Words and That - Issue 18

WORDS and ThAT “I guess we should leave now”

POems prose Paraphernalia

Issue 18

intro •

Editorial

James Beazley once wrote “you should never start with a quote.”

H

e wrote this when confronted with a terrible fact: real life was here.

Time had been running independently of him for the last 13 years of education, and now it was time to bid goodbye to Abingdon.

Leaving Abingdon is a peculiar sensation, not least because it sneaks up on you. You spend the better part of Lower Sixth and all of Upper Sixth navigating through UCAS in aid of preparing to leave the school; you spend innumerable conversations discussing what could happen once you’ve left; and, if you have time, you might even work on your A-levels.

And yet somehow the one thing these things don’t prepare you for is actually saying goodbye. Before you know it, your calendar fills up with tutor, house, or activity farewell-dinners, you’re being presented with an OA tie, and Jerusalem is being sung. And somewhere in the middle, you’re left wondering what has just happened.

You talked about leaving. You planned for leaving. But some small part of you didn’t accept it was really going to happen.

A not-insignificant portion of the Words and That Soviet is leaving this year.

But even if you’re not in the Upper Sixth, you’re still leaving something behind this summer - a whole year, which you’ll never get back. Lessons, matches, experiences with friends which are gone.

So make the most of it, please. Be creative. Be fabulous.

Hugs and Kisses, The Words and That Soviet (2015-2017)

“Le

!” ” JD ese! che of D nd a ve e lo ham r th ike “Fo oll l

.” “ .. b The mark of m lu C y b g u R e th m o fr s w “Ne to accept auth aturity is the ability ority without “My little pon q uestion” y h “Rowing? a s a s e r i ous problem with systemic racism.”

Rowing! !” n ia v E f o t u o n u r e ’v e W “ ROWING!!!”

“Can I borrow a pound?” ” . k n i P t o n , e s i r e C s ’ t I “

t’s r

Overheard at Abingdon

“ C *chirpse* an you Fir efl yt ha t?”

“Flusk” “I actually spoke to a s ” . e cond year once” s r o t u t r u “ o Y y o u cannot h t ” i D J D “ w advocate er t s i g e I SIS!” ” o.

“R in ip il F ’s id a m y m , st ci ra ot n “I’m “ Do I have power “In B12?” “A Windsor knot is always superior. ?

Bitch, I’m a Libr Unless you can do a Flusk knot.” ary assistant.” ” t. c fe e r P a ’m I … y r r o w ’t “ Don “Somebody stole m “ Careful! You might catch po y SAN verty!” “ The pa P ELLEGRINO” t h “ N o I am righ Are we a to heaven? t , a further llowed o m a t h e matician a n it or is greed with it just P me!” refects?”

“Do you think I won this ? d n ie r lf ir g a t o g u o Y “ tie in a raffle?” ” . s ?” y d a d a th l ir b , r u n o y r fo w t a o th s d a W ny y g o s i m e h t “Let’s tone t” “ You’re o h ig r a e k a m ’t n o d s g n o W o w n the bla “T cklist!”

“Your rights have been taken away? Well, that’s life.”

school •

101 Uses of a Study Period 1. Annoy the Librarians.

2. McDonalds.

3. Tinder.

4. Form a posse.

5. Bother.

6. Perfect the art of turning pens into shanks.

7. Powerlifting practice.

8. Goose Stepping practice.

9. Look out of the window with headphones one, imagining you’re in a music video.

10. Read a mongolian horse-hair yodelling forum.

11. Learn to dance the moonwalk.

12. Clean your weapon.

13. Shakespeare monologues.

14. Hit up Poundland and buy a photo frame.

15. Dust.

16. Stage a coup.

17. Perfect the art of fire-starting.

18. MUN research.

19. Go to chapel.

20. Wikipedia Game.

21. Powerlifting club.

22. Go into Abingdon and imagine you’re James Joyce strolling around Dublin.

23. Lose to St. Helens at Lacrosse.

24. Don’t get into Oxford University.

25. Don’t get into Cambridge University.

26. Deface the Hillary Clinton biography.

27. Make plaits.

28. Start a book burning.

29. Laugh at natives of Abingdon.

30. Try to find all the ‘Abingdon School in 63 Objects’ objects.

31. Go to St Helens and pretend to be a teacher.

32. Read Germaine Greer and wonder if you’re sexist.

33.

34.

35.

36.

37.

38.

39.

40.

41.

42.

43.

44.

45.

46.

47.

48.

49.

50.

51.

52.

53.

54.

55.

56.

57.

58.

59.

60.

61.

62.

63.

64.

Colouring books.

Become Chancellor of Germany.

Cheat on the Maths Olympiad.

Watch anime.

Sleep outside pretending to be homeless.

Find the librarians’ baby monitor.

Go to Albert Park and fail to buy cannabis.

Arson attack on the cafeteria.

Take a book out of the library that you will not read.

Practise juggling with the shrunken heads of your peers.

Throw a child into a volcano.

Hide in a corner and warble at bypassers.

Screech noisily from high windows at passers-by.

Write ‘Bible’ and ‘Pokemon’ fanfictions.

Crossdressing.

Vigorous rubbing of calves.

Go to the cafe.

Keeping it all PG. Establish the underground fight club.

Lockdown.

Become a Lower School Assistant.

Apply Snapchat filters to teachers.

Vandalise a desk.

Write Head Boys fanfiction.

Cry quietly, trying not to attract attention of librarians.

Practise your interview technique in a bathroom mirror.

Wander about school trying to find a printer. Fail to.

Vigorous self-reflection.

Read Mein Kampf.

Take a new Facebook Profile Picture.

Vandalise some third year’s prep diary.

Tick if bored.

“Miss Lusk has come to visit us during our study period.” “What? Again?”

65. Repeatedly walk along Prefect’s path, trying to catch a Prefect’s attention.

66. Fantasize about having a wife.

67. Bring back dinosaurs.

68. Pavlovian experiment on Third Years.

69. Plan assassinations of your closest friends.

70. Get a boyfriend.

71. Go to Alpha.

72. Hum mysteriously.

73. Read aloud in the Upper Library.

74. Cook a chili con carne.

75. Fold a paper machete out of free paper from the library. Using 500 sheets of A4.

76. Gym sesh?

77. Form a ‘confidence and supply’ deal with the DUP. 78. Scroll through your news feed, ignoring sex things. After hovering over them.

79. Have pizza with Rev Steer.

80. Try to steal a dog from a teacher.

81. Desperately seek someone you know and talk to them.

82. Desperately seek someone you don’t know and bully them.

83.

84.

85.

86.

87.

88.

Start a novel.

Set fire to the Reichstag.

Put up hilarious posters.

Think about work you should be doing.

Consider your options.

Colour code your homework schedule which you won’t keep to.

89. Memorise speeches from Gladiator.

90. Try to work out how you would respond in the event of an enemy invasion.

91. Watch a TED talk.

92. Chase squirrels around Upper Field.

93. Browse Amazon.

94. Construct a trapdoor.

95. Daydream about that girl who touched your arm that one time.

96. Work out if you could be a life model.

97.

Browse the Ryanair website to find a cheap flight. Plan a long weekend in Bratislava.

98. Read Tintin.

99. Make a Spotify playlist.

100. Crack your spine.

101. Work.

fiction •

Head Boy ‘Fan Fic’

G

eorge leaned back in the swivel chair and cocked his head, his half-questioning look reflected in the blank screen of his coursework. His open neck revealed a soft slip of skin to the bite of the Westridge room’s cold air, in which they were both alone.

Jonah had been pretending to read his book. His satchel lay beside him, propped up on the leg of his chair. If only his thoughts could be as neatly ordered as the books inside. He was the picture of straight-laced private school repression right down to the eyes that hungrily roved the prefect tie George left draped across the chair beside him, and now hung there, as lazily as a 4th year in a prep DT. “Jonah.” George’s voice was barely more than a whisper, but it stained the air like the name of a third year on the Blacklist.

“Yes, George?”

The reply was anxious, expecting. He knew the long dreamed of moment was finally blooming into fruition, and he tried to retain his composure. Stay cool. A voice crack snatched away the end of his sentence, betraying his true feelings.

George half-smiled. Like a first and sixth year librarian, they knew each other so well. Over the last ten months they had spent so much time together, but it was when a faint trace of humanity showed through Jonah’s calm visage when he liked him most. When he saw his true vulnerability. When they were closer.

“Jonah,” George stated, relishing the sound of “No, George. I’m sorry but I can’t. You know I his name as it passed his lips. “I want to do this. I don’t like it.” need it. For me.”

The frustration began to boil inside George.

Jonah’s head dipped slightly. Whether it was The meetings after which he only rememfrom frustration, acceptance or mere thought bered the covert glances they shared behind George did not know. He had once more slid be- the Head’s back; the Prefect’s dinner, when hind the mask behind which he could not pen- they had been unified in their half-meant reetrate. Vulnerable in the naked silence, George marks; the exultant, timid excitement of their prompted him. first time. Their times together began to take hold of him, disguising the happiness with an “Jonah?” anger that Jonah would put all they had been through aside for this. He stood up, choking Methodically, Jonah leaned back and placed Jonah in his shadow. his book face-down on the table before him. He slowly folded one leg over the other, adjusted his “Jonah, I need this. I’ve let you do it so many cuffs, and looked up. but when it comes to me … why not?”

But now the question he had spent so long thinking about had finally come up, the long-lost awkwardness again flared up. George was unsure how to start. He gasped out his name again.

“I don’t know George. I don’t know if it’s … us.”

Jonah looked down, embarrassed. George, silhouetted against the glare of the com“Jonah.”

“Why not? We’ve done It before.” puter screen had shocked him into realising what he now knew was true. The tendrils “Yes George.”

Jonah suddenly turned, his eyes flashing, as if he of self-perception suddenly snaked around had heard the cautious crunch of a Lower Sixth him, sucking the life from his anger like A faint tinge of impatience now began to flavour on the Prefect’s path.

Dawswell’s ‘alterations’ to Flusk’s plans.

Jonah’s voice.

George’s breaths slowed as he began to calm “But George! You know what it’s like for me. down, and Jonah became fixated on the way “Jonah, I’ve been thinking,” Whenever I let you have your time in the sun, his neck fluctuated gently with each sigh and sacrificing my own intentions to let you enjoy the thin scent of expensive deodorant that “I have too.” your power I always feel so … unwanted. Alone.” radiated from him. His vulnerability loaded Jonah with a guilt that delicately quivered George let out a half sigh of relief. Perhaps he “Jonah, I’m sorry to make you feel that way but his hands. He released a sigh, and gave his would agree, and his pent up anxiety would all you know as well as I do the rush it gives you judgement. be for nothing. He span around to face him. Jo- when you do it. To show your power. To feel your nah looked up from his book, drinking George’s veins warm with its fiery lustre. Please Jonah. Af- “Ok George, I’ll let you do it. You can speak stare with expectant eyes. ter all we’ve been through - will you do it for me?” first in the final assembly of term.”

poetry •

Ten Little CCF Boys TEN little soldier boys Walking about in lines, One got called up for ‘Dawswell’s Reich’ And then there were nine.

NINE little soldier boys Jumping o’er gates, One’s mum thought it was dangerous And then there were eight.

EIGHT little soldier boys On Easter Camp to Devon, A boy didn’t like the ‘army food’ And then there were seven.

SEVEN little soldier boys Trying to intermix, Kaye wasn’t interested And then there were six.

SIX little soldier boys Into the wet mud dive One got earthworms in his ears, And then there were five FIVE little soldier boys In trouble with the law, One took a gun through Abingdon And then there were four.

FOUR little soldier boys Silent in Remembrance Day glee, One fainted and knocked out his teeth, And then there were three.

THREE little soldier boys Proud to be the noble few, One picked up a live grenade And then there were two TWO little soldier boys Thought that they had won, One realised it was just dress up, And then there was one.

ONE little soldier boy, Who knew it was a con.

He quit to help the elderly And then there were none.

political bother •

The Election that Goes Wrong - Manifestos

The Conservative Party

The Labour Party

STRONG AND STABLE ETHNIC CLEANSING

YES, WE ARE RUNNING IN THIS ELECTION

Maintain our policy from 2010 of scrapping the deficit ‘in five years’ time’.

Provide strong leadership on the world stage as we take the role of little spoon with Donald Trump.

Raise VAT by 1.5% and kill 72.5% of the poor.

Invest an extra £2 billion into the BBC for an hourly programme of anti-Corbyn propaganda.

Continue with our plan for Brexit until every young man under 45 named ‘Francisco’ is on their knees and the Eastern bloc has been reclaimed by Russia.

Negotiate a trade deal with Panama to reduce all tariffs on tax avoidance funds.

Support the steel industry, of China.

Protect British liberties by installing programmes of education in all primary schools and Birmingham to teach British values or else they will be taken to the gulag.

Make dieting easier by calling half a boiled egg the equivalent of a lunch.

Transfer powers to headteachers so that they will receive all blame for the state of education.

End homelessness with a bilateral approach of mustard gas and artillery.

Do away with computers. Yes and Ho. Regulate oil spoils so that exactly one megalitre of palm oil is poured onto Scotland’s shore each hour.

Transfer powers to the government to be able to delete all internet history produced over the last eighteen years about Boris Johnson.

Abdicate as Prime Minister and hand over all power to Prince George.

Confirm that we will not reduce any of our budget for election fraud.

Give me your Gran’s house.

Give me your Gran’s house.

Give me your Gran’s house.

Let Michael Gove run the environment.

We pledge to enact a maximum bank account tax, so that any funds in excess of around a tenner is given to Jezza.

We will introduce a new tax to fund “Project De-throne the Queen”. The end goal of this project will not be revealed to the public as of yet.

Protecting the nation is one of our main priorities, in order to accomplish this our Government would petition to become a vassal state of China, let them do the work for us.

Labour is dedicated to eradicating success; to push us further to this goal our Government plans to kill anyone with a university degree.

This party is dedicated to immigration; we love foreigners so much that we believe they should rule the country. In this regard please read our policy on defence. If our new oriental overlords allow us to open the borders we’ll blow them wide open.

This Party is made up of individuals who were bullied at school, so to combat this our Government will deport all citizens by the name of “Chad” to the Shetland islands where they can think about what they’ve done.

Brexit, now this party hates Europe, but we’re going to keep as much of it as possible.

I don’t see us winning, let’s chuck tuition fees in here.

The Scottish National Party THIS ELECTION IS NOT ABOUT INDEPENDENCE Integrate into a peaceful ghetto the Tories and the English.

Nationalise the rails, by recruiting them to the SNP. Declare St George’s day as St Andrew’s second day.

End all taxes paid by Scottish people, at a loss of £20.

Provide bagpipes for all the unemployed.

Enter negotiations with Taiwan to start a new union.

Nationalise energy with whisky powered turbines.

Double tuition fees for English students studying in Scotland.

Extend our tuition fee waiver to all Western democracies, except England.

Nationalise airplanes, by adding Tartan plane seats and bombing BA. Continue laughing at the Welsh and the Barnett formula.

Enjoy our biannual tradition of an Independence referendum.

The Liberal Democrats WE WERE CONSIDERED LIBERAL IN 1906 Thou Shalt hate the sin, not the sinner.

Thou Shalt not leave the EU. Thou Shalt not relate to the Working Class.

Thou Shalt be a sub.

Thou Shalt hire a hitman to shoot thou gay lover’s dog.

Thou Shalt love thy neighbour a bit too much.

Thou Shalt pass the blunt.

Thou Shalt be bullied in school.

Thou Shalt disappoint thou ancestors.

Thou Shalt not win an election.

We don’t hate gays, honest guv’.

Hang on, we lost this, okay, okay, I do hate gays.

Plaid Cymru EVERYONE KNOWS YOU HATE WALES We here in the Plaid Cymru England Branch would like to confirm our participation in the 2017 General Election due to our eternal hatred of the Welsh. We suggest: Grant with immediate effect, the independence of Wales.

Large bombs be placed along the River Severn and detonated so as to detach Wales from the British mainland entirely.

All diplomatic ties with the new Welsh state be severed.

political bother •

The Election that Goes Wrong - Leaders’ Rap Battle Theresa May Amber Rudd Brexit means Brexit, Our manifesto says it, Vote for us, you won’t regret it 400 majority, you better check it, We’ve got money, but won’t spread it, If something goes wrong we’ll leg it, Yet still take all the credit, Leave Corbyn decrepit, I am the Senate.

Let’s see if you can spell it, T O RY M A J O R ITY Jeremy Corbyn I love public spending, My career’s slowly ending, But still I can mend things, And control bank lending, My party is hating The changes I’m making, Got Labour quaking, Cos I’m so groundbreaking, But don’t be mistaking, This election… is going to be heartbreaking.

Tim Farron I don’t think gay sex is a sin.

Phone rings playing ‘F*** Tha Police’ by NWA Leanne Wood

The Words and That Team would like to interrupt this rap battle to confirm that the raps above were written before the election result. Everyone got it wrong though, so we’re not even sorry.

I grew up in the Rhondda ...

I came from a small town in Wales ...

In Wales we need ...

In the Welsh Assembly where I work ...

The other side of the Severn Bridge ...

Who’s London and why do you keep talking about her?

Nicola Sturgeon

Caroline Lucas

What’s the question? Independence Is everyone in attendance I’ll start the ascendance, For all Scotland’s descendents, Tories better be in repentance, By the time I finish my sentence, We’re back with a vengeance, First referendum was the wrong answer, horrendous!

This time we’ll be stupendous.

Break away from dependence, Braveheart would commend us.

You say The price of my generator’s Not a price that you’re willing to pay.

You cry In your fossil fuel machines That you leave to burn in the sky.

Why so sad?

Remember we’re killing this planet And letting it die Now you’re making me mad.

Remember despite our estrangement I have a plan.

political bother • The Report Card

Summer Term 2017, Third Report, Theresa May Academic Reports English V2 Theresa has done very well getting her point across in her essays but I think that she can expand her rhetorical techniques further than the emphatic repetition of “Strong and stable,” which - after all - is only a hendiadys with sibilance.

Mathematics G3 Very promising, though her numbers don’t always balance. Must stop being rude to her classmate, Diane, and I would remind her that everyone progresses at their own speeds and should not be mocked. Theresa appears to occasionally make mistakes for the sake of her popularity. For example I asked her what 331 would become if put into the function f(x) = 2x - 334, she gave her typical response of ‘nothing has changed, nothing has changed’.

German P5 Theresa absolutely refused to cooperate with any member of the teaching staff, merely repeating the words ‘BREXIT MEANS BREXIT’ loudly, aggressively and slowly. I asked her the simple question ‘wie geht es Ihnen?’ and she replied ‘what I am doing is carrying out what the British people voted for on June 23rd and that is leaving the European Union.

History G4 Theresa’s grasp of history leaves much to be desired; she has an unusual ability to link all of her arguments back to a central argument that chaos in Europe was the main cause of every single historical tragedy.

RS V3 Theresa has shown an admirable understanding of various religious arguments, showing a good grasp on various examples of religious extremism. It is, however, somewhat concerning that she only seems able to cite examples of Islamic extremism, and only those outside Saudi Arabia - she refuses to recognise Protestant extremism too. We worry her friends in Northern Ireland may be getting to her.

Geography O5 Theresa has made a valiant, admirable, and utterly futile attempt to answer absolutely any question apart from those related to climate change. These are issues she probably should address.

Other Half Reports PE C3 If she could run on the track with the same athletic prowess she displays within wheat fields she could go a long way. Hopefully to Peru.

Debating P5 Theresa has not come to any debates.

school •

Dealing With “Bother” Dear Students, Karl Marx wrote that all history is dominated by the struggle between the rich and the poor, the haves and the have nots, the privileged and the unfortunate. Indeed, it may seem that way to you as you walk to school in the morning under the daily hail of dead cats, anthrax bombs and abuse that the good folk of Abingdon see fit to hurl at you. It is a sad fact of life that we cannot live peacefully together as an ordered, hierarchical, stratified society without the occasional outbreak of mindbendingly cruel, unwarranted class warfare by sore losers on the bottom of the pile. These points are intended to give you an idea of Queen, Country and School would like you to act when presented with such a situation: 1. Never, ever, begin - or appear to begin - any ‘bother’ with boys from a neighbouring school or with any adults. Unless you outnumber them by over 3:1, and they look like frightful oiks.

2. The opposition expect that you will fight back. Do not disappoint. This school has been through two world wars, and if previous OAs could beat Nazi Germany and Kaiser Bill then you can certainly knock some of those fellows down a peg or two.

3. If you are attacked or bothered, go into a shop, library, bank or place where there might be weapons to hand. Return to the fray armed and ready to inflict violence with absolute discretion. Do your duty.

4. Stick together if you are with a group, especially if it is really impossible to avoid an attack. Think of Rorke’s Drift, Agincourt, Dunkirk. Stand your ground and look them in the eye as you would a charging giraffe remember, they are probably more scared of you then you are of them.

5. If they do get the better of you, while you tend your wounded you are to call for backup immediately. The CCF have long been waiting to be useful, and the special Bother Section (the BS for short ) will be on hand soon enough.

6. If possible, have the presence of mind to note any details of your assailants for a description. For this reason, we recommend keeping a sketchbook on you at all times, so you may make a profile of the assailant and keep a record of who said what. This may be needed in court.

Note: Some of these dastardly aggressors have been known to don false uniforms, such as those of Abingdon Boys, English Army officers, nuns or Lollipop men. Be ready for anything, and never forget how much is at stake. You may be all that stands between order and chaos.

8. You should avoid the Precinct and Square whenever possible, especially during the school day or when dressed in school uniform. You may go, however, if it is very late at night or if you are in disguise. But you are also reminded that there are many charming things to do in Abingdon outside the precinct. You might even want to drop by St Helen’s Church and say a prayer for John Roysse...

9. Any incidents should be brought swiftly to the attention of the Deputy Head (Pastoral), Mr Hindley – office: 01235 849130; mobile: 07733 304715 or Mr Gooding - office 01235 849015 who will inform the police or make attempts to identify the culprits.

Finally, a quick note should this fall into the hands of the enemy.

I don’t know who you are. I don’t know what you want. If you are looking for ransom I can tell you I had plenty of money, but blew it all on a Science Centre. What I do have are a very particular set of skills. Skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that will get me employed at Daddy’s firm. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you. If you stop bothering our students that’ll be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you, but if you don’t, I will look for you, I will find you and I will kill you.

DJD – 23.3.17

fiction •

Agony Marking

fiction •

The Execution

T

he water in the basin was still warm; and the faintest aroma of the flower-scented soap still drifted through the room.

The Disciple had just washed himself, from head to toe - every part of his body was as clean as a newborn babe. He had not eaten of meat for three days, and had fasted for another day afterwards.

In a moment, he would break fast - Lucie would bring him his meal, while Jade would trim his nails and Scarlet would prepare his sword. Lily had prepared for him a new white cloak - a silken garment, completely new and unworn, as white as snow from the hems to the clasps, made especially for the occasion.

He was preparing for one of the most solemn occasions of his life. He was about to kill a man.

The man’s name was Solomon. The disciple did not know Solomon; in fact, he had never even seen Solomon’s face before in his entire life. He had never seen Solomon, but he would have to kill Solomon anyway; because Solomon had killed Maktul.

He had never met Maktul; but everyone knew Maktul to be a righteous, godly man, and a true credit to the world. Even the Disciple, who but rarely left his castle, had heard of the name of Maktul; but he didn’t know Maktul, nor had he ever seen Maktul either.

He had travelled hundreds of miles under the raging sun, leaping from

horse to horse for seven days, hurrying to a foreign city in a foreign land, fasted, prayed, and bathed, to kill a man he had never seen before, to avenge a man he didn’t know.

Solomon stared at the Disciple in disbelief. He had met all sorts of people - and killed all sorts of people - before, but never had he met someone like this disciple. His cloak as white as snow, his face as cold as ice in the midday sun, and his sword still sheathed even as he waited for Solomon to pull out his own blade.

Solomon had never felt this sort of pressure before. Who was there in the whole wide world who had not heard of his skill with the scimitar?

Who would dare to stand and wait for Solomon to get the first draw?

Even Maktul, “the Sword that Rules the Seas”, had reacted with fear when he revealed himself. Even Maktul, who ruled unchallenged over the Mediterranean for two years, had not been skilled enough to survive against him. If he hadn’t been crowned with the title, “the Sword that Rules the Seas”, he wouldn’t have had to die. Solomon had killed him for that title. Six words that cost him his life.

The disciple only said five words.

When Solomon asked why he was here, he said “To kill you.”

When Solomon asked why, he said, “For Maktul.”

Solomon asked. “Are you a friend of Maktul’s?” And the Disciple shook his head.

Solomon asked again. “And yet you’re here to kill me? You’ve covered a thousand miles in the blazing heat to kill me for a man you didn’t even know?” And the Disciple nodded.

He was here to kill, not to talk.

Solomon’s face was changing. The Disciple’s mannerisms had brought to his mind a certain individual - a certain individual, a certain sword, and a certain murderous disposition.

The Disciple had a strange sort of disposition - if he intended to kill you, you had only two ways out of your dilemma. You either died, or you killed him. And nobody had killed him yet.

Now Solomon found himself staring into the same dilemma that so many others had faced before him, and realised that he had no options left.

A cold summer wind blew through the street, and the first leaf of Autumn detached itself from the branch. A mob of ravens screamed and took flight, flying off into the setting sun. Solomon drew his scimitar and leapt forward in the same motion - and a series of motions flashed in front of his eyes. The image of a blade separating the Disciple’s head from his shoulders, the image of him rolling to avoid the oncoming sword, the image of him standing victorious at last over the fallen Disciple. His scimitar flashed in the dying sun like a red bolt of lightning, streaking towards its target - only to cut through the air, barely an inch away from its intended target.

Dumbly, he stared at the blow that had missed - the first blow for years that had failed to land exactly where he wanted - and noticed a cold pain in his neck. He reached up - scarcely realising what he was doing - and found that his hands were red with blood. His own blood.

A sword was sticking out of his neck. Silently his left eye swivelled down the length of the sword to stare at a hand; followed the shape of the hand up into a cloak, up the perfectly white cloak into a perfectly emotionless face - the merciless face of the Disciple.

In a single fluid movement, the Disciple stepped back and withdrew his sword. Droplets of blood dribbled down its length as he blew softly on the blade; as the last drop of blood left the sword, it settled down onto the yellowing leaf.

When the yellowing leaf danced off into the sunset, the Disciple was already long gone, disappearing like the leaf itself into the wind.

“Bums”...

school •

I heard a vicious rumour that there were people playing “bums” football. Don’t. You will remember this was banned and is not allowed, so don’t play it.

As ever, if you are unhappy with this decision, you are more than welcome to come and discuss why “bums” is felt to be inappropriate - my office is in B10.

Thank you.

“Fidget Spinners”...

Please forgive the second global email in a day.

You are not allowed fidget spinners in class.

If you feel you have an educational need for such a device you may of course talk to the Learning Support department to seek and obtain specific permission from them for a fidget spinner; they will then email your teachers, not you. If you use one in class and you do not have explicit, prior permission from Learning Support, or from the teacher of that lesson, expect your fidgetter to be confiscated.

Again, do feel free to come to B10 to discuss this if you would like, or if you feel this is unfair. Thank you.

“Calculators”...

Forgive the third email, but I have further news on the banned items list we’re drawing up.

It has recently been drawn to the attention of the SLT that calculators may constitute a significant distraction to classroom work, due to the fact that if you type 5318008 in and turn the machine upside down, it spells something which I’m sure we can all agree really isn’t very funny at all.

Mr May and I did not appreciate this puerile attempt at humour.

If you want to pick a fight over this, come to B10. See what happens.

“Hierarchy”...

Please forgive a fourth email, but it’s all hotting up in B10.

It has come to my attention that some people feel they are somehow inferior to others on the basis of ability, strength or wealth. I think this carries with it all the worst aspects of private schools, and so it should be sorted out.

As such, we have taken the decision to abolish what are called ‘sets.’ Subjects will be taught to whole year groups simultaneously. To further stop exclusivity, all subjects will now be taught together, in the sports hall. To all students. At the same time.

If you have an issue, come to B10. I dare you. I double dare you. Come to B10.

“Age”...

Please forgive a fifth email, or don’t, I don’t care.

I have heard rumours of something called ‘age’ which is being used to perpetuate the evils of hierarchy. It has therefore been decided to abolish ‘years’. Students will be assigned random exams at random levels on the basis of lot. Students must study for at least one A Level, two GCSEs, half an AS, a full set of fourth year mocks and at least one first year exam. It is hoped that everyone will be so confused that they will not be able oppress the people in the younger years.

If you have a problem, get yourself to B10, which has now been renamed B101. My sword arm is getting twitchy.

“Backrow Bandits”...

Please forgive another email, but there are important matters afoot.

We have determined to address the frankly flagrant issue of the ages - “back row bandits” on the buses. We have heard alarming stories of intimidation and extortion perpetrated from the so-called “Back Row Bandits” in the past few weeks.

Please note that it is now prohibited to be a “Back Row Bandit”.

In order to reduce the chance of Back Row Bandits re-emerging, Mr Dawswell and I have taken evasive action. This morning we removed the back row of seats from each school bus. We then discovered that a new ‘back row’ had been left in its place, and we removed that too. Three hours later, we put down the chainsaw, and realised that there are in fact no seats left.

We have concluded that this is a satisfactory outcome, and, on an unrelated note, everyone is now a Bus Prefect.

But if you really want to see oppression, come to B101.

“Weekends”...

Please forgive a nth email, but it’s all hotting up in B101.

It has come to my attention that some of the boys, particularly in the predominantly day houses, have taken it upon themselves to leave school on Friday at 5pm, and not return until the following Monday.

As I am sure you will understand, this kind of behaviour directly contravenes the values in which we take so much pride in as a school community. Myself, the rest of the teaching staff and the relevant parents have all expressed their disappointment in the highest measure of this practice.

Please remember that a lot of money and time is put into your education here. ‘Weekends off’, as I believe some boys have termed it, show an immense degree of disrespect to everyone - including yourself - who has worked to secure your place at this school.

Remember your privilege.

If anybody has any issues with my decision to expel all boys who have been found to take weekends out of school, come and see me in B101 at 6AM on any Saturday morning over the coming weeks.

“Uniforms”...

I have now found a way to direct route these emails into your brains. You are now hearing my words over telepathy.

I realised today that everyone looks quite similar, but perhaps not similar enough. It has consequently decided that, in the interest of the ongoing war against HIERARCHY (CURSED BE THE NAME) uniforms are to be abolished.

Everyone will be issued with a set of blue overalls at lunchtime tomorrow, and all school uniforms will be handed over to the Prefects for immediate incineration. The Prefects, as the most blatant show of hierarchy, will also be incinerated.

If you are growing tired of having legs that function and a spine that is not broken, come to B101. We can make arrangements to solve that.

“Time Itself”...

Hello, 1476890-P-7846, I have determined that the passage of time is the latest disruption to the school’s functioning.

Lessons constrained by the arbitrary length of 55 minutes are my current grudge. How you expect your teachers to effectively impart knowledge to you whilst living in a universe allowing only the forward passage through time is beyond the SLT. In addition, the passage of time means that some boys seem to end up getting slowly bigger then eventually leaving. This means that school revenue takes a hit. This is injurious to our profits, and so you must report to the health centre for compulsory castration and age-halting therapy.

There is, in my opinion, nothing more blatantly unethical and at odds with the ethos of this institution than the limiting of education by any laws, whether of child protection or physics. This said, I think the best solution is to do as W.H. Auden advised and ‘stop all the clocks’.

You will report to B101 sooner or later for compulsory punishment. We have your family. There’s no use in delaying, as time no longer progresses within these walls. And, in that vein, neither do you.

P.S. Can we please stop playing “Bums”. It’s getting out of hand.

I teach English; I have just finished “SPQR” by Mary Beard and am currently reading “Tacitus and the Principate” by Chris Burnand

interview •

Desert Island Disks with The Leavers

T

he Leaving Upper Sixth always maintained an aura of mystery, as they avoided the masses, sneaking around along the Prefects Path.

The writers of Words and That therefore decided to rip off this mask, exposing their true characters with a series of “Desert Island Disks”-esq interviews.

They each had to pick one song that summarised their time at Abingdon, and an object they would take with them into the abysses of their futures. The only rule was that they could not choose female teachers as their “objects” ... the Martlet have been sniffing around for an excuse to call us sexist for years...

Q: So, your Desert Island Disks – you can have one song that you think Q: very scared that he isn’t doing his job properly sums up your time at Abingdon, and one luxury item that you would No… no. I think I’m just doing it as a chat if that’s ok… take away with you. We cannot count female teachers as objects, for obvious reasons.

A: Ok then … Ok …. The song I feel I would use is Nina Salome’s ‘I Wish I Knew How It Feels to be Free’. It’s a beautiful little song; it’s A: What about male teachers? very quiet, and very gentle, and has really stuck with me because that transition from the fifth form to the sixth form is a huge one. The Q: As long as it isn’t DJD, I think we’re safe… sixth form really is the defining time when you’re at Abingdon, and having the soft tones, the quietness and the simplicity of this song was A: Well then, I feel like I need quite a happy song, so I think I’d very reassuring. It’s a wonderful song not least because it is able, even take ‘Walking on the Milky way’, by Orchestral Manoeuvres in the on the gloomiest of days to cheer you up and give you some hope, but Dark. I’m not really sure how I came across it – it’s one of those I now associate it with a lot of the friends I have made in sixth form, songs that you listen to, and you know it’s a bit crap, but you also and a lot of the experiences I have had. really like it.

Q: And I’m hoping that ‘I Wish I Knew how it Feels to be Free’ doesn’t Q: A bit like Abingdon, then? reference how you feel being at Abingdon.

A: Yeah, I think you could put it like that, but it’s just a nice song, so I think I’d go for that one.

A: backtracking furiously No, no, no, no… no. There are no connotations between the lyrics and the way I feel about it.

Q: So what would be the possession that you would take away from the school?

Q: not wholly convinced So, you have already been claimed as someone’s object, so before I A: Well, in an ideal world, I’d quite like to take Jonah, because I feel move onto your possession, I should probably say that whatever you that our relationship has reached a point that we’re able to go onto take will most likely also belong to him… the next logical thing, with the next stage on from close friendship being total ownership of the person, and borderline slavery. But I rec- A: I’m not going to go for him because not only would that create a ognise that Jonah might be quite unhappy with this, so I think, for huge paradox, but also it would be a complete cheat, so I will go for the object I could take away, I would like to have a staff lanyard, so I a book that is in the library; it’s a beautiful first edition of Bertrand can come back to the school whenever I want. I could walk around, Russell’s ‘The Conquest of Happiness’, which is one of my favorite enjoying it again, without being put on a register. books. I was put onto it by a tutor in third year during a particularly difficult time and I have read it dozens of times since. It has always Q: So… I guess I will be seeing you around... been a great deal of comfort knowing that up in the library there is that book waiting for me, and if something goes wrong I can pick out a few chapters and put everything into place. It’s one of those books in the Library that most people would look at and assume that no-one had touched it, but I have been taking it out.

‘The next stage on from close friendship is total ownership of the person, and borderline slavery.’

A: So, what are you trying to get out of me?

Q: One song that sums up your time at Abingdon, and one possession you would take home from school when you leave.

A: So are there any follow up questions? I know when we interviewed…

‘If something goes wrong I can pick out a few chapters and put everything into place.’

A: So - a song to sum up my time at Abingdon. I think “Stairway to Heaven” is a pretty good one because gradually life gets better. You start in Fourth year, and you get bullied, you get trodden upon, you

have the latest lunch times… you know how it is. No-one really cares A: What’s a song about a retard… it has to be a good song about a retard… about you. But you get each step higher, and you get to Fifth year, and you have GCSEs that are hard, but looking back you think – “That was Q: Shall we just move onto the possession? definitely do-able”. Then you get to Upper Sixth, and you are only doing the good subjects…

A: The Head’s alcohol supply.

Q: I thought you did all sciences?

Q: Right...

A: Yes, you only do the good subjects. And then you get to drop one, and get even closer to heaven. Then in Upper Sixth you have a really great time because although the workload is pretty intense, you are doing the subjects you love and it kind of all makes sense. And, of course, you get to go to lunch whenever you want. Being a prefect isn’t bad, a bit of a power trip, I guess. And then exams come and you get to the top step of the stairway to heaven and you look over and you realize… heaven doesn’t really exist.

A: Actually, for my music I would like the Isis Theme Song, because I would like to become a Muslim after I have finished Mr. Windsor’s alcohol, and it would give me an interesting dilemma, as I would only be able to stay alive with the booze but I would be a Muslim.

I think it would be a nice thing to listen to whilst pondering the meaning of life.

Q: I was hoping you wouldn’t say heaven can only exist once you have left Abingdon.

A: No, it just doesn’t exist. And so, for my possession, my number one would probably be Big School. It has memories, it has the library, the history, and it’s just a really nice building. You could be a librarian, on your Desert Island.

Q: I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again. You cannot advocate ISIS!

‘Abingdon is you, and you are Abingdon.’

Q: Unsure how to breach the topic that he is basically just taking the A: Well, I have to say, the song would oddly be ‘Jerusalem’, although I’m school. It’s quite a big object. sure people have done it before, for the simple reason that there is no other song that reflects the public school world I have lived in for the last seven A: Your material possessions are very transient… years. I have always strived to achieve a world more beautiful than this, and build ‘Jerusalem’ among these dark, satanic mills. It presents the rousQ: When I said this would be anonymous it’s fairly obvious it’s you. ing Abingdonian optimism, a leafy green perception of the home counties, of broad summers days, of strawberries and clouds farting lazily across the A: So, on a serious level, in Fourth year my possession would have sky and motorcar engines thrumming only distantly. It’s this image that been my trusty old pen - something that really sums up a time when I the song conjures up, and what I would most like to remember about my was just working hard with the occasional V2 as a highlight. In Fifth time at Abingdon. In fifty years time I will not remember the sleazy jokes, year it would have to be the MUN tie. That was the year that it really but it will be the more abstract things that will follow me to the grave. peaked, and we had all the legends.

You know what, overall I’d probably take my mind – no wait… cut that Q: And what about your object? … that’s too pretentious even by my standards…

Now, looking back at Sixth Form I’d probably have to take the debat- A: I suppose it would have to be the Eagle Lectern, quite simply because it is ing gavel. I’ve been going to debating ever since I started the School, one of the most fantastic pieces of furniture I have ever seen – it is the most and it’s always been the climax of my week. grossly overwrought brass avian thing that squats on an orb like a fevered national socialist’s dream . It is simply for this fixated megalomania, which sums up the other aspect of the British public school – to subjugate the lesser nations of the planet, which I shall certainly recall. It may look a bit ridiculous in the front room, but I cannot think of anywhere else it could go.

‘You know what ...

I’d probably take my mind.’

Q: So, one song and one object that summarizes your time at Abingdon.

A: Well I’ll choose a gun, and as the song “Big man with a big gun” Q: No, please don’t or I’ll have to call child protection officers again.

Q: You may get some reports from neighbours who see you wildly gesticulating out of the window from it.

A ‘ nd I’d drive away into Larkmead, where no one would dare follow.’

A: I’m going to go for ‘More than a Feeling’, by Boston, because I think be- room… Oh, my time here has been great but if I haven’t offended ing at Abingdon has become a part of life – being here is not about feeling half the school … to be fair a kid today recorded me saying Hitler good, it’s about being Abingdon. Abingdon is you, and you are Abingdon. was “good bant”.

It’s all about how the school integrates you, and indoctrinates you, and becomes a part of you. It becomes more than a feeling, and becomes being…

Q: Abingdon.

A: Exactly.

‘My time here has been great, but if I haven’t offended half the school...’

Q: And what would you take from the school?

A: A Bunsen burner from Mr Middleton’s lab. He was my tutor, and started my chemical career – read from that what you will – and it will mean that there will be no more items for anyone else to take when Abingdon goes down in flames. I will cleanse the past and rejuvenate the future.

A: I spent a lot of time on this music choice, but then I decided to go for something cheesy and tacky, because that’s quite a good description of the Abingdon education experience. So Donna Lewis’ ‘I Love You Always Forever’. I do feel like Abingdon boys live in a really tacky nineties song sometimes, so I think it’s fitting.

Q: I’m beginning to miss Hysan.

Q: It’s not describing anyone at the school, then?

Probably the skull cap or the Hitler Youth dagger ...

A: Well, it’s about the school as a whole, but if you want to pin Miss Holt on it, then that’s perfectly acceptable. I will love her always, forever.

Q: Your possession, then. What are you taking away from the school?

A: Well, I’m taking away memories, life experience, knowledge.

Q: You’d never know that you’re a Prefect.

A: Can I have anything based on school shootings?

A: Well maybe I should take all records that I was a Prefect to stop the Q: No. school looking questionable in the future. But I would take the stag’s head from School House with me. It used to have two, but now it only A: Alright then, Gloria Gaynor’s ‘I Will Survive’, because I feel I have has one, so maybe in the past another student or teacher took it away. survived all the ordeals of the school, and I now need to celebrate. But I think to do this again would be quite a nice touch. But it would have what would I take? Oh, it’s got to be some of the Nazi memorabilia to be in a grand heist. I’d steal the Cottam buggy, go into school, steal from the History department … probably the skull cap or the Hitler the stag’s head, steal all the paper from Miss Papadopoulos’ classYouth dagger. room and drive away into Larkmead where no one would dare follow.

Well that’s it. We talked of everything from Betrand Russell to theHitler Youth, from “I love you always, forever” to the “Jerusalem”, A: Yeah … sure. Whatever you want it to be… playing in the bed- stripping away any remaining shreds dignity with the masks that conQ: I hope these are not for re-enactments.

culture •

The Stephen King Films

W

ith the impending release of the much hyped Stephen King’s It, a chilling horror centred around the terrifying clown known as Pennywise, as Words and That’s film writer I felt it would only be fitting to look back at some other classic films that have been based on Stephen King’s books. I decided to choose The Shawshank Redemption, The Green Mile and The Shining; this is not only because they are hugely critically acclaimed but because they also demonstrate the range of film offerings King has provided, from crime to drama to horror yet (for the most part) still retaining the ability to move and affect the viewer long after watching them for the first time.

The Green Mile Released in 1999, The Green Mile sees Tom Hanks star as Paul Edgecombe, warden of a Louisiana prison death row during the Great Depression. The highest grossing of all Stephen King adaptations ($286.8 million worldwide), this film is quite unlike any other that I have seen, revolving around the frankly huge but seemingly kind hearted inmate John Coffey -“like the drink but not spelt the same”- this film elegantly weaves suspense, emotion, drama and the supernatural to create a truly unique film. At 3hrs 8mins it’s not a short film but it doesn’t feel like it simply drags on forever (ok maybe a little in the final 10 minutes), something demonstrated by my watching it twice in a week after seeing it for the first time – a truly great film that does not seem to achieve the same level of publicity or recognition as the other two on this list.

The Shining The Shining is a film with a cult following unlike any other film of its genre.

Its plot revolves around a writer (Jack Nicholson) who takes his wife and young son, Danny (and Danny’s ‘imaginary’ friend Tony) to be caretakers for The Overlook Hotel, Colorado, during its winter closed season. This sets the film up nicely – a huge, empty hotel, no way out through the snow and a child who sees things that no one else does; oh and I almost forgot - the rumour that the last caretaker brutally murdered his family in room 237. A top quality horror film, it achieves its sense of terror not through blood and gore (for the most part – one of its most iconic scenes sees a pair of elevator doors open to release a tide of blood flowing down the stairs!) but through an altogether more terrifying sense of tension and suspense. The sound of the protagonist, and struggling Jack’s (played coincidentally by Jack Nicholson) typewriter drifting through the vast hotel hallways is just one of many examples of director Stanley Kubrick’s unconventional, yet brilliant, way of unsettling the viewer and demonstrating Jacks slow slide towards insanity. This film is a must watch and the best horror film I have ever seen, not least because whilst not losing any of the fear it still upholds an interesting and absorbing plot line – something many other films in the genre leave by the wayside.

The Shawshank Redemption Based of Stephen King’s Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption this film is perhaps less typically King in that it does not deal with the supernatural or horror. Like The Green Mile this is a prison film and also like The Green Mile has the ability to greatly move watchers and leave a lasting impression upon them. The film begins with Andy Dufresne’s (Tim Robbins) sentencing to two life sentences for the murder of his cheating wife and her lover, a crime that the viewer does not know if he committed or not until late in the film.

Perhaps the highlight of this film is the development of the relationship between Andy and Red (masterfully played by Morgan Freeman) along with other vibrant characters such as the corrupt but God-loving Warden (‘I believe in two things – discipline and the bible. Here you will receive both. Put your trust in the lord. Your ass belongs to me’), the elderly librarian Brooks, and the young and well-meaning Tommy. Even if you have no interest in the plot of this film I’d strongly recommend watching it for the quotes as it is a film quite unlike any other in terms of snippets of wisdom, pertinence or emotion. A true classic and quite possibly my favourite film of all time, The Shawshank Redemption really does have it all.

school •

A Physics Department Story Disclaimer The following is a work of pure fiction. The events depicted are entirely of the author’s imagination. Any similarities to persons alive or dead are merely the product of Mr Simmons’ hyperactive imagination.

F

irst day at my new job. It had been over two months since applying but the day had finally come. My latest career. Physics teacher at Abingdon School. I stride confidently through the main doors of the science centre, eager to set a good impression. I see a group of teachers ahead of me and step forward to introduce myself. But then I remember the email Mr Brooks had sent to me. Ground floor belonged to Biology. Best not to involve myself with any of these people in that case. I go upstairs and find Mr Brooks in his office with his dog.

“Ah you must be our new teacher. Glad you could get here on time.” Mr Brooks smiled up at me. “Well since you’ve arrived I guess we’ll just get on with it all.”

“Ah yes. A sort of teacher induction you mean?”

Mr Brooks squinted up at me from his desk. “I suppose you could call it that. But yes we will be, uh, ‘initiating’ you into the department.”

With that he broke into a menacing laugh, accompanied by a blood-curdling howl from his dog that echoed around his office. The small room was spartan, decorated only by a poster of a short Victorian man and a model train set. Mr Brooks eventually broke off coughing and silenced his dog with a gesture of his hand.

“Come with me. It’s time you met the team.”

He took me across to a large, communal room which I realised must be the main Physics office. As I entered the room, people turned to assess me as the new kid on the block. Only one seemed to remain oblivious to my presence - a youngish looking woman, half hidden in the corner behind several coke cans and other miscellaneous detritus.

Mr Brooks leaned towards me and whispered, “Nelly Petrov. She may look disorganised. Because she is. But the important thing to remember is to never approach her before about 10.00 A.M. Last week, a student tried to ask her for help on a prep question at 9.45am. Sent him straight to the health centre. Used to be KGB or Mossad I reckon.”

Alarmed, I quickly averted my gaze from her direction. A tall, lanky fellow strode past, clutching a freshly photocopied stack of paper. Jokingly, I turned to Mr Brooks and asked, “What about him? Is he dangerous too?”

“What Simmons? Dangerous? No, he’s just a bloody nerd.

Worst he’ll do is start singing something.”

I suddenly realised that Simmons had been whistling something so badly out of tune it had almost become a One Direction song.

This had not been what I had expected at all for my new job and I was beginning to feel slightly uneasy.

Mr Brooks smiled, “Yes I’m sure you’ll get on very well with everyone, despite the occasional odd quirks. One last warning though.” He gestured towards a blonde woman who was sitting alone and polishing a crystal ball. “Mrs Bennison. I would be careful talking with that one if I were you, she is reported to

have powers of hypnosis. Anyway enough of that. We need to get on with things. Some of the other teachers were planning to skip period 4 teaching and go into lunch for McDonald’s so we need to be finished by then.”

“Done with what exactly?”

“Oh you’ll see.” Mr Brooks turned to address the whole room. “Everyone listen up, please. This is the latest member of the department. I forget his name but he seems like an alright guy. We’ll be starting the ceremony in about 4 minutes so I want you all in positions sharpish, ok?”

Puzzled, I watched the teachers file out towards the technicians’ room.

“What do you mean by ceremony?”

“Ah yes just a small piece of red tape to get through so we can properly introduce you into the department. Most of the teachers and technicians and so on should be present. The only one that might not make it is Oliver Lomax but he’s printed out this short itinerary for you to look over. Stay here and I’ll call you through in a second.”

With that he handed me a folded piece of paper and left. I unfolded the paper slowly and began to read through.

1. Ensure all members present and in positions as per rehearsal 2. Dim lights to instill sense of fear and intimidation 3. Invite victim colleague into room 4. Begin chant - Simmons has been cautioned against musical ad libbing 5. Begin to circle ominously (having pre-checked room for trip hazards) 6. Bring forward The Device

I looked up to clear my head and work out just what was going on here. I glanced at a long glass wall, overlooking the corridor.

Some pictures sat, blu-tacked to the wall, and it was with a sudden shock that I realised they were memes.

“Ah I see you’ve discovered our meme collection.” Mr Brooks returned through the doorway.

“Oh yes, you make these yourself then?”

“Well not me personally. But our resident producer of memes is a certain Mr Mason. He is very dedicated to both his memes and his football. It’s a miracle he even had spare time to teach Physics.” Mr Brooks informed me. “Gone on paternity leave now, which is why we had the vacancy available for you.”

“Oh I hadn’t realised. Well, good for him.”

“Yes I hear it’s done wonders for his sleep, having to look after just the one baby as opposed to two whole classes of fourth years.

But, yes, his meme collection is very amusing. The chemists are very jealous that we’re outdoing them with memes. Well, anyway we’re all set up now if you just want to come through.”

I looked up to see Mr Brooks disappearing off ahead of me into a dark classroom. I looked around but the entire place was empty. Was this some kind of a joke? What on earth was all this

about? Clearly I had no choice but to go after the rest of the teachers and find out what they had planned for me. I threw the half-read piece of paper in a bin and walked through to the classroom.

As I stepped into the dark room, I was sure I had entered the wrong lab. Suddenly, the door slammed shut behind me placing me in pitch black darkness. Slowly a blood-red light started to emanate from the edges of the room and as my eyes adjusted, the silhouettes of several hooded figures emerged from the centre of the room. A cold mist was undulating between the desks and shrouding the floor. I opened my mouth to demand to know what was happening when suddenly the door opened again. Two men entered, one of them hurriedly donning his own mysterious robes.

“Lomax. Thomas. You’re late.” One of the figures in the centre of the room revealed himself to be Mr Brooks, removing his hood to address the latecomers. “We have less than 20 minutes to do this.”

“Fewer than. It’s ‘fewer’ than 20 minutes.”

“Well it’s 19 minutes now Lomax so stop moaning. Everyone just shuffle over and make space there.” Once they were all in position Mr Brooks continued. “Now everyone remembers how the chant goes right? We spent a disproportionate amount of our last meeting working on this.”

A small man in running kit raised his hand, “Actually, John, I’m not particularly feeling it now. It just seems like we’ve lost a bit of the atmosphere.”

Simmons gasped with the sense of injustice of a drama student being told he won’t get the lead role in his favourite musical. “Simon. James. How boring can you be? Mr Brooks tell him he has to do the chant.”

“Well, Mr James has a point.” Mr Brooks frowned with the authority that only a Head of Department can hold. A role second in power and respect only to the likes of Mr Dawswell or the House Prefects.

“But what about my solo? I was thinking I could do a little jazz song or something and Mrs Griffiths could do her dance routine from Teachers Come Dancing.”

A quiet woman who had previously been standing near the back gave a nervous laugh. “Oh was that the plan. Oh dear I think I’m going to need some more chocolate.” she murmured, fixing her gaze far from Simmons’ eyes.

Mr Simmons’ face turned a deep red. “Fine you know what guys I get it. Clearly my musical contributions just aren’t appreciated in this department. Clearly, I should have been a music teacher but it’s ok. You can all finish the initiation without me. I’ll be in my classroom, teaching. Still got 5 minutes left to set some prep.”

By this point I was entirely lost for words. The department had apparently organised itself into a quasi-cult, albeit a fairly amateurish one. Any semblance of structure dissolved like blue powder in a particularly dull Chemistry practical. Someone made the call to hand out post-ceremony drinks to all the teachers and soon all the teachers were enjoying a beer. Maybe this job wouldn’t be so bad after all. Mr Brooks walked over to me to hand me a beer.

“Sorry about all of this. The whole thing has been a bit of a shambles.”

“Oh don’t worry about it I understand entirely.” I really didn’t at all. “I like the decoration in your office.”

“Ah the poster of Isambard Kingdom Brunel you mean?”

“Yes, that’s who it was, wasn’t it now? Now remind me who exactly was he? Didn’t he do something relating to chemistry.”

Mr Brooks coughed and spluttered, beer spraying outwards.

He stared up at me, one eye twitching aggressively as his face boiled up into a bright shade of red.

“You don’t know ISAMBARD! KINGDOM! BRUNEL?” Yes, perhaps this was going to be a very long year of teaching after all.

opinion •

Tips to Aspiring Artists

I

n school there are departments for the subjects of music, drama and art. They can tempt people into a dream for prosperity and an actual career in these fields. Here are some tips for anyone considering any of these paths in life: Give up.

The market is overcrowded… stop. What are you going to do? Walk up to Steven Spielberg and say “Hello, Mr Spielberg! I’m a very passionate person who has played Bottom in our school’s low budget production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream in which Titania was a 6 ft giant played by the captain of the rugby team and Oberon was ill so the teacher had to play him.” I dare you. See what happens. I’m sure that your devised piece on mental illness is inspiring to the 3 people that watched it but have a reality check. Did those people applaud because they enjoyed your monologue about that “really deep” metaphor concerning chicken fingers and PTSD or were they glad that it was over so they could get on with their piece that is almost the exact same piece you performed but with a poor Russian accent? Does your superiority complex make you so deluded that you remain ignorant to the fact that you are just as boring as everyone else? Or are you just oblivious to the fact that the man screaming about the end of the world is more charismatic than you?

As for musicians, you’re all so hell bent on being original that you forget that your piece only has 4 chords in a loop.

Hopefully you have realised that your singing voice sounds like a banshee with laryngitis and that you play guitar like an old man with arthritis. The fact that you’re teaching

yourself piano is just admitting that you’ll never be good at it. And even if you are into ‘The Classics’ like The Beatles, Smashing Pumpkins and Nirvana, you are still intolerable. Since you force your music onto people they will not be able to tolerate any more of the whiny edgelord songs you put on about smelling like teen spirit. If your friend is a good person they will probably tell you that they like your music but don’t… DON’T give it to them as a birthday present. Also your music is not good because it is old. All that age proves is that drugged up hippies listened to the same music you did when it was popular. I would bring up the example I used for actors but with the music producers guild instead of Spielberg, but that would just be pedantic wouldn’t it?

Lastly, artisans. Although you are probably the most likely to earn money in life (even if it is by drawing a circle on a canvas, painting it red and making stuff up about the “subliminal meanings” and selling off for £100,000) you are still an insufferable human being. Your “open mind” isn’t enlightenment, it is a normal human function so stop putting yourself on a higher level than everyone else. You have learned one thing from art class and you immediately lord it over the “uneducated masses” while you stand there absorbing the world around you. Just because you can memorise the colour wheel and you can use impasto and sgraffito techniques. I have insulted the musicians and thespians but you are the cockroaches of society.

What can possibly be worse than a cockroach though? A journalist who criticises other people’s hobbies for kicks and giggles. Isn’t that sad?

opinion •

The Cultural Appropriations Surrounding ‘My Little Pony’

My Little Pony creators demostrating support for homosexuality

L

et’s cut right to the chase I know what you guys are thinking: ‘Oh look, now an article making fun of those degenerate bronies I hear so much about’ - well, no. At first I was with you, pen and paper out, smug expression fixed in place, ready to rip into how badly made My Little Pony was. But after merely the first episode, I knew I was wrong. The deeper I went, the more clearly I could see that this show was more human than any show about humans. Its skillful use of metaphor and linguistic trickery far surpasses any show I have ever seen, and the political implications are so groundbreaking that I am surprised Hasbro allowed them to air. So now I write this an enlightened man and I hope to pass my wisdom onto you through cursory analysis of the deeper themes.

The first thing we need to analyse is the ti_tle card ‘My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic’. My Little Pony is of course the brand but Friendship Is Magic is an original addition by Lauren Faust - the show’s creator. The sentence has the quite literal meaning that within the show friendship is the driving source of the characters’ magical power; however, there is a second much deeper meaning. The statement is clearly a reference to the otherworldly nature of love and human emotions (friendship). Due to the existence of such emotions within the mind, this is linking to the philosophical idea of mind-body separation. But that’s nothing new for the show to talk about; what is really special in this statement is the use of the word magic. The magic used in the show is intrinsically linked and tied down to earthly things often affecting and being a part of them.

Hence, due to this context, I believe ‘Friendship is Magic’ is actually referring to more modern day philosophical emergence theories about the mind, in that it emerges within the natural world as a unique property seemingly unrelated to the joining of its natural parts much like during quantum entanglement.

Next, onto another major feature of the show: cutie marks. For the uncultured philistines in the audience, cutie marks are a symbolic mark that a pony magically gets when they realise their purpose in life. This talk of purpose in life will have the astute of you on toes, thinking of the possible ramifications for modern day existentialism and essentialism.

But which side of the debate does My Little Pony stand on? Well, whilst the foals are not born with their cutie marks, there is a constant theme that the marks are uncovered rather than discovered. Take for example, the cutie mark crusaders; they, ,whilst trying to search for their cutie marks had been inadvertently doing their destined actions. This suggests the actions themselves are natural and the cutie marks only serve as a

symbol of their discoverance. This kind of rhetoric lands My Little Pony firmly on the essentialist side - a scandalous move after the dominance of Sartre outside of the abrahamic tradition. Do not fear however - Faust is more reasonable than you think with a very interesting episode in which twilight sparkle using magic is able to switch the cutie marks of the ponies. Upon this happening, the ponies begin to do the jobs based on their cutie marks while still maintaining many other of their characteristics and mannerisms. This draws a nice mixed line between the contribution to identity of essence and genetics/nurture, which allows for more modern day adaptability of the theory.

Now I know Abingdon has never been the most religious school but if My Little Pony doesn’t convert you to Buddhism, I don’t know what will. The show skillfully embodies the concept of anicca (acceptance of impermanence) by having Fluttershy literally become friends with the embodiment of impermanence (discord). Here, two important things must be kept in mind. Firstly, we must remember we are dealing with the nature loving Fluttershy. This shows Faust’s clear inclination to the more nature-based enlightenments found in the teachings of Lao Tzu and Dōgen. Secondly, we need to combine this with our idea of cutie marks, as there we find a crucial contradiction with the Buddhist teaching of selflessness and existentialism (anattaa). However, I trust Faust enough to see that this is not a contradiction on her part but actually a strength. By allowing this contradiction, hence rejecting anattaa, Faust has managed to make a seamless merger between western and eastern thought, the likes of which prominent thinkers at the Kyoto School of Philosophy have been trying to achieve for centuries. This is an incredibly skillful entry point into Western thought as ideas similar to anicca have been around from the stoics all the way to Nietzsche. Through this semi-Buddhist lens we can now clearly see that Fluttershy has actually transcended reality to a higher fully actualised state of being, but stays among her friends acting as a bodhisattva. Whilst we’re on the subject of discord, if his gradual acceptance into the group isn’t a parable for the acceptance of quantum theory among the scientific community then sparkle me sideways.

Lastly one must remember the most crucial part of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic - the friendship. Here we have a show in which enemies are defeated through acceptance and any pony is allowed into society, so to say friendship is a major theme would be an understatement.

We have clear representations of societal groups within equestria with the land ponies representing a labouring class. Despite this, the land ponies are respected for their work rather than rejected, and all the other ponies take on an equal amount of labour as them merely in other forms.

Here I think Faust goes a bit over the top with her Marxist sympathies, but amongst such incredible works we can’t blame her too much for such a minor sin. Furthermore we have the God-like leader, who comes and interacts with every pony else as an equal. This is another reinforcement of the ideas of mutual respect and acceptance and a clear Marxist reformation of the idea of religion. Lastly, I would be remiss if I declined to mention the use of a very diverse range of sexualities by having a lesbian lead role in the form of Rainbow Dash and making all of the male ponies gay (I mean they’re literally called ponies c’mon). Through the use of a diverse and stratified society that manages to accept each other, My Little Pony sets up a sparkling example to the real world. We can already see the impact of the show with gay marriage reform, the black civil rights movement and the freeing of the slaves to name but a few. Let us hope that it can continue such inspirational work in the future.

poetry •

Obituaries Elegy to an Abingdon Boy’s Social Life

Elegy for a £1.99 Ruler from Waterstones

I’m left to sit, alone, and grieve, As I watch my life get up and leave.

Balls, dinners and endless frees With which to get up, go out and believe.

That I may stand a chance in this: The ‘big wide world’: the metropolis.

All that rejected - we worked instead; We wrote, we thought, we talked, we read.

A life of shame, one of regret, But a life of endless intellect.

Nothing else matters - we have our pals, At least that is what we tell ourselves.

For we all know, in truth at least, That we tread life’s boards with blistered feet.

We’d look for love, but that’s not where we’re at, Instead we go to Words and That.

I broke my ruler yesterday on the way to lunch I had flung my bag down roughly and that dull crunch Reverberated in the air as I shuffled away I opened my bag later and was relieved “It’s only a ruler” I heard myself say “Neither my pens nor my notes Of mathematical formulae and Dracula quotes Have been damaged or displaced.”

Indeed I perceived that I had been fortunate.

Yet as I glanced again inside the pencil case I felt a prick of remorse that welled to a stab As I regarded that pitiful shard Clearly marred Through years of service, yet still I saw it again as it first arrived and felt That same mild thrill As when I received this shimmering rod of sapphire And now? Now I prepared its funeral pyre.

I approached the corner classroom bin, Said a few words then threw it in It almost felt like I’d lost a pet As I mourned my depleted geometry set.

Elegy for a Loss of Innocence I have seen the lights in the depth of the sea, The darkness at the peak of the world; A seed turn to tall tree, Split by the sky unfurled.

I have seen bad men born, And good men die; Proud parents mourn, And lovers lie.

I have seen cities span centuries, And razed in a single day; Great armies of friends and enemies, Fields of blood in which they lay.

Time for me has no sting, I saw the universe as it grew; Yet I still can’t think of anything As bloody stupid as you.

Elegy to my Chances at becoming a Prefect Standing atop the world I see, A chance to fulfill my destiny, To rule over, and govern the masses That try to skive off their sedentary classes.

Yet this power is not given freely, And do I feel I am ready, really?

After all the things that I have done Am I above the hoards of scum?

Third years cower at my name, North Korean flags and racism rocketed me to fame.

Now my parents look at me in shame, My housemaster, denounced me for all my crimes, And now I struggle to find a rhyme.

Elegy to Europe

Elegy to that bit of Handkerchief in my Pocket

We tried and tried but it was not to be We gave you up to decay You caused us nought but misery But we still had our day.

So. Dear friend.

This looks like goodbye As you crumble into the grainy dust from whence you were weaved Nothing more. Dis in te gration.

It happens so fast, when you least expect

We fought with mighty armies From home to distant west Britain ruled the seas So we let France have the rest.

Our religions bonded us all as one In wars against blasphemy Slaughtering Arabs and having fun Teaching savages civility.

Germany was born - our baby boy So strong and growing bigger.

But he thought France was a chew toy So we had to pull the trigger We love our times spent together So don’t misjudge our intents We’ll stay with you forever Just without your immigrants.

Elegy to Time If I could try to turn back time, Just a few years if I may, To take from all the clocks their chime, And make wheat from a bale of hay, If I could make those decisions again, Choose a second time and choose right, Then how my life would be free from pain, I know that I would know no plight, If I could turn no’s into a yes, And enjoy the moments I missed, Life would have more colour I guess, I’d make my failures fade like mist, If I could win the battles I lost, Knowing now how I must act, Fleeting mistakes would have no cost, My regretless mind would be intact, Despite these hopes for could-have-done’s, And the tiniest changes to my lot, Reliving these years would be most fun, To have more years with all you lot.

So now I stand, holding you And I wonder where the time went Three days you sustained me. Drying my eyes as I glanced into the Sun Shedding not tears, but pain’s progeny Nothing was easy back then, but you, graceful protector, you held me in the palm of your hand As I hold you now.

Ode to the Leaving U6th They collected their ties, and ate the ice cream That signalled the demise of their diminishing dream That they’d stay here forever, and neglect to leave The boys that now must be left to grieve.

a pilgrim’s progress •

S

o there I was the other day, walking around the school campus. The mean streets of Abingdon. The gutters ran red with the blood of first years. From the science centre came the unholy screams of the chemists, damned to repeat their assessed practicals until they could shake off the degradation of their torture. The clinking of swords from a bloody gladiatorial contest, and the whooping of the teachers, casting bets over which of the boys would be first to fall, from the Classics department, next to the new amphitheatre they’re building at the moment (cunningly disguised as ‘Beech Court’). I clenched my fist in righteous rage and indignation. What this place needs, I thought, is an injection of Morality. Not just Morality - medieval Morality. In the most medievally moral medium, the medieval morality play. These were plays which decided that they couldn’t be bothered with all this ‘relatable human character’ malarkey, instead personifying the virtues and vices in such a way as to distill a clear moral message. And not a moment too soon….

EVERYMAN: Hello, my name is Everyman

I wander o’er the earth, And now I’ve come to Abingdon To see what may come forth.

I have come to see these hallowed halls, To see what I shall see, To learn the way to righteousness As sin assaileth me.

A rustle of poundland bags

GLUTTONY: Behold, my friends, the Everyman,

Who has come to our schoolHe wears the robes of monkery, And looks a proper tool.

EVERYMAN: But what is this that now I see,

Halt and come to viewWho art thou coming from the town?

Art thou the Poundland Crew?

Indulge our vulgar greed, We spend our time with Marylands, And never cease to feed.

GLUTTONY: My friend, we are the Pounland Crew,

EVERYMAN: Ha ha? For shame, O gluttony-

LUST:

Thy fate will be in hell.

But one is running t’ward me nowMay GOD protect me well.

Ha? A woman? No, a man, Thy dress confusèd me, I get confused, for I am LUST, As randy as can be.

EVERYMAN: Get off, unhand me, horny man

ENVY:

You must back off, you cur!

But now I see a better man Who wears a coat of fur.

My dollar money cash and thing, Will bring on me a curse, For though I’ll have no student loan My soul will be the worse.

EVERYMAN: Indeed, I pity you Avarice,

Within your needle’s eye Confused, I look around me now For I cannot find Pride.

PRIDE:

Stop! I am a prefect here, You shall incur my wrath, If you disturb the lunching queues Or use the prefect path.

EVERYMAN: Be calm, be calm, O mighty one

I have no such designs, But your wrath is nothing placed before, This man who’s half your size.

WRATH:

I may be in the early years, My size may be but small, But if you touch my warhammer My WRATH will conquer all.

EVERYMAN: But please, calm down, O tiny one,

And please don’t hit my teeth.

I would ask for help from him, But he is fast asleep.

SLOTH:

Oh please, don’t wake me up right now, For I can sleep about.

A Level season does not start, Until the year is out.

EVERYMAN: Art thou sure O Slothful one,

For they will start this June?

But I forget this foolish man, More important things to do.

For I am on the path to life, And I will reach the top.

For heaven’s in the offing now To reach the high hill top.

GOD:

Greetings, gentle Pilgrim boy And welcome to my lap.

For thou hast crested all the waves And now tis time to nap.

For you are here in heaven now And I am your recruiter; So go forth braver than before And register with your tutor.

Onwards went the Everyman,

And left the school of sin,

And walked into the rising sun

For new life to begin.

the back page •

All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages.

At first, the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.

Bless them!

Read rucksack instead of satchel.

And Rubick’s cube instead of shining morning face.

Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school.

And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woefull ballad Made to his mistress’ eyebrow.

There are women?

On my bus?

Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the canon’s mouth.

And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lined, With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part.

The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slippered pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side; His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound.

Last scene of all, That ends this strange, eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

Yeah! Pipe down m8 or I’ll do u one!

Look at all these fourth years. I remember when we were so young and innocent!

Look at all these fifth years.

I remember when things were so easy and joyful!

Free, but too exhausted to enjoy it.

Design and Editing:

Contributors: Blake Jones Blake’s friend, Archie Blake’s friend, Jonah Blake’s friend, Sam Blake’s friend, Edward Blake’s friend, Hysan Blake’s friend, Robbie Blake’s friend, Jonny Giles Stratton

Blake’s friend, Iwan Blake’s friend, Alex Blake’s friend, Thomas Blake’s friend, Patrick Blake’s friend, Alex Blake’s friend’s younger brother, Kit Blake’s friend, Suleman Blake’s friend, David Blake’s friend, Mark

Blake Jones Iwan Stone

Special Thanks To:

Joanna “Suspension” Bridgeworth Mummy Vickers

Sponsors:

Norton and Yarrow Cheese A mysterious anonymous benefactor...