Thursday, 11 November 2010

But when you talk about destruction, don’t you know you can count me out.

I was part of the Sheffield delegation. 600 of us joined the march at around midday. Everybody was in good spirits, but that didn’t stop bitter slogans being chanted by the assembled students.


There was a carnival atmosphere as the march started slowly progressing along its route. The further you travelled, the more lively the protest was getting. Students had climbed on top of bus stops and were leading chants, ‘No ifs, no buts, no education cuts!’, and hammering sticks on the top of the shelters.


Passing Downing Street was the first time I spotted a police presence. Despite huge crowds, there were a limited number of Police Officers. Those who were present observed the crowd in a relaxed manner.


A further casual police ensemble stood along the pavement bordering The Houses of Parliament. Many groups had chosen this the place to make their voices heard. Protestors cheered along to the drums. The crowd was impressive, peaceful, hopeful and smiling. A few people were encouraging a sit-down protest, but the vast majority drifted by.









Marching on, our throng was met by a swarm of fellow protestors running to join the crowd. Someone had a boombox as big as a car. We headed on past the Victoria Tower Gardens, with a little more room for manoeuvre.


As I got nearer to Millbank, it became obvious that the mood here was different, more aggressive. Protestors had occupied Tory HQ just before 2pm, and a bonfire had been started outside. Despite this, there was still a notable lack of police presence.


Chants could be heard coming from protestors outside and inside 30 Millbank. ‘Nick Clegg, we know you, you're a fucking Tory too’ and ‘Tory scum’ proving to be most popular. As more protestors fought their way in, the riot squad turned up, the first significant response to the action unfolding. Protestors began to disperse. Many, like our Sheffield cabal, had coaches to catch.



52,000 students marched to fight cuts to our higher education system that will create a two tier structure and stop poorer students attending university outright. We have been betrayed and disgusted by Nick Clegg. We have had our fear of the Tories confirmed.


While Millbank for pundits evokes the eighties, the students protesting against the cuts today aren’t feeling the same odd nostalgia. The majority of us were not yet born in the eighties or were more worried about how yellow and edible a particular building block was than the ruthlessness of the Conservative government.


We are worried about now. We are worried about the very real threat to our universities at the hands of the Tories and Liberal Democrats.


This national demonstration was about reminding the government that they are not unaccountable. If they lie to us to gain power through the ballot box, then we will take to the streets.


Until the trouble started, I was feeling happy and excited about what we were doing. A few hours later I’m feeling disappointed and frustrated. I hope that people realise what really went on today, and feel proud and inspired by our country’s students. The actions of 200 provocateurs isn’t the story, you could find more impressive hooliganism at a rowdy football match. The story is 52,000 students from across the country, marching together with one voice.


No ifs, no buts, no education cuts.


James Ashford

Monday, 1 November 2010

Wednesday, 27 October 2010

Side Project

In order to limit amounts of drivel on this blog, which is more for writey type things, I have created this:

http://jamesashford.tumblr.com/


It's very boring, but please follow/read/share.

Tuesday, 12 October 2010

University life..

When I wake at half past seven in the evening, my jumbled mind tells me that I am missing my morning lectures. The smell of cooking crawls down the corridor. I reach for my phone and after letting my tired eyes adjust, realise with relief that it’s still Sunday.


Of course, you would expect such mistakes at the end of a busy freshers week. This, however, is a fortnight in to university life. After two weeks at a leading British institution, I am at least five hundred pounds down, hungry, tired and probably pregnant.


At university, especially in a city like Sheffield, it’s impossible not to be confronted with hostility to the Tory cuts. Everybody I’ve talked to agrees that money for education going the same way the milk went is a bad idea, but there isn’t a sense of panic in the air. Nobody really knows what’s coming, because nobody has lived under a Conservative government since they were 5.


Most of the people I’ve met approach their personal finances with the same detached attitude. We all moan about being poor students, but at the moment it’s more a romanticised struggle than a harsh reality. Maintenance loans just about cover accommodation fees, and living can be done on as little or as much as you can convince your parents to part with. Depending on your course and financial situation, you can also get bursaries and grants to help fund your excessive drinking and mystery meat kebabs.


I’m aware that university means another step towards being self sufficient, so I did the brave thing and got a job. Unfortunately I can’t brag about valuing labour and boast a determined work ethic. My job is that of the ‘model’. This involves standing at the front of a shop that is much too cool for me and saying ‘what’s up’ to customers. If you’ve ever been to Hollister or Abercrombie and Fitch, you’ll know what I’m talking about.


There is another aspect to money management at university. It’s the tuition fees. You never really think about them, because they go straight from Student Finance to the university. Having to pay any money back seems a distant and ridiculous notion that shouldn’t be entertained for a long time yet. If tuition fees were to go up and become an urgent concern, it would undoubtedly have a regressive effect on who could and would go to university.

Living away from home is how I imagined it would be. Brilliant, but you do miss the cat. And maybe your mum, sometimes. Big changes affect people differently. I refuse to believe that something is happening until it is in full swing, or has actually happened. University up to now has been a series of parties with a few lectures thrown in. It feels more like an experiment than a lifestyle.


James Ashford, 18

University of Sheffield



Saturday, 11 September 2010

Weird Scenes Inside the Gold Mine



BeautifulPeople Network is pleased to inform you that the majority of members on BeautifulPeople.com found your application very attractive and granted you membership.

Welcome to the BeautifulPeople community!




And so here we are. I'm proud, ashamed, but most of all genuinely overwhelmed by how hot some of these people are.

Thursday, 2 September 2010

James and Donovan: Wall to Wall Highlights

James Ashford > Donovan Mike: The world will know freedom when the cattle run free.

Donovan Mike > James Ashford: I hope you wore protection; That's quite a kettle you've got there.

James Ashford > Donovan Mike: The two who were shirtless put their hands up. Ken and Ralph nodded their heads solemnly and climbed into the intestine. The mission was only just beginning.

Donovan Mike > James Ashford: And now, at least, I know not to offer milk the next time the pirate knocks. The clocks will fix themselves.

James Ashford > Donovan Mike: He knew now there was only one thing left to do. He closed his eyes and leaped into the bowl of custard. That was the last thing he remembered until the balderdash found him

Donovan Mike > James Ashford: As the Russians rounded the corner, guns blaring and lunchboxes clenched white-knuckled in sweaty palms, Mabel wished harder than ever that she had never given birth to that waffle-iron.

James Ashford > Donovan Mike: He heard it again. He was sure someone was following him. Then, from the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of it. The stable had taken chase at the last corner, and it was gaining by the second. Howard had less than a second to react. He hurled himself into a passing pomegranate and held his breath.

Donovan Mike > James Ashford: It was towards the end of the meal when I realised the table was being ironic. I took my custard and promptly left.

James Ashford > Donovan Mike: He nodded curtly at the waiter, who immediately dropped his trousers and threw himself from the balcony. It was at this moment an explosion erupted from the library, showering the room in torn orangutans. Through the smoke and debris, Sidney caught a glimpse of the maĆ®tre d’ disappearing into a fridge. He loosened his belt, and followed him in

James Ashford > Donovan Mike: 'Alpha'. He said it aloud. 'Alpha'. 'Alpha..alpha...ALPHA..ALPHA!!' He screamed the word until the tears sprung from his eyes and began hitting the page like bullets hammering against an old car.

He knew the answer. Old Riley was no ordinary donkey.

Donovan Mike > James Ashford: Marcus sped down the corridor, the broom hot on his heels. As he reached the dead end, he whirled, his whisk lancing out towards his wooden assailant. It was then that he noticed the pickled onion sandwich in the broom's left hand. Marcus slowly removed the sachet of custard from underneath his bowler hat, and started to pray.

James Ashford > Donovan Mike: Henry twisted left, then ran around the shaboowa. The boolas were getting closer and he didn't have chumpo to raloof before they closed in upon him. He had to make a decision. Eat the raffle cake or shoot the fairy. He closed his nogoos and prayed to goolan.

Donovan Mike > James Ashford: Noggin sat slumped in the boneyard, a hand pressed against his swollen head. The dustpan in front of him reached out one gnarled hand, the word 'sorry' crawling across its cracked lips. When the mop's axe descended, Noggin shuddered at the sound of splintering plastic and yoghurt started to stream from his fractured nose. Satisfied that the dustpan was dead, the mop gave Noggin a last lingering stare before hurling itself into a nearby pain au chocolat. Cradling the broken corpse of his friend in his arms, Noggin began to rue the day he spilled that pot of clotted cream.

Donovan Mike > James Ashford: Stop poking me and just fuk me L0l u no is tru! :P puffta (LMAO) mwah xX

James Ashford > Donovan Mike:

fuk me now
fuck me reel
fuk me ard
fuk me lo'
fuk me all fkin nite
...ere we goo
hooo

Wednesday, 18 August 2010

Results.



IT'S been a while since I last let you know what was going on in my life, head and face.

I went to France, ate some ludicrous cheeses and swam a bit. Then I went to London, where I was chillin' in the Express newsroom for a week. Did some articles for the Daily and Sunday Express. Didn't manage to sneak in any subliminal messages of love and liberalism.

I'm currently sitting in my conservatory in my Harry Potter pyjama bottoms, with The Beatles singing Please Mr. Postman. My bitch is making some kind of pasta-pesto disaster in the kitchen.

The reason I give you a brief modern history of my life up to this point is that tomorrow my life is going to change. I'm not getting married, getting shot or getting anybody pregnant, but tomorrow I will be getting my A Level results. It's not quite as seminal as the afore-mentioned experiences, but it is still going to have an impact on life as I know it in the somewhat near future.

I have accepted a place at the University of Sheffield to study Journalism. I like Journalism, and I'm interested in learning it as a discipline. As good old Plato said 'If a man neglects education, he walks lame to the end of his life.' And that doesn't sound too attractive to me.

Tomorrow, when I get my results, I'll have a clearer picture of what to do next year. If things have gone well, I'll be going to Sheffield. If not, I'll be leaving for Mexico as soon as I can get myself a poncho and grow an amusing moustache. After that, who knows.