This picture tells you everything you need to know about a Cherwell editor. The fixity of his gaze reveals brooding, focused melancholia, and determination. His ruffled, unkempt hair; a testament to the intensity and passion of his work. A lion’s mane and nose; courage, and carnivorousness. Black and white stripes; the possibility of racist populism. Or an affinity for Zebras. I don’t know which. I’ve never met one.
This picture tells you everything you need to know about The Oxford Student. We laugh sometimes. We like to go outside. We are all female. Our nipples are gold and protrusive. We have arms. Join us.
(This is where a photo of Winston’s head should be. However, his delicate, delicate face doesn’t react well to sunlight or flash photography. This is usually quite amusing, because he walks with a cane and so isn’t very good at being very angry. The last time this happened was in Autumn 2008, but I don’t want to go into it. Let’s just say that he doesn’t use Facebook any more.)
This picture tells you nothing you need to know about Cherwell. It rarely, if ever, wears floral dresses. It thinks the 1960s was a time of moral degradation, which it sorely regrets. It didn’t believe lesbians existed until we showed it a video. It loves tuition fees. It has never heard of “free love.”
This picture tells you everything you need to know about outfit selection. Accessorize. A simple stethoscope suggests elegance and sophistication, and that she’d be useful if you started to choke on a prawn cracker (or a similarly shaped item of food). Co-ordinate colours. In my ideal world, women would be colour-coded, so you’d know if you were wasting your time. Smile. It reveals your teeth, and some people are into that.