Ideas, Not Identity

What happened to comedy? I’m not sure if you’ve heard recently, but Donald Trump is an orange man with funny hair. Have you heard? You may also be unaware that Boris Johnson too, can look strange. And MY oh my when the two are next to each other! With all that hair, just there flapping around! Have you heard this? No? Or maybe that Jeremy Corbyn looks a bit different to other politicians? No? Dressed kind of like a teacher, instead of wearing a suit? If not, then OH BOY do I have a new experience that will blow your mind, right out from under that rock. It’s called Channel 4 . Minimal effort, maximum effect. I’m pretty sure that’s the middle name of Nish Kumar. That effect of course, being to make eighteen-year-old, Politics and International Relations students giggle themselves to death. Because if you hadn’t heard, they voted labour. And they hate the Tories. I was always told to write about that I know. And I know how much I hate modern day, crappy, leftist, hogwash ‘comed

Sexism and why it isn’t everywhere. Recently online, I stumbled across a situation that was not too uncommon. I seem to never be more than a few clicks away from left-wing comedians making jokes about Trump, pornography, or strangers vexing their opinions on social inequalities. Today, it was the latter of the three that had my attention. A regular, bland online advertisement portrayed the following, seemingly harmless scenario. A man and a woman, seemingly a couple, were found reclined in bed together. Our man in question, sat with his slicked back, jet black hair and paisley-print pyjamas, held in front of him a copy of a financial broadsheet. To his left, his equally attractive partner sat with a delightful array of breakfast options, somehow managing to fit both English and continental options onto one tray, placed elegantly beside her. A somewhat harmless image so far, with the only striking thought so far being what the man could find so funny in a financial paper. Y

Vitality's Cancer. Depression. The less attractive ‘D word’ on the lips of many a student, that most would also rather keep hidden from peers and parents alike. The numbers of those affected is unfathomable to say the least. With such an apparent problem, one would assume the task of tackling the totalitarian tumour of happiness would be a core ideology of the masse . Yet this is the perfect example of how the growth is granted such room to thrive, for how does one fight in a battle it does not understand? Popular belief for many years, has been that the antithesis to depression is of course happiness. But this meek, simplistic view only inhibits the ability to construe a rough insight into the deepest of hellholes a depressive suffers and fights. (The synonymous cancer-depression overlaps are a fitting metaphor throughout). Depression is not the lack of happiness, but an overwhelming lack of vitality . To lose such bounce, buoyancy, or brio, leaves one at the peril of an

Trans itioning. “I feel I am a woman trapped inside the body of a man.” In today’s society, with a choice of male, female, neutral or other pronouns, such a statement is becoming more commonly heard. Training courses are regularly offered to those working in health-care, social-care, and mental-health settings. Despite the seemingly simple choice at hand, delving deeper into this utterance raises some deep ideas and interesting conflictions around the inner workings of the mind of someone who is transgender. There are two broad, multi-layered points I wish to explore: dealing with what is meant by ‘self’ or ‘I’, as well as the ideas of ‘being’. The tone of this short essay is not to seek offence, yet simply to explore ideas that are often not discussed, through ignorance or fear, with the possibility of allowing readers to take a closer look into the workings of the minds of those who are transgender. We may not come to a concrete conclusion, but a journey can still be wor

The world owes you nothing, get over it. We like to think the world is fair. Growing up, fairy tales are told to us where good defeats evil, and the world is returned to right. It’s everywhere, from bedtime stories to B-list Hollywood; the same story plays out. However, this idyllic narrative lies deeper than one might first think. Parents and carers raising children seem to reinforce it without realising. ‘Do this thing you don’t want to do and afterwards you can have a treat!’- one endures bad, but in the end, rewards follow and all is well. Raised as a strict Catholic, any remotely bad behaviour of mine that was followed by any form of slight ill against me (the time difference between the two encounters never seemed to truly matter) and this was deemed as God’s way of punishing me. “What was that, Boy?! You took my name in vain? How DARE you! (even though that was actually my plan all along) Here is a splinter on your thumb for your sinning!” that sort of thing, apparentl