-
Procrastinate...
Written by Christopher Clarke- By CJ We all know the feeling of having work to do, the feeling that makes you started browsing your phonebook and flicking through TV channels. It’s that time of…Be the first to comment! Read more... -
London 2012: Inspire a Generation
Written by Jessica BaggaleyLast Friday, 27 million UK viewers alone tuned in to witness London show off all its glory during the Olympic Opening Ceremony and the whole world came to a standstill.…Be the first to comment! Read more... -
Need Help Surviving the Summer Rain? Give DayZ a Go.
Written by Richard McMasterSummer is here isn’t it? It sure doesn’t seem like it with all this rain we’re having. Nevertheless, with the poor weather comes a great time to immerse yourself in…Be the first to comment! Read more... -
The Greatest TV Openings: Part Two
Written by Richard McMasterContinued from Part One Here TV opening credits are often under appreciated. They’re either endured or skipped entirely. However, it doesn’t have to be this way. Opening credits are often…Be the first to comment! Read more... -
The "Beautiful" Game
Written by Jessica BaggaleyIt’s taken over our TV’s, our newspapers and ultimately our social lives. Euro 2012 has arrived and whether a fan of football or not, we’re faced with three weeks of…Be the first to comment! Read more...

Olivia James
The black clouds of inequality rained hard last week in Tunisia, where it is reported that a 19 year old woman has been forcibly admitted into a psychiatric hospital. Her crime? Fraternising with the concept of female liberation in a culture which still abhorrently belies the rights of women, prohibiting their equal existence alongside the men of their country and circumscribing them to rigidly defined codes of conduct. Amina, apparently inspired by members of Femen (the 'radical' Ukranian feminist organisation notorious for their utilisation of bare breasts to fight for their beliefs) posted a series of topless photographs on the Internet with statements such as, ‘My Body is My Own and Not the Source of Anyone's Honour’ written across them in Arabic.
I must have had some seriously good karma coming my way last week. Just when I was starting to feel really shitty and unfulfilled without a man in my life, Cosmo published this little gem: ‘How to Bag your Perfect Man in 5 Easy Steps’.
The headings were all in pink too!!!
On your average University Sunday morning, when one finds oneself fully clothed, viciously embracing a close friend, whilst screaming for your housemates to help you end it all, the traditional protocol is to wedge oneself in the crease of the sofa with a selection of takeaway menus littered around your fatigued carcass. On this occasion, so inspired were we, having awoken in yet another platonic spoon, that (still sofa-wedged, takeaway-laden) we decided to delve into the foreign realms of online chatrooms; I, motivated by a journalistic quest for discovery, obviously. My friends, motivated by a desperate quest to get laid.
Once in a blue moon, an example of journalistic genius will be published. This literary sensation will ignite the fires of inspiration so ferociously within your loins, until it’s all you can do not to drop your pants, jump backwards over the Edward Boyle turnstiles, and gyrate home in your new found state of knowledge and understanding.
Call me old fashioned, but I’ve long championed the idea that relationships at University are much like a monster breakfast on a hangover. While satisfying at first, they are both inevitably followed by nausea, submission to the foetal position and declarations of life-long abstinence.
Hey gals, guess what? Bad news I’m afraid. Apparently next time you have one too many VK’s down at the Union Bar and end up spewing all over guy-with-bad-breath-from-your-medieval-literature-module, you’re not just accepting a fate of notoriety within the English school. You’re actually also saying “hey babe, I know I haven’t given you a second look all night but you know what, I’m really gagging for a shag…how about we do it here, on this badly lit, secluded park bench. I might act a little nervous or even pass out half way through, but ignore all that. I know I’m paralytic, but trust me, I want you”.