PartB 759

29 November 2011

Kate Bush | Degas | We Have a Pope | Pushkin | 50/50 |One Man, Two Guvnors | Moneyball | LSEx | Private B

2Theatre | Fashion

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Fashion Editor Emma Beaumont partb-fashion@thebeaveronline.co.uk

Film Editor Venessa Chan partb-film@thebeaveronline.co.uk

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Cover Untitled, 2011

by Blandine Pairet of the LSESU Visual Arts Society PartB uses pictures from Flickr which have been issued under a Creative Commons license.

Director: Nicholas Hytner Playwrights: Richard Bean Key cast: James Corden, Jemima Rooper, Oliver Chris,Suzie Toase, Daniel Rigby, Claire Lams, Martyn Ellis, Fred Ridgeway, Tom Eddon, Trevor Laird, David Benson At Adelphi Theatre until 25 February 2012

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aving just transferred from a sell-out run at the National Theatre and a nationwide tour, the reputation of this play precedes it.

Happily, it is unlikely to leave anyone disappointed. One Man, Two Guvnors is Richard Bean’s farcical adaptation of Carlo Goldino’s The Servant of Two Masters. Bringing the story out of eighteenth century Italy and placing it in 1963 Brighton, Bean combines the original comedia dell’arte with traditional British humour of slapstick and double entendre. Throw in some excellent performances and moments of audience participation and the result is comic gold.

Central to the plot is Francis Henshall (James Corden), a failed skiffle musician, who motivated first by hunger but later love becomes the incompetent yet endearing man of two guvnors, a fact which it is imperative neither discovers. The first, Rachel Crabbe (Jemima Rooper) is in hiding as her twin brother following his murder by her lover and Francis’s second guvnor Stanley Stubbers (Oliver Chris). The confusion and hilarity thus ensue, coming to a head in a scene in which Francis is required to serve dinner to both simultaneously.

Here Corden is joined by Tom Eddon

James Corden as Francis Henshall and Suzie Toase as Dolly playing 87 year old waiter Alfie whose deafness, shaking hands and ability to bounce back from regular falls down the stairs has the audience in hysterics at his slightest move just in anticipation of what is to come.

While the slapstick side of the comedy is fantastic and a great testament to the offstage work of physical comedy director Cal McCrystal, it

somehow does not overshadow the humour in the dialogue with the script relying not too heavily on either to provide the laughs. There can be no doubt, however, that some of the finest points were those that appeared most improvised. Indeed Corden’s choice of audience participants to help in moving a suitcase has the potential to make or break one particular scene.

In this case, the inept pair resulted in his levelling with the audience in that “We get one of these about once a month” before continuing in his valiant effort to keep everything moving.

Performances are excellent across the board and while Corden’s name will bring in the crowds and his performance is a master class in physical comedy and delivery, this ultimately feels like an ensemble piece. Oliver Chris’s Stanley is a brilliant upper class twit, Daniel Rigby’s posturing actor a delight and Suzie Toase as Corden’s love interest Dolly adds warmth and a touch of feminism to proceedings with predictions of a more “just and fair society” under the female prime minister to come. It is not just the individuals but the rapport between cast members that makes the show. They bounce off each other (quite literally in some cases) with an ease and enthusiasm that suggests they are enjoying themselves just as much as we are.

If this weren’t enough, the inclusion of a brilliant skiffle band – The Craze – who perform at regular intervals with songs written by Gary Olding, is inspired. The cast are not excused these musical interludes and from James Corden playing a glockenspiel in a fez to Daniel Rigby playing his bare chest, the result is a performance that does not have a downbeat moment even when changing scenes.

With just three months until they head to Broadway, catch it while you have the chance. | Hannah Payne

How do I look darling?

L SE is oft proclaimed a romantic wasteland. Students bemoan their misfortunes in love and the dearth of options they are presented with. Undeniably, the petite size and manic nature of our university makes courting a foreign concept. So if casual relationships are unviable it seems that we must embark upon rather more intense mini-marriages as you a scarcely going to find multiples of people who are dateable. The sentiment is to cling on, limpet like to anyone vaguely suitable. Certainly as the winter winds creep in, companionship becomes an ever more appealing prospect.

To increase the chances of finding your beloved, necessary administrative steps must be taken. And where better to start than fashion. Initially you need to ascertain what you find attractive in a partner. As clothes are a reflection of the self, a quick look at their attire can be a useful filtering device. For example, anyone in a wife beater can retire now for two important reasons. 1) If you have pale, undernourished limbs and slip on a ribbed tank, then you appear delusional, detached from reality and not relationship material. After all sanity is in most cases a pre-requisite. 2) If you, perchance, have bursting, prisonesque arms, then you are clearly using this opportunity to parade the biceps around – how repellent, come back when you’ve put a shirt on.

So there are obvious vetoes, but how do we want our prospective partners to dress? Like a true LSE student, I collated some quantitative data to act as a useful guide as to what men and women desire in clothing.

Using 5 definitive style tribes, I asked a selection of students (the ones who didn’t run away from me) what their top preference was. Invited to choose between “achingly cool indie,” “corporate power,” “classic Rah,” “Topshop/ Topman” and “sporty” (think AU merchandise cavorting around campus) the results were enlightening. On the lower end of the scale for girls, rather dichotomously, came indie and corporate. It was proffered that both were too intimidating, albeit in different ways. Indie style girls

were deemed to take themselves too seriously, and one boy confided that he would be worried his “alternative” girlfriend wouldn’t have “great bants.”

Indeed “bants” is not implied with androgynous coats and impossibly skinny jeans. Equally, the trademark LSE corporate style was also lambasted for being too severe. It suggests power, which is apparently terrifying.

Worryingly, it adheres to the idea that in this day and age, men still need to be needed. Anything more than smartcasual and one is deemed overpowering, I could embark on a feminist rant at this point, but let’s keep this to clothes. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the most unadventurous category (“Topshop”) garnered the most votes.

This style is accessible, comfortable and most importantly conventional.

One can take the Topshop girl home to meet the parents. Her style radiates reliability, stability and is importantly unthreatening.

Interestingly it seems that girls look for the inverse in their men.

Garments that illustrate maturity and authority garnered the most praise, with business attire ranking as the most desirable garb. Sporting wear was also in high demand as it potentially demonstrates good physical condition (perfect for the long term goal of reproduction). Furthermore there is seemingly something attractive about displaying your ranking on the back of a Royal blue hoodie. Again, it helps the filtering process. Topman styling also performed well, with many girls bemoaning the fact that certain boys are more fashion conscious then themselves. The message here is, if “I’m not making an effort, you shouldn’t be either.”

So it would seem that the median LSE student wants their partner smartly dressed but not flamboyant.

However, there is hope for the more eccentric dressers among us. All you need to do is find your duplicate.

Definitely achievable, wandering aimlessly round campus (a pursuit that takes up an unfeasible amount of my time) reveals clusters of various tribes. The Rah’s march together clutching their pashminas with one hand firmly placed round a Starbucks

EMMA BEAUMONT

PartB Editors Aameer Patel Emma Beaumont

One Man, Two Guvnors, Adelphi Theatre

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Tuesday 29 November 2011 | PartB

Two fashion compatible LSE students (Chips are part of the look) skinny praline latte. Similarly the indie kids hustle outside the library with their ironic Christmas jumpers and cigarettes. You’ll find the conformist types meandering around the quad and the “corporates” striding to a meeting/interview/class. The latter is only to show off the Italian suit they are so proud of. My point is that as people huddle together according to their dress sense, if you are prepared to date incestuously, within your social circle you may well find a kindred spirit in terms of style.

Ultimately my dour conclusion is this. The more conventionally dressed you are, the higher your chances are of finding a long-term lover. If you have a

penchant, for feathers, chains, leather or studs, this frightens or bemuses people. As a fashion forward girl your only hope is to find someone who dresses as outrageously as you, but then if you do they are probably gay.

My prescription for both sexes is this: be open-minded. Do not dismiss the boy with the black shiny Puffa jacket, ghastly as it may be, it probably keeps him warm and it illustrates an a lack of concern for what others think, which is of course an extremely admirable characteristic. Either way, continue to dress expressively! Partners come and go, but fashion is for life. | Emma Beaumont

Film3

PartB | Tuesday 29 November 2011

We Have a Pope Director: Nanni Moretti Screenplay: Nanni Moretti, Francesco Piccolo, Federica Pontremoli Cast: Michel Piccoli, Nanni Moretti, Jerzy Stuhr, Renato Scarpa Year: 2011 Runtime: 102 minutes In cinemas 2 December 2011

is called to the Vatican, in the hope that his modern magic might work in a crowd of sceptics. With no prospect of doctor-patient confidentiality and with the most fertile psychological ground fenced off by zealous minders, he suggests a fellow professional, coincidentally but not particularly importantly for the film, his former wife (Margherita Buy). He is held all

the same at the Vatican, along with the rest of the Papal conclave.

Merely a meek and gentle old man to those outside the Holy See, the patient escapes his entourage for further sessions with the city’s second finest psychologist. Prompted confessions he does not provide, rather the majority of his treatment comes outside of this office in the city that encompasses his isolated home of many decades.

He wanders, old age underscored by his fragility and apparent inability to survive without charity. One of the most penetrating scenes is one where he talks himself into a monologue on a crowded bus, his fellow passengers either ignoring him or vacantly nodding their head after unwitting eye contact – he is to be the father of this flock.

In the other city, all are trapped in what is effectively a hotel come prison. The world’s bishops must live together, and with them, the unbelieving scientist. They come together, both the bishops among themselves and the psychologist, although he later parts them for a wonderful volleyball tournament reminiscent of a certain Father Ted episode. These men, in their awkwardly formal clothes and

isolated lives, are made children once more and granted what seems like a day release from prison.

All parties discover much about themselves through newfound freedom or unexpected confinement.

Bishops deprived of Rome’s tourist stops move slowly from the confines of their rooms to communal spaces and makeshift volleyball courts. A psychologist lives with and diagnoses people who spend their days diagnosing others, albeit rather differently.

More than all of them, an old man recalls his boyhood dreams of the stage. Crucially perhaps, they were dreams not taken away but abandoned. He is nostalgic more than regretful but is drawn nonetheless to that world once more, now as a spectator who happens to know all of the lines. This is the heart of the film: sacrifice and responsibility. Michel Piccoli, now 85, delivers a subtly forceful performance that is truly that of a pained, reflective and world-weary old man. An uncommonly humble and self-aware old man. | Aameer Patel

lent actors – compelled me to watch what should have been an unbearably cheesy sports movie.

And it almost was. It had all the right ingredients: a stirring locker room speech, a precociously sweet daughter who never loses faith in her father, and the underdog baseball team making a world record when they think they’ve lost everything. There are montages of baseball footage and shots of fans’s banners, with an audio track of the sports commentators.

There is the unlikely coupling and friendship between two polar opposites, Hill and Pitt, the geek and the jock. They even have the stereotypical bad guy in the form of Hoffman with a buzz-cut. This film should have been unwatchable and clichéd.

Yet, miraculously, it is not. It is saved by the sharp script, impeccable acting, and the direction of Miller.

The stirring locker room speech is not that at all – Pitt, as the ambitious, disillusioned manager Billy Beane, just looks around awkwardly and stutters out a limp truism, to which the players respond with blank stares. The

precocious daughter, when singing an uplifting song to her father, tells him he is “such a loser.” And the moment that almost ruined the entire film with its corniness, the one where the team breaks the world record, is saved by a voiceover from Pitt, who asks of the win: “What’s the point?” The film is filled with moments that should be sickening in their sentimentality but in fact turn out to be unexpectedly funny, poignant or clever. There are many particularly enjoyable scenes, especially ones where the dialogue, quite typically of Sorkin, snaps energetically back and forth between the characters.

There was also, aside from the wit, a surprising sense of tragedy and frustration. The characters are, for the most part, sad, cheated and on their last frayed hope. Pitt shines in the role, and you can see his dedication to the character in his every gesture.

Though their roles are not exactly challenging, Hill and Hoffman are nevertheless brilliant as usual.

But despite enjoying myself, on leaving the film I felt a little disap-

pointed, and as though I knew more about baseball than I had ever wanted to. I felt as though I had been tricked by my favourite writer and actors into watching a sports film. I felt, to be honest, a bit betrayed.

Yet, after a little thought, I realised the final scene – tears in Brad Pitt’s startling blue eyes as he drives home, listening to his daughter sing – had crawled under my skin. The film isn’t really about baseball, I realised (and thank God for that), or about an underdog team making it to the top. It is about a man who, having been cheated by life, tries to challenge the accepted norms around him. He is unsure of the effect he has had, whether he has really changed or achieved anything.

It’s a bit like the film in that way – it takes the norms of sports films and challenges them with wit and tragedy.

And I, like Billy Beane, only realised how much effect his determination and hope had had until I was on my way home, tears in my eyes. | Isabella Silver

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anni Moretti, director and star of We Have a Pope, has played a psychologist before.

He has also studied people delicately, tenderly and calmly before – much as a psychologist would – in The Son’s Room (2001), where he plays a father in that profession dealing with the death of his teenage son. That Palme d’Or winning effort was admirable in its unwillingness to resort to easilytapped melodrama, and We Have a Pope is similarly impressive in its refusal to draw from current Vatican affairs. The result is perfect for a warm comedy that follows the most personal of crises that overcomes a man (Michel Piccoli) elected to be a ridiculously public figure, as the supposed representative of God on Earth.

Far from the divine, this is a film about the minuscule – individual human

Nanni Moretti and Michel Piccoli beings, albeit mainly those who have devoted themselves to Him. Contrary to Catholic dogma, here the seat and man elected to hold it are not only distinct, but incompatible; a panic attack marks the threshold, just out of view of the faithful in Saint Peter’s Square below. However, dogma would not have it thus and Rome’s leading psychologist (Nanni Moretti)

Moneyball Director: Bennett Miller Screenplay: Steven Zaillian, Aaron Sorkin, Stan Chervin, Michael Lewis Cast: Brad Pitt, Jonah Hill, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Robin Wright Year: 2011 Runtime: 133 minutes In cinemas now

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am the type of person who gets teary when you mention The West Wing, and have loved Aaron Sorkin, its writer and creator, unconditionally ever since. Studio 60, Charlie Wilson’s War, The Social Network –they are all intensely enjoyable for Sorkin’s signature fast-paced dialogue and equally quick wit. These films are all, however, about essentially interesting subjects: television, politics and Facebook stalking. Moneyball, on the other hand – co-written by Sorkin – is not. It is about baseball. Not only is it about baseball, it is, in Brad Pitt’s words, “a true underdog story.” A real-life story of a baseball team manager, fed up with losing and having his best players poached by richer teams, who aims to change the game by scouting and organising his team

Brad Pitt and Jonah Hill mathematically. It charts his rise to the top, against all odds, in the face of overwhelming adversity – you get the picture. The more you hear about the film, the less appealing it becomes, but my blind faith in Sorkin – plus the fact that it stars Brad Pitt, Jonah Hill and Phillip Seymour Hoffman, three excel-

Director: Jeff Nichols Screenplay: Jeff Nichols Cast: Michael Shannon, Jessica Chastain, Shea Whigham Year: 2011 Runtime: 120 minutes In cinemas now

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he horror genre has been in steady decline in Hollywood for years. For all the gruesome Saw and Hostel films of recent times, the last great frightener produced stateside may well be The Silence of the Lambs, or even The Shining. Jeff Nichols’s latest film, however, offers a glimmer of hope. Take Shelter may not be perfect, but it could also be the best psychological horror to come out of America in a decade.

Or it would be, if it was a horror film. The problem is that Take Shelter is far too many things to easily confine it within one genre. It manages to be at once a gritty kitchen sink drama, a portrait of Midwestern American life, a richly metaphorical yarn and, at moments, utterly terrifying. It is tribute to the skills of Nichols as both writer and director that the film never seems like it is trying to be too many things.

It is simply a gripping tale, beautifully filmed and impeccably acted.

The story is of Curtis LaForche

(Michael Shannon), a young husband and father in Ohio living the archetypal small town life, working in the building trade and supporting his family. All seems well, until Curtis’s dreams become plagued by dark visions. At first it is thick, yellow rain that engulfs the town. Before long Curtis wakes every morning having seen enormous tornados, zombified townsfolk and above all a storm; an apocalyptic maelstrom that will destroy all in its wake. Driven to paranoia and fantasy, Curtis is ostracised by his neighbours, his friends and, finally, his wife Samantha (Jessica Chastain). Curtis plunges himself in a mad frenzy, losing his job and all shred of local respect as he builds a refuge in his garden to keep his family safe as the “storm” approaches; to take shelter.

It is these dreams that provide many of the shocks that make the film terrifying, but the tension that courses through the film is even more foreboding. Every shot is sinister, the motif of a storm present constantly as darkness drapes every image. The weather is overcast and the cinematography gloomy – there is little joy to be found anywhere at all. Even the pleasant family home is transformed into a

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Take Shelter

Michael Shannon and the storm that haunts him claustrophobic prison for LaForche’s family as they battle his violent mood swings.

On a tiny budget Nichols delivers not only a richly vivid film, but a superbly acted one. Chastain has been the revelation of Hollywood this year, but her role as the loving Samantha, driven to despair by her husband’s seeming insanity is one of her most challenging, and is delivered with aplomb. Likewise Shea Whigham excels as Curtis’s simple, stand-up friend trying to calm a storm he cannot begin to understand. It is Shannon

who steals the show though. He has been one of the most underrated actors in America for the best part of a decade now – Oscar-nominated turn in Revolutionary Road aside – but here his quiet menace, his air of a good man corrupted by the darkness encircling is majestic. His Curtis is at once likable and threatening; sympathetic but dangerous.

Indeed, it would have been easy to turn this film into a character study of a man gone mad, but Shannon makes Curtis much more than that.

Somehow we empathise with him.

It is not his visions that repulse us, rather the reaction to them by those around him. Simple, salt-of-the-earth townsfolk who cast the first stone and label Curtis insane for predicting their impending doom and challenging the naïve cosiness that is their town.

The storm itself is richly symbolic, and can be interpreted as anything from a comment on the economic crisis to a homage to Camus’s The Plague. It seems more apt however, and a great deal less pretentious, to suggest it simply serves as a tool to point out society’s inability to face uncomfortable truths. As the evidence piles up that Curtis may not be as paranoid as we had assumed, it becomes more and more clear that it is the willingly naïve townsfolk who are the villains of the piece. The madness is not Curtis’s – it belongs to those who refuse to open their eyes and see the coming storm.

Take Shelter is a wonderful film that challenges not only the monotony of modern Hollywood horror films, but also the very fabric of the cosy American life itself. | Mark Heffernan

4Film | Music

Tuesday 29 November 2011 | PartB

50/50 Director: Jonathan Levine Screenplay: Will Reiser Cast: Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Seth Rogan, Anna Kendrick Year: 2011 Runtime: 100 minutes In cinemas now

mance as the calm, though troubled, protagonist. The emotion is never over-wrought. Adam’s frustration and regret is palpable and relatable even to

those who have not been affected by cancer.

The supporting cast are wonderful.

Anna Kendrick, as a young psycholo-

gist who helps Adam cope, is charming and effortlessly funny. Yet she has a certain vulnerability about her which makes her even more compelling to

A

| Emma Firth LIONSGATE

bombshell falls on 27-year-old Adam (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) when he learns that he has cancer and only a 50/50 – thus the title – chance of surviving.

The way in which the sombre subject of terminal illness is combined with the hilarity each character brings is endearing to watch. 50/50 illustrates the different ways in which you and others come to terms with illness. It explores the humour and awkwardness that ensues with friends, family, colleagues, strangers and psychiatrists in the context of cancer.

This film’s strength is the quality of the acting. A stellar cast where each character brings their own intricacies.

Gordon-Levitt gives a nuanced perfor-

watch. Adam’s growing detachment is seen mostly in his interactions with his mother, played by Oscar-winner Anjelica Huston. She combines the comedy of a hysterical parent and the uncontainable pain of a mother who cannot comprehend outliving her child. Rogan is on form, once more as the funny sidekick, and he does not disappoint. His observations and reactions in this picture are side-splitting.

There is a natural chemistry between Rogan and Levitt which makes their rapport believable.

This is not an average Hollywood tearjerker of someone facing an imminent death. It is a story of how real people cope with the uncertainty life brings, a heart-warming portrayal of friendship and humour in the face of adversity.

Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Seth Rogen

New Album: 50 Words for Snow – Kate Bush

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f, at the beginning of the year, you had quizzed any music critic on the probability of two Kate Bush albums in 2011, your answer may have been “about as likely as Cilla Black releasing a Talking Heads tribute album,” or, as would be more characteristic of most critics, a dismissive snigger.

Yet it happened: Director’s Cut in May, while not new material, contained re-recordings and significant reworkings of some unfinished business Bush had with The Sensual World (1989) and The Red Shoes (1993). Her new LP, 50 Words for Snow, the first of new material since 2005’s high-concept Aerial, is boundary pushing, refreshing and wintery – a sign that the experimental songstress refuses as ever to go along with current musical norms.

Despite only containing 6 songs, 50 Words For Snow weighs in at a hefty 65 minutes. Its tunes are not commercial considerations, like those produced by

most contemporary “quirky pop” artists (usually 3:30 seconds long, perfect for radio). Even the track the cover depicts, “Misty,” at nearly 14 minutes feels not a second too long. Many are old fashioned stories: exotic, chilly narratives like “Lake Tahoe” telling the story of the spirit of a woman drowned in a lake, and her still obedient dog imagining her eventual return (“his legs are frail now – but when he dreams, he runs…”). “Misty” gradually unfolds, taking a simple if bizarre concept of building a snowman then going to bed with him, into a passionate description of attraction and desire – even if, naturally, the conclusion is his melting (“The sheets are soaking/and on my pillow/dead leaves, bits of twisted branches/ and frozen garden”). The lyrics echo and the intonations evolve, combining a slow, forceful crescendo with clear, direct meaning. Her haunting fairy-tale style does not lock you

Imagine…

out with a wall of pretence, but rather invokes a feeling of standing in the middle of twisting snowfall, watching the weather change, not simply having to infer what it is doing.

Stephen Fry guests on the title track, credited as “Prof. Joseph Yupik,” where the title is to be taken literally: Bush breathily counts to 50 (she’s good with numbers – you’ll remember if you heard her sing π to 137 decimal places in Aerial), and after each number, Fry intoning another word for snow, including “hunter’s dream,” “bad for trains”, the Klingon “peDtaH ‘ej chIS qo” and “faloop’njoompoola.” The Eskimo don’t really have fifty words for snow, but instead of dismissing that myth, Kate Bush wonders what would happen if they did. Elton John gets involved too – someone Bush clearly admires after her ukelele interpretation of his “Rocket Man” decades ago – in “Snowed In at Wheeler Street.”

The duet imagines two time travelling souls never quite being able to join together, through Rome burning, the Holocaust in 1942, Victorian London and 9/11.

All in all, it’s a beautiful piece of work. It is both the opposite of what you would expect from the 19 year old singer of “Wuthering Heights” in the late 70s, and a natural progression. The storytelling length feels like Joanna Newsom’s Ys, but Bush also plays a great deal with silence: the space around and inside the tune becomes as important as the notes themselves. For us urban heat-sink Londoners, forever lacking in a white December, 50 Words For Snow conjures warmth that only winter can give, without having to drown yourself and everybody around you in Christmas. | Michael Veale

New Band: Twerps

…writing a poem to The Boss Can I go “Down to the River” with you?

Would you hide me in your Cadillac?

And drive me through the “Streets of Philadelphia”? Moving under the orange streetlights Whispering, despite the doldrums, there is excitement left Grabbing me by the waist, finding your voice along a piano riff Swinging, flailing, flying On the bar table, sweating, shouting, breathless Confidence dripping from the ceiling Your coarse and strong voice must come from somewhere Coated in good ol’ American grime It coerces me to take a chance You remind me that fear doesn’t suit leather But then, I catch you in the corner of my ears A snake charmer with a harmonica Echoing notes of callow regret I am drawn back down to the river “Everything dies, baby that is a fact. Maybe everything that dies some day comes back” | Alicia Cunningham

If you really like simple guitar, simple lyrics and bright melodies then the self-titled debut full length from Australia’s Twerps will hook you instantly. The band brings a more mature composure to their full length compared to their earlier four track recordings, as they hit a real studio this time, and it shows. Marty Frawley’s voice has a laid back swagger to it that always has a cool tint of urgency but never gets out of control.

It is this sense of chilled stoner bliss which makes the album coherent, providing a unifying theme that transcends the differences between the rocky “Jam Song” or The Clean-esque finale, “Coast to Coast.” First single

“Dreamin” contains an irresistible repeated guitar line that grabs you from the beginning as “Who Are You” turns into a big swaying sing-along about inebriation that just feels right.

Twerps are not going to wow you with their musicianship, song writing or big sound but they have an indie element to the band that works because simply because they aren’t trying to be anything great. This authenticity combined with a genuine sense that everyone is enjoying themselves allows one to look past the album’s flaws, and see something that while not original, succeeds in being meaningful. | Abu Sharmuta

This week’s live highlights 29 Nov: Yuck – Barfly Camden 30 Nov: James Blake – HMV Forum

PANNENKOEK.DEVIANTART.COM

1 Dec: Das Racist – XOYO 1 Dec: M83 – Heaven 4 Dec: De La Soul - IndigO2

Literature5

PartB | Tuesday 29 November 2011

There’s this woman…

S ing words. Seeming to write for the sheer joy of words.

It strikes the reader somewhere into the tenth or eleventh chapter of She Loves Me that perhaps they are not marvelling at the ingenious use of language but at the mind which makes it possible. To pen them in the beginning or else preserve them in translation.

She Loves Me is so rich and linguistically dense that one can wonder who the real creative source is – author or translator? Such precise interpretation calls either for a linguistic god or a deft elaborator.

The novel itself is a without plot and is at times an awkward, frighteningly directionless synopsis of love, passion, sex and language. In ninetyseven short chapters each beginning “There’s this woman…” Esterházy describes ninety-seven relationships.

He creates women who love and hate his narrator with ferocity equal to his narrator’s love and loathing of them.

Sudden diversions into randomness can be frustrating, and at times hard to read, but represent the charm in Esterházy’s wit. They also lend to moments of insight of astonishing quality, as suddenly the point becomes clear

or at least close. Despite long wordy sentences and an exaggerated use of parenthesis the novel is nonetheless what publishers would refer to as a “page turner.”

Who really knows whether She Loves Me is an attempt to chronicle the many contradictions of the fairer sex, or to explore how weird and wonderful love can be. Or something else altogether. We can ask if Esterházy’s narrator is a sleazy sexist who believes promiscuity and the objectification of women are acceptable, or if it is sexist to ask such a question in the first place. As with a lot of European post-war literature, the conclusion is at best ambiguous, if even existent.

It is what it is. Or is it? In a world where love lasts for a paragraph or three pages who can really define it?

Esterházy does succeed however, in demonstrating the dual nature of passion: love and hate. | Rachel Holmes She Loves Me, Peter Esterházy translated by Judith Sollosy, paperback, Hydra Books.

Available on eBay from £8.21

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he Loves Me is one among a handful of Esterházy’s novels published in English. I checked my post-box morning and evening for twenty days until finally, an Amazon package appeared therein. It is currently absent from the shelves of major British booksellers so arrived from the across the Atlantic. That the works of one of the most important Hungarian authors should be so hard to get hold of is a little worrying.

Nonetheless, a quick search on the Waterstones website does surface a few other available titles, with names each as polished as She Loves Me, such as Celestial Harmonies, The Glance of Coutness Hahn-Hahn, Not Art: A Novel. While one should not (within reason) judge a book by its cover, a title can speak volumes.

Though it may not make or break the mediocre novel, it will distinguish Esterházys from the rest. Of course (among great writers) what makes an Esterházy or Nabokov is not what makes a Camus or Kafka. Titles like Nabokov’s Details of a Sunset or Transparent Things are symptomatic of a certain (exceptional) type of mind, which paint tableaus with sigh-

Peter Esterházy

Sometimes what’s said on the tin is enough T here is no deeper philosophical meaning lurking behind the title of this web-comic series.

It is literally about Dracula, Robin Hood and Jekyll & Hyde. There isn’t a need for it to be about anything more either. So many other publications are absorbed in having cryptic issue headings, inciting you to solve some perceived puzzle between plot and series. Sometimes it’s best to avoid being overzealous and get to the point.

Who didn’t love Snakes on a Plane?

This comic isn’t one to consider itself a deep, introspective, reflection on the human condition, where pressing queries about “life” can be resolved. Its purpose is escapism, and it ventures forward to deliver this. Not that I don’t appreciate dark, morally ambiguous tales of idealism and dystopia, penned by the brilliant minds of Alan Moore, Frank Miller, Neil Gaiman or Grant Morrison, but sometimes we just need some entertainment. The same logic applies to films and television – a downturn is

needed every once in a while.

I was initially sceptical about the idea of web comics. I would much rather hold a physical print of what I’m reading. Yet in the end, this was quite a pleasant experience. The people at Mohawk Media have done well.

Perhaps it’s simply a question of personal preference. Or perhaps having read one to too many academic PDFs online I hastily entered into a standoff with internet literature. Of course, this line of reasoning has never prevented me from falling into a “Wikipediahole” for hours on end, learning vast amounts about trivialities, for example the history of Guns N’ Roses, before forgetting every detail I have learned about their various line-ups, usually by the next day.

Chris Bunting’s story is strong, does not go off on tangents and is engaging. There is a seamless transition from one moment to the next, with no clunky parts that make you question what is going on. The assumption that we are familiar with the epony-

mous characters is refreshing, not bogged down by three long-winded background stories, while still making their respective entrances meaningful.

Unlike a novel though, comics do not rely solely on language, but also on artistic representation. I can say with some shame that originally I didn’t expect web comics to be particularly high in such quality. But that’s probably because my usual source of exposure to panelled literature online has been internet memes or Cyanide & Happiness. Admittedly I was not thrilled by the cover art. However, my preconceptions were soon proven very wrong.

The artwork of J.L. Czerniawski is to be commended: it is superb. The aesthetics surpassed my expectations and are representative of a progressing company. Each main character’s stylised logo is visually exciting.

However, the series does suffer from a problem commonly found in comic books:, the needless sexualisation of women. Taking into considera-

tion that these women are vampires, it is theoretically possible that they have evolved extraordinary sex appeal useful for preying on men (I cannot believe I’ve stumbled onto one of Stephanie Meyer’s best ideas) but does that really call for upskirt shots of a woman holding a giant truck while she demonstrates super-strength?

Whether they are so drawn to please a target audience of young, solitary boys with all hormones ablaze or to represent the artist’s own fantasies, the smutty aftertaste is somewhat unpleasant and unnecessary. Beat sexism, not yourself.

Other irritants included the misspelling of that pesky pronoun “your” versus its clipped homonym “you’re.”

With only so much dialogue in an issue of around twenty pages, you would expect the editor such a basic mistake.

But this oversight did not deter me from finishing the issue and from beginning to anticipate the next. The creative partners Bunting,

Czerniawski, Gamboa and Ruiz, have produced one cliff-hanger of an issue.

The suspense is gripping and compels one to not only continue reading, but also to explore other projects and titles from the company. A few were given to me in a flipbook format along with Dracula et al. and the experience was vastly enhanced, allowing me to zoom and take in all the artwork.

On a final note, by producing web comics, Mohawk Media are also producing Ecobooks. These internetmarketed comics do not depend on forests of paper, and represent a commitment to the environment. I might not stop buying paper graphic novels, but it doesn’t mean I’ll stop reading Mohawk Media either. | Hari Ramakrishnan Dracula, Robin Hood and Jekyll & Hyde Set To Do Battle, written by Chris Bunting and illustrated by J.L. Czerniawski, Eco Comics.

Available online in various formats: www.mohawkmedia.co.uk/ecocomics

Profile: Alexander Pushkin C ounted among the greatest Russian if the greatest of them all, Pushkin was born in 1799 to a poor aristocratic family in Moscow.

He is credited as the first Russian poet to incorporate common vernacular into poetic verse. Blending Old Slavonic with folklore he nonetheless imbued his poetry with the rich, melodic quality which has earned him historical acclaim. Alongside his writing, the events of Pushkin’s life reflect something of the turbulence of nineteenth century Russia, mixing politics, society scandal and passion in a tragic cocktail.

After accepting a post at the St Petersburg foreign office in 1817, Pushkin became associated with a number of radicals later involved in the Decembrist revolt (1825) against Tsar Nicolas I of Russia. These radicals were later hanged or exiled permanently to Siberia – stripped of all social status. Nonetheless, a few faithful wives voluntarily followed their exiled husbands out of Russian society, effectively abandoning security for the sake of marriage. In support Pushkin wrote the short poem “Arion” (1827), relayed to the exiles through their wives.

Liberal sympathies had already inspired political poems, among them

the controversial “Ode to Liberty” (1820), which earned Pushkin banishment from St Petersburg in May 1820.

He was transferred to Ekaterinoslav in the south, then Chisinau in Moldova, and in the summer of 1823 to Odessa in the Ukraine. Here he frolicked. He went to the theatre, socialised and became entangled in love affairs. He also flourished creatively – beginning Eugene Onegin (completed in 1833), his namesake novel in verse – revolving around a world-weary young noble underestimating a woman’s love until she is married to another.

In 1831 Pushkin married Natalya Nikolayevna Goncharova, who would later bear him four children. As impoverished as Pushkin, Natalya’s beauty was nonetheless renowned at the imperial court. Her admirers were unending and allegedly included Tsar Nicolas I himself. When the tsar awarded Pushkin the lowest of court titles he became convinced it was a calculated attempt to humiliate him.

Pushkin was notoriously protective of his honour and was involved in twenty-nine duels throughout his life. Enraged by the unsolicited and indecent advances of his brother inlaw Georges d’Anthès upon his wife, Pushkin challenged d’Anthès to a duel in 1837.

The French officer fired first, mortally wounding but not immediately killing Pushkin. Thrown to the ground, Pushkin nonetheless insisted on his shot and being so well practiced had excellent aim. His bullet met its target at Georges d’Anthès’ heart, but was miraculously deflected by a button. Pushkin died two days later on 10 February 1837. The tsar, disturbed

by Pushkin’s political involvement and provocative poetry heaved a sigh of relief. Fearing popular uprisings at the funeral (fuelled by national mourning and speculation that Georges d’Anthès had been secretly employed by the tsar to provoke Pushkin) the tsar buried Pushkin in a monastery near Mikhailovskoye.

Pushkin’s premature and tragic death at thirty-seven is regarded as a disaster for Russian literature. He was later portrayed by the Bolsheviks as a forerunner of Soviet literature.

In his honour they renamed the town Tsarskoe “Selo Pushkin” in 1937. More recently, Pushkin inspired the film Pushkin: The Last Duel (2006), written and directed by Natalya Bondarchuk.

Despite alleged marital difficulties caused by debt and Natalya’s flirtatious nature, Pushkin’s widow did not remarry for almost ten years. | Rachel Holmes

PUSHKIN is an extraordinary phenomenon, and, perhaps, the unique phenomenon of the Russian spirit, said Gogol. I will add, “and a prophetic phenomenon.” Yes, in his appearing there is contained for all us Russians, something incontestably prophetic. Pushkin arrives exactly at the beginning of our true selfconsciousness… | Fyodor Dostoevsky As part of a speech delivered on June 8, 1880 at the meeting of the society of Lovers of Russian Literature during the unveiling of the Pushkin monument in Moscow.

6Visual Arts | TV

Tuesday 29 November 2011 | PartB

Also at the Royal Academy…

and more popular, Degas started to develop a strong curiosity towards this medium, and when in 1895 he bought his first camera, he became an instant enthusiast and soon found himself challenging his equipment and skills.

Through photography, Degas fulfilled his fascination with movement and

Degas and the Ballet: Picturing Movement is at the Royal Academy of Arts until 11 December 2011 COLLECTION OF MR. AND MRS. PAUL MELLON/NATIONAL GALLERY OF ART, WASHINGTON

Edgar Degas, The Dance Lesson, c. 1879

Silence, I kill you!

W ho doesn’t remember the most infamous, catchy and slightly racial skeleton “Achmed” and his ever so annoying catchphrase “Silence, I kill you” (pronounced in a fresh Arab accent). Jeff Dunham, the ventriloquist and creator of this character stages a stand-up comedy performance in his new DVD release, entitled “Controlled Chaos.”

Funnily enough, the DVD does not do what you expect and doesn’t turn into a racial joke about MiddleEastern terrorists enjoying splashing their brains in the name of jihad. Nor does it emphasize Achmed’s religion.

In fact, Achmed denies being a Muslim despite repeatedly calling the audience “infidels.” Dunham places a pleasant spin on things as he evolves Achmed into a well-rounded character who reveals secrets about his high school adventures with his mate Omar. The link with terrorism is still evident when the two friends sneak into the girl’s restroom, which existed regardless of the school being a boys only school, and discover little white “missiles” shooting out of a machine when they insert a coin. Somehow, as a Muslim and Arab, I wasn’t offended at all and shrieked with laughter at typical jokes about Achmed’s 40 wives and his reoccurring sexual innuendos.

Perhaps this is more to do with the audience warming to Jeff himself, who starts the show displaying a series of his own photos over the years, demonstrating his love of dummies stretching back to his early childhood days. He creates an expedient and familiar setting of the nerd boy who had little luck with the ladies once his dummies came into the picture. He further gains the viewer’s sympathy as he speaks of his divorce (a big side track) with another of his characters, Walter, the grumpy old American with little tact or empathy. And Dunham’s vent skills are impressive: his lips barely move and he’s adept at shifting your focus from his face to the puppet as he surreptitiously sings, shouts or whispers.

The release of the DVD is definitely a recommendation to those who were among the 200 million viewers of his YouTube clip of his dead terrorist. Just a slight warning though: take the sour-tasting, decidedly un-PC humour of Walter with a pinch of salt. | Rasha Al-Dabagh

Jeff Dunham: Controlled Chaos is available on DVD now

TV Tips for the week

M.A. Ilyin, Detail of residential block, 1931

Building the Revolution: Soviet Art and Architecture 1915-1935 This thrilling exhibition looks deep into the Russian avant-garde architecture that flourished from the beginning of the 1920s to 1935. This period was brief but was stage to one of the most intense and prolific periods for the design and construction of unique structures.

The innovative constructions that characterised the ten years or so seemed to embody the energy and optimism of the new Soviet Socialist state, encouraging “synthesis between radical art and architecture.”

The period was strongly influenced

by Constructivist movement, which emerged in Russia from around 1915, rejecting the notion of autonomous art and pushing for it to be a practice for social purposes. Constructivism had a profound influence not only on the avant-garde Russian architecture of the 1920s and 1930s, but also on many modern art movements of the twentieth century, such as the Bauhaus and the De Stijl movements.

The most prominent artists represented in this exhibition are Kazimir Malevich, Vladimir Tatlin, Liubov Popova, El Lizzitsky, Ivan Kluin and Gustav Klucis, and architects such as Konstantin Melnikov, Moisei Ginsburg, Ilia Golosov and the Vesnin brothers, as well as the European

architects Le Corbusier and Erich Mendelsohn who brought in their knowledge to shape the new ideas circulating in Russia at the time.

This exhibition is a unique display of large-scale photographs of major projects as well as Constructivist drawings and paintings, many of which are being shown for the first time in the UK.

Building the Revolution: Soviet Art and Architecture 1915-1935 is at the Royal Academy of Arts until 22 January 2012

KICKEN BERLIN/RICHARD PARE

Edgar Degas, Dancers, 1899

many of his late drawings were aided by photographs he took capturing a moment in the ballerina’s dances. In his late works, Degas, probably influenced by the advance and popularity of film, adopted the multiple figure in his ballet scenes and his figures often appear to move simultaneously with each other.

Walking through the different exhibition rooms, the visitor can fully understand the different stages of Degas as an artist and move together with the ballerinas depicted across the canvases.

The exhibition concludes with a short film by director Sacha Guitry.

Guitry, who was shooting a documentary film about senior living French artists including Monet, Renoir and Rodin, originally asked Degas for his permission to film him, and after Degas’s refusal, Guitry decided to wait for him on the streets and record him, by then almost blind, walking past the camera with impeccable dignity. The video is a touching end to a wonderful exhibition. It leaves the viewer with a mind enriched with new knowledge and incredible art. | Roberta Cucchiaro

SCHUSEV STATE MUSEUM OF ARCHITECTURE, MOSCOW

dgar Degas (1834-1917) is one the most remarkable painters of his generation. He is regarded as one of the founders of Impressionism and the current exhibition at the Royal Academy of Arts perfectly portraits his life and art.

Degas was known during his lifetime as the “Painter of Dancers” and indeed, his fascination with capturing movement and his ballet scenes represented through painting, sketches, photography and sculpture are perfectly portrayed in this exhibition dedicated to his ballet scenes.

Curated masterfully, the exhibition is divided into 10 rooms in a chronological order explaining Degas’s artistic creations, forms and changes from the beginning to the very end of his career.

Throughout the exhibition, the connection among the rapidly changing city of Paris, the advance of technology, the growth of the Impressionist movement and Degas’s creations is perfectly conveyed.

When Degas first turned to ballet, he made hundreds of drawings of dancers exercising in the classrooms and performing on stage. With his experience strengthening, he increasingly pushed his technique and representation to more extremes, playing with colours and shadows.

With the advance of technology and photography becoming more

PRINCETON UNIVERSITY ART MUSEUM, BEQUEST OF HENRY K. DICK

Degas and the Ballet: Picturing Movement E

Richard Pare, Shabolovka Radio Tower, 1998

Tony Robinson’s Gods and Monsters

Charlie’s Angels

Channel 4, 20:00, Saturdays

E4, 20:00, Wednesdays

New series. Tony Robinson explores the history of belief, superstition and religious experience in Britain. He begins by focussing on the human fascination with and terror of dead bodies, examining why people in the past thought they could rise from the grave to cause havoc among the living.

During his investigation he encounters stories of a plague-breathing zombie and monarchs who ate the remains of their subjects.

New series. Action adventure based on the 1970s crime drama. Three women get the chance to escape their chequered pasts by solving crimes for the mysterious Charlie, under the watchful eye of their handler Bosley. Kate and Abby join old friend Eve to pursue a child sex trafficker who murdered their partner Gloria.

Starring Annie Ilonzeh, Minka Kelly and Rachael Taylor.

Victoria Wood’s Angina Monologues

The Ultimate Guide to Penny Pitching

Sky One, 21:30, Wednesday 30 November

Channel 4, 20:00, Thursdays

The Bafta-winning comedienne is joined by fellow female comics including Jo Brand, Andi Osho, Isy Suttie and Katy Brand for an evening of stand-up, sketches and music in support of the British Heart Foundation.

Cutting Edge takes a light-hearted look at the lives of some of the UK’s thriftiest people, including midwife Judith, who can reduce a supermarket bill from £50 to less than a fiver. Also featured are bride-to-be Rebekah, who is determined to economise on her big day by getting her mother to make her dress, and cost-cutter Jonathan claims he saves £1,500 a year by replacing meat from the butcher with road-kill when friends come to dinner.

Food | LSEx7

PartB | Tuesday 29 November 2011

A night of yummy, buttery heart attack: Diwali D m’s were required, it smelled that good). So as not to miss anything, I’ll go through our dishes one-by-one. First up, daal makhani (“daal” means lentil in English, with “makhani” translating to “butter-based”). A mild but thick curry, this dish arrived at our table in a copper pot and is normally thought of a main course, although we treated it as more of an accompaniment. It’s a dish that I’d never tried before, since I’m not usually a fan of vegetarian food, but the “meatiness” of the lentils made it more than yummy enough to pass my test.

Next up, the inspiration for the title of this article: butter chicken. Real name murg makhani (I’m sure you can work out what “murg” means), this was the undeniable pièce de résistance of the meal. Although the poultry component was of excellent quality, it’s really all about the sauce in this dish. Composed of almonds, yoghurt, onions, garlic, cumin, turmeric, tomato paste, fenugreek leaves and a huge amount of butter, the end result is a to-die-for, comforting visitor to your taste buds that you never want to leave.

The sauce is yellowy-brown in colour, has an exceptionally thick texture and transmits a smooth undercurrent of spice at just the right intensity to make you need to take a quick sip of lassi. I really can’t overstate how great this dish is, but I will say that if you are going to try it, make sure you go to an authentic establishment as the versions you will find on most high-

FLICKR USER NED TRIFLE

iwali is epic. Signifying the triumph of good over evil, the festival of lights is one of the most important in the Hindu calendar and brings together what all great celebrations should: family, friends and food. Spanning a five-day period, the commencement is determined by the night of the new moon between midOctober and mid-November, with each day celebrating a different principal story associated with the festival.

This year, the first day fell on 26 October, when a majority of the large-scale celebration in the UK occurred. As you can probably tell from my name, I’m not actually from a very Hindu background. Thankfully though, one of my housemates is, so two of my other housemates and I had our tickets to party. So, where to celebrate?

There seemed to be only one answer: Southall. For those of you who aren’t familiar with this location, Southall is many miles away , despite misleadingly being a district of London. Anyway, on arrival we could already smell the delicious cuisine carefully caressing our nostril-hairs and couldn’t wait to get stuck in to our promised feast.

Although that particular smell did was actually the local kebab house, with fireworks whizzing up everywhere around us, we quickly made our way down to our first port of call, the Roxy restaurant.

With a warm and friendly greeting we were shown to our table and

Belgrave Neighbourhood Centre, Belgrave Road, Leicester we each ordered a favourite of mine: mango lassi. A blend of yoghurt, water and mango pulp, this version of the drink is commonly found in India and Pakistan, but has made its way over to the UK in subcontinental communities like Southall, and I’m glad. Along with the lassi, we also had on our table a bottle of the classic mint sauce found in most Indian restaurants, as well as a chutney that I’d never encountered before: tamarind. Due to its lack of viscosity, this chutney was actually more of a sauce than the mango chutney

that we all know and love, but with its sweet and sour, tangy flavour, it made for a pleasant alternative as dip for our roti (unleavened bread).

When it came to the main course, the three Brits at the table threw caution to the wind, placing table ordering duties firmly in the hands of our trio of Indian compatriots. With a little nervousness and hungriness, we awaited our food. When it came, only one word in the English language can accurately and legally describe our thoughts: mmmmm (yes, that many

Your guide to STIs – #1: Herpes

R

ecently I was staying with a school friend at her university and met a young lady, who, in this story we will call Betty. Betty was staying in the house because she had broken up with her boyfriend (who she lived with... Note to first years: this is a bad idea). This didn’t seem to be a normal break up. Betty was devastated. She didn’t leave the bed and cried for days. Apparently her boyfriend had left the house and wanted her stuff out. Her friend ominously whispered that she had done something really bad and it was going to affect her life forever… But she was sworn to secrecy. Fortunately, however, I have since been told the secret story, and as an extremely trustworthy and private person, I am now going to share it with you.

Turns out Betty had spent the summer as a promoter in Magaluf (can you see where this story is going?).

In Magaluf Betty cheated on her boyfriend (who she was moving in with… excellent start, Betty) by shagging one lucky sun-seeker. When she started back at university Betty noticed that she had some odd things going on

downstairs. After an intimate visit to the doctors, Betty found out that she had herpes. Now, I attentively listened to sex ed at school (my favourite subject, after economics of course), and I would like to think that I know what’s what regarding STIs, but I never really considered the consequences before.

I am presuming that, like Betty, we are all non-malicious people who do not want to give other people life-long viruses.

However, if this is the case and you get herpes, you can never have sex or receive oral sex without condoms. I am an ardent supporter of the use of condoms, but I do accept that at some point in a long-term relationship you trust each other enough that you want to use a different kind of contraception. However, if you have herpes you can never just rely on the pill, otherwise your partner will catch herpes. If you have sex they will get bursting sores on their genitals (among other things). If someone goes down on you they will get bursting sores around their mouth. If you kiss said herpes-infected lips, you will also get bursting sores around your mouth.

street menus will not be up to the same exceptional standard.

Alongside these godly creations we also enjoyed Peshwari naan (flat bread filled with nuts, raisins and desiccated coconut, from the Peshawar region), keema naan (packed with spiced, minced lamb instead), another type of bread called chapati, and mattar paneer, which is another main dish made of green peas and cheese in a thin, spicy sauce. By the end there wasn’t a single morsel left in any dish. And that was Roxy.

After leaving, we embarked upon a leisurely walk into the town centre to work off our newfound pounds, stopping at the Gurdwara to observe the custom of lighting candles to light up the night. From here we moved down the street to find another high-calorie piece of deliciousness, the gelebi, being cooked outside on the street. Put quite simply, this snack is made by frying batter in bubbling oil, and then transferring it immediately into a pool of liquid sugar to soak up that crystalline carbohydrate goodness. Scary, but amazingly tasty when hot; just damn scary when cold.

With fireworks still flying off all around us, it was almost time to depart.

We played with a few sparklers and then took our leave, back to a life of essays and impossible equations. Southall again this time next year? You bet! | Anthony Silver

Cut-out-and-keep guide to HERPES (The herpes simplex virus, HSV) What is it?

Herpes causes red blisters around the genitals and is passed easily from one person to another by direct contact. Once someone has been exposed to HSV, the virus then remains dormant and can be re-activated.

How do you catch it?

• Through skin-to-skin contact with an infected person (even if they don’t have symptoms).

• Passes easily through the moist skin on genitals, mouth and anus, but other areas can be infected, for example you can catch herpes if you have oral sex with someone who has a cold sore.

• By sharing sex toys with someone who has the virus.

What are the symptoms?

• At least 8 out of 10 people who carry the virus are unaware that they have been infected because there are often few or no initial symptoms.

• Symptoms may not appear until months or sometimes years.

Primary infection: If you experience symptoms when you are first infected, they begin to appear four to seven days after you have been exposed to the virus and may last up to 20 days.

• Painful red blisters that burst to leave open sores around your genitals, rectum, thighs and buttocks.

• Blisters and ulcers on the cervix.

• Vaginal discharge in women.

And, if you want to get married, your partner will have to make a sacrifice and catch herpes off you. There is no cure for herpes. It is a painful recurrent STI that never goes away.

Now the happy ending to this story is that Betty’s boyfriend forgave her and begged to have her back. He offered to make the sacrifice and get herpes off her (he obviously didn’t realise that he probably already had it). Betty’s friends not-so-secretly think that she is stupid and selfish.

And throughout her life whenever her bursting genital sores reappear, or when she is still getting antiviral medication at the age of forty, or when her husband is crying because he has blisters on his bum, Betty will regret that drunken night in Magaluf.

You don’t know who that hottie in Zoo Bar/Propaganda/Econ 101 has previously been with. They haven’t told you about “that crazy night in Magaluf/Zante/Brighton.” So, if you’re not a fan of using condoms, you’ll appreciate the cut-out-and-keep guide to my top five STIs. It goes without saying that this week it’s herpes.

• Pain when you pass urine.

• High temperature of 38°C. • General feeling of being unwell, with aches and pains.

Recurrent infections: Once a primary infection of herpes has subsided symptoms will disappear, but HSV will remain dormant in a nearby nerve and may be reactivated.

• Tingling, burning or itching sensation around your genitals, and sometimes down your leg, before your blisters appear.

• Painful red blisters that burst to leave sores around your genitals, rectum , thighs and buttocks.

• Blisters and ulcers on the cervix.

Treatment Primary infections: Antiviral tablets.

Recurrent infections: Five-day course of antiviral tables each time you experience symptoms. If you have more than six recurrent attacks of genital herpes in a year, or if your symptoms are particularly severe, you may need to take antiviral tables every day as part of a long-term treatment plan.

Complications: The blisters that are caused by herpes can become infected by other bacteria, and can cause a skin infection to spread to other parts of your body. It can also pose problems during pregnancy (including miscarriage) and may be passed to the child at birth.

Romantic text of the week

WIKIMEDIA

Just some small cold sores around the mouth – it gets a whole lot worse, especially downstairs

8Private B

Tuesday 29 November 2011 | PartB

PRIVATE B Old Director to Become the New Director

Budget Cuts Result in LSE50

I

n an exclusive interview with the B, academic coordinator Jonathan Leper revealed cuts to the “popular” course that will result in 50 per cent cuts to LSE100 resulting in the establishment of LSE50.

Mr Leper obviously knows what the cuts will cause, bla bla bla rerum condescending causas. He has stressed “express confidence” in ensuring that condescending behaviour will be doubled to replace the overall cuts to the teaching budget to be maintained via several cost-cutting initiatives, the most radical one being the introduction of fully scripted classes.

Speaking via computer link from The Hague as part of an open day for all LSE staff working prior to 2008, Mr Leper stated “Presently only teachers are given a loose script to follow, but our introduction of full scripts for students will ensure for a far more efficient and welcoming classroom environment. This will therefore avoid all need for deviation, actually understanding the causes of things or free speech.”

Continuing his statement, Mr Leper also noted that there were plans afoot to give the impression that failure to endure the course is one of the things that causes Merrill Goldman Lynch Brothers to refuse to even look at a CV.” Mr Leper may be shocked to find attendance at the forthcoming UGM to be greater than at LSE100 lectures, and is under pressure after com-

plaints about poor attendance on the course, but it is felt that the introduction of mandatory chips in the brain for all new students will prevent this, as will integration with the sQuid system via the placement of a second chip behind the left ear. While it is possible that complaints will be made owing to the necessity of people bashing their heads on a counter in order to buy a sandwich, Mr Leper noted that this is already natural reaction to sitting through a lecture by Professor Donny Quorn.

In response to a question regarding the view that the course is overly ambitious, Mr Leper noted the basic impossibility of actually explaining the causes of things like the Cold War and the Financial Crisis. As a result of this, the curriculum is to be streamlined. As of next term, lectures on the credit crunch will be replaced with a series involving the causes of water boiling (kettles), why the trains never

run on time (Tories) and why no one turns up to the UGM (Tanned Ale/ Tories/Tanned Ale’s kettling).

Concerns over lavish spending on customised red folders were deemed to be unfounded, as all students failing the course will be sent to a sweatshop making the aforementioned folders as part of a practical workshop on being one step away from prison/a “student” at Strand Poly. It was also noted that this experience would prove beneficial in students’s understanding of what causes such things to come into existence. Some lunatic left-winger cornered us after this to make a statement regarding our culpability for the evil Steve Jobs empire’s use of sweatshops.

He fled when we noticed his iPhone 4S (it did have a cute Che Guevara screensaver).

The LSE50 Exam is scheduled for 25 December. | Ginger Whoreby

Protest Prompts Peruvian Purge Some Super Dooper Senior Reporter

T

he government of Peru fell on Wednesday following a mistaken protest about the administration of Colombian President Juan Manuel Santos’s response to drug cartels murdering people.

Owing to inaccurate reports regarding Santos’s nationality and a mistaken identity between FARC and the Shining Path, confused citizens in Lima overthrew the incumbent government owing to the LSESU denouncing of “Some South American guy or whatever.”

“I think that it was the Vuvuzelas that did it” the new leader of the People’s Salvation Front told the B, “I saw it on the news and even though I was fairly sure that our flag’s stripes go the other way, I still decided to do whatever the LSESU told me to.”

Sir Howard Duvets has been appointed Minister of Finance.

[Have I done three hundred words yet?]

Stock photo: Ginger Whoreby jumped in a grave.| Photo: Quiznovus

controversy the B gets a sneak After Pulse and the Beaver’s stranglehold on agon. peak at Clare’s attempt to jump on the bandw