Tuesday, May 6, 2025
Blog Page 1688

13 arrested in child sex ring investigation

0

Six Oxford residents have been charged for crimes relating to the exploitation of local girls aged between 11 and 16, after an investigation into child trafficking.

Operation Bullfinch, led by Thames Valley Police and assisted by Oxfordshire County Council, culminated in the arrests of members of what is believed to be a “criminal gang” that has groomed, drugged and raped vulnerable individuals over a period of six years.

Detective Superintendent Rob Mason said, “We believe we have uncovered an organised crime group who have been running a business of selling young girls for sex. We have also identified a number of customers who we have reason to believe have used the service.”

“We consider the girls to be very, very vulnerable and that’s why they have been targeted.”

The Detective Superintendent added, “It would be fair to say that at different times in their lives they have all come to the notice of children’s services.”

Twelve Oxford residents, from 21 to 37 years of age, were arrested in synchronised dawn raids on fourteen houses last Thursday, in an operation involving 150 officers. A thirteenth arrest was made on Thursday afternoon. Six men have so far been charged, whilst the other seven have been bailed until next month.

Both suspected gang members and customers were targeted. Officers launched the investigation after a number of girls were reported missing.

The arrests were for a variety of offences, including for the prostitution of females under the age of 18, trafficking, rape, administrating drugs for the purpose of rape, and grooming.

Louise Chapman, Cabinet Member for Children, Education and Families in Oxfordshire County Council, stated on Thursday, “The council has assisted in what has been a complex investigation leading to today’s events. Its focus has been, and will continue to be, on the care for alleged victims.

“Thames Valley Police and the Oxfordshire County Council’s children’s social care team linked up swiftly when it became apparent that it would be dealing with an investigation that centred upon child exploitation.

“This prompt action allowed children’s social care workers to work in close partnership with Thames Valley Police, with officers from the county council being seconded to the police, working from police premises.”

Esther Davidson, from the group Oxford Community Against Trafficking, added, “We now have to face the fact modern slavery takes place in our community, and it involves children.

“Criminals are at work, but they are also exploiting demand. Demand for sex with under-age children is completely unacceptable.”

Zeshan Ahmed, who is unemployed and lives in Headington, faces ten charges of engaging in sexual activity with a child between January 2010 and January this year. The court heard that the offences relate to two girls who were under the age of 16 at the time.

Security guard and father of two Kamar Jamil, from Summertown, was charged with four counts of rape, two counts of arranging the prostitution of a child, one count of making a threat to kill, and one count of possession of cocaine with intent to supply.

Hospital porter Akhtar Dogar, from East Oxford, was charged with three counts of rape, one count of conspiring to rape a child, three counts of arranging the prostitution of a child, one count of making a threat to kill, and one count of trafficking.

His brother, Anjum Dogar, faces one charge of conspiring to rape a child, one charge of arranging the prostitution of a child, and a further charge of trafficking.

Unemployed Mohammed Karrar, who lives on Cowley Road, has been charged with two counts of conspiracy to rape a child, and one count of supplying a Class A drug to a child between July 2004 and 2009. His brother, security guard Bassan Karrar, who has no fixed address, faces one count of rape, allegedly carried out against a 14-year-old girl in November 2006.

The six charged men appeared before High Wycombe Magistrates on Saturday, but no pleas were entered. They were remanded in custody to appear at Aylesbury Crown Court on Friday.

After Thursday’s raids, more than 40 uniformed officers and community support officers handed out flyers to reassure the public and spread contact details for those seeking further information. Detective Inspector Simon Morton, who leads Operation Bullfinch, spoke on YouTube to reassure the community and explain the events.

Germany v. Italy: the holiday showdown

Eleanor Bley Griffiths went to Berlin:

Itching to jet off somewhere exciting as soon as an exhausting term was over, seven historians, two Japanologists and a mathematician decided to descend upon Berlin. Germany’s capital is a history enthusiast’s dream. The city was a focal point for World War 2 and then for the Cold War; it was torn into pieces by global and ideological conflicts, but it was the people of Berlin who eventually tore down the Berlin Wall which had split the city entirely in two. Exciting stuff. Berlin certainly bears the scars, both in physical reminders and in its unique identity. In practical terms, it’s fun, it’s cheap, and there’s a lot to do, so it was the perfect place for our getaway.

Alexia Millett went to Italy:

Italy was the obvious choice for any Classicist, and after the pummelling of Mods we were in search of sun, sites and spaghetti. March, too, was the ideal time to go: cold enough to escape the crowds of Europeans flocking south, but hot enough to sit out in sunny piazzas drinking cheap wine and expensive coffee. We wanted a degree of culture, but not at the price of self-indulgence, or indeed at much of a price at all. Italians are notoriously friendly to the point of flirtatious, and as two girls travelling alone we felt it was somewhere we could happily travel around without being accosted. The Italian train system is efficient and about a third of the price of National Rail – it cost us about 10 euros to get from Rome to Naples. Flights were cheap, making it a great choice for a cheap and cheerful jaunt. 

What did we do?

Berlin: The first two days were bitterly cold: perfect museum weather, if you look at things optimistically, though we still did a fair bit of tramping around and shivering and drinking hot chocolate. The DDR Museum was pretty good, though to counterbalance the rose-tinted picture of East Germany it presented, you might want to visit the virulently anti-communist Checkpoint Charlie Museum. The German Historical Museum had too much to take in, but it did put the development of Nazism and anti-Semitism into interesting economic context. Finally, we ended up at the Topography of Terror, so-called because it is next to a stretch of the Berlin wall built over Gestapo torture cellars: Berlin’s history has a way of overlapping like that. Unsurprisingly, the attached museum was depressing but interesting. Ending our museum tour, we visited the Reichstag (the German parliament building) and got an excellent view from the roof, though we were unable to climb the glass-and-mirror dome because they were cleaning it (the cheek of it!). After that, the sun finally put in an appearance. We took advantage of this by going to the zoo, which was intensely exciting (Polar bears! Giraffes! Alpacas!), and by taking a boat trip up the river Spree. Berlin looked gorgeous in the sunlight as we glided through the water, but I’m sure we only got a taste of the city. I’ll be back.

 

[mm-hide-text]%%IMG%%5138%%[/mm-hide-text]

 

Italy: Our primary aim was to see the classical sites, and put into practise some of our supposed archaeological knowledge, which was at best highly speculative, at worst just wrong. The Colesseum is not ‘probably another Roman bath’. Although we were too cheap to buy any of the tourist guides, our guide book proved quite informative, and for us anyway it was more interesting to look round the actual sites than learn dates. An absolute must-see for anyone is Pompeii, which is a vast sight. It was hot and we got stuck behind Japanese tourists taking pictures of every individual stone, but amazing to walk round this enormous dead city and imagine a Roman town in its entirety. A particular favourite was the Museum of Archaeology in Naples, which contains many of Pompeii’s treasures, above all ‘the secret grotto’, a trove of outsized phalluses and Roman pornography, all strictly censored by Victorian archaeologists. Otherwise, we avoided most of the museums, preferring to see outdoor sights rather than trekking round endless rooms of Caravaggios. In general museums can be overpriced and have huge queues. We adopted a policy of ‘if we can do it with our parents then why do it’ as far museums were concerned. 

Where to stay?

Berlin: After painstaking internet research , we stayed in a great hostel called ‘Wombats’, in East Berlin. In fact, we were not being nearly as original as we thought – as soon as we walked into the hostel, we saw familiar faces and realised that, coincidentally, we were not the only group of Oxford students set to explore Berlin that week. As a group of 10, we had booked rooms of 6 and 4 in advance, and these rooms were pretty swish for £11 a night, with bedding and floor-space and an en-suite and everything but the (bathroom) sink. I say this because, one evening, the sink unexpectedly and dramatically fell off the wall. However, after we fetched one of the hostel staff (“that has never happened before… how fantastic”) we were offered different rooms – so no complaints there. The kitchen was clean and well-equipped, and the hostel staff very good at giving recommendations on food and attractions. The hostel had everything going for it, though having stayed at Three Little Pigs hostel before, I would also recommend that. Don’t stay at a hostel called Aletto, though, because their terrifying clown mascot is printed on everything including the bathroom tiles. Scary.

Italy: We stayed in places recommended by our guide book, something of a bible. In Rome we stayed at the ‘Hostel des Artistes’, and in Naples the rather tackily named ‘Hostel of the Sun’ and ‘ Six Small Rooms’, which were indeed small but with catering facilities and a large collection of English DVDs. In spite of ourselves we took full advantage of this and curled up on the sofa in front of Notting Hill with a bottle of wine, home-made pasta and the resident cat. Despite Naples’ somewhat dodgy reputation, all of the places were clean, friendly and cheap: on average 15 euros a night for a dorm room. Whats more it was great to meet other travellers as well as locals- the Receptionist of Hostel of the Sun branded us ‘The Oxford Girls’ (to the slight peevance of the Cambridge grad barman.) We booked most of our hostels online, which is always a good idea, as having to drag a heavy suitcase across an unknown city to an unknown hostel isn’t most people’s idea of relaxation.

What was the nightlife like?

Berlin: While the more intrepid members of our group went out every night, despite having woken up at 3am to get the flight there, I only had one night out in Berlin. However, I loved it. It was cheap and a little kooky, especially in the East, which seems to still be off the beaten track. The bars were lively, some of my friends were delighted to find a cheap shisha café, and we ended the evening in a brilliant club called Caffe Burger, which felt a bit like time travelling back to East Germany. It was grimy as hell and everyone else seemed to be high, but we could dance crazily and fit in perfectly. The only downside was that Berliners smoke inside bars and clubs, and they smoke a lot, so you will stink to high heaven by the time you stagger home.

Italy: As it was just the two of us we felt no real compulsion to go clubbing, and Italian men are persistent at the best of times. This probably made things a lot cheaper, as we’d get quietly and pleasantly drunk on five euro bottles of wine in the piazzas at night or on the terrace of our hostels. Apart from the odd slight hangover, this never left us incapacitated, and, fuelled by our rapidly developing coffee habit, we were up early and out and about. 

 

[mm-hide-text]%%IMG%%5137%%[/mm-hide-text]

 

What to eat?

Berlin: Personally, I love German cuisine. It combines all the fatty, meaty foods that I like. Currywurst (German sausage in curry sauce) is a particular favourite and this can be bought all over the place in varying qualities. However, Berlin is a very international city, and restaurants of all varieties can be found; on our last night we ended up in an excellent Italian place. By the final day we were missing Hassan’s already, but soon managed to find the nearest equivalent, where we sampled the delights of the ‘Turkish Pizza’ (a kebab-meat pizza rolled up into a wrap and served in the standard tin foil). Though everyone was enjoying the local cuisine (except for the vegetarians, I think),  we did not manage to eat out very often; being misers, we saved money by eating in the hostel a couple of times, where we made impressively giant vats of pasta and sauce.

Italy: Italy is great partly because the food is good even when cheap. Naples is significantly cheaper than Rome, which was something of a relief where our budget was concerned. A particular favourite was ‘Di Mattheo’, a rickety little pizza restaurant where the pizzas started at 3 euros and were outrageously large (not to mention delicious). It also has the bonus tourist attraction of being Bill Clinton’s favourite Neapolitan pizza restaurant, if prestige rather than pizza is on your list. The Romans are especially good at buffets, too, and we managed to find a place (somewhat paradoxically called ‘Happy Hour’) that did 7 euro cocktails but its purchase entitled you to as much of the buffet as you could manage. Needless to say we filled our boots. The Piazza Navona and the Campo di Fiori in Rome are also restaurant hotspots, aside from being wonderfully picturesque, and the proximity of the restaurants allows you do to a quick price compare. A word of warning, however: make sure that your ‘pizza’ is a pizza, and not a pizza Romana. Our first lunch was half of a small cheese panini each that even Starbucks wouldn’t be happy to sell you. Rather a crushing affair given that we had just arrived in the Land of Pizza.

So how cheap was it?

Berlin: For this holiday, we were the ultimate scrooges. We spent £34 each on three nights in the hostel, but setting off on our super-early Easyjet flight without any hold baggage (£60 return) ensured that we squeezed 4 days out of the trip. £100 spending money included all meals and all activities, as well as public transport. For about £200, we managed a nice little city break despite having bled our bank accounts dry during the term. Success.

Italy: One of the best things about the trip was that it was ultimately pretty cheap: flights cost around £100, accommodation for seven nights no more than 150 euros and food no more than 20 euros a day. 

Review: Rocket Juice & the Moon – Rocket Juice & the Moon

0

Rocket Juice and the Moon is the eponymous debut from the latest in the long line of Damon Albarn’s side-projects. Initially formed in 2008, the project, consisting of core members Albarn (Blur, Gorillaz, etc.), Flea (Red Hot Chili Peppers) and Tony Allen (Fela Kuti), had been set aside whilst its various members got on with their day jobs. This lack of attention is perhaps the reason why Rocket Juice and the Moon sounds a bit undercooked.

The album draws on the African influences familiar to Allen’s past ventures and which featured on Albarn’s latest Gorillaz album, Plastic Beach, the driving force behind its songs coming in the form of afrobeat, funk baselines. The main problem with the album is that it feels like a side-project; one in which nobody really takes control. Albarn only sings on two of the twenty tracks comprising Rocket Juice and the Moon and, as such, the album lacks a definitive voice. There are many solid guest performances from the likes of Erykah Badu, Fatoumata Diawara and M.anifest but the result is a record which sounds more like a drop-in session for whoever may have been hanging around at the time.

The high points consist of songs like ‘High Shooter’, ‘Lolo’ and ‘Poison’ where melody and lyrical drive take over from the otherwise meandering instrumentation but these instances are too few and far between to give the album a consistent energy. This is an album perhaps best enjoyed in the live arena where the relaxed party atmosphere that fails to excite on record will be displayed to its best advantage. Sadly, for whatever reason, this hasn’t been achieved with the recorded version and what might have been a really interesting project has ended up sounding more like the Gorillaz tracks which didn’t quite come together for Plastic Beach.

TWO STARS

Review: Grimes – Visions

0

Don’t be misled by the daunting cover of Visions by Montreal based Grimes, aka Claire Boucher. The 24 year old Canadian born musician and music video director is currently garnering international praise as she makes waves with her bewitching electropop/chillwave/witch house music repertoire.

Rather than a dark treacherous musical odyssey, Visions presents a surprisingly fresh and craftily textured revelation wrapped in surreal, edgy, space-like foam. 

The album brazenly kicks off with a short introductory track entitled ‘Infinite Love Without Fulfilment’. “I’ll leave you if you want to”, the insouciant lyrics taunt playfully, treating love in a detached, indifferent yet obedient manner. This is followed by ‘Genesis’, a tense polyphonic piece with rich instrumentation and crisp beats. The sound is refreshing: an interplay between arpeggio like flutes, tinkering electronic piano, synthesised sounds and a sweet concoction topped with a lightly thudding bass. In a similar vein, ‘Oblivion’ is built upon the application of hypnotic electronic loops that form the underlying languid platform of the song.

Stand out tracks include ‘Vowels = Space and Time’, ‘Be a Body’ and ‘Skin’. Again, the apt use of synthesisers on these tracks, coupled with catchy melodies, create soundscapes that are hallucinogenic, dreamy and unrefined. ‘Be a Body’ and ‘Skin’ follow the formula of offbeat chord patterns touched with piano riffs that insinuate mystery.

However, I cannot pin Grimes down. Often I would be fleetingly reminded of Ladyhawke and Prince, whilst some tracks are also reminiscent of Goldfrapp and Hot Chip in their pensive, wistful delivery and hypnotic, persistent beats.

The album ties the knot with ‘Know the Way’, perhaps the most calm—inducing song of the lot. It waves a tender goodbye to an exotic, beguiling infusion of electro, chillwave sounds. Grimes does not fall under the mainstream category but, if her Visions are anything to go by, then conversions to this exhilarating genre will undoubtedly follow suit. Boucher’s ethereal Visions need no correcting.

FOUR STARS

Review: OUJO at the Jericho Tavern

0

On OUJO’s Facebook page, it states that their various accolades include ‘supporting headliners…[for] The Streets on the Oxford ball circuit’. After seeing them perform a wonderfully executed 90 minutes of driving big-band jazz to an adoring crowd, I can now reveal that they are categorically better than The Streets. Partly because I don’t imagine Mike Skinner’s silky-smooth vocals would go down well at Montreal Jazz Festival, the next stop for this razor-sharp orchestra in the summer.

While many big bands produce a mass of indeterminate horns drowning everything in their wake, OUJO are crisp, precise and brilliantly clear, trading off virtuoso solos and dense group harmonies with effortless ease. Whether swerving between the up-tempo swing-time of Buddy Rich’s ‘Big Swing Face’, or providing gentle washes of sound for a ballad, there is always a satisfying balance between the richly complex arrangements and the punchy accessibility of the melodies and rhythm section.

The orchestra were at their best when gradually building up layers of sound, giving individuals breathing space before swelling to a huge crescendo. One of the standout tracks was ‘Aha’, where a moody, sparse groove from bassist Richard Longdon and drummer Alex Blackwell, supplemented by the low growl of baritone sax from Magnus Rowbotham, built up by blocks of sound from alto, tenor, piano and trumpet to a complex, powerful conclusion worthy of David Axelrod. Equally good was a rousing rendition of Gordon Goodwin’s ‘Count Bubba’ – perfectly choreographed horn stabs and solo bars from all three brass lines keeping up a driving rhythm, rising to something euphoric enough to soundtrack winning the top prize on every single game show in the world simultaneously.

Highlights also included ‘Stella By Starlight’ and ‘Always and Forever’, two superbly understated and tender performances led by band president Michael Dunne. Dunne’s trumpet playing radiated professionalism, channelling as much into the perfectly judged spaces between the notes as the arrangements themselves, refusing to hog the limelight in favour of a quiet, subtle style that only enhanced a sense of passion, energy and intensity. Similarly, Francesca Aquilina’s vocals were wedded perfectly with the band’s subtler side – the performers knowingly altering volume and technique to foreground fantastic renditions of ‘At Last’ and ‘What a Difference a Day Makes’, amongst others. Though it’s traditional for a jazz chanteuse to make dweeby, misty-eyed audience members fall in love with them, by the end of her performance of ‘At Last’ I was considering asking her to elope to Tuscany.

Fantastic drumming from Blackwell throughout, and some very endearing compereing from stand-in host Rory Robinson (‘This one’s quite emotional. Well, I dunno, maybe not. See what you think’) got the crowd behind them for the duration of the show. The only thing that didn’t go in OUJO’s favour was the size of the stage, making sightlines difficult and cramming them next to each other with little elbow room, and an unfortunate anchoring of most of the venue’s seating a disorientating distance from the front. Hopefully, when they take to Montreal in the summer, they’ll have difficulty pushing crowds away.

4 STARS

Council rat Jamal’s out

0

Jamal’s, the popular Indian restaurant and crew-dating venue, was closed by environmental health officers from Oxford City Council last Tuesday lunchtime.

The officers were called to inspect the establishment after a complaint from a neighbouring property about mice. The standards of sanitation the team found led them to order the restaurant to close its doors to customers at 6.40 pm under regulation eight of the food hygiene regulations 2006.

Jamal’s then reopened at 6pm the following day after being issued with a certificate confirming that the problem no longer existed.

Richard Kuziara, Environmental Health Officer at Oxford City Council, told Cherwell, “We closed the premises because we found conditions that presented a serious risk to customers.”

“The owner was cooperative and carried out the necessary improvements and it has now been allowed to reopen.”

He added that the council will be keeping an eye on Jamal’s and will visit the restaurant regularly “to ensure that the owners can demonstrate that food safety risks are adequately controlled.”

Following the inspection, Jamal’s Food Hygiene Rating is now 0 which means it is classed as needing “Urgent Improvement”.

On its website, the restaurant describes its Indian cuisine as “an adventure”, claiming that it offers “the most fascinating and superbly flavoured dishes of the east”.

However, some students were less forthcoming in their praise for Jamal’s. Exeter student Christopher Pyrah said he wasn’t shocked by the news, adding, “I don’t think I’ll go there again if I’m honest.”

Samuel Diana, a first year Chemist, reacted similarly. He commented, “I guess I’m not particularly surprised as it was quite a dingy place from what I remember, though I was quite drunk at the time.”

Others had a different take on the closure, with one second year Philosophy and Theology student explaining, “I’m not surprised Jamal’s had rodents, in fact they’re probably an improvement on the place’s usual clientèle. Now they’re gone I really hope the atmosphere and tone of the place doesn’t suffer.”

When contacted by Cherwell, Jamal’s maintained that, despite the incident, it remained “the best restaurant in Oxford” and insisted that “students love Jamal’s”.

The restaurant also claimed that complaints were rare, stating that students “never complain about food or cleanliness”, arguing that it provides “good food” that is “good quality”.

Many students said that the restaurant was an integral part of the life of the University. Organ scholar James D’Costa, though noting that he was unlikely to return soon, described Jamal’s as “an Oxford institution”.

A first year English student agreed, and said that he believed that the incident would do little harm to the restaurant in the long run. He added, “It will take a bit more than a few dead rats to dent its immortal reputation.”

Pretty in pink

0

Spring has most definitely sprung, and this year it is unashamedly feminine, dealing in pastels and brights (anything but the dark greys and black of winter) and pink is very much back in the frame.

Forget feminism, fashion’s message this season is to embrace your femininity and all that it is to be a girl. Whether you opt for a bright punchy fuchsia, a tempered pastel, or a 60s candy pink you’ll be hitting the mark. But remember that this pink is classy and elegant- no wannabe Barbies in velour tracksuits here please.

The vibe harks back to the sweet innocence of youth with floral patterns (an easy way to get your pink fix), rose pink ankle socks and T-bar Mary Jane-style shoes (see Topshop’s latest) à la your first day at school, and the continuing obsession with peter pan collars which can be found in some fresh feminine shades at nauticoco.com .

Yet along with this sugary sweetness there should be a sense of the grown-up. Try to keep the pink under control, for example, choose a subtle pale pink blouse rather than the safe white or cream, and pair with other colours in your outfit, or just channel your girly-ness through your make-up – cerise lips, rosy cheeks, or candy pink nails. Also be aware of your textures- keep it light and fresh with cotton blouses, skirts and little socks, sheer fabrics for something a little more daring, and even wools with some nice knitwear for those cooler days during the April showers.

One very important consideration is skin tone. For the paler among us (me included) the pastel pink shades are pure heaven for our skin, and I would warn against going too bright so as to avoid drowning your natural glow. Those blessed with a stronger complexion are lucky enough to be able to pull off subtle shades, but look equally good when they turn up the volume to more striking fuchsias.

For those who are firmly averse to pink, other colours in sorbet and pastel tones can create a very similar feel, think egg shell and peppermint blues, pistachio greens, and fresh lemon yellows. In fact these, teamed with pink, can create a brilliant patchwork of clashing colours (another big trend this season).

This season is playful and light-hearted, and whether you want to be ‘ironic’ about your pink injection, or you embrace the shade wholeheartedly like a long lost friend, what girl could resist the lure of the perfect feminine shade?

A Shark’s Tale

0

Bill Heine orders ‘just a little, just a taste’ of the South African house white as we sit down by the stove in the conservatory of the Rickety Press in Jericho. There’s an atmosphere of studied gentility in the pub, as patrons sip their drinks besides walls, shelves and window ledges piled high with books. My guest fits the place like a good book in a well-fitted dust jacket.  

I open with a couple of questions about the origins of the much beloved Headington Shark and can’t keep a note of laughter out of my voice when I ask what his thought process was.  He is evidently used to this question and sits back to ruminate, observing that he still hasn’t come up with a  tried and tested ‘patter’ to help him out in these situations and worries that his answer might descend into ‘chaos’.

But Heine’s story is anything but chaos as he spins a tale which ranges from the 1986 bombing of Tripoli as he lay awake listening to the aircraft flying from their air base above Oxford on his first night in his new home; to evening drinks, perched on a wall, with the artist John Buckley, discussing how to make his house look ‘interesting’; and finally to the installation of the shark on the 15th August, 1986, the forty-first anniversary of the bombing of Nagasaki. Clearly the theme is destruction, and a certain ‘shock value’: the invasion of something forceful into a place that one feels is as ‘safe as houses’.

I ask Heine whether he thinks that art’s ability to shock is a pre-requisite of great contemporary art. ‘I wonder if I would say shocking,’ he begins. ‘I think most of the important art does have this quality. It jolts people; it shakes them up and it asks new questions. That’s the area I’m interested in: the asking of new questions so that people will settle down again.’

I wonder whether Heine can identify a particular work of art which he experienced in this way. ‘It’s interesting,’ he muses, ‘in the sense that it’s not really a piece of art, but I consider it to be. I used to live in Peru and I lived in a place called Cuzco in the Andes. It was the centre of the Inca Empire and there was a lot of poverty. There were people who were pretty close to the breadline and they wore clothes that were very shredded and old, and sandals, in this harsh terrain. But I remember seeing this one man in particular and he was a campesino – he worked in the fields for a subsistence living – and he was wearing a poncho that he wove himself. This poncho was ablaze with the most intricate weaving of reds and the images were from his life: the birds; the condors, and the alpacas. He was standing there, stooped over a little, and he didn’t have a bean. But he had dignity. And he was just simply covered in something that he had made which was resplendent. So I think that’s my work of art.’

Heine believes art should always be publically available; he explains that his shark was a form of homage to the public spirit of art. In crash-landing the shark ‘way out in lace-curtain land’ Heine avers that he took art out of a certain ‘elitist’ area of Oxford ‘as a kind of gift’ to everybody. The shark can be seen by anyone who takes a trip out to Headington; it can even be seen on the main road going out of Oxford. And, after all, it is the public who saved the shark. After years of debate, raging through the council and even the law courts of Oxford, the question of the shark’s fate ended up at Westminster where a public inquiry was held, requesting the opinions of local residents. No matter that the shark hadn’t had planning permission, no matter that the shark was an ‘eye-sore’ (according to certain members of the council); the residents of Oxford loved it. Heine tells me with a satisfaction still alive after twenty years that his lawyer told him that 95% of those asked wanted to keep the shark.

So that was that. The Headington shark passed its twenty-fifth birthday in 2011, and Heine hopes that it will last another twenty five more. Structurally, the shark is ‘stronger than it’s ever been’ as Heine confesses that he spent £250,000 re-figuring how the shark and the house meet. He admits that now the shark and the house do not technically converge, as the shark now crash lands into a ‘steel structure’ hidden inside the roof, but ‘it looks the same’ and that’s what is most important.

Muamba – a ‘reminder’ that sport doesn’t really matter?

0

Aside from everything else that Twitter has brought to the world of sport through its instantaneous insights into the inner thoughts of our nation’s sporting ‘heroes’ (Joey Barton springs to mind), nowhere is the recent outpouring of well-wishing and togetherness following the collapse of Bolton midfielder Fabrice Muamba more clearly demonstrated. Footballers, perennially criticized for their well-publicized misdemeanors, seem to have pulled together in reaction to a tragedy that has befallen one of their own.

However, a worrying trend can be detected in claims that the tragedy on Sunday ‘puts things into perspective’ and that ‘some things are more important than football’. Well, obviously. Bill Shankly claimed that football was more important than a ‘matter of life and death’, but I’m pretty sure it isn’t.  It is 22 men running around on a field, irrespective of the high of a last minute winner enjoyed with your closest friends or thousands of fans, or the lows. Football fans of this generation can recall with ease England’s heartbreaking exit from every tournament since they were a toddler, and remember with a shudder the time they cried when Bolo Zenden’s penalty robbed their beloved Bolton Wanderers of Carling Cup glory in 2004 (oh, just me then). For everything that football offers as the nation’s game, however sewn it is into the fabric of the nation, and the happiness, or indeed, pain, it causes millions, it is ludicrous to suggest that football’s importance is such that it takes an unsavoury incident to jolt us into seeing that football isn’t actually that important after all.

Muamba’s father was granted asylum in Britain as his life would have been endangered by a return to Zaire (now the Democratic Republic of the Congo) and his uncle was murdered. Fabrice arrived in England aged 11 unable to speak English, yet gained GCSEs, A-levels, a professional contract with Arsenal, and captained England at Under-21 level. Social mobility indeed. Fabrice Muamba’s story is both highly impressive and tragic – that someone that has achieved so much to get where he is today could be cut down. But I can’t help but think that the important point is where Muamba came from, not where he has got to. For millions, football represents an escape from the harsh realities of everyday life, and for very few, offers an opportunity to escape war-torn and failed states to ply their trade in the European leagues. Moreover, I am pretty sure that recent scandals about footballers’ private lives, never mind the Champions League, receive much more airtime and enjoy a higher priority in most people’s minds than the humanitarian crises and violence that plague the homelands of African players that make it to the Premier League.

How anyone can think that football is more important than this is beyond me, and so if this awful incident is to have any positive repercussions (aside from more stringent health regulations for footballers to reduce the chances of a repeat), it must be in the recognition that football is a past-time, a hobby, a passion, for some an occupation, and others still a business, but in the grand scheme of things something that isn’t that important.

That said, who is ever going to forget the feeling of that wonder-goal from outside the box against Harris Manchester on a desolate sports ground somewhere in Oxford hungover from the Bridge the previous night? Life doesn’t provide us with these moments, sport does. The penalty shoot-out heartbreak, the sense of camaraderie, and the blind overwhelming joy at a last-minute winner. Sport will always be important for those of us who love it, but we should never lose sight of its proper place. No matter how much we love the game, it is trivial.

For those that might interpret this as a bit of an attack on sport, that is not the case. A man who still regards defeat in the finals of the under 15 and under 16 Lancashire Cup as traumatic experiences from which recovery is still an ongoing, indefinite process is in no position to preach about the insignificance and futility of sport. Rather the point is that the idea that the Muamba tragedy somehow serves to reminds us what is important about life is absurd. Irrespective of this incident, and irrespective of how much we love football, it is just a game, and as such is removed from the vagaries of life. Perhaps this is a reason behind its popularity – no matter what is going on at school, at home or at work, the beautiful game and your team is always there to provide a sense of grounding and stability. Although it might feel to some people that football (or any other sport) is the most important thing in the world, it isn’t. Someone please remind me of this come Euro 2012 or when trying to balance getting a degree with the quest for JCR (Reserves) Premier Division glory.

Worcester best St Anne’s in 7th week scrap

0

On Friday of Seventh Week, a Blue-studded Worcester eleven overcame underdogs St Anne’s in this year’s Cuppers final. The match itself was a bit of a damp squib. Despite the evident quality in both sides the passes did not flow, and the game was rather characterised by aerial challenges and big tackles, fittingly decided by one of the most delightful shin-rollers Iffley Road has ever seen.

It was a shame that the game did not live up to the occasion. Anne’s, not used to such a stage, were out in force and in fine vocal fettle, belittling the normally vociferous Worcester fans by almost two-to-one. Conducted by a huge novelty beaver the Anne’s crowd belted out anthem after anthem, providing a cracking atmosphere for what transpired to be a dour game.
For the majority of the game it was difficult to see which team had strolled to the final and resided in the top echelon of college football and which had battled to Iffley Road on penalties, and were playing in the gloomy depths of the JCR Third tier. Worcester were fielding nine players that had represented the university, yet they were unable to string a series of passes together as Anne’s harried and harassed them in midfield. The first half was a non-event and at the break the score was unchanged, with neither side looking dangerous other than at the odd set piece.
So this continued until the hour mark. Anne’s defence, marshalled by Blue Rob Price, held defiantly firm, until one of Healey’s long throws finally made the difference. Tom Phelan found himself in a yard of space and shinned a half-cleared ball past the despairing Gardner. It was not a goal befitting of a cup final, but certainly summed up the quality of football on display, and sent the Worcester fans into raptures. It was also a personal triumph for Phelan, who had been on the receiving end of some of the more offensive chanting from the Mint Green Army.
The goal seemed to come too late for Anne’s who were unable to form any sort of response. In truth Worcester’s defence never looked uncomfortable throughout the final exchanges, and after a series of corners and long balls, the whistle went. Worcester had triumphed for the second year running, and the legions of Anne’s fans were momentarily silenced. 
As the trophy was presented the M.G.A. were left wondering what could have been were it not for the width of a shinpad, and Worcester were dreaming of a third successive triumph next year. It seems that they are already the team to beat for next year’s competition. 

It was a shame that the game did not live up to the occasion. Anne’s, not used to such a stage, were out in force and in fine vocal fettle, belittling the normally vociferous Worcester fans by almost two-to-one. Conducted by a huge novelty beaver the Anne’s crowd belted out anthem after anthem, providing a cracking atmosphere for what transpired to be a dour game.

For the majority of the game it was difficult to see which team had strolled to the final and resided in the top echelon of college football and which had battled to Iffley Road on penalties, and were playing in the gloomy depths of the JCR Third tier. Worcester were fielding nine players that had represented the university, yet they were unable to string a series of passes together as Anne’s harried and harassed them in midfield. The first half was a non-event and at the break the score was unchanged, with neither side looking dangerous other than at the odd set piece.

So this continued until the hour mark. Anne’s defence, marshalled by Blue Rob Price, held defiantly firm, until one of Healey’s long throws finally made the difference. Tom Phelan found himself in a yard of space and shinned a half-cleared ball past the despairing Gardner. It was not a goal befitting of a cup final, but certainly summed up the quality of football on display, and sent the Worcester fans into raptures. It was also a personal triumph for Phelan, who had been on the receiving end of some of the more offensive chanting from the Mint Green Army.

The goal seemed to come too late for Anne’s who were unable to form any sort of response. In truth Worcester’s defence never looked uncomfortable throughout the final exchanges, and after a series of corners and long balls, the whistle went. Worcester had triumphed for the second year running, and the legions of Anne’s fans were momentarily silenced. 

As the trophy was presented the M.G.A. were left wondering what could have been were it not for the width of a shinpad, and Worcester were dreaming of a third successive triumph next year. It seems that they are already the team to beat for next year’s competition.