Picture this: winter vacation in college, Hugh McDowell (rowing captain, amateur actor, professional tall person) is phone-begging the alumni for money. After a long series of non-pick-upers, he’s talking to an alumna about her time at Selwyn. ‘How’s Kiwi doing?’ she asks. Hugh has no idea Kiwi like the Old Library, Cindies, and reasonable rent is wholly unfamiliar to the matriculants of 2022 and beyond. Let me fill you in: the magazine was founded in 1982 by students of Selwyn College, taking its name from the small flightless bird and weirdly hairy fruit (George Augustus, New Zealand you get it). Unlike the supposedly sophisticated Varsity and whatever it is The Tab does, Kiwi’s specialty was satire A large box in the college’s archives contains a complete collection over more than three decades; genuinely funny and inventive writing in what was clearly a pillar of life at Selwyn. (Ye olde Selfessions, if you will ) For whatever reason, Kiwi died out after 2016 Now, like a slightly fat and long-beaked phoenix, this majestic bird has risen from the ashes of the mid-2010s in a flame of glory and journalistic integrity
EDI TOR IAL
I’ve learnt a lot in the process of making this magazine, like the fact that nobody knows the difference between an em and en dash, and that no amount of really well written emails will get you an interview with Hugh Laurie. It’s also something I’m extremely proud of. Inside this inaugural edition, you’ll find: politics, art, poetry, comics, satire, opinion pieces, Selwyn things, serious subjects, utter nonsense, fresh termly news, objective misinformation and the best student journalism you ’ ve ever seen There will be feature-length features, definite articles and accurate page numbering. Many brilliant people across many year groups, subjects and social circles put a lot of hard work into making this edition: from writing to formatting, copy-editing to illustrating If it wasn’t already obvious, the people at this college are talented, funny and insightful Thank you to all the people who applied to contribute, and to those I hunted down and begged. Kiwi has been a pleasure to make, and I hope it will be a pleasure to read. And if not, at least it was free online
Emily Heatherington, Editor
cOLLAGE
Niamh Vienne Bannan and Evie Manton
NEWS IN BRIEF
A round-up of the current affairs at Selwyn
AA aanew JCR committee, headed by sksjsaSophie Jacques, has taken office. Kiwi remains politically neutral, but expresses its unequivocal support for Vice-President Benjamin Skidmore (which is unrelated to the fact that he is the editor’s college son). If the rest of the JCR would like to receive similar endorsement, they may note that the Kiwi team enjoys both money and gifts
In week, two hashbrowns in hall were reported to be equilateral triangles instead of their regular isosceles shape
An anonymous hall-goer told Kiwi: ‘I’m so glad Selwyn is finally taking a stand for equality ’
Kiwi’s glorious revival was featured in Varsity, in perhaps the only instance of good press received by the college ever, unless you are a scabies mite or a carbon emission Unfortunately, Varsity must have found out about the historic rivalry between our equally dignified news sources, and cancelled the print edition for that week
A potentially concerning sign for graduate prospects: at the beginning of LGBT History Month, several Selwyn alumni were seen demonstrating concerning levels of joblessness Despite admirable technological proficiency and knowing lots of big words like ‘ neoMarxist authoritarianism,’ apparently these poor alumni had no choice but to spend their day begging for attention in a Facebook comment section
angry and confused by the censorship of the jazz night cocktail. The ‘Organgasm,’ named after our beloved well-heated organ, perfectly encapsulated the pleasant feelings created by the sweet sounds of Selwyn Jazz. Alas, Selwynites eager to shake ass in the bar had to console themselves with the significantly less sexy ‘Bishop’s Blessing.’ Is free speech under attack at Selwyn?
Snowball was found dead in a ditch after nobody applied to be President Fortunately, after a slew of emotional manipulation, begging and outright threats on Selfessions, Kiwi is pleased to report that a sufficient number of people were enticed by empty promises of gratitude and popularity, and Selwyn Snowball has been saved Finally, a win for public outrage
It has been announced that Suzanne Raine is to take over the position of College Master next academic year Raine has worked as a Visiting Professor at KCL’s Department of War Studies, which bodes well for Selwyn in the inevitable inter-college war Kiwi encourages students to stock up on siege equipment and examine the outer-walls of Robinson for weaknesses when passing by on Grange Road
Audiophiles and alcoholics alike were left
TRUMP: NOBEL PRIZE WINNER?
Theo Innes questions how the Trump presidency might effect the Russo-Ukrainian war
Iaacknowledge this article is rapidly fmfbecoming outdated (something something you shouldn’t write political articles 5 weeks in advance), but hey, I was mostly right!
In the first few weeks since becoming president, Trump’s manoeuvrings can perhaps be best described as uncouth? Between giving a South African nepo baby access to the federal government, sanctioning the ICC, and taking a truly awful official portrait (seriously, even my bop photos are better) the administration has gotten off to an unsteady start
One of the more stable elements of Trump’s second term, however, is his incessant whining about deserving a Nobel prize Obama’s victory in 2009 has, as recently as this week, prompted selfpitying cries of who ‘deserve(s)’ an award from the American premier With four failed nominations to his name, Trump wants to be recognised as one of the great statesmen of modern politics like Gandhi but with embarrassing dance moves
position in Ukraine I am very clearly not qualified to do so the war is not showing any signs of being won by force. Neither side seems able to defeat the other, with some fearing the war may last generations.
The only issue is that, despite his frequent claims of solving the RussoUkrainian war in a day, he has now had quite a few days, and peace does not abound Colour me shocked
Although his unrealistic claim of rapid peace has not materialised, some form of a deal may be on the cards Though I will not engage in an analysis of the military
Ukraine is under mounting pressure to lower the draft age. Russia is trading goats for North Korean troops that are allegedly not prepared for modern warfare
The domestic situation in both nations also seems unstable President Zelensky has admitted to not having enough money to roll back Russian encroachment on their territory entirely Further, his attempts at soliciting arms from the US and other nations seems to be facing significant opposition Last year Congress only narrowly approved an aid deal amidst significant Republican opposition Given Republican successes in both houses of Congress, it’s hard to envision aid to Ukraine becoming any easier to pass Further still, Trump has made it abundantly clear that foreign aid spending is not a priority for his administration; Musk’s stupidly named DOGE (Department Of Government Efficiency, which apart from the obvious issues with the department’s work, is a dumb acronym why is the ‘O’ included?) attempted to axe USAID entirely Russia’s position seems similarly fragile the war has turned the economy into a house of cards that potentially threatens his hold on power
As such, we may tentatively suggest that peace by diplomacy seems more likely The Russian ambassador to the UK has admitted they are prepared for a ‘ very serious’ conversation about Ukraine. Trump has spoken to both leaders. Zelensky could well be pressured by his largest financier. If some form of peace was achieved, the Nobel could be a possibility.
This is all speculation and indeed Zelensky could continue to be funded by the United States. His recent suggestion of a ‘partnership’ giving the US access to Ukrainian mineral wealth in return for financial assistance in the context of a US desire to compete with China for rare earth metals could ensure US aid, and by extension war, continues. I recently asked Dame Melinda Simmons, the former British ambassador to Ukraine, whether peace was imminent, and she mentioned that buying weapons was the main way she envisioned Ukraine
obtaining the matériel to fight
This is to also put aside any consideration of what the Nobel Committee would make of this. Most decisions for the peace prize are taken unanimously, which is hard to envision for Trump. Moreover, there are questions as to what form peace may take and whether it would even be beneficial, especially if the Ukrainian people did not support it. Call me a pessimist, but international relations conducted on the whims of an egomaniacal populist may not be good.
Though I am, by no means, an international relations expert Dr Sewell’s job is safe it is interesting to consider whether Trump could win the ultimate prize in politics. The image of him giving a VE-day-esque speech riddled with none-too-modest references to his own genius at Camp David, flanked by Zelensky and Putin, could form a compelling case.
T‘LIKE
YOU KNOW?’ ‘LIKE YOU KNOW?’
FILLER WORDS AND THE ‘FEMALE’ DIALECT
FILLER WORDS AND THE ‘FEMALE’ DIALECT
aaaahere was a teacher at my school who cccawould stand at the front and count on his fingers how often students said ‘like’ when speaking. It was well-meant, even a bit funny a joking correction of what he (and society) saw as a linguistic deficit. Over time, it spread to the students. Once, I was rambling on to my friend with all the enthusiasm of a thirteen-year-old, and she proudly held her hands up and informed me, with a grin, that I’d said ‘like’ seven-times in the last minute. We both laughed, even if my smile was tinged with a touch of embarrassment at being caught. It was just a joke, after all. I promise, this article is about more than an anecdote. I am not using the revival of the Kiwi magazine to work through some petty secondary school grudge (that’s what my notes app is for).
Yet there is an insidiously gendered context behind jokes about like, um, the filler words that women use, you know? In 1973, Robin Lackoff published ‘Language and Women’s Place,’ in which she argued that women are denied access to power because they are deemed ‘not capable of holding it’ on the grounds of their linguistic behaviour. Lackoff focused on women ’ s abundant use of ‘tag questions’ a rhetorical device, often motivated by politeness, sitting somewhere between a statement and a question (‘We should have dinner at six, right?’). Her essential argument was that women ’ s frequent use of fillers and tagquestions made them seem unsure of themselves, and as a result, fed into Linguistic researcher, Cerys James-Batten, tells Kiwi, like, why women talk like that
stereotypes about women as incapable of leadership. Importantly, she saw this discrimination as self-inflicted, claiming, ‘ women prejudice the case against themselves by their use of language.’ In short, and ignoring my sardonic twist, if women just said ‘like’ a bit less, we’d be overrun by female CEOs.
Lackoff’s work may seem narrowly focused and overly theoretical, not to mention tinged with internalised misogyny, but a 2011 Guardian article by Naomi Wolf demonstrates that these ideas have continued from the 1970s. Wolf argues that filler words are ‘destructive’ for women and calls for their immediate extermination. I hear you ask, why? Is the overindulgence in ‘like’ responsible for rising rates of genderbased violence? When women say ‘ um ’ three times in a sentence, does Florida immediately overturn another abortion law? No it’s something much, much worse. Anecdotal research (famously the most scientific form of inquiry) has found that when women use filler words, it reduces their chances of promotion in the workplace! Calm yourselves, LinkedIn Warriors! In Wolf’s article, one particularly smug ‘law partner’ who made the wise decision to remain unnamed laments the ‘exhausting’ experience of constantly having to ‘ reassure ’ young women whose run-on sentences granted their conversation a sense of uncertainty and incompleteness (given his patronising tone even whilst anonymous, I’ll bet that no employee was
finding him particularly reassuring, but you know, moving on)
Taking a more empirical approach, Pamela Fishman explored ‘conversational insecurity,’ looking for alternative reasons behind women ’ s ‘tentative’ speech patterns. In her study, tape recorders were placed in the apartments of three heterosexual couples to record natural conversation. When transcribed, the footage showed that the women used three times as many tags or declarative questions as the men. On the surface, this supports Wolf and Lackoff’s ideas about female insecurity. However, when contextualised, the evidence showed that the women ’ s questions stemmed not from ‘personality weakness,’ but from a desire for reciprocity. Fishman found that when women used questions, their success rate for introducing a topic was 72%, compared to only 36% for non-question introductions. So the ‘conversational insecurity’ seems to belong to the male speakers, who responded less frequently to more subtle indicators of topic change, thereby forcing the women to use direct questions to elicit a response. Fishman argues that women ’ s distinct speech patterns are less a result of insecurity and more because of their sophisticated engagement with the art of conversation.
population In fact, there is a very legitimate argument that a ‘female dialect’ does not exist; women are not a linguistic monolith, but spread across regions, nations, religions. This is only one in a very, very long line of problems facing a society obsessed with ‘ proper speech.’ Yet it goes a very small way in the very complex process of addressing ‘ women ’ s speech patterns’ whether they exist, why they develop, and what they mean.
Linguists consistently run up against the difficulty of studying these patterns scientifically; the above discussion suggests empirical evidence might not be particularly useful. Whether women actually do use more fillers words and tag-questions matters less than the fact that their speech is perceived as uncertain, incomplete, tentative. Beliefs that women ’ s speech is impeded, harmful, or even just ‘annoying’ abound, from those who imitate the vocal fry of the Kardashians to employers not promoting women because their run on sentences and filler words are, put simply, just too ‘exhausting’.
Of course, Fishman’s sample was very limited: three white, heterosexual couples between 25-35 are not exactly representative of the English-speaking
P.S. I don’t imagine he’ll read this, but just in case: the ‘like’ count for this article is seven. Pretty good, wouldn’t you say?
Alina Hu
EXHA EXHA
Going outside for a The aunt pulls out And heaves flame into t Reveals brief dapples of Unwashed flowerpo
Equal moonligh
One sundial on th
Then the wind-stir
Of the ashtray comes: The sudden mafting release That gives so much of what’s left, Leaves her standing clear as snow Beside the kitchen door, Recognising lines of mist night, he moor.
mish
ON QUARTER ZIPS
Robert Waring delivers a stirring call to arms.
Taaaahis feels like it should come with a aaaadisclaimer. To begin with, I’m a very political person and I have decided to make that other people’s problem. As a result, I’ve had many conversations (arguments) around a kitchen table about important issues that challenge the world today. Maybe it’s down to having a friend group that aligns with your politics, maybe it’s just the type of person that applies to Selwyn College, but there was surprisingly little disagreement in most of these conversations Many hyped-up ‘hot takes’ were swiftly cooled down by the lukewarm mutterings of ‘yeah, that’s fair,’ or ‘ no, yeah, I get that ’
Yet, of course, all good things must come to an end Of all the controversies settled around our kitchen table, one issue kept popping up, and growing, and spreading Our kitchen was a quarantine and we were scientists examining the birth of a new strand of disease: a disease in a cotton-polyester blend It’s difficult to be certain when or where it emerged Some argue it came from rural communities, holding space with men in flat caps, just like Stella or the Reform Party Others argue it came from the urbanites, irritating twenty-something HSBC interns who think feminism is actually oppressive to men, ‘if you think about it ’ Some scholars even claim it emerged with the unique subhuman species known as the ‘finance bro ’ Whatever the origin, this is bad and it’s only going to get worse
zip. That mess of fabric we mistakenly call clothing. Rishi Sunak’s favourite piece of outerwear. A relic from the 70s that we need to move on from, like bad disco or Margaret Thatcher. The quarterzip is a statement piece, if the statement you ’ re making is ‘don’t talk to me ’ . I could bully the quarter-zip for the length of this whole magazine, but I worry I wouldn’t be making my point I would also be doing you, reader, a disservice This article is not to meant to mock, but to mend
In the spirit of betterment, then, I will try to restrain myself and explain calmly and rationally why quarter-zips should be banned by the government Politics aside, the quarter-zip is an affront to fashion No matter the colour, texture or brand, it seems no-one has quite been able to figure out how to make a quarterzip look good Even the models for stores like Hollister or Urban Outfitters can’t crack it They stand there, slightly leaning, on a grey background and lose the light in their eyes as they realise that not even their soft-glam makeup or glasscutting jawline can save them I imagine that, before they start posing, they experiment with it in the mirror, gaslighting themselves by zipping that awful thing up, and down, and back again
The zip is fully down Now the model has a weirdly long floppy collar: a redundant flap of acrylic that, in the wind, makes them look like a frilled lizard
I am of course talking about the quarter
Desperate, they zip it down again just to the middle this time and realise they have just made a polo shirt, but worse Please understand this model’s struggle and just don’t do it It’s too business for jeans and too casual for trousers It’s Goldilocks’ porridge, filled with poison
Hopefully, your bonfire is now ready and there is a pile of quarter-zips behind you, waiting to be burned Sadly, I must stop you there, reader There are already enough plastics floating around our planet and wilfully adding more doesn’t help anyone, even if it’s for a good cause Donating is always an option, since there will always be people who cannot see the light Alternatively, with a handy pair of
scissors, they can always be repurposed as part of a craft project or as a reusable alternative to toilet paper At the end of the day, I’m here to help
However you decide to treat the festering growth in your wardrobe, do it with pride Do it with the knowledge that you are making the right choice Do it with the confidence of a person turning over a new leaf
Wear a jumper, wear a polo shirt, wear a turtleneck, wear a cardigan, wear a nice shirt, wear a nice shirt with a nice pattern, wear a nice shirt with a nice pattern with a nice tie, if you want Just don’t wear a quarter-zip
T H E C A S E A G A I N S T F R U I T S A L A D
Professional dessert-enjoyer, Stefan Wilkinson Hill, unpacks the tragic plight of the vegan at formal hall
Paaaaudding: that than which nothing aaaagreater can be conceived The waiter arrives to your table, you have proclaimed ‘I’m stuffed,’ ‘I couldn’t eat another bite,’ or other such sensible dietary proclamations, and yet when those eight glorious words cascade from the mouth of the waiter, like a glob of caramel sauce dripping down a sticky toffee pudding, the whole world stops for a moment The buzz of the restaurant fades: no more do you hear that one American family loudly discussing their latest trip to Europe; no more do you notice the cheese puff-covered fingers of that young child playing some sensory nightmare of a game or obnoxiously streaming CoComelon on his iPad; no more do you find yourself fascinated by that one old couple who have managed to go a whole meal without speaking a word to one another (like seriously, at what age do you run out of things to say?) The world stands still ‘Would you like to see the dessert menu?’ What beauty, what glory, nay, what divinity those words do hold!
The dessert menu represents all that I love in the world: sweet, sweet joy Oh, what wonders those menus hold Cakes with custard, fruit crumbles with cream, ice cream sundaes piled high in ornate glasses I live for pudding (as is probably evidenced by my ever-expanding waistline) If I go out for dinner with you and you remark, ‘why don’t we just get starters and mains?’, I hold you in seriously low regard
What is bruschetta but tomatoes on toast? What is calamari but gelatinised alien goo wrapped in flimsy batter? What is foie gras? No, genuinely, what is foie gras? The dessert menu is the place to be I have no time for starters and barely time for mains I am only here for that naughty little dessert menu
Four years ago, my world was turned upside down: I became vegan Now much like people with air fryers, we vegans love to let you know about it and ensure you are aware of the great sacrifice that we make on a day-to-day basis The sacrifice I am talking about is not bacon, it’s not steak, it’s not even Maltesers (although this was a great weakness of mine) Rather, the greatest sacrifice we make as vegans comes at pudding time Let me paint the scene for you: I am sitting in formal hall, I have had a lovely meal of soup, and maybe some roasted aubergine (grow up) for my main I eagerly await my pudding, my favourite course of all What do I find thrust before me? Fruit salad
I have said it once and I will say it again: fruit salad is not a dessert, it is a crime Not once have I got to the end of a meal and thought: ‘oh, I know just what I want, a load of melon in a bowl with the odd desiccated grape, a limp bit of tinned pineapple, and a random chunk of apple ’ Coated all over with a sweet goo: the culinary equivalent of that overly sweet £3 Asda body mist at the bottom of your
Christmas stocking The presentation is no better We have torn apart the world to genetically engineer fruit that suits our needs exactly, only to take those exotic fruits and throw them into a bowl like some great big fruit-based Jackson Pollock installation.
It is for this reason that I ask you, I implore you, to join me in this noble cause. No more should we have our taste buds taken hostage by the watery clutches of melon. (Also, why is it that there are so many types of melon but they all taste of exactly the same thing: water!)
No more will we come to the end of a formal dinner only to have it rounded off with a couple of flaccid grapes and a bit of overripe banana. No more will that fruit salad terrorise our neighbourhoods, bringing misery in its path, dampening every funeral buffet, birthday party spread, and posh yummy mummy brunch that it can get its overly sweet, wet claws upon. This is the case against fruit salad. This is what we are fighting against. Power to the pudding people. Vive la France!
A Special Recipe
SALMON, RICE AND CUCUMBER SALAD
Jennifer Chen helps you defeat malnutrition with a delicious recipe to make in your gyp
Iaaaaam ideologically opposed to recipes aaaaFrankly, you should already know how to cook It’s essential to the human experience, like blinking, or the unshakable knowledge that those who leave shit stains in the Bartlam toilets are pure evil Perhaps it’s just my womanly nature, but every time I enter a kitchen, my prehistoric survival instincts activate I must procure sustenance I must wield fire I must honour my ancestors (who, I assume, also resented being told how to boil pasta by BBC Good Food)
Aren’t recipes, perhaps second only to Oscar-bait prestige director biopics, the most narcissistic genre of media you can get? One time, I wanted to make a carrot cake, but first, I had to wade through 2000 words about someone ’ s emergency C-section and spiritual rebirth, and then, when it came to the recipe? The cake was inedible
Anyway, here’s what I had for dinner last night
INGREDIENTS
FORTHERICE
Rice FORTHESALMON
One slab of salmon (preferably sourced through combat)
A distressing amount of freshly chopped garlic
A morally ambiguous amount of freshly chopped ginger
Glug of soy sauce (double shot)
Smidge of sesame oil (or a smudge who’s checking?)
Whatever else you want. I’m not your mother.
FORTHECUCUMBERSALAD
Half a cucumber (Why not the whole thing? What are you hiding?)
More freshly chopped garlic and ginger (good luck getting the smell of raw garlic off your hands)
A legally undefined amount of soy sauce
Chinese vinegar
Sugar (to confuse the soy sauce)
‘New Noise’ by Refused (as featured in the hit FX show ‘The Bear’) should be playing on repeat as a backing track to all of this
RICE AND SALMON
1 The day that I found out about microwave rice was a dark, dark day Who is Ben and what does he know about rice? Take it from someone whose ancestors broke their backs out in the rice fields you steam your rice Get yourself some steaming apparatus (or put a small, upturned bowl in your pot with the bowl of balanced on top of it) and enjoy easy, fluffy rice in 20 minutes while you make the rest of your meal
Alternatively, if you would like to rawdog your rice cookery and boil it, the rice:water ratio n is key Fill your pot with three medium-sized fistfuls (ideally your own fists but I will not judge) Add water until it reaches around 1 2cm or a fingertip (just the tip) above the surface of the rice Boil the rice until the water has dissipated
2 Cook the salmon This is embarrassingly easy If you require guidance, I fear for you Oil in pan Medium-high heat Oil is hot Salmon in oil Salt the salmon Sear one side until it is no longer raw (i e , it has developed a deliciously peachy tan) Flip and repeat Add black pepper (not too early, or you risk burning the pepper) You should never open a window at this point I have heard that if you fill your kitchen with the intoxicating aroma of cooking fish, everyone will think you ’ re so sexy and mysterious a It’s also completely acceptable to not turn on your exhaust fan You will be exceedingly popular if you trigger the fire alarm and force half of Ann’s Court to stand outside in the wet and cold b
3 While the salmon is cooking, it’s time to get saucy with it Chop as much garlic as you can before existential dread sets in Do the same with fresh ginger Both of these ingredients last forever, especially when kept in a cool dry place (like Ben Shapiro’s wife’s vagina), so I recommend you stock up
4 Put your chopped up bits into a receptacle and add soy sauce, sesame oil, and honey Stop when the ghosts whispering in your ear tell you so Have you ever noticed how certain white people talk about soy sauce as if knowing it exists grants them honorary citizenship in Asia? Anyway
5 When the salmon looks cooked, turn down the heat and pour in the sauce The cooking process should take around 3-4 songs long, or a quarter of the time you’d spend queuing at Selwyn Hall
6 Coat the salmon with the sauce until it looks as glazed as a Slaughter and May or Deloitte rep when all of you LinkedIn warriors descend upon them
7 It’s done now Eat it?
CUCUMBER SALAD
I know cucumber salads are a definitive 2025 OUT since that bleach-blond TikTok diva faded into obscurity, but I’ve been on this cucumber salad train since I was pushed out my mother’s womb Judging from the shit stains in the Bartlam, you lot are also in desperate need of vegetables So here we are!
1 I once chopped off the tip of my finger (just the tip!) using a mandolin, so unless you enjoy a subtle iron-rich undertone to
your vegetables, go for a chunkier cut. De-condom your cucumber and cut it engthwise. Halve those strips and then chop them into bite-size chunks. Smash them with the flat of your knife for a bit until they look appropriately defeated.
2. Throw in salt, a generous heap of sugar, a dash of soy sauce, and a good glug of Chinese vinegar. ‘But how much of each?’ I hear you whimper. To that, I say: shut up!!!!!! Exercise free will. Put down this recipe. Accessorise the dish to your heart’s content, oh you manifester of culinary destiny. Chilli oil? Coriander, lemon, gochujang? Follow your heart, you intrepid explorer.
SELWYN BAR 2024
OPENING TIMES: DON’T BOTHER
A TRAGEDY?
SELWYN BAR 2026
OPENING TIMES: FEB 30TH 6PM - 6.01PM
SELWYN BAR 2023
OPENING TIMES: 11AM - 11PM
SELWYN BAR 2025
OPENING TIMES: IMPENETRABLE
Illustrated by Grace Grandfield
AUNTIE KIWI
Rising from the pits of A-staircase, armed with Benadryl and Redbull, Auntie Kiwi is here to console your woes, to remedy your maladies, and speak truth to confusion well, that’s what I was supposed to do These are the problems that have been plaguing the lives of Selwyn students. I’m not sure that I’ve solved them, but I’m not getting paid enough (or at all) to do so. Maybe ask the finalists who are selling their souls to consultancy if you want real advice.
My love life is in shambles, please give advice. Is flatcest acceptable?
I fear, my little chick, that your Auntie Kiwi might not be able to help you out here No amount of feminist literature or bisexual-coded Sidge girlie fits has launched your resident spinster out of this hellhole we call the Cambridge dating pool In reality, this ‘pool’ population is much more like Selwyn’s pond than any other self-respecting body of water and looking for ‘the one ’ is akin to looking for Selwyn’s endangered newt
Regarding the latter part of your question though, I can only offer you one piece of advice: a wise man once said, ‘Don’t shit where you eat’ In this case, ‘shit’ means shag nobody is hot enough to warrant a stealthy bout of bedtime wrestling, no matter how flattering the corridor lighting, and this is especially important if you share a gyp As someone who has spent numerous sleepless nights scranning like a gremlin, trust me: you don’t want to be caught in a pack of (uncooked!) instant noodles by someone who has been balls-deep inside of you Do not let the lingering staircase stares seduce you, my dear!
I have been told I dance like a lowlevel Sim. What are some sexy moves that I can bring to the clurb (or a bop)?
Not everyone can be a Dancing Queen, no matter how loudly you sing the ABBA song when it inevitably plays at the bop.
However, if you ever find yourself paralysed with performance anxiety at Club Diamanté, Auntie Kiwi was no stranger to the dancefloor back in her day By this, I mean I have been known to ‘throw mad shapes’ back in my primary school disco (for the mathmos: this means sick moves rather than a wacky dodecahedron) Let me take you back to the simpler times of 2015, before I knew what the EU single market meant, and Donald Trump was only that guy with the weird tan on The Apprentice USA We whipped; we nae-nae’d We flossed We dabbed Maybe it is time to look back on those days of innocence, and to hit the woah in memory of happier times
Why
me?
Why, oh why?
I fear this might be a you problem Maybe start with an easier question like: ‘Who me?’ This is a question which I think distinguished the Homo sapiens from the Homo neanderthalensis Once you have that down, I think we could move on to the more complex issues That said, this question has been baffling me a lot, too Not about you, but about me Which is exactly the point It’s not always about you, you silly fool We are all Sisyphus pushing that damn rock up the hill; the rest of us just go to Revs and imagine ourselves happy
A DAY IN THE LIFE OF
THE LADY SPRINGSTEENS
Real celebrity, Emmy Warr, tells the gossip-hungry masses about the daily life of Cambridge’s most celebrated band
1
aaa:17pm (9 hours ‘til Showtime) We aa wake to the sound of Bon Jovi’s You Give Love a Bad Name blaring from JackOff Jake’s Apple Watch (Series 10) Our band manager stands over our standard issue Selwyn single bed, juggling three oat milk flat whites and a copy of the Tab It seems we were spotted behind the bike shed late last night with the better half of the College Mixed-Gender Handball Team If this turns into a scandal, it could really put a damper on the rollout of our new album: The Fall of the Lady Springsteens After a quick strategy meeting, we decide we were lucky the story wasn’t picked up by a publication people actually look at, like our Instagram story We throw the oat milk flat whites in the bin and get an adult drink
2:40pm (7 5 hours ‘til Showtime) In the kitchen, we pick through a block of cheese and discuss our schedule for the day We have press, acupuncture, selfexploration in the studio, kickboxing, a psychedelic EDM rave in the Master’s lodge, and an SFX blood pack fitting to prepare for the big finale at our sold-out headline show tonight Before we go to press, our PR team reminds us to make sure we are using a private browser before submitting any Selfessions and reiterates that we must not mention to Varsity that we were the only band at Selwyn Snowball to get paid entirely in brand exposure
3:00pm (7 hours ‘til Showtime) We hear
that our six page feature in the Varsity Yearbook has been cut because of views expressed about Irish politics by members of the band and a level four sex scandal This leaves our whole afternoon free to work on our new single, ‘Born This Way in the USA,’ in the studio But first, we head to the wall on Grange Road to smoke cigarettes and hurl abuse at Tesla drivers
7:32pm (2 5 hours ‘til Showtime) The SFX blood pack has spilled all over Grange Road after a confrontation with a Tesla driver If we can’t come up with a solution quickly, we will be forced to cancel our sold-out headline show tonight Thankfully, Mad Man Mad Max remembers the Vet Med students can arrange expendable animals on short notice, and we get down to business with a baby cow
8:00pm (2 hours ‘til Showtime) Dinner Our manager has ordered Deliveroo We splash some water on the bag, take a photo, and refund the whole meal As we eat, we sort through the day’s fan mail: seven Facebook posts about the success of our latest show, and a red and gold thong
left in Jack-Off’s pidge, which transpires to be unrelated to official Lady Springsteens business
8:15pm (1.75 hours ‘til Showtime) Time to start pre-gaming for the show. Thankfully, there isn’t much left to do except affirmations for our drummer, so he feels confident enough to take the stage: ‘You are strong. You are 6’5. You are the most talented musician in Selwyn, and it’s not even that close.’ We think about writing a setlist but decide it’s better to keep it fresh and dynamic.
9:00pm (1 hour ‘til showtime) Our manager calls a 10-seat Uber with blacked-out windows, so we can really get into the celebrity headspace. This is usually when we start feeling the nerves. Mad Man Mad Max sweats off his clown makeup, whilst Lady Springsteen starts an Instagram live and then pukes. Fortunately, only two men from Brazil were watching. At this point, we notice Jack-Off is not in the Uber. We search high and low, and eventually find him in the laundry room putting glue in the lint filters.
9:50pm (10 minutes ‘til showtime) We arrive at the venue It is literally packed to the rafters with postgrads we have never seen before, and they all want a piece of the Lady Springsteens. We get a round in for good measure, then set up. At the barricade, itchy and sunburnt from waiting all day, is the other half of the College Handball Mixed-Gender
yet and everyone loves it. Someone throws a bra onstage, and Mad Man Mad Max pauses the show to remind them that real feminists don’t wear bras. Aft d d d th d l b l
A GOOGLE MAPS TOUR OF CAMBRIDGE
Full-time procrastinator/part-time cartographer, Faron Smith, conducts a definitive study of the best places in Cambridge.
PPaaaartway through last Michaelmas I Paaawas, as ever, procrastinating doing my essay Sat in the Bartlam, torn between picking Durkheim back up or heading back to my room for some sleep (or more likely doom-scrolling reels for an hour) I decided to compromise by staying at my desk but doing no work whatsoever
My mind drifting, I flicked over to a Google Maps tab that I’m sure I had opened for entirely work-related reasons Obviously, I began scrolling through the reviews for our dear own college That’s when I had my brainwave: what if I could settle, once and for all, the question of what college really is the best?
I’ll admit this isn’t a new idea; the Tompkins table has been published since the 1980s, and there have been bumps races since 1827 In terms of the things that people actually care about, I think just about every Cantabrigian has some sort of mental ranking of college bars, brunches and dining halls, and there’s been at least one Instagram account ranking the former (although it seems defunct at the moment maybe it needs reviving?) But what if we were to turn to the vaguely empirical measure of Google Maps reviews?
Here, I’ve crafted an in-depth, comprehensive analysis of every college’s aggregate reviews, their positives, negatives and, finally, an overall winner At least, that was the plan In reality, I
have two essays due this week and a useless knowledge of the fact that some people really do talk some extremely boring nonsense on Google Maps reviews So rather than a comprehensive analysis, we have a hodgepodge comparison of a few colleges, and something vaguely approaching a conclusion After all, we already know who the real winner is
Starting out with Selwyn, I can proudly announce that we achieve a very impressive 4 7 star average from just over 100 reviews The Snowball is clearly a big winner: more than one reviewer seems to have enjoyed our favourite Selwyn tradition, while the chapel performs even better, getting a perfect 5 out of 5 maybe the new master should give Arabella a raise! The bar comes in for some plaudits as well, with more than one reviewer commenting on our own brand beer (though strangely not the cider perhaps it’s an insider secret)
But looking ever so slightly to our south, it’s clear that Selwyn has some work to do before we can claim Grange Road supremacy Newnham sadly has us pipped with a 4 8 average, albeit from less reviews than we have At least the reviews give a hint as to how we can close the gap, with one 5 star review commenting that Newnham has ‘been good to Cambridge university kickboxing society for many year ’ Perhaps they could be tempted to bring
their training sessions over to our gardens?
There’s much better news, however, when we compare ourselves to our city centre rivals. Kings, Johns, and, Trinity all rank lower than us, with bitter tourists seemingly driving the ratings. Looking at the reviews, it’s hard to deny their point. I’m not sure I’d pay £16 to visit my slightly shabby supo room at Kings.
Sadly for all of us, it seems that there’s no conclusive end to the boorish Trin-Johns rivalry, with both colleges receiving perfectly identical 4.6 star reviews. I think we can all agree that we can leave it to them to battle this one out.
So, if a look at individual colleges is inconclusive, what about the bigger picture? Of course, there’s only one rating that really matters that of the whole University of Cambridge and how it compares to The Other Place.
I’m afraid my new approach really isn’t any good here either Both institutions manage the same 4 6 stars achieved by Trin and Johns. Although if the reviews are to be believed, Cambridge has apparently been taken hostage by ‘radical left activists.’ Now that would be the dream…
At the end of the day, what have we learned from all this? To be honest, very little. Most people seem, weirdly, to actually quite like both their colleges and university, especially if kickboxing is thrown into the mix. Other than that, there is apparently no lengths a burnedout HSPSer won’t go to avoid writing their essay that’s due the next day, especially if they’re interested enough in the depths of Google Maps to spend several hours scouring them for any hint of Selwyn superiority.
DESIGNERS: ILLUSTRATIONS: ,
SOUMYA AGRAWAL, RUBY SCHOFIELD
SOUMYA AGRAWAL, GRACE GRANDFIELD, RUBY SCHOFIELD
AUNTIE KIWI: JAMIE CHONG
WITH THANKS TO:
ELIZABETH STRATTON, THISATH RANAWAKA, DAVID SMITH, PHILIP CONNELL, ROGER MOSEY
