at all. The fact is that most of the media and our ‘betters’ refuse to believe that it is no longer 1951, fetishing a national character that died long before even four-star petrol. I gladly accept that there is regional culture in Britain – only a fool would deny that. However,to speak of British culture as a stone-set,monolithic entity,under threat because of a multicultural society,is clearly talking enough shit to fertilise the Sahara. Take a look at yourself,dumbo: Britain is an island. It did not,therefore,have an indigenous population. Damned as

near everything on this tatty little island of ours came from somewhere else. In fact,the one definite cultural trait that has lasted through British history is that of assimilation,the adoption of people and things from other countries. This is a part of Britain that the BNPwould rather not think about,rather not defend,for it is this impulse that is their greatest fear. So,in the words of George Clinton, think: it ain’t illegal yet!

Madame Cynthia interjects: Fall before me,O worthless dogs! Fear me,the most beautiful woman in the world,whose gaze caused a thousand bloody suicides! I’m withdrawing the rapturous mysteries of my horoscopes for this issue,as my good friends at the Dalchini Tandoori needed to advertise their truly amazing offer (see below,you benighted idiots). However, do not fear. I shall return for the next issue of Quench,so you can stop drinking yourselves to death on my account.

So,that’s it for another issue. Yeah,I know,a bit low on content this time around,but console yourself that you might not otherwise have noticed that brilliant offer down below. Well,I say brilliant,but I don’t actually like curry,so I won’t be taking it up. I don’t eat out,either,so despite being a bargain and all that,it’s of no use to me. Ah well,never mind. It could be worse. I mean,I could be one of those rebel Labour MPs who left their principles at the door to the House. Thanks for your continued assassination of socialism,fellas.