The Sun vs. Mars Bar Boxing Match!?!? [written 2007] [what was I on???]

As supermarkets take centre stage for battles between Pepsi and Coke, Carlsberg and Heineken, McDonalds's and Burger King it begs to ask the question what other businesses are fighting for the sum of money you usually find in your trouser pocket?

In a world where virtually any company can compete against everyone, the Mars Bar and The Sun are having a rivalry across all available frontiers. Though we have not (yet) come to an age where you can eat and read a newspaper, both are ancient in existence and with the same price tag they are eternally battling for the Queen's nose. Indeed at 50p they are surely worth every penny for whatever it is they offer - pleasure, humor, satisfaction, sodium bicarbonate?

The Mars Bar at a towering figure of 17cm swaggers into the ring in a hefty but chocolaty costume of 17 grams, 5 ounces. Engulfed by its adolescent audience, the Mars strikes an expressionless pose to the photographers whilst its competitor waits edgily on canvas. The Sun - guarded by its army of supplements and pull-outs - waits tentatively ready to do battle.

The tabloid edges popularity in the U.K. with 3.3 million copies sold daily whilst the Mars finds itself universally admired with an $18 billion empire across 65 countries. Undoubtedly the Mars has spent much of that money on aiding its brothers and sisters - Mars Snack Size, Mars Delight, Mars Duo whilst The Sun has also spawned a number of siblings in Sun Bingo and SunSingles. In fact this match could have easily been a tag team affair but with one contestant per team there will be no interference tonight.

No doubt both corners are riding on the outcome of the contest; with the Mars going in as the slight favorite. Certainly with the capacity to cure temporary hunger, the alleged ability to "keep the doctor away" and a layer of caramel the Mars has emerged the popular choice. Nevertheless in a bold move this week, The Sun has come out this by publishing its adversary's weaknesses.

The Mars Bar, as The Sun points out, is known for its "bad health, bad dieting and poor stamina". Having a considerable amount of acne the chocolate is hardly a pin-up either, and with reporter's suggesting disfiguration if the temperature rises above 40°C the Mars could already be looking down for the count. Along with rumors of carrying meat extract, the pre-match drugs test for the Mars could be a celebration in itself for its contingent.

In fact where the Mars Bar is already filled with partially hydrated soybean oil, The Sun looks to distract its opponents. Known for the one-two combination of Soduku and Mystic Meg the tabloid aims to fluster its adversary. The tabloid able to inform, humor and persuade its opponent into submission will only want to avoid the inevitable barrage of beverages (and criticism) from the spectators.

As the fight begins, it's clear the match is more than endurance rather a test of mental strength. The Sun starts intimidating its opponent by forecasting tomorrow's front page edition - "Mars Munches Defeat". Instinctively the chocolate bar attempts to land the first punch of the match; but the tabloid almost immediately expecting it goes on a counter-offence. Rapping around its opponent like a boa constrictor The Sun has quite literally tightened his grip upon the match. The Mars is looking down for the count as it stands immobile; anxiously waiting for the bell.

This match could be over in a matter of moments - The Mars not the most flexible of competitors unlike perhaps bubble game or candy floss - is trying to squirm its way out but The Sun is having none of it. Thirty seconds left, and it looks as if the sell by date on this Mars Bar is about to run out. And there it is! The Mars has fallen! The Mars has fallen! The fickle figure falls whilst The Sun returns to its true A4 layout and waits for the ref to count to ten. The ref counts, the tabloid taunts and the audience shocked - eight...nine...ten and he has done it!

Acting on impulse the ref makes his way to collect and carry the crown The Sun has clearly been longing for - the 50 pence piece. He knows that with this unanimous, undisputed and unsurpassable victory, that the tabloid has earned at least some respectability.

Street Children: The Forgotten Generation [FAILED competition entry]

Nelson Mandela once said that “education is the most powerful weapon with which you can use to change the world”. In the U.K. teaching is the beating heart of society where acceptable cultural attitudes are learnt by children who are pumped through primary to secondary school and many on to university.

In the classroom, the pressure of parents for their sons and daughters to do well is high and national benefactors like the government are equally keen to see struggling institutions do well. The pampering of many state schools with equipment ranging from chemistry textbooks to electronic whiteboards is seen as the ideal solution.

With such luxuries and indulgences, the education system in the U.K. should be in a rosy state of affairs. However the smell of new science textbooks and the gloss of electronic whiteboards have now been smeared by rapidly accumulating “sticky” affairs in the media.

Teacher unions are clashing on the validity of SATs whilst universities, like Oxford, are skeptical about the implementation of the “super” A* grade in A-Levels in 2010. It suggests there is much confusion surrounding what children should be learning on their way to that coveted university place or wanted apprenticeship.

So when a continent doesn’t have the ability to pluck prospective teachers from a conveyor belt of graduates fresh out of their degrees, or a contingency plan to fall back on, many of Africa’s children have been shunned into the wilderness of the streets, deprived of shelter, education and a way of life.

Cramped, disgusting, unsafe, homeless, diseased, there are many adjectives to describe conditions that UNICEF estimates around 10 million street children live with each day in Africa. One of these is Josephine Agbi Accra who lives in KonKomba (a shanty town), Ghana, a place notorious for prostitution and violence. An orphan, Josephine was found by a fieldworker of Street Child Africa, pregnant to a child whose father had left her to fend for herself. Josephine’s situation is all too common amongst street children in Africa where education is still widely viewed as a privilege not a right.

In the North West Province of South Africa, children are “privileged” to walk 4 hours a day from high in the Magaliesberg Mountains down to the major city of Rustenberg to get to school and back. The idea of bus transportation is alien to them and by dusk the dusty roads are commandeered by rapists looking to pick up innocent schoolgirls walking home. There is no free bus pass issued to anyone outside a 3 mile radius by the council as in my home county.

Instead local governments are often corrupt with greedy politicians looking to boost their own income at the expense of helping others. This leaves many schools in a sorry state of affairs, with many overcrowded, built from poor quality materials and lacking the basic sanitary requirements. Although it would be a mistake to overlook the impact of NGOs (non-governmental organizations), it is hard to assist an entire continent when there are an estimated 21 million children of primary school age living in sub Saharan Africa alone.

Many of the street children not being found by charities like Street Child Africa are inadvertently becoming part of a forgotten generation in a continent where neglect is all too familiar. Mariama from Maputo, Mozambique is 8 years old and already the sole guardian of her 3 younger siblings – one of which is still a baby. The person, who found her on the street, acknowledges that without foreign aid, these children will forever remain invisible to the rest of the world.

There is a desperate need for the emergence of a new-age Africa to rise from the shadows to promote education as an entity everyone is entitled to; regardless of color, race or gender. Charities like UNICEF are making inroads by promoting non-formal education in villages like Konovohogho, Côte d’Ivoire.

This method of teaching enables children to sandwich school between raising crops and looking after livestock in the morning and evening. All materials and teacher training are provided for by UNICEF in the hope many of the children continue onto higher education once their basic literacy skills have been acquired.

This is why ActionAid UK dubs them as the “feeder schools of Africa” that have the biggest impact in countries with the worst literacy rates. The major benefit of non-formal education is that children can adjust their timetables depending on how productive the agricultural season is. In the drier months children can devote more time to schooling whilst during the wetter periods more time can be spent on the farmland.

However one criticism of non-formal education is that it is over reliant on its sole major sponsor: worldwide charity. There is much debate as to whether the global recession is enough to hinder a person’s good nature to donate money to charity. Africa’s problem is that it is dependent on foreign aid much like a young child is attached to its mother. However where it takes years for an infant to learn responsibility, for Africa it is taking decades.

According to the Right To Education Project website, street children are highly concentrated in countries with struggling economies. In the past this would have described countries in the third world but now, in a recession hit era, it can account for others such as the U.K. Don’t let the new textbooks and electronic whiteboards deceive you, the U.K. is heading towards darker days for education. If various affairs aren’t sorted out soon then street children shall perhaps become a more familiar term closer to home.

The English Don’t Have Bad Teeth

The difference between the reality and the fantasy can be extreme. Whether it’s what tent you would like to get on trip or the food you’re going to get at dinner, at camp it can seek out the pessimists from the idealists. For everyone under the age of twelve at Wapomeo it is the latter when it comes to answering one question: who are the two most famous people from England ever?

It’s not current queen Elizabeth II. Not even literary grandfather William Shakespeare. The “correct” answer is Daniel Radcliffe and Robert Pattinson. Actors whose anonymity has been stripped from them by Hogwarts in return for the fruits of fortune and fame. The result is a completely fantastical (and utterly ridiculous) view of the stereotypical Englishman. So when they find the tennis floater, washed up on the shores of Ahmek, is a man studying for his Masters instead of his NEWTS and wants to be a journalist not an auror then they are going to be a little disheartened.

It is the same scenario with some female counselors (incidentally who are over twelve) at Wapomeo too. For when Keira Knightley speaks English propa in films like Pride and Prejudice and Atonement she is cementing myths that England still values finishing school and social etiquette rather highly. However this balloon of established actors is weighed down by television shows such as Little Britain and Eastenders which depict a fairer representation.

Chavs in tracksuits. Teenage parents on benefits. Underage drinking (sound familiar?). There is a much more sinister image of England (and probably of Canada) if you are willing to look for it. One not clouded by film and mythical stereotypes. Brendan Fraser doesn’t go around killing mummies in plaid shirts and Hugh Grant doesn’t go “on the pull” equipped with dodgy dentistry. Nevertheless this doesn’t stop these being two of the most fashionable pieces of fiction when it comes to typecasting different nationalities.

Canadians aren’t bearded park rangers equipped with axes to take down bears in Algonquin Park. In Toronto and Montreal life is very different from the rural agenda. This should make pigeon-holing entire nations into one outfit impossible. Wouldn’t you say, eh?

[Special Guest Blogger: Fraser Carlisle] So I put down my pen to write...

So. My first blog. The first thing I ponder as I type this late night reflection of my thoughts…. Why am I? Is it some sort of arrogance? Is it a miscalculated notion that what I have to say somehow merits the attention of others? Why in the middle of exams am I dedicating time to giving my time to write two cents’ worth on issues with which the young can I identify, hoping for a ‘oh that’s so true response’?

Or is it perhaps because I see this blog as a stepping stone to writing the World According to Carlisle? Or debating a return to Keynesian fiscal policy in the nation’s broadsheets?

Well the answer is I don’t really know. I suppose its more curiosity. If all the celebs can blog than why can’t I? I confess I am a little late to this web phenomena and as this is my first blog it is perhaps pertinent that I write a blog of self-reflection. A blog about blogs if you like.

The reason for my curiosity is evidently what gives appeal to blogs. A mode of expression that makes us feel like the celebs. And in a society fascinated by celebrity culture; wouldn’t it be nice to feel like one? You don’t have to be competent in the placement of the ‘Oxford Comma’ or abide by the conventions of Standard English. No-one will judge you by looks or accent; only by what you have to say. There aren’t really many rules. You don’t have to scrutinise fiscal policy or the direction of post-modern society, all you have to do is write something interesting.

Therefore now would be an appropriate juncture to ask you, am I interesting you? Well I’d hope so as I’ve nothing left to say. So how did I feel about that first blog? Did I change the world? Did I feel I wrote something worth reading? Did I express myself in the manner I would have liked to? Well if I you’re still reading I can’t have done that bad, particularly as I’ve not really said anything.

It’s an odd feeling laying yourself bare on the Internet for all to judge. Will I write a second blog? Well perhaps this is getting closer to why we write blogs. If people care about what I have to say we feel important and keep writing, if not I’ll be on the scrapheap of millions of failed bloggers. But oh well you have to try everything once.

And people think it is only I who makes English mistakes

It's 5 a.m., English assignment due in 7 hours and the spellchecker on my macbook is contradicting my instinct. Do I rely on my intelligence or obey my laptop? On one hand if I follow my nous and it fails me I could be the guy my tutor will eternally know as "that one who doesn't know the difference between s' and 's". However if I were to substitute my ineptness with the intel of a mac then I would probably have to put a reference at the end of the work out of guilt.

I'm certain most students have these situations similar to mine when it comes to late night work.
To me, as an English student, there is that added pressure of making work sound coherent, concise and most importantly correct. Ultimately if I makes a grammatical mistake or a speling error then all my "mates" are ready to let me know about it.

A clear example of this is incarnated in the critical reaction to my first blog. The "blogism of fire" started when a fellow linguist and "friend" commented on my facebook "can you please put an apostrophe in show's". Now if blogs had been around in the 18th century then Samuel Johnson, curator of the first dictionary, may have probably sent me a twittering message of disgust at the blunder. However I thought people were past that.

For today's modern reader finding spelling errors and telling someone about them functions to feed their ego. In their mind they are probably thinking "I am better than you because I know the difference between onto and on to". Nevertheless in my case there are always two excuses you can use in your defense. To my friends I say "who is the one who does English at university?" and to the ones who study English I just say "typo".

From timed essays in class to assignments at the death of night, the English language is a very delicate creature. However if someone finds that "jade" hasn't been capitalized in Heat magazine it's not going to kill it or, worse, stop the printing presses. So when it comes to my work please judge the beast by it's content rather than its skin.