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Photo: Ruby Compton-Davies

Originally written for publication in The Boar, Warwick University’s student newspaper.

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Not so long ago, I was frequenting an exclusive South Leamington cocktail bar. Compelled by housemates proffering a certain glowing green beverage, I was giving a passionate rendition of System of a Down’s alternative metal anthem, ‘Chop Suey’. Revellers at Kelseys seemed surprisingly disengaged by my efforts and some even appeared to be genuinely upset. A friend of mine told me my talents were going to waste on the patrons of this establishment. She invited me to Warwick SU’s very own rock night, Crash, where she assured me that they would be better appreciated.

A few weeks later, I took her up on the offer.

Hours before we set off, I found myself feeling increasingly apprehensive. I was worried that my lacklustre knowledge of the genre would embarrass myself and my friend. If I was put on the spot, I would struggle to describe the differences between metal, hardcore and prog. Although I cannot really remember why, at the time, I thought this would be of great importance. Perhaps I imagined there would be some sort of entrance exam. I also worried that my own tastes would get me in trouble. There was a danger I would accidentally give away a fondness for the Arctic Monkeys and be told to sit in the corner with a lemonade. I couldn’t really attempt to blend in either. I had nothing black to wear. In fact, all I had that was washed was a T-Shirt that featured a cartoon Chewbacca on a skateboard. What the hell would they make of me?

My friend let me know at the last minute that we were getting a lift in with some Warwick Alumni who were long time Crash fans. Minutes into journey, my anxieties were already starting to fade. We chatted about beer, student life and the terror of entering the real world. This instant bonding became a pretty common theme throughout the night. Crash’s attendees were some of the friendliest and most approachable people I have met over the last three years.

The evening kicked off with Warwick graduates, Stone Mirage, playing a decent set to a group of us who had turned up early. Chris Carter was the evening’s DJ and he did a fine job. He played a really good selection of rock and and it turned out, I knew a lot more than I thought. There was of course, a good amount of head-banging. Mosh pits formed for some of the heavier stuff. If anyone fell down they were immediately picked up – a courtesy that sadly seems to be disappearing from some of the larger festival gigs across the country. The entire room participated in a conga to Genesis, which was, simply, an awesome spectacle to behold. I was later told that on a previous occasion, Crash goers had congaed their way from the top floor of the Copper Rooms through a foam party going on downstairs. I could see why people kept coming back.

Apart from the music, the one thing that really set Crash apart from other union nights was its inclusiveness. This was not only manifested in a physical form (it’s hard to be left out when everyone is holding on to each other) but also socially and perhaps (if this isn’t over-egging it) politically. It soon became clear to me that my “indie” look wasn’t going to be a problem, but nor was any facet of my identity. I could have been gay, straight, bi or asexual. Male, female or somewhere in between. I wasn’t going to be told I needed to get laid and forced towards a crowd of women. Nobody was going to make me drink if I didn’t want to get drunk (although, as it happened, I did.) It wouldn’t have mattered if I was a first year or had graduated five years previously. I didn’t even have to apologize for studying PPE. People genuinely wanted to enjoy the night and help others to do the same. Weird, huh?

I had an absolutely amazing evening. Crash truly is a fantastic event. It is one that should be treasured – or at least attended – by anyone with even a passing interest in rock. The next night is on the 27th April. I hope to see you there.

It’s been a while since I updated this shambles of a blog and you lovely people are still checking it out. Thanks for that.

Anyway, in the last month or so, I’ve been engaged in a little of investigative journalism and have conducted one more interview for my ‘Future of the Left‘ series.

For The Boar, Warwick’s student newspaper, I wrote about a group of students who protested at the premises of a local arms company.

I also broke a story about a bar in Leamington accused by a Warwick society (and over 3000 signatories) of ‘sexist, racist and violent’ wallpaper. This story was subsequently picked up by The Independent and The Huffington Post.

I interviewed editor of Liberal Conspiracy, Sunny Hundal. We talked representation, student protest, the 2015 election and more. If you’re interested, do check it out.

I’ve been a bit quiet of late as I have essays to write and exams coming up, but promise I will try to keep writing for y’all. I know you are really struggling without having some 21-year-old wannabe journo making rash generalisations about the state of our politics and/or society.

Till then!

I recently interviewed leader of the Green Party and prolific journalist, Natalie Bennett, as part of a collection of interviews I am conducting for Warwick-based publication, The Student Journals on ‘The Future of the Left’.

We discussed the environment, renationalising the railways and getting people a living wage. Do check it out on the TSJ website.

Photo: Flickr / sarahreido

Originally written for publication in The Boar, Warwick University’s student newspaper.

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As my three-year holiday (degree) nears an end, I find myself becoming increasingly pessimistic. My dazzling optimism has been engulfed by a cynical alter-ego who holds nothing – and I mean nothing – as possible.

It doesn’t matter how proud your parents are, when you are one of thousands of wannabe journalists, hoping to enter the ever-shrinking sector, having blacklisted half of your potential employers for political reasons, the future doesn’t look bright.

Although this may indeed be a fair assessment of my employment opportunities, it’s a position I’ve voluntarily put myself in. I’ve made my bed (out of unsold newspapers) and am now very much lying in it. What I lament is that I’ve used this self-inflicted destitution as an excuse to dismiss all the good things that have happened and are happening to me. I’ve become something of a grinch.

A few weeks ago I got stuck in the queue at Leamington’s flagship two-story nightclub, Evolve. I was waiting to put my coat away and they’d run out of hangers. “This is ridiculous!”, I cried, expressing a sense of entitlement I didn’t realize I could convey with such conviction. I then made a number of oh-so-funny quips well within the earshot of staff members who were in no way responsible for the hold up.

The next day, I woke to the news more than 200 people had died in a nightclub in Brazil. A fire had broken out – many had been trampled in the pandemonium and others had suffocated. I stopped complaining for a moment. Had my night really been all that bad? Perhaps it was time to take stock.

In a few months, I’ll be leaving a top university with a good degree. In all likeliness I won’t be receiving a call from the Guardian but I won’t be on the streets either. I’ll have a roof over my head. Healthcare. Food. Family and friends. I’ll be afforded far more than a huge proportion of the world’s population and – thanks to our morally bankrupt coalition government – a sizeable number of people in the UK.

Make no mistake, as a generation, we have reasons to harbour resentment. Many of them are justified. We’ve been born into a world in which leaders have dismissed the plight of the poor, ravaged resources and installed corrupt economic systems – bastardized capitalisms – on a global scale. But the vast majority of people reading this have shelter in which they can weather the storm. A safety net. If we want to get angry, we should first count our blessings. We should protest because so many others come up short.

It could, after all, be so much worse.

I was lucky enough as part of an interview best-selling author of ‘Chavs’ and Independent columnist, Owen Jones, as part of a series of interviews I am conducting for Warwick-based publication, The Student Journals on ‘The Future of the Left’.

We talked class, the Lib Dems, and personal political ambition. You can check out the interview out here.

I am currently conducting a number of interviews with prominent left-leaning activists and commentators for Warwick-based publication, The Student Journals on ‘The Future of the Left’.

The first of these to be published is an interview with the prolific Guardian columnist, Polly Toynbee.

I will also be interviewing Independent columnist, Owen Jones and leader of the Green Party, Natalie Bennett amongst others.

It has also been bought to my attention that ‘The Future of the Left’ are actually a very cool band. Do check them out - as well as my article!

Image: Flickr / knicolai

Last Summer, I was sitting at my desk, procrastinating and drinking copious amounts of coffee. This, you will not be surprised to hear, was hardly a new experience for a student two years into his degree. Then, from nowhere, it hit me. An overwhelming feeling of sheer terror. I was suddenly breathless, numb and in shock. I knew what was happening but that scarcely made it any better – I was having a panic attack. I needed to calm down. I focussed on my breathing and steadied myself. Then, I tried not to think about it.

The next few days I was plagued with worry. Had it just been the caffeine? Could anything else bring on more of these attacks? Was I now permanently vulnerable to them? Two days later, it happened again. Then a number of other times to greater and lesser degrees over the following weeks. I didn’t know why they kept coming. For the first time in my adult life, I was terrified.

I quit my Summer internship, a month in out of three. I told my employers that I had the flu, the commute was too much and I was getting too run down. I told my family the same and that I wasn’t getting much out of the placement.

By this point, I knew that I was suffering from anxiety but couldn’t face the condition. The label. A mental illness. I felt weak, but also wholly unworthy of sympathy. I told nobody what I was going through. I’d managed to calm my own panic attacks down, primarily through breathing exercises, but I wondered what was next in store for me.

I went from being a logical, laid-back individual to one racked with worry. Until this point, mental illness was something other people experienced. Not any more. Would I develop schizophrenia? Paranoia? Would I become claustrophobic? House-bound? Institutionalized? Terrified by these thoughts, day and night, around my friends and family I maintained the same cheery (if somewhat cynical) demeanour. Inside I was a mess.

It felt like I was going mad. For someone who had always seen himself as a rational, emotionally stable individual, being overwhelmed by fear and worry was not a pleasant experience. It was not a feeling I would have wished upon my worst enemy.

A week or two on, I realized that I was struggling and that I needed to talk to someone. I knew that my brother had suffered from something in the past but didn’t know what. I had blocked it out. At the time, my head was in my books and I had left my parents to deal with it. But I needed him and thankfully, he was happy to help. He talked me through all my symptoms; the panic attacks, the worry of developing a more serious mental illness, the down days and the occasional existential doubt. He’d got through it and so could I. That meant a lot.

My Dad, who my brother informed me, had also suffered from anxiety the previous year, was also an enormous help. He talked me through the various options that he had himself been presented with. These included cognitive behavioural therapy and medication.

A couple of close friends also offered me support and I was very appreciative for it. I realized that the more I opened up, the more bearable my anxiety seemed. At the same time, I still kept quiet around the vast majority. I still felt it taboo. Hard to casually drop into conversation.

I signed up to receive cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT) and was lucky to receive it pretty quickly. Although, by the time I returned to university, I was over the worst of my symptoms, it was certainly a big help. At the same time I garnered an appreciation of the value of such (vitally free) mental health services, having seen them in action up close and personal. I thought to myself, for those who hadn’t received the support I was lucky enough to enjoy at home, they really would be crucial.

A few weeks into my final year at university I had my anxiety under control and was discharged from CBT. Since that Summer, I have had the chance to reflect on my experiences.

Now, I am less worried that I am going mad and more worried that mental health services are being sidelined by the coalition. In therapy, I had said that a real source of comfort to me was knowing a National Health Service would look after me and ease the burden on my family, if my mental health ever did deteriorate. I can still recall the practitioner looking uncomfortable.

The cuts – if we must have them – really shouldn’t be levied on the vulnerable and that is exactly what’s happening. These services need to be protected.

Not only did I reaffirm my belief in the value of the NHS and the importance of safeguarding of it, but I also learnt the importance of talking about mental health issues. At the time of writing, only a few people know what I have been through. Now I seem to be over the worst of my anxiety, I don’t feel it’s right for me to keep it a secret. But I have done up and until this point and usually (rather pathetically) there’s nothing I like more than talking about myself.

There is a stigma that needs to be broken down. Talking about mental health issues is the most important thing we can do to start helping those suffering from them. The work of charities like MIND is of vital importance in this regard. But so is the work of all of us – not to shrug of these problems, not to mock or marginalize them – but to react with the same warmth and understanding I was lucky enough to receive.

We must embrace discussion of mental health issues and reverse cuts that have been made to the relevant services. In the UK, 1 in 4 people will suffer from a mental illness at some point in their lifetime. If you don’t suffer yourself, the chances are you know someone that does. It’s time we started talking about these issues. If we wait too long – for many, devastatingly – it will be far too late.

Photo: Flickr / cpj79

Originally written for The Huffington Post.

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Gay marriage will very soon be back on the Westminster agenda. A number of arguments will once again be put with vigour against legalising gay marriage. Many of these will be emotionally charged. This is understandable, as for many, marriage is a particularly emotive issue.

However, some – both in and out of Westminster – will attempt to use that emotion as a smokescreen for the fallibility of their arguments. This should be called out. In 21st century Britain, if you want to deprive a large group of people of a right that really matters to them, you can’t do it by quoting scripture.

As a guide for those who aren’t quite sure if what they are regurgitating is in any way valid, I’ve taken the liberty of picking apart some of the worst arguments that will be put forth for keeping gay marriage illegal.

‘There is no mandate for this debate’

Far be it from me to recommend what I believe is a purely opportunistic Tory progressivism, but if you actually look in the Conservatives’ 2010 equality manifesto, under LGBT you will find a promise to, “consider the case for changing the law to allow civil partnerships to be called and classified as marriage.” That’s more of a mandate than for the cuts to the NHS, which, we were promised, would never, ever happen. Tory backbenchers and Daily Mail journalists, desperate to promote democratic accountability, might like to consider campaigning against these instead. Would certainly save more lives.

NB. In case you missed it, a huge public consultation was also carried out with the majority of 228,000 respondents supporting equal marriage.

‘This will lead to a breakdown of the family’

Admittedly, this one is more popular in the US than over here, but it is still wheeled out occasionally. ‘Statistics show’ that as gay partnerships are going up, old-fashioned marriages are declining. Gay marriage will, allegedly, only serve to reinforce the implied link. Repeat after me; correlation does not equal causation. This should be obvious and it doesn’t even (really) need to be said. How many men and women do you personally know that are planning on abandoning their families if civil partnerships are reclassified as marriages? I imagine that it’s a number close to zero.

‘Marriage, in this country, has always been for a man and a woman’

The sentiment behind this declaration is, ‘Things have been like this for a while, so they should stay like this.’ It is not an argument that history looks kindly on. Institutions change with attitudes. Until 1967, sex was, in the eyes of the law ‘for a man and a woman’ and few are arguing to overturn the Sexual Offences Act that kicked off the legalisation of homosexuality. Voting was once for men. Housing was once for whites. Tradition can be overturned and we can all be better off for it. This is not controversial.

So if you’re looking to oppose gay marriage, make sure you’re not planning on using one of the aforementioned arguments. Also, try to avoid words like ‘sick’ and ‘abhorrent’, as they really aren’t going to help your case amongst the ‘decent, hard-working’ people you’re no doubt seeking to appeal to. Once you’ve taken these rebuttals into account, if you really are stuck for an argument against gay marriage, perhaps consider that maybe, just maybe, there’s a reason for that.

Edit(s) made on upload to theCharadian: two typos fixed.