In recent weeks University Challenge has made interesting viewing. The upper-class smuggernauts of the Financial Times and the Economist, the very zenith of the media vanguard that props up the liberal economic world, were soundly defeated in the qualifying rounds, in the latter’s case by the bank of intelligentsia that is the Romantic Novelists Association.
Back to academic battle, St Hugh’s (Oxo.) vs Manchester Univ., last night. The quartet of aspirants forming St Hugh’s (cOx.) tempered my delight at the above establishment embarrassments, showing that precisely nothing has changed in society and culture in the 40 years since the programme’s first show, when those FT or Economist writers were probably getting what they could from the 60s “revolution”. St Who’s (pOxy.) were captained by an overbearingly smug and moneyed Asian Briton, almost certainly from a gated haven in Hampstead, whose comfortable pose was at odds with his lack of knowledge. To his right was a befreckled geek in trademark rugger top, to his left was a blazered toff whose eye glinted in a highly arrogant, autoerotic fashion every time he answered even the most obvious of questions. The young lady to his left was the college’s concession to style; unfortunately that style was Quant’s, the quaint 60s calling again. Manchester University were no better.
We know Britain is a cesspit of privilege and vested interest highly resistant to substantive change but this was depressing.
Minutes later and Rio’s on the phone! (It had nothing to do with his agent alerting him of this careerist opportunity, we are assured.). I’ll buy you a van, he said. But, having just emerged from months of negotiation at OT caring not for the boos from the Reds, stayed true to character. Playing hardball, you gotta do summink in return, he warned. Perhaps a video message from Jay-Z, or for the Toffee and the Loiner to wear Utd shirts in Leicester Square for a day.
I switched off as the matey banter between infamous’ continued. Maybe something “for charity” was introduced into this grotesque transaction. Probably the two DJs agreed to wear the Red top, ever ready to sacrifice principles for products. Definitely any mention about the defender’s ridiculous wages and part in the corruption of our game was avoided.
You come on our “show” Rio and you’ll get culled son.
