Issue 3

COYOTE
ISSUE 3//2019
1

I always keep a small rock in my left shoe
To distract from the pain of a laden pack,
I often have to tell myself to push through.
I walk through the park,
A woman in a trench hands out peanuts
Her face is marred with a purple beauty mark.
Strangers look at her oddly
But she smiles through it all, as I stomp past
Making sure to look at her fondly.
The walk to school is always brisk
And I work up a fine sheen,
Always to be balked at by my peers as if I lack
hygiene.
The last part of my walk
Takes me past the cats of the cemetery
it makes me think of wider moral social
commentary.
Maybe these cats represent souls
Or maybe you die and are lucky to become one of
their food bowls.
At least, I have given this stone in my shoe
a journey it can write home about too.
2

ISSUE 3 JANUARY 2019
9
9
COYOTE
9 06 WHAT TO DO ABOUT APU? Smoothtalking
Thompson investigates the controversary surrounding
The Simpsons character. Take a trip to the Kiwik e Mart.
08 BREXIT PROTEST Little Britches is one hobby
9
away from being an asshole.
20 NO NAME Maria Polina covers many themes in her
poem.
26 QWEENS OF INDIA Misanthropic McNugget
delves into the feminist history of India.
34 ONLY GIRL IN THE BAND Little Britches
laments about her inability to start a girl band. One day, she
whispered.
46 69 THOUGHTS WHILE WATCHING ‘A
SIMPLE FAVOUR’ Misanthropic McNugget and Little
Britches go to the movies.
40 PARTY PEOPLE The dream team take you out in
London.
48 COYOTE NOME DE PLUME Little Britches
wants you to buy her ice cream cake. Take another arbitrary quiz
60 COYOTE CROSSWORD Crosswords will keep
you young.
3

H
ello. We’ve not done a proper letter from the editor (in this case
editors) in COYOTE, but you may have noticed we are trying new
things. So far, I can say that the experience of writing one of these is
awkward. I feel like there should be some profound advice or
comment weaved through these sentences, but per usual I am coming up blank.
Instead, what has been plaguing mind over these past few minutes, as I force out
words in any attempt to be witty, is a question that no doubt bothers you. Why
did Tears for Fears only use the guitar riff at the beginning of ‘Everybody Wants
to Rule the World’ as the intro?
I can’t promise any concrete answers to this question within the issue. I’m sorry.
But I can promise that you will be somewhat entertained for at least 30 minutes.
We have a menagerie of content within the following pages: a critic of The
Simpsons, a history on Indian Feminism, and another capricious quiz. So, plough
ahead with a cautious mindset. And, be ready to have any novelty hamburger
socks you may be wearing, blown off your feet. Because, an unbelievable level of
effort has gone into co-ordinating this; the WhatsApp threads will prove it.
Proceed, and never google ‘Shingle Surfing.’
CONTRIBUTORS
EDITORS:
Misanthropic McNugget
Velvet Thunder
Little Britches
WRITERS:
Little Britches
Misanthropic McNugget
Smooth-talkin Thompson
Maria Polina
Cuzy-moto
CREATIVE DICTATOR:
Anna-Liza-Beth II
EMOTIONAL SUPPORT:
Theodore Foster
Jack Agarwal
DESIGN & LAYOUT:
Identity Withheld
SOCIAL MEDIA:
Misanthropic McNugget
Little Britches
WEBSITE:
Little Britches
Misanthropic McNugget
Velvet Thunder
HONORABLE MENTIONS:
The Canal
Evening Standard Crosswords
Equity & Trusts
Barbara Streisand
Friends of Friends
Everyone on my enemy list
Jodie Comer
Baby-bell cheeses
Slow replies on WhatsApp
Deadlines
Saturday Morning
Ice in Baileys
Loveless Marriages
User-friendly legal databases
4

5

In normal circumstances, news of a heated debate
concerning racial insensitivity and minority
representation might be what you would expect to
hear emanating from the likes of Parliament or the
Senate, as opposed to Springfield. Over the last
few months however, the world of Hollywood has
found itself increasingly challenged on the nature
of a once acceptable form of comedy. Controversy
is a man, and his name is Apu
Nahasapeemapetilon.
So, what’s the issue? After twenty-eight years of
entertaining viewers as the industrious owner of
the Kwik-E-Mart, concerns have gradually begun
to emerge that ‘The Simpsons’ unapologetically
eccentric portrayal of Apu, built on stereotypes
ranging from a thick Indian accent to his clichéd
choice of profession as a convenience store worker,
has simply run its course. In the eternal words of
The Smiths, perhaps ‘that joke isn’t funny
anymore’. With the humour involved being part of
a problematic, two-dimensional portrayal of
Asians within wider society. Nevertheless, this is
by no means a view that commands the approval
of everyone involved within the discussion. Many
fans of the show are keen to defend the existence
of a character they believe represents far more than
just another token face used for cheap laughs. With
so much disagreement, what should Apu’s future
be? Each side presents an interesting take.
Critics of the show have argued that the depiction
of its brown protagonist is at best a misleading
impression of an already under-represented group
within the entertainment industry, and at worst a
racially insensitive caricature that has contributed
towards mockery and abuse of Indians in the real
world. In a sense, both of these issues are
inherently connected: what was initially intended
to serve as a satirical reflection of American society
has only lost relevance in a time of increasing
social diversity. If it ever was true, the idea of the
Indian immigrant existing only to pump fuel and
serve supermarket products of questionable
quality to unsuspecting customers (that means
you, Homer) now feels like an anachronism that
hasn’t really managed to keep up with the
developments of the present, something ‘The
Simpsons’ was once so widely praised for doing. In
contrast to the 1990s, South Asians within the US
media sector have begun to prove themselves as
capable of so much more than the typical go-to
roles of cab drivers or terrorists in action movies,
with a new generation of talents such as Hasan
Minhaj or Mindy Kaling paving the way for a
bright future. Apu, on the other hand, remains an
isolated figure within his own universe, the
flagship poster boy for what it means to be Asian.
This failure to update and acknowledge changing
demographics arguably harms the fight for better
representation, allowing people to cling to harmful
tropes such as poor English and use them to
generalise an entire race of people.
6

However, the idea that Apu’s basic traits result in
him becoming a damaging caricature is itself a
very contentious argument to make. Does having a
funny accent and working in a shop automatically
perpetuate racism? Simpsons lovers would
strongly reject this claim, pointing out that there is
far more to his character than initially meets the
eye, as one of the most well-rounded and
emotionally developed members of the show.
Looking beyond the overt humour of his initial
impressions, we see an individual who
demonstrates qualities that would be considered
admirable for anyone to possess, ranging from an
intense devotion to his professional craft, to being
a kind-hearted man who valued the importance of
his friends, family and community. Unlike many
other recurring characters in the show, Apu was
treated with a unique significance and given
screen time for his own personal storyline,
providing viewers with an insight into his life that
guaranteed him status beyond merely being
shoehorned into the show for the sake of diversity
or stereotypical laughs. Whether it was the episode
where his struggle to acquire US citizenship
reflected the real-life struggles of many first
generation immigrants, to the moment where his
initially unwanted arranged marriage blossomed
into a tale of romance and personal growth, Apu
has been at the centre of a number of feel-good
moments in ‘The Simpsons’. In a show literally
based around the stereotyping of various cultures,
be it Homer Simpson’s gluttonous nature
parodying the concept of ‘the American dream’ to
Groundskeeper Willie’s absurdly strong Scottish
accent, it’s difficult to suggest that the portrayal of
Apu is in any way uniquely insidious. Far from it,
he is a character that the audience can genuinely
relate to and care about.
With so much noise and controversy on the
subject, it seems clear that something will have to
be done about ‘the Apu problem’. But who says
that this has to be a bad thing? Perhaps one of the
most peculiar elements of the current discussion is
that the proposed solution for many seems to be
removing Apu from the show entirely, as if the
solution to bad representation is no representation
at all. Instead, the writers of the show could use
this situation as an opportunity to take a more
positive approach and focus on increasing the level
of diversity in ‘The Simpsons’. Why not introduce a
new minority character who rights the perceived
wrongs of first-generation immigrant stereotypes?
Perhaps including more Asian guest writers for
episodes will provide a fresh sense of perspective
and breathe new life into the show, and indeed
Apu himself? This strategy would be the best of
both worlds, preserving a much-loved character
whilst also sending out a message that the show is
willing to adapt to changing times. Modernisation
is something ‘The Simpsons’ has needed for a long
time, and should it happen I can think of the
perfect phrase to greet former fans who would be
willing to the give the show a second chance:
“Thank you, come again”.
Words by Smooth-talkin Thompson
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15

16

Photos taken at the October 20th March against
Brexit in London
Film processed with Caffenol and dark
thoughts
17

Mountains by Velvet Thunder
18

Roaches and rodents –
They’re all the same
They all make us scream
Tap dripping, wall
Paper
Ripping
At the seams.
She keeps questioning
The dark motifs in her dreams
She can’t fathom
That the only one she sees
Is herself.
Fatigued
Though she’s intrigued
By the concept`
Of the boys around
Her
Making noise
On the periphery
Swept up
By the ecclesiastical
Teaching
The prophets preaching
Yearning
To get their
Message –
A cross.
19

But she’s seething
She can’t listen
To their whines
Whimpering all the time
Saying, God will smite you –
the heathen you are…
Yet they can’t stand
The girl picking apart
At their ruse
They’re obtuse!
What could she possibly
Expect?
Their crimson necks
Pockets lined with scribbled checks
Arms flailing
Holy father wailing
Walking their paths
Paved
By the illegal immigrants
That they trash
Talk
At their raves.
20

Music blaring
While the sirens’
Screaming
Catching up
To another black
Boy
Steven
He’s fresh out of school
Now he’s falling
Feeling
God, why did it have to be me
I tried so hard
On those tests
I couldn’t make my
Eyes blue
So I excelled at the rest.
Now he’s gone
A mere pawn
In this zero sum
Game
That we play…
Hold up –
You thought you were excused?
How grim.
21

Reaper will tuck us all in
By the willow tree
Branches stretching
Caressing –
You
By the end.
The little prince on the moon
He sees our struggle
Tries to send us
Messages
A messenger
Saying,
It’ll be okay
Nothing matters up here
You’re safe.
Those brown eyes
Or blue…
Cut to the cue -
Your last stage presence
The final entrance
The gates shimmering
The past glimmering
One step –
Closed.
Poem by Maria Polina
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25

What’s interesting about India is that much of its preimperialist
history is not often discussed. India’s heritage
runneth over with iconic legends. From beautiful love
stories like that of Mumtaz Mahal and Shah Jahan to great
conquerors like Bajirao I, we see a long, rich and at times,
bloody history filled with countless phenomenal characters.
Amongst these are several Indian Empresses who set in
motion the beginning of India’s feminist movement.
Let’s do this chronologically.
26

Mariam Uz Zamani
Firstly, a bad bitch by the name of Mariam Uz
Zamani. She is actually known by many names, most
famous of which is Jodhabai. Her marriage to
Emperor Akbar (she became his third wife) was one
that caused much turmoil from other Indian rulers.
Mariam was a Rajput princess marrying into a
Mughal empire. This was of course not without its
challenges. For those of you who don’t know (which
included me up until 20 minutes ago) in 1525, just 17
years prior to Mariam’s birth, a war between the two
factions ended in Mughal victory. At just 20 years of
age, Hira Kunwari’s (as she was then called) life was
signed over by her father to Emperor Akbar.
She then was then given the name Mariam Uz
Zamani, meaning “Mary of Ages” after she had her
first son. This was particular because she was a
Hindu and typically honorary titles were given only
to Muslim noblewomen of the harem after giving
birth to a son.
So, what makes her so special? As a queen, she
greatly improved relations between her own family
and the Mughal empire, enabling them to gain much
repute in the community, while, herself being
subjected to much abuse for having been believed to
have turned her back on her religion. However, she
really hit her stride as Queen Mother.
Her son, Salim, became 4th Mughal emperor in 1605.
Mariam became one of the most prominent and
astute International traders of the time. Some
speculate that she, individually, was richer than
some European countries at the time. Her business
savvy was shown when she became owner of the
Rahimi, the biggest vessel sailing the Red Sea at the
time. It was a pilgrimage vessel used to carry
Muslims to their holy city of Mecca. (Important to
note: she wasn't even Muslim!) Her loyal son gave
Mariam the right to issue firmans, that is official
rights that were previously enjoyed by the Emperor
alone. So revered was she at the time that her son
erected the Begum Shahi Mosque in her honour. It is
found, nowadays, in the city of Lahore, Pakistan.
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history.
Nur Jahan
Aunt to the far more popular, but less interesting
(to me) Mumtaz Mahal, in whose name the greatest
labour of love, the Taj Mahal, was erected (but
that’s a story for another time), Nur Jahan eclipsed
her husband Jahangir in every conceivable way.
Many historians know her to be “the power behind
the throne” and therefore one of the most influential
Queens the Mughal empire has ever known. Nur
Jahan’s extensive power, of course, raised many
eyebrows. In fact, she became known by one, very
loaded Islamic word: Fitna, evoking connotations of
civil strife, trials and unrest. A term she came to
share with the Prophet Muhammed’s “favourite”
wife, Ayeesha. The word came to be weaponised
against female sensuality and power. When British
visitor Thomas Roe came to India, he gave her the
title “Goddess of Heathen Impiety”. All of these
titles represent to me, a habit as old as time itself:
the vilification of powerful women. Today, they call
powerful women bitches, sluts, whores.
What is more notable is Nur Jahan as a half Rajput
half Shia Muslim married to a Sunni Muslim, she
was able to amass so much power that she is one of
the most well-known rulers of India, in its long
28

Mastani
Mastani is credited with being a uniting force
between Hindus and Muslims. Many know that the
history between Muslims and Hindus in India is a
tragically bloody one. Our current prime minister,
Narendra Modi, in 2002 during the riots when he
was Chief Minister of Gujarat actually incited
violence against Muslims.
Mastani was born to Maharaja Chhatrasal by his
Muslim wife. She married Bajirao, a Hindu prime
minister, after he helped her father and family to
reclaim their kingdom from the Mughals; in spite of
their differing religious beliefs. Their marriage
essentially became a symbol of religious tolerance
throughout the country. However, this is not an
article about the romance between Bajirao and
Mastani, but rather the strength of two women:
Mastani and Bajirao first wife, Kashibai. Kashibai
treated Mastani with respect and kindness in spite
of outrage amongst many influential family
Words by Misanthropic McNugget
members in Pune, including Bajirao’s own mother.
When Mastani died (some say of heartbreak after
her husband died) Kashibai took in Mastani’s
Muslim son, Shamsher, treating him as her own son
but not imposing her beliefs on him.
Another way Mastani united Muslims and Hindus,
(even post mortem) is when her grave was robbed,
and both Hindus and Muslims took part in
restoring it. Her grave is now called both Mastani
samadhi and Mastani mazar.
Mastani was known to accompany her husband,
Bajirao, into battle and was also even credited with
being an excellent strategist.
As with many powerful women in history, there is a
culture of erasure in favour of their romantic
counterparts, however with Indian Empresses they
are also concealed by a veil of exoticism. The fact of
the matter is simply that an entire generation of
powerful women have been criminally ignored and,
instead, we are shown in the media evidence of
sexism in Islam, Hinduism and therefore the vast
majority of the Asian sub-continent. This is not to
say that India is not an extremely sexist country – it
is, indeed, however in ignorance of these
phenomenal women, we do a great disservice, not
only to them but to the feminist movement as well.
29

ode to my failing health
When I lie down
I cough to the point of nearly producing a lung
The joints in my arms creak every time I move
I cannot lie on my stomach because of crippling nausea
When I sit
My hip bones click whenever I shift in my seat
My back is never straight but always aches
I am continuously clicking my neck
When I stand up
I clutch the base of my spine
My ribs ache
My head fizzes and I blink through temporary blindness
But still,
I would never trade you for better health
I will not betray you by exercising
I would give up my life before eating a vegetable
Because it is to you that I am loyal to
I am your servant
Eternally
Poem by Misanthropic McNugget
Based on True Events
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Courtesy of Velvet Thunder
32

33

The first thing you need to know about Jam
Group practices, is that they smell. Before you
have even stepped into the room, the ripe odour
will meet you at the door; overwhelming your
senses and engaging with the primal part of
your nature that can detect tension. It is enough
to have you turn on the spot, and beg off the
whole thing for a round of drinks at the pub.
The room is entirely unventilated, save for the
few people whose opinions of their playing
ability pushes enough air into the room to allow
some fraught dialogue. I have to shove through
this stink to the very back of the room to get to
the drum kit. Per usual, someone has already set
themselves up on the stool and is loudly
overcompensating by performing a one-man
show of Metallica classics. (Much to the chagrin
of the rest of the room, who are tuning or simply
value our hearing.)
Around the kit stand the other drummers. All of
them are boys and all of them clutch their
drumsticks with white-knuckles. Their eyes
slide to my entrance with an undisguised
distrust and animosity, that would have
reduced me to a puddle of mush a few years
ago. But I don’t need to prove myself at this
early stage of the evening.
The practice kicks off. Out of the people that
turned up tonight, I am one of three women. We
all sit watching as the boys play Red Hot Chili
Peppers cover after Foo Fighters cover, in what
can only be described as a dick measuring
contest. Each instrument is soloing over the top
of the other, with our friends on the drums
cutting over it all with more unnecessary
cymbals than a mathematical equation. Each of
us have already been asked if we sing, despite
having come to the practice to play the drums,
guitar and bass respectively. It’s enough to get
the blood boiling.
Part of this is a tactic. The boys exhaust their
limited repertoire very early on and they start
struggling for songs to improvise. This is when I
get on the drums. I can feel the eyes scorching
over me. I would almost be inclined to check for
singe marks, if I knew that wouldn’t bring its
own fresh ire from the boys. Before I even begin
to play, I am told that my drumsticks aren’t
good enough and that I need proper ones (I play
with hot rods for these practices). I also receive
eyerolls when I remark that I don’t know how to
play a particular RHCP’s song. The effect is to
take tiny chips at the armour I’ve had to
surround myself with to get up and play. Their
comments fracture, and that hot smell rises in
the room as the bile of undermining remarks
land heavily on my shoulders.
From the moment I decided I was going to play
the drums, I have known that I am a part of a
minority; a girl that plays the drums, and a girl
that plays an instrument. But the decision was
never one that I had thought would become a
defining characteristic of my attitude towards
playing. In fact, the decision was mainly
influenced by having heard about my mum’s
own time playing the drums in a punk band
throughout university. to the stories of how
she’d played in some bar or, actually getting to
34

There was no doubt in my mind that this was the
instrument I wanted to play. (I can already see my
mum underselling this – shut up.) And naively, I
thought that being a girl was going to be something
that would make me stand out. However, what I
found was that it in fact meant that I would have to
spend the rest of my time playing in bands,
justifying my role and getting told that I was pretty
good for a girl.
I have played the drums since I was seven, which
means that I have spent over fourteen years ruining
my hearing. I was fortunate to have a fantastic
teacher, who I saw every Thursday after school for
all fourteen of those years, Throughout this time, I
was involved in several bands including the
eponymous school jazz band. It was here that I had
my first real taste of subversion from the other
members of the band (let’s be honest – the other
boys in the band – we only had one other girl) and
the pressure to prove myself worthy every practice
by those in charge. In all, the effect was that I was
made to feel uncomfortable in the group musical
situations, made to feel like I had to compete and
made to feel that I didn’t belong.
These issues are the underlying outcomes of the
more significant problem in music; that being the
scarcity of female musicians. In truth, it’s the
significant driver for most industries be it plumbing
or be it thermo-nuclear engineering.
Women simply aren’t being represented enough,
and the hangover effect is that it nurtures the type
of environments that I have described in the
opening of this piece, that allows the few women
that do try to join feel marginalised and out of
place. All of this perpetuates in a vicious cycle, as
the fewer women that achieve success as musicians
(success being entirely threshold free, small
victories are victories) results in fewer girls taking
up instruments, therefore extending the divide.
Growing up the main female drummers that I can
remember idolising were Meg White, Moe Tucker
and Karen Carpenter. And that’s it. This has been
extended somewhat now that I have a greater
access to less mainstream music, but the list still
isn’t as long and comprehensive of genre that it
could be.
Another hangover that manifests itself due to the
scarcity of female musicians, is the idea that we
must then compete with each other within that
group. Potty Mouth’s Bass player, Ally Einbinder,
sums it up perfectly in this quote taken from an
interview with Refinery29,’When you’re in a maledominated
environment, where men are at the top of the
hierarchy, and there’s not enough room for women to
enter the top, that’s when you get women competing
with one another.’ I am guilty of buying into the idea
of scarcity, pitting myself against my fellow female
drummers (what few there are) to gain an
imaginary title that actually marginalizes my ability
to my gender, rather than my general ability to
play. Its something I have tried to improve on in my
last few years playing the drums, always keeping in
mind that I should be holding the door open and
not simply shutting it behind me.
Like pulling off big old dirty plasters that have been
festering, the acrimony and marginalisation
35

towards female musicians needs to stop.
Specifically, the gendering of instruments and
the reliance on stereotypes to maintain the
traditional power constructs of gender. The
question that irritates me the most that
exemplifies this struggle, is the typical ‘do you
sing?’ It may seem like a small and absurd thing
to get annoyed about, but to me it represents
the inability to assimilate female musicianship
to anything as far-fetched as a woman wielding
the actual tools of the activity. Instead we have
to view women in the nurturer role, it being
almost unheard of for a woman to just be able
to shred on the guitar or drums without also
promoting the agenda of a broken heart
through vocals.
In my own experiences of playing music, I have
been made to look like the ‘girl’ in the band. At
a Jazz Festival Youth Competition, I was made
to wear a dress. This was in contrast to the rest
of the band, who were given the option of dress
shirts. The reasoning behind this mandate: I
was a girl and the rest of the band was made up
of boys. At no point did the outfit improve our
performance, but regardless of my comfort and
my ability to play properly when wearing it, the
connection between my sex and what was
perceived to be the correct representation of it
was pushed. I should have been given the
capacity to choose what I wanted to wear, but
instead the stereotype of my gender was
reinforced. I was also immediately on the back
foot, as I had to endure the extra selfconsciousness
of wearing something that isn’t
comfortable to play in. (I don’t know if you
know much about the drums, but it requires
you to have your legs open – rendering a dress
rather pointless and revealing)
This approach should be adopted by all
members of the band, but for some reason boys
have an intensely unverified confidence that the
size of their dick corresponds to their ability to
achieve. The Jam group is a perfect place to
watch this type of peacocking performance. It
will start with the song choice, and those that
don’t have the entire Stadium Arcadian album
memorised will have failed at the first hurdle.
Once a song has been picked, probably
‘Readymade’ so that the bassist can have their
moment, it’s a battle of who can get away with
as much wank as possible before the dirge of
sound eventually collapses in on itself.
It is a spectacle the usually renders nothing less
than a splitting headache, and an irrational
anger that you’ve had minutes of your life
wasted by a pack of egotistical beach balls. Yet, I
am made to feel inadequate.
I tried to get a few comments from my fellow
female musicians for this piece, but I soon
realised going through my friends list that there
were very few. I guess it highlights the whole
issue perfectly that the number doesn’t even go
up to ten.
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This is where programs like the Jam group are meant
to step in, but instead they continue to foster an
environment that projects hostility. It seems hard to
believe that it a world besieged by SoundCloud mac
boys, there isn’t at least a few more women able to
come play with me. Catherine Popper, bassist and
session musician, sums it up for me: ‘
it’s nice to group
up and remember
what it is we
really do.
That we’re not
angels, and we’re
not whores.
We’re just
musicians.’
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Get your groove on to some awesome female
musicians and bands.
1. Black Coffee—Ella Fitzgerald
2. Elephants—Warpaint
3. Tom’s Diner—Suzanne Vega
4. Blue—Joni Mitchell
5. Chuck E’s in Love—Ricki Lee Jones
6. Digital Witness—St. Vincent
7. Horses in my Dreams—PJ Harvey
8. The Greatest—Cat Power
9. Human Behaviour—Bjork
10.Will you Love me Tomorrow ? - Carole King
11.Video Girl—FKA Twigs
12.Santa Fe—Eilen Jewell
13.Walk on by—Dionne Warwick
14.Your Best American Girl—Mitski
15.My Baby Just Cares for Me –Nina Simone
16. A Place in the Sun—Marine Girls
Its not meant to be a vibe—back off .
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The day has been long. It has been long in two ways. One, that you were up by the time the first rays
of sunlight broke the milky dawn. And two, that the entire day has been dedicated to letting others
borrow your brain. It feels like, quite literally, you’ve taken one of those small bone saws that hang
in the window of a butchers, made a hasty incision along the forehead, and plonked the mushy pink
-matter into the hands of the waiting vultures. The day has been long, but it is now over.
And residing in the frosty clutches of your off-white fridge, is the elixir that will make the night
short. Before, you’ve even set your eyes on its familiar shape, the sound of the fridge opening is
enough to send a thrill down your spine. It’s a tickle at the back of your throat; a collective sigh of
relief from both shoulders, as the tension releases. This is a dance that you have done before. The
hue of the wine is barely a shade worth mentioning. But, in a day so violently filled with colour and
distraction, it is a welcome change.
In a rush of competing responsibilities, you own two baking trays but no wine glasses. It’s a shame
that you live with every time friends visit. Something beats on the walls telling you that if you take
that step towards that etcetera of adulthood, you’ll no longer be able to reside in that half-state that
justifies the manic attitude you possess. So, sitting on the kitchen bench is a prized Darth Vader
mug. The top of his head has been cut open to allow you to drink from. It is like you are drinking
evil thoughts.
You pour the wine into the mug. It makes that ‘chug’ noise that splits any student flat. Before,
you’ve even called for the others, three more mugs have landed next to yours. But you’re selfish and
you need a taste first. The cut you made on your forehead is starting to ooze and ache. The day has
been long.
The liquid crawls to the tip of your tongue. It lavishes your wits with a sour burn. Fruity at first, the
flavour morphs into that sickly sweet tang of alcohol that lingers. You chase it down with the Mango
concoction, until the source of the fluid shakes out one remaining drop. Slammed back on to the
bench with gusto, poor Vader is refilled again. This time you sip at the wine. The evening has just
started.
The colours inside your head go spinning around. People are screaming and shouting, while you
stare at the ceiling. By now, they all look like monsters. Figments of what they once were. One of the
monsters sits in the bath, clawing at everything it sees. Another one waits by the oven, overtaken by
hunger. You are just lucky to be ignored. Nevertheless, you’ve hidden all the knives in a panic.
Before long, you’ve reached that point where you’ve got to search for a silver lining. Regret and
remorse are listed in the fine print of ingredients on the label. With your feet in the air, and your
head on the ground, you’ll have to ask whether there is any turning back?
42

43

44

69 THOUGHTS YOU’LL HAVE WHILE
WATCHING
‘A Simple Favour’
and
at the cinema
45

-
46

47

48

49

50

TO ‘DA’ OR NOT TO
‘DA’
A Review of ‘Poet in Da Corner’ by Little Britches
There is nothing like seeing the phenomenon of a
middle-age white man throwing shapes. I can tell
you that it is a lot of arms and not a lot of
movement from the hips. I can’t really comment
because I dance like a pogo stick, but whilst my
dancing is often prompted by forced social
outings to ‘the club’, this man's moves were born
of a collective need from the entire audience to
‘get jiggy’ with the performance of ‘Poet in Da
Corner.’
Misanthropic McNugget was very kind to extend
an invitation to the performance, courtesy of a
family member (@mzaboura). And we arrived at
the Royal Court Theatre in London, with literally
no idea where the night was heading. The few
words that McNugget was able to offer regarding
the content of the show was ‘spoken-word, poetry
and Shakespeare.’
While researching this show for my review, I
encountered an argument in the comment section
of a Guardian Article (yes, I did the lazy student
tactic of looking for other reviews), where a duel
of words was taking place over the correct name
of the show. In the theme of true English
dramatism, I guess you could call it a, to ‘Da’ or
not to ‘Da’ moment. Back and forth, two
anonymous users battled over what one (let's call
him Laertes) thought was a typo, while the other
(Hamlet) undertook the protection of the creative
integrity of the title. It was a war of principle.
And yet, it is something that I imagine that the
star and writer of the show, Deborah ‘Debris’
Stevenson would find funny. The entire premise
of ‘Poet in Da Corner’ is about the blend between
the mediums of contemporary grime music and
poetry. So, in many ways the struggle depicted in
the comment section, was exactly some of the
tension that arises in the show. Based on the 2003
album ‘Boy in Da Corner’ by Dizzie Rascal, the
show is semi-autobiographical and follows Debris
through an adolescence that is marked by the toing
and fro-ing of growing up in a strict Mormon
household, while also (to use that coming of age
trope) trying to establish who she is outside of
that household. One of my favourite lines in the
entire performance depicts this struggle,
comparing home life to being packed into
Tupperware. There is nothing I love more than an
extended metaphor, than a metaphor that uses
contemporary references; I was enthralled.
A scene that should be underlined for its pure
production flare, was (much to McNuggets horror)
the milk waterboarding carousel that saw one of
the actors in the production doused in a ‘Flash
Dance’ explosion of religious morality and
blame.
“...BORN OF A COL-
LECTIVE NEED TO
GET JIGGY...”
51

The show goes on to broach themes of sexuality,
representation and personal trauma, using both the
music of grime and dance to explore these topics in a
flashy engaging yet still entirely thought-provoking
way.
The highlight of the shows content was the final
‘conflict’ that traversed the entire stage, as both the
character of Debris and her childhood friend (now
foe) spit rhymes at each other so fast that I could
almost see the broadswords clashing.
It was this set-piece that prompted the dancing from
the audience and achieved, what I consider to be the
ultimate ode to the performer, the desire to run home
immediately and start furiously writing poetry about
how a lot of your conversations are about ‘copypasting
answers that match, and not getting too
attached.’ (See what I did there…contemporary email
references)
Both McNugget and I left the theatre raving and
infinitely inspired.
Cast: Debris Stevenson , Jammz , Cassie
Clare and Kirubel Belay
Drirected by Ola Ince
Written by Debris Stevenson
Music and composition by Michael
‘Mikey J’ Asante
52

COYOTE NOME DE PLUME
Dead behind the eyes
Shiny, happy hair full of
potential and secrets
Hands permanently in claw
form
Reaching for hope
Chic and impractical outfit
A typical
COYOTE reader
Enviable ankles and leather
brogues
You may have noticed that all the contributors at Coyote have unconventional names and titles.
Although we wish, these weren’t the names we were born with and are rather the consequence of a
rigorous personal journey all contributors are obligated to go on when they join Coyote. The first
stage of this journey always starts at the local pub, where members are asked to drink an entire
pitcher of ‘Long Island iced tea’ from a purple crazy straw that was handed down from the original
Coyote, Truman ‘Baby Knuckles’ Fulcher. From there, it’s a complete mystery where candidates end
up as they are seen stumbling out of the double-barrel doors of the pub, only to be found a day later
fast asleep on the yellow slide at Victoria Park. It’s at this moment that their unconventional baptism
is completed, as the pile-up of furious toddlers awaiting their turn spills past the top of the slide. The
Coyote contributor is dubbed with the first insult to be flung at them by the irate tots.
Lucky for the loyal reader that has made it this far, we aren’t going to force you to do this (although
you may do so in your free time) and have devised a simple quiz in order for you to find your
Written By Misanthropic McNugget 53
Coyote ‘Nom de Plume.’ Read on with care.

PART ONE
This section of the quiz will form the first part of your Coyote Name. Answer truthfully, as there are no doovers.
Q.1 There is a place in the supermarket that is seldom visited. It exists in a realm beyond the freezer section
that only those lucky to have a parent that is liberal with the cash and food-colouring ratio allowed in foods
will take you. Its cold and poorly lit but nestled between Chilly Chicken Kievs and Quorn Red-Onion sausages,
is the neon treat that has no equal. The yellow frosting and multi-coloured sprinkles belie the level
of whimsy that is contained in the plain white box. It cuts an imposing rectangle, but I have yet to taste its
gooey chilled middle. Have you ever eaten an ice cream cake?
YES = Go to Q2
NO = Go to Q5
Q2. Have you ever gone to the Cinema alone?
YES = Go to Q3
NO = Go to Q6
Q.3 The year is 2031. Outside large black clouds collect on the horizon and the promise of a storm lingers in
the air. You have only been outside for 10 minutes and already you can feel the heaviness of it settling on
your skin. You make your way back inside the building to your desk. It’s been so long since you’ve seen
the sun that even the harsh lamp that sits next to your laptop is warming. Soon, just the backlight of the
screen will be enough to bring you back to those few days were you able to lounge languidly at the park
and eat ice creams until you were sick. Soon, you whisper to yourself. Soon. Does the prospect of VR make
you nervous?
YES = Go to Q7
NO = Go to Q4
Q4. Would you buy me an ice cream cake if I asked nicely?
YES = Go to Q8 NO = Go to Q9
The NUMBER YOU CHOSE is the first part of your name and can be found on
Q5. Not usually one to be confrontational, you notice that the quantity of your coconut shampoo has been
reducing exponentially lately. It’s not an expensive shampoo, but as a student you are quite frugal and in
order to survive for the rest of the month, you’ve budgeted out only one bottle of the fruity hair product.
Additionally, this particular brand of coconut Shampoo is your favourite, and often has you catching yourself
during the day wondering where that luscious scent is, only to realise it’s yourself. The only explanation
is that your flatmate is stealing. On a quick of sniff of their scalp, it is conclusive. You decide too?
(1) Just let it go and buy another bottle of shampoo, knowing that although you won’t be able to have the
chicken burger from Spoons this month, that your flatmate is genuinely a lovely person that makes up for
their criminal behaviour by being generally clean and tidy
(2) Be extremely passive aggressive and take all your soap products, food and personal belongings out of
common areas; purchase a small hot plate, a camping shower and toilet so that you never have to leave the
safety and protection of your room.
(3) Confront your flatmate but have no actual backbone and end up giving them the bottle of shampoo,
while simultaneously thanking them for allowing you the honour of their company.
(4) Be normal and just tell them to buy their own shampoo
(5) Tell your mum.
54

Q6. Its 2003, and your mum wants to know what musical instrument you want to learn? (She will later threaten
to take away said instrument because QUOTE: you obviously don’t want to play it and I am just wasting my
money’ – even though you practice EVERYDAY for 30 mins until the age of 18. Mum just doesn’t realise that
your sweet Nintendo DS is calling with the promise of some sick Pokémon.)
(6) Guitar
(9) Bongos
(7) Piano
(10) Drums
(8) Bass
Q7. While out being social at a Law school party, you knock over a particularly bright, sticky drink on the
hosts carpet. You decide too?
(11) Knock over another drink, you don’t like these people anyway
(12) Immediately tell the host, and offer to pay for a professional clean
(13) Leave. I don’t know why you were there in the first place.
(14) Pretend that someone else did it and sidle out of the room
(15) Laugh and keep partying.
Q8. You have just killed a man by putting a gun against his head. Your mum finds out and cries. How could
you have thrown your life away? Blame it on the:
(16) The boogie
(17) The dog
(18) Beelzebub
(19) A fragile sense of self that has been severely inflated since going through puberty
(20) A growing suspicion that the only way to get ahead in life is to be an asshole
Q9. You are annoying and difficult, so you get the number 21.
(1) Habitual
(2) Cyber
(3) Nurse
(4) Smooth-talkin
(5) Admin
(6) Bubba
(9) Premium
(10)Destroyer
(11) Daddy
(12)Geraldine
(13) Darth
(14) Foxy
(17) Dorito-Cheeto
(18) Lil
(19) Short Round
(20) Mamma
(21) Beige
(7) Laser-eyes
(8) Lord
(15) Baby
(16) Mother
55

PART TWO
Before you lies an open stretch of road. You are behind the wheel of a red convertible and are taking the corners
like the Formula One drivers of Monaco. The sun beats down hard and as you go around a particularly tight corner,
you are blinded by sunstrike. Unfortunately, this corner skirts the beginning of a large drop, and like Kris
Kristofferson in a ‘Star is Born’ you leave a troubled past to start anew. What song is playing on the radio?
1.‘Smalltown Boy’ – The Bronski Beat
2.‘Tessalate’ – Alt-J
3.‘Young Hearts Run Free’ – Candi Stanton
4.‘Glue’ – Bicep
5.‘Evergreen’ – Barbra Streisand
6.‘Happy House’ – Siouxise and The Banshees
7.‘Love Will Tear Us Apart’ – Joy Division
8.‘Freestyler’ – BoomFunk MC’s
9.‘Jump in the line (Senora, Senora)’ – Harry
Belafonte
10.‘Karmacoma’ – Massive Attack
11.‘Breathin’ – Ariana Grande
12.‘Dress’ – Taylor Swift
13.‘Ribs’ – Lorde
14.‘Pussy’ – Brazilian Girls
15.‘1950’ – King Princess
16.‘Feel Good Inc’ – The Gorillaz
17.‘September’ – Earth, Wind & Fire
18.‘Just Like Heaven’ – The Cure
19.‘Bigmouth Strikes Again’ – The Smiths
20.‘Electric Feel’ – MGMT
21.‘Hounds of Love’ - Kate Bush
22.‘Young, Dumb & Broke’ – Khalid
23.‘Satisfaction’ – The Rolling Stones
24.‘The Greatest’ – Cat Power
25.‘My Baby Just Cares for Me’ – Nina Simone
26.‘Masters of War’ – Bob Dylan
27.‘Jesus Wept’ – Mavis Staples
28.‘VCR’ – The xx
29.‘Shake it Out’ – Florence & The Machine
30.‘Where Did I Go?’ – Jorja Smith
31.‘Modern Girl’ – Sleater-Kinney
32.‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds’ – The Beatles
33.‘Edge of Seventeen’ – Stevie Nicks
34.‘The Chain’ – Fleetwood Mac
35.‘Monster’ – Kanye West, Jay Z, Nicki Minaj,
Bon Iver
36.‘Because the Night’ – Patti Smith
37.‘Gangster Paradise’ – Coolio
38.‘Future Starts Slow’ – The Kills
39.‘Bodak Yellow’ – Cardi B
40.‘Ready or Not’ – Fugees
41.‘Shoop’ – Salt-N-Pepper
42.‘Old Man’ – Neil Young
43.‘In a Sentimental Mood’ – Duke Ellington,
John Coltrane
44.‘Monkey Gone to Heaven’ – The Pixies
45.‘Lover, You Should’ve Come Over’ – Jeff
Buckley
46.‘Take it Easy’ – The Eagles
47.‘Love for Sale’ – Ella Fitzgerald
48.‘Whole Lotta Love’ – Led Zeppelin
49.‘Son of a Preacher Man’ – Dusty Springfield
50.‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ – Queen
51.‘Piano Man’ – Billy Joel
52.‘Dream On’ – Aerosmith
53.‘Ivy’ – Frank Ocean
54.‘Baba O’Riley’ – The Who
55.‘Born to Run’ – Bruce Springsteen
56.‘Think’ – Aretha Franklin
57.‘You want it Darker’ – Leonard Cohen
58.‘ Malamente’ – Rosalia
59.‘Fake Plastic Trees’ – Radiohead
60.‘Best to You’ – Blood Orange
61.‘Redbone’ – Childish Gambino
62.‘Easy’ – The Commodores
63.‘Ernie’ – Fat Freddy’s Drop
64.‘Tears Dry on their Own’ – Amy Winehouse
65.‘On & On’ - Erykah Badu
66.‘Tom’s Diner’ – Suzanne Vega
67.‘Human Behaviour’ – Bjork
68.‘Chasing Pavements’ – Adele
69.‘We found Love’ – Rihanna, Calvin Harris
70.‘Fast Love Pt 1’ – George Michael
71.‘Timber’ – Kesha, Pitbull
72.‘Genisis’ – Grimes
73.‘Gin and Juice’ – Snoop Dogg
56

The NUMBER of your song is the second part of your name.
1.Manson
2.Babs
3.Shark
4.Bowie
5.Norman
6.Glue
7.Trowel
8.Ginsberg
9.Maggot
10.Carbone
11.Pickle
12.Jingle-Jangle
13.Kool Aid
14.Nutter
15.Windex
16.Suga
17.Pepper
18.Corgi
19.Lump
20.Vermeer
21.Tate
22.Orange
23.Siracha
24.Inertia
25.Witch
26.Cruella
27.Sandalwood
28.Grande
29.Cooper
30.Mooshu
31.Cubbie
32.Partay
33.Denning
34.Squat
35.Monday
36.Tiff
37.Ivy
38.Spinach
39.MJ
40.Hoover
41.Dicey
42.Edge
43.Esther
44.Prouty
45.Pank
46.Shepherd
47.Suffragetto
48.Pumpkin
49.Honey
50.Wallace
51.Kiddo
52.Grady
53.Ripley
54.Barranca
55.Amrish
56.Soft-Scoop
57.Kinkle
58.Cherry
59.Munchkin
60.Meal-Deal
61.Eight
62.Scooby
63.Paris
64.Sausage
65.Juniper
66.Condor
67.Shelly
68.Stripes
69.Buster
70.Wilson
71.Hagrid
72.Skeeter
73.Wickers
Quiz by Little Britches.—The real challenge is guessing the origin
of these words. They traverse the universe.
57

My father took me into the garden
He pointed a gun at a rock
Can you go as fast as me? He jeered.
My father took me into the garden.
He shot at a rock so it painted the grass like a pollock painting
Can you do it faster than me? He jeered.
My father took me into the garden.
I pointed a gun at him.
I painted the grass like a pollock painting.
Poem by Misanthropic McNugget
Based on True Events
58

59

The first step in cooking rabbit stew is catching the rabbit
Sitting around a table that hasn’t been cleared in days,
Sticky with beer and crumbs
There is no other place I would rather be
Bowls barely full with a plain and stale mix,
This might not be fine dining, but it sure beats
Pretending under the light of candlesticks.
It is easy to forget the time
The uncomfortableness of comfort forces the clock to chime.
Under the sterile lights, I will stay up with you
Eating our pasta and staring as lover’s do.
Poem by Cuzy-moto
60

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