» Flickr: @superamit

Being in love is probably the most depressing thing in the world and according to anyone that knows me fairly well, I fall in and out of love with a new boy every week! If you do the math, this basically means since hitting puberty and receiving an extra special delivery of first class hormones, there hasn’t been a week of my life where I haven’t sat upright in bed, close to tears at 4am, asking God “Why doesn’t insert name here love me?”

Thinking about it maturely, what I so frequently feel, can’t actually be love. Unless I really am as fickle as my best friend suggests, the butterflies that cripple me every time my latest crush walks by must be, and most likely are, a direct result of pure infatuation. However, I severely detest the word infatuation! Being infatuated with someone makes you sound like a pig-tailed 11 year old sitting in a field somewhere, stripping daisies of their petals, in the hopes of landing on ‘He Loves Me’ before skipping home content with life just before the street lights turn on. So, for the purpose of this article, and my sanity, love is exactly what I feel, however brief.

Since being at University, I’ve fallen in love with pretty much everyone from the boy who held the door open for me at the SU to the boy adorably having a nervous breakdown in the Learning Grid. I’m sure psychologists will assess me one day and inform me of the deep rooted ‘daddy-issues’ that I project on any available man, praying that he’ll satisfy my need to feel loved, but that’s way into the future and I’d much rather blame Hollywood movies.

I have watched so many romantic comedies I actually, hand-on-heart believe that the boy that accidently bumps into me rushing to his lecture, will later find me at POP! and shamefully (yet sexily) reveal he’s been searching for me ever since we grazed shoulders because he couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried, get me out of his head. This is what I want. More specifically, this is what I expect to happen. It’s gotten to the point where I’m no longer sure when I genuinely like someone and when I’m Jennifer Aniston.

Although it rarely happens, the real drama begins when I like the same guy for longer than the one-week milestone. Take for instance, the guy I like now. He has no idea that I fantasise about what are kids will look like, how I plan to win his Mother over the first time we meet or that I can picture the underwear, or lack of, he’d wear on our wedding night.

Truth is, I’d rather the ground opened up and swallowed me whole than admit or show any sign that I’m completely intoxicated by him. For some strange reason, I expect any guy that sparks my attention to know the power he holds over me and act accordingly. I just want him to tell me pretty how I am, how pretty we’d look together and then lean in for a saucy smooch. Is that too much to ask? Maybe I’m just too high maintenance? To be fair, I don’t personally class wanting what I want, when I want, in the specific way I want it, without doing any work, high maintenance. If anything, I’m old-fashioned.

What it always boils down to is, the guy I like doesn’t know I like him and I won’t tell him. I feel like I’m in a Shakespeare play. Once you replace murder and corruption with unrequited love and social networking, I’m basically Hamlet. For now though, I’ll just suppress my feelings until I drunkenly reveal all and end up having to move to Africa the next morning. Of course, I’d never say any of this to his face - I’m not crazy. I want him to kiss me in the rain, not file a restraining order against me or worse, block me from Facebook.

I guess you could say I’m a hopeless romantic or failing that, passive aggressive

» Is the current Premiership format the fairest one?

I read an article recently bemoaning comparisons between football and rugby union, and I agreed with almost every word that was written: too readily do people highlight the bravery lacking from modern footballers that is abundantly displayed by their oval-ball wielding counterparts, whilst others rush to point out that England’s footballers have never once performed a running-bomb from a ferry or thrown dwarves across a New Zealand bar (to the best of my knowledge). In most occasions, I steer well clear of dichotomous comparison of my two favourite sports as their incomparable abilities to entertain ensure that they are both brilliant sports in their own right. However, as the Aviva Premiership season approaches the home straight, there is one discrepancy that has found me willing the RFU to follow the example of their footballing neighbours.

Since 2003, the champions of the English Premiership have crowned through victory in a play-off, a system that was re-formatted in 2005 to provide a four team semi-final/final structure, with the team finishing top of the table at the end of the regular season playing the fourth side in the league, whilst second and third would also square up to each other, the winners of each semi-final meeting in the Premiership Final at Twickenham. The revamped system undoubtedly allows for brilliant knockout entertainment at the end of the season, and ensures for some brilliant spectacles (you only have to go back as far as 2010 to witness Leicester Tigers’ thrilling 33-27 victory over Saracens with a last gasp Dan Hipkiss score). However, the money-making aspect of the play-offs is such that many fans remain strongly against the arrangement, with the more traditional supporters starkly refusing to attend any of the knockout matches as a form of boycott. This may seem like a futile gesture, but it certainly appears that the negatives outweigh the positives in this particular situation.

As any football fan will second, much of the excitement of this year’s Premier League season is indebted to the titanic tussle between the two Manchesters, United and City, for the title, as each match has ensured the proverbial swinging of the pendulum. Going into next weekend’s final matches, City lead by goal difference and yet they were written off less than a month ago upon a 1-0 loss away at Arsenal. The palpable tension that has been synonymous with almost every game in this season’s run in is what makes the football so enjoyable, even when the quality of the match does not live up to expectation, such as in City’s dull yet vital 1-0 victory over their neighbours at the end of April.

On the other hand, the determined push for top spot in the Aviva Premiership is annually diluted by the play-off system that is in place; although a first place finish will technically set you up with an easier route to the final and a home tie, you will still have to play the same amount as games as the side who finish fourth and thus have no huge advantage. As such, a team finishing in fourth and 15 points behind the league leaders will have virtually the same chance at claiming the title as the team finishing top, an undeniably ludicrous situation.

Last season, Leicester Tigers finished top of the regular season table to be beaten in the final by a rugged Saracens outfit, whilst Gloucester topped the table in consecutive seasons (2006-2007 and 2007-2008) only to be overcome by Leicester in both play-offs. This situation is one that I strongly disagree with, as it undermines the aim of the regular English Premiership season: to discover the best and most hardened team over a 22-match season. In fact, there is absolutely no reward for finishing top, except a home semi-final, even if you were to remain unbeaten throughout that period. The main motivator for finishing in first place is surely the mental strength that this will give you going into the key knockout matches, but this often does not prove to be a strong enough facet, most noticeable in the previous case of Gloucester Rugby.

Whilst the play-off system has been seen to derail the title prospects of some sides such as Gloucester, other teams have used the end of season deciders as a perfect way to claim the championship despite having inconsistent form from September to April. London Wasps were crowned English Premiership champions for three consecutive years between 2003 and 2005, as well as claiming their fourth title in 2008, and yet the Wycombe based side (who faced relegation from the top tier this season) did not once finish in first place in any of their league winning campaigns, timing their run to perfection by outplaying their opponents at key times. Whilst this tactic must be admired given the circumstances, it also reflects unfairly on the sides who were most consistent throughout the season only to be beaten in a one-off match at the end of a long campaign: in the first of their four championship victories, Wasps finished a mammoth 18 points adrift of table-toppers Gloucester, but a brilliant performance in the final ensured they (unjustly) overcame the West Country outfit.

The concept of the play-offs partially originates from a desire to ‘share’ the championship around, as pre-play-off seasons were dominated by the English powerhouses of Leicester and Bath. However, recent seasons have certainly tended to illustrate a more even standard in the Premiership, and had the play-offs been done away with quickly, as many fans suggest they should have been, Gloucester and Harlequins would have claimed their maiden professional titles in recent years. As it is, sides such as the Tigers and Wasps who possess the strength in depth to continue for longer in the season often come out on top, despite possibly having an up and down season.

The unfairness of the current system is only intensified when you consider the possibilities for these matches to detract from squad fitness amidst other important competitions. In 2007, Leicester Tigers’ scrum half Harry Ellis picked up a severe knee ligament injury whilst playing Bristol in the play-off semi-final, an injury that ensured Ellis missed both the Premiership and Heineken Cup final, the ensuing 2007 World Cup and eventually ended his career prematurely. Although it seems coincidental, and such an injury could have occurred at any point, had Leicester been awarded the title for finishing top without being forced to play two extra matches, Ellis would not have picked up the injury and may well still be plying his trade.

More recently, Northampton Saints found their resources stretched at the culmination of the 2010/2011 season as they faced a frightening schedule of three vital games in three weeks: the Premiership semi-final, followed seven days later by the Heineken Cup, possibly followed by the Premiership final should they have succeeded in the previous round. The Saints’ final league position of fourth ensured that they played local rivals the Tigers at Welford Road just a week before their vital clash with Leinster in the European final, and the proximity of these fixtures proved to be too much: after a physically draining 11-3 loss at Welford Road, the players could not maintain their intensity for 80 minutes against the Irish province as they threw away a 22-6 half time lead to lose 33-22 in an epic tussle. Once again, had there been no play-off system, Northampton would have not only had an extra weeks rest before the Heineken final, but could also have rested and rotated key players to ensure full fitness in preparation for the match.

It is undeniable that the play-off system has its positive points; if there were none, the system would surely have been retired long ago. Firstly, hosting the final at Twickenham does provide a great sporting occasion at one of the nation’s most iconic sporting arenas, allowing a larger crowd to attend- around 80,000 will watch this year’s clash in late May. Furthermore, the revenue raised from the extra fixtures is greatly helpful to the economies of the clubs as well as the RFU itself, although this is where many fans become subdued: it is for money, and not the fans, that this system was created. If you were a supporter of either of the finalists, you could easily pay upward of £100 for the privilege of watching your team play in the final two play-off matches, a ridiculous sum given that you may well have paid around £250 for a season ticket.

So, the simple alternative that I am suggesting is to go back to how it was before, and the system that still functions perfectly in the Barclays Premier League: namely, crown the side who finish top of the table at the end of the season as the English champions. Not only does this way seem fairer and reward the most consistent team in the league, it may well ensure a more entertaining season from week one to its culmination in May. Another problem caused by the play-off system is the fact that sides resign themselves to positions long before the season is over. For example, Saracens have finished third in the league this season, and thus face an away semi-final tie at Leicester to progress to the final. However, the current champions may well have finished in first place had they kept up an intense start to the season that saw them win nine of their opening eleven games. The knowledge that they were almost certain, at that point, of a top-two finish, caused them to slacken their pace during an intense schedule of Premiership and Heineken Cup fixtures. Consequently, their form waned towards the end of the campaign, and allowed the Tigers to power into second place through a run of just one loss since October 6th.

More than anything else, however, it is the unfair nature of the play-off system that causes such disagreement amongst rugby fans up and down the country: how can it be just that a side finishing in fourth place at the end of the regular season can be crowned kings of England just a fortnight later? No matter which way you try to argue it, this situation just isn’t a fair reflection on the season-long efforts of the teams at the pinnacle.

Come 6pm on Sunday afternoon, either Manchester City or Manchester United will be crowned Premier League champions after a hugely entertaining campaign, and I ardently agree that whichever side claims the title will be worthy winners. At the same time, it is possible that Harlequins and Leicester Tigers, the two teams sitting in an identical position to the aforementioned football clubs, will have been eliminated from their league campaign and have to painfully watch the third and fourth placed sides battle it out for the Premiership title. For once, I am afraid, football is just doing it better.

» Kindle vs Book - can they really coexist?

Will traditional print books will be replaced by online, downloadable-only content?

Revisiting this debate seems somewhat irrelevant now. Certain newspapers have already resigned themselves to the fact that their main readership will be internet rather than paper based within ten years, and the general public are besotted with Amazon’s best-selling product: the kindle. If you don’t believe me, just travel on the London underground and witness the countless commuters glued to electronic screens.

However, I refuse to acquiesce to the notion that the future of books is restricted only to digital format.

Whilst I’ll advocate reading in any format – the content of a book and its story-telling ability remain the same however its read – I will cling on to the book in tangible, sniffable and page-flickable form for as long as possible. Granted I am somewhat of a technophobe, still fearful of the many capabilities of my laptop and a rookie at handling my newfangled blackberry device, but never, ever will you convince me that the book is not worth preserving.

The experience of reading can be far more interactive and, in some ways, inspiring when done digitally; you can tweet and blog about the book you’ve just read, ‘like’ the characters on Facebook and engage in immediate discussions about your favourite parts.

But I also find something sacred and private about the experience of actually sitting down and reading a book that will never be captured or surpassed by reading a book on a kindle.

The term kindleworm is not something I imagine catching on, nor does the prospect of having an empty, unbrowsable bookshelf appeal to me. Bookshops, antique ones especially, are like little heavens on earth. Bursting with publications that have been handled, crinkled, browned and enjoyed; pages filled with stories and possibilities.

I see nothing romantic about holding a black tablet and touching a screen to turn the pages. It’s impersonal and convenient. You can’t scribble little notes in the front pages or get your favourite author to sign it.

Ease and practicality are, of course, what appeals to younger generations in this fast-paced culture of immediacy. If we hear about a good book we want to be able to download it there and then, not bother with perusing shops or paying extortionate prices.

However, I will admit it is handy to have journal articles or books online; JSTOR is like a best friend in those hours of essay writing need and GoogleBooks a dream for finding untraceable quotes in that hefty novel you can’t bear to flick through one more time. But I believe co-existence is the solution, rather than extinction. Hasn’t it always been?

I would hate to see the totalitarianism of the kindle forced onto unsuspecting book worshippers such as myself, like timeline has been on reluctant Facebookers.

Dreams of having a wall completely lined with books in my first house would be shattered. As would attendance at my first book signing when (and if I ever) write a novel.

I’m aware that the future is online. I go there for pretty much all my news/stealthy procrastination. But fiction should forever remain as something you can touch, browse and collect, never neglecting the value of actuality and authenticity.

Books are, after all, part of a long history of culture. Getting rid of them would be as bad as the burning of millions of publications in Nazi Germany. Kindles render the enjoyment of reading to something seemingly cold and sterile, symptomatic of a world overruled and over-dependent on technology.

As an avid reader and literature student, I hope I don’t live to see the apocalypse of the book. That awkward moment where this is published online.

Spirits attired in suits and clown outfits crawling out of a deconstructed stage floor, a floor-lit glass cage, a ‘stone’ torso lying nonchalantly on its side upstage, vaguely recognisable as female despite largely deteriorated breasts… just another production from the Royal Shakespeare Company? Not quite.

The RSC is well known for experimenting with Shakespeare, so when faced with the shipwreck-style décor features ruins, rocks and a moth-eaten stage floor I wasn’t surprised. As usual, they succeeded in making Shakespeare’s The Tempest a visual spectacle as well as an aural delight.

The play opened with Emily Taafe as Miranda sitting at a simple desk listening to a mayday call. Suddenly, the ‘opaque’ glass box behind her is lit up and becomes the ship from which the call is coming from, in trouble in the midst of a storm summoned by her father, Prospero. Those on the ship are his enemies, those who usurped his Dukedom and exiled him to the island he and his daughter now inhabit. Those on the ship are stranded on his island and at his mercy.

The play is one of this season’s ‘What Country Friends Is This?’ Shipwreck trilogy along with Twelfth Night and The Comedy of Errors and explores revenge, forgiveness, love, loss and reunion. Directed by David Farr, The Tempest manages to explore all of these themes without being ironic or farcical in any way.

Jonathan Slinger plays a brilliantly dark and brooding Prospero and his doppelganger, Ariel, performed by Sandy Grierson, really engages with his character with his entire body, and is physically fantastic. The echoes of Prospero’s voice as he rages against the injustice, slamming his staff down on the stage, constantly reminds us that he is in control and wants revenge on those who wronged him. Even during the comical scenes the underlying reminder is there by the use of music, especially Ariel’s, and song, although unfortunately the singing talent didn’t quite measure up to the acting prowess of the production.

In equal measure the jester Trinculo and drunken butler Stephano, played by Felix Hayes and Bruce MacKinnon respectively, make a hilarious duo. No stranger to Stratford, Hayes also starred as Snug in last summer’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream and always delivers his lines to great comical effect. I could even see the glistening drool of Amer Hlehel’s odious Caliban from the upper circle. However, I found the love plot between Miranda and Ferdinand uninspiring, dull and utterly predictable in comparison.

The second half of the play really explores the capabilities of the modern stage and is the most visually exciting. Lamps explode; food disappears from tables in a flash; harpies fall from the heavens to torment those below them. Apart from the rather confusing and visual mess of bubbles, taffeta, peacock feathers and glitter that is the masque, the entire play gets better and better as it goes on. The stage was a constant platform for theatrical experimentation and an exploration for what the modern stage can really do without detracting from the play itself.

Ultimately, Farr’s Tempest is probably the best production that I have seen at the RSC to date. It’s visually thrilling, consistently exciting, and a brilliant production to thrill seasoned theatregoers, exciting enough to keep the attention of first-timers and much more easy to follow than many Shakespearean productions I’ve seen due to a clarity of voice and expression and professionalism of all the actors in it, bar none. I know that it’s revision season, but go and see it. You won’t regret it.