In a letter sent to staff and students at the LSE, on Saturday, it was revealed that the BBC had carried out its own risk assessment and deemed the risks to be acceptable, despite the potential for catastrophic outcomes for the seemingly unaware students involved.

A student who went on the trip, wishing to remain anonymous, told the Beaver that “we were not made aware of the presence of several BBC journalists at the time of the flight to Pyongyang. We were led to believe that John Sweeney was a History professor, although it was later implied that he was not a professor at the LSE.”

John Sweeney, one of the reporters who travelled undercover with the LSE students has refuted the allegations made in the letter, stating that the LSE students “knew and understood what was at stake for them before [the] trip.”

Sweeney added that the LSE joins a North Korean government agency in asking for the programme to be pulled, but says the BBC will not bow to that pressure.

The LSE argues that the BBC’s unauthorised use of the School’s name could affect whether actual LSE academics can gain access to the hermit kingdom for research purposes. In a statement to students and staff, the LSE claims that its “academics work on aspects of many politically sensitive parts of the world, including by travel to those locations. It is vital that their integrity is taken for granted and their academic freedom preserved.”

Alex Peters-Day, General-Secretary of the LSE Students’ Union told the Beaver that “it was not the BBC’s place to make decisions on behalf of the students on the trip, nor was it the BBC’s place to put at risk all those within the School.”

“What the BBC did was reckless and ethically reprehensible and I am just glad we are not facing a situation where our students are being detained in North Korea.”

A student who spoke with the Beaver on condition of anonymity said that “there were very strict visa requirements and background checks… such as no journalistic background” to enter the country, “I didn’t make the first round of checks but was allowed in when someone dropped out [of the trip].”

In the statement, the LSE assured students that it “is fully supportive of the principle of investigative journalism in the public interest, and applauds the work of journalists in dangerous parts of the world. We cannot, however, condone the use of our name, or the use of our students, as cover for such activities.”

The BBC has experienced a number of scandals in recent months, with a BBC Panorama producer resigning last week after it was revealed that the programme bribed a security consultant working for luxury property developers, Harlequin.

Hayley Fenton, Arisa Manawapat, Ira Lorandou, Matthew Worby, and Liam Brown contributed to this story.

The stage – a typical country house drawing room – is (not quite) set as the endearing but by no means competent members of Cornley’s Drama Society start to play out their murder mystery. There is, of course, a limited number of ways that these over-used affairs can pan out (as those who play Cluedo will know) and so it is testament to the skillful dramatists who make up Mischief Theatre that their stereotypes of characters (butler, inspector, jealous brother, unfaithful wife) entertain for the entire hour. The premise of the play is in the title, and The Play That Goes Wrong’s charm can be found in the varying ways in which the characters react when things do happen to go wrong. It would be unwise to think too deeply about it, but it is nonetheless interesting to ask what should an actor do when lines are forgotten, props are not in place and the set is not working? Skip the lines? Ignore the props? Walk out altogether? The answer here is all three – and more.

At the center of the pandemonium that is the first scene is Cornley player Jonathan (Henry Lewis), who is collapsed on a chaise-long playing dead as Mr Haversham. Chris, in his role as the inspector, is circling the room and Dennis (Jonathan Sayer) plays the hapless butler who proceeds to step on Jonathan’s outstretched hand before crashing a silver tray onto his head. The dead man reacts as any living one would – the play is already gone very wrong, but this is just the tip of an iceberg inscribed with ‘WRONG’ across it in very large letters. There a gags aplenty in a slapstick style that is made successful by the obvious thought and planning gone in to devising the piece, the group is rewarded (albeit in laughter) for embedding a series of mishaps that contribute in some way to the plot or a larger joke overall. When the door is swung open to knock Sandra (Lotti Maddox) unconscious, there is a reason for this, it is not only for the sake of a few laughs – this would be cheap, and Mischief are anything but.

The simultaneous plot lines, of the drama society, as well as Murder at Haversham Manor, though clean could have been used to greater effect. The characters of the drama society members did seep through in parts, but it was patchy at best. The drama troupe’s failures are made more engaging by a familiarity with the characters. For example the audience learns that Chris is a fairly competent actor left reeling by the inability of his peers, and this makes an extended exchange with Dennis, who is reading the stage direction ‘exit’ aloud, even funnier. The following line is tossed back and forth between the pair before Chris makes his point made by emphasizing the final word: ‘if you need me, I’ll be in my quarters. Exit.’

For such a talented cast, whose members have on the whole have graduated from LAMDA, I should imagine that to throw out the rule book and act poorly on purpose is harder than it sounds. Hopefully there will not be any unwanted side effects on show in Mischief’s next production which, if The Play That Goes Wrong is anything to go by, will certainly be worth seeing. Without doubt, The Play That Goes Wrong is currently the best worst show in town.

Newly opened Bone Daddies is undeniably worth a visit. Located on Peter Street in Soho, it offers its guests a fabulous variety of Ramen dishes. The drinks menu also features some rather exciting choices; including interesting cocktails, teas, and a host of different types of Sake. The venue itself has a very ‘cool’ and ‘hip’ vibe to it, with interesting posters decorating its walls and rock music playing in the background. Even the choice of table decorations was interesting—jars of hairties (to keep your hair out of the way, thus allowing you to savour the delish meal without having to worry about anything getting in the way) and garlic cloves. Of course, other condiments such as soy sauce and chilli sauce accompany each table.  This is not your average Ramen bar; it is trendy and makes a statement, attracting Londoners looking for an exciting culinary treat. Even the choice of name for the restaurant is quirky —one can only imagine the connotations associated.

I began with a Soft Shell Crab (£8), which was similar to tempura due to its batter. The crab was soft and perfectly cooked. What was most impressive about the dish was that despite being fried, it was not oily and greasy—a job well done. This was served with a delicious tangy dipping sauce containing ginger and chilli, which accompanied the crab perfectly. The texture of the sauce was similar to that of homemade Indian green chutney. I ordered a traditional green tea to accompany my meal, although upon my next visit I would be tempted to try one of the more exciting cocktails on offer. After the delicious crab, I was ready for my main course.

I decided to try the 20 hour Tonkotsu Ramen (£11), which consists of a rich and creamy pork bone broth. As expected, the broth was quite thick and full of strong flavours. The pork was tender and sweet, but it was the perfectly cooked eggs with runny yolk that made all the difference. Absolutely delicious! The portion was generous and the sufficient quantity of all the toppings that I asked for were added—the brave hearted may want to try ‘fat pipette’ as an extra (I certainly did not fit into this category!) Instead, I opted for bean sprouts, corn, bamboo and wakame—the last of which was not an option but they were still willing to add it. Each of the extra toppings costs you an extra £0.20—£1, depending on what you choose. The only slightly disappointing thing was the temperature of the food. I would have preferred it to be hotter, especially given the cold temperatures outside! Unfortunately they do not have any desserts on their menu—this left me craving for something sweet to finish my meal. Bone Daddies could perhaps consider adding a few options in the sweet category and the menu would, in turn, be complete.

Bone Daddies is definitely worth a visit for anyone who enjoys their Ramen. It offers a variety of different types and has substantial portions, allowing you to fully explore and enjoy a variety of flavours. The staff also adds to the vibe of this place—not only are they trendy, but they are also friendly and willing to answer questions about the ingredients and food, constantly offering complementary suggestions. The place is known to get quite busy during lunch hours and dinnertime with long lines forming on the street outside. They stop serving between lunch and dinner and do not take reservations. So, you may have to wait in line, but it is most definitely worth the effort.

What Dorian has is given to all of us in abundance at the moment of our birth, but gradually diminished by the ruthless ravage of time. Such is Youth, with it terrific bloom and inevitable decline. In some ways, it is like Life, ephemereal and limited, only more cruel as its end lacks the cathartic suddenness that Death mercifully provides. The degeneration is slow and drawn out, with precision comparable only to deliberate torture. No doubt, this is worsened by our modern society  in which the idealised image of physical beauty bombards one wherever he goes. Advertisements, magazines, reality shows, with their conspiratorial smirks, show us that to be young is to be, period, and any existence aside from that is hardly worthy of attention, let alone representation.

The sexual aspect of life, too, is dominated by this doctrine of youth. Simply turn on gay hookup application Grindr and you will see; half the men is shirtless, with their perfectly sculpted muscles bursting through the screen’s confine. And the other half? Old men looking for young lads, vicariously living through them in the hopeless quest to recapture that tiny spark of youth, one they had along ago but is now irrevocably lost—infinite Oscar Wildes staring in awe of infinite Bosies, all within the flashing screen of a smartphone.

In the face of this inevitability, many lost souls turn to the solace of pleasure. Its sweet binding spell hypnotises one into a state of temporary bliss, a false paradise where one transcends the self-consious limitedness of existence, even if for short while. Whether this takes a form of sex, music, or substance, the solution is simply unsustainable. The quest for the edge of ultimate sensory experience will achieve just that: reaching the edge—instead of transcendence what one will find there is a wall, strong and impenetrable. Dorian Gray was hardly the first nor the only man encountering such unsurpassable obstacle.

And yet, there is consolation. In his lesser-read work The Soul of Man Under Socialism, Wilde proposes self-realisation instead of gratification as the only source of a meaningful life. One achieves not only one’s own Individualisation, and the joyous sense of freedom derived, but also contributes to humanity as a whole.

While Wilde’s suggestion of socialism as a political system that would enable such a utopia, in hindsight, reeks of optimistic naivete, his critique of capitalism—a system in which  one is forced to pour too much of one’s creative energy into an acquisition of private property, and in which a man, as he is, is confused with his possesions—remains a compelling one. What, then, do we do? Perhaps the answer is best left to the pragmatists of our time. The artist has fulfilled  his duty: he painted a beautiful lie and pointed the way.

Three of us were on the train from Cambridge back to London one Saturday afternoon, analysing and reminiscing over the very eventful past twenty-four hours.  We had spent the night dancing, playing croquet, and giving ourselves fake backstories, and spent the morning recovering from the night before.  Midway through the journey, one of my friends – in fact, the first person outside of my flat that I had met at the LSE – said something along the lines of: “This weekend has really cemented our relationship.  It’s like Week Ten of Michaelmas Term again, when that last bit of awkwardness melted away because we went out together every night.”

That’s when it hit me – how far we’d come since that first day in the registration line.  Starting off at a new school, or at any new environment, is still simultaneously exciting and nerve-wracking, just like it was on the first day of kindergarten so many years ago.  I thought about the academic and professional opportunities that the LSE afforded me before I came here – now, I just want to make friends.  But how exactly do you make friends?  You want to give others a good first impression, but you don’t really know how others perceive you.  You want to be open, but not seem desperate or needy.  It’s a tricky balance.

So on the first day of class, I went in hoping to not make a fool of myself.  Luckily, I ran into that girl from the registration line again, and as a confidence boost, I met others who, I felt, must have presented themselves far more aggressively/cluelessly/ignorantly than I did.  Classes started, and everyone else was in the same boat, fishing around for friends.  Conversations were still very hushed and safe, and you weren’t sure who to smile at or whether you could ask so-and-so to have lunch, but invitations were extended and readily taken up.  You knew you had arrived when that Facebook friend request came in.

And the process repeated with every aspect of your time here – every module, every seminar group, every society or athletics club, every student residence.  Things started off quiet, tentative, and awkward, but after a few weeks – or in some cases, after a significant number of weeks, possibly approaching fifteen or twenty – it, in most cases, became comfortable.  You saw each other regularly, you learned each other’s names, and as soon as some people started talking, the tension was reduced for everyone else.

There were also those people who were just naturally better at socialising and including others, who took the initiative to reduce that tension.  Parties and outings were organised far away from the LSE, and you know that you’re only real friends once you start hanging out somewhere other than where you usually hang out.  You’ve then moved into the realm of the ‘true friend circle.’

Looking back over the year, you can start to identify when each of these ‘friend circles’ started forming.  Going to (or even just the pre-drinking before) Fabrik or the Ministry of Sound, semi-spontaneous day trips outside of London, cooking dinners and potlucks together, lining up in the nippy London winter for concerts, epic Saturday nights that somehow became Sunday mornings, and of course, learning about what (and who) others do in the bedroom. These are the relationships and memories that will last long after our degree programmes are over and we’re dispersed all over the world.

A few days ago, at one of my extracurriculars, I finally learned the name of someone I had talked to on an almost weekly basis for the past term – a tad late perhaps, but it’s a start.  That same day, one of the other student societies I’m involved with saw the culmination of a year’s worth of work.  We had bonded so much in the rehearsal for and lead-up to this, and suddenly, it was over – but it was also the start of a new group dynamic, one that will lead to more non-rehearsal-based bonding in the weeks and months to come.

It’s now the last week of Lent Term.  The year is more than half over, and while I’ve still got another year to go, a lot of my friends will be gone for good after the summer.  To make this pseudo-expiration date on our relationship (in the “see/bump into-each-other-every-so-often” way that we have become accustomed to) even more pressing, people are already going away during the Easter break.  And all this right when we’ve started to feel relaxed in each other’s company and dropped all boundaries as to what we can say to each other.

Another friend mentioned that roughly 70 per cent of all conversation is gossip, and – I’m not sure if our other friends picked up on it – that means that we could potentially lose 70 per cent of our conversation material after the year is over.  I’d like to think, though, that my friends and I have more than other friends in common.  We’ll have the Summer Term, and then hopefully the summer, to get together, and when we meet some unspecified time in the future, we’ll know what to do to have a good time: drop sexual innuendos, take train rides through the British countryside, the list goes on …

Last weekend saw the mass celebration of St Patrick’s day. These festivities take place all around the world and are, for the most part it seems, an opportunity to wear green, drink beer and attempt to do really bad Irish accents. But what is the greater significance behind Ireland’s patron saint and national apostle?

Supposedly born in the late fourth century St Patrick is credited with spreading Christianity throughout Ireland. In folklore he is said to have driven snakes from Ireland however this is most likely a metaphor for his expulsion of pagan ideas from the country. The reason for celebrating this day on the 17th March is not fully known. Some suggest it was the day of St Patrick’s death whereas others merely believe it was chosen by the Irish as the day to celebrate his life. The place where St Patrick died is also a contentious issue. Some accounts suggest it was in Saul, Ireland, whereas others suggest it was in Glastonbury, England. Indeed Glastonbury Abbey does have a Chapel of St. Patrick and is said to be his resting place. The national Irish symbol of the Shamrock is also supposed to originate from St Patrick. Apparently he used it as a method for explaining the Holy Trinity upon his arrival in Ireland. This symbol may also help to explain the Irish connection with the colour green.

However this festival is no longer limited to the Irish with people all around the world celebrating in style. Indeed there is a top ten list of best Irish pubs to visit in America and recipes for making your own guinness with a twist. St Patrick’s day is marked by the Royal Irish Regiment in Britain with similar parades being held as far afield as Japan. The question on my mind is whether these mass celebrations for the Irish saint are just a way of people showing their love for the Irish or for people to mass stereotype a nation?

To some extent it is a little of both. No doubt there are Irish people around the world who cringe as the crowds come out in their green finery to spend the day in the local public house. However so long as the celebrations remain on friendly terms then perhaps they are not such a bad thing. Indeed if they help to facilitate mass celebration and understanding of other cultures then why not?

They say: “A tidy house is a tidy mind.” Agreed. My addition would be: A tidy mind is a tidy study rhythm. And to achieve my tidy mind, I have to plan, to organize, and to make lists. In the long run, it helps me save time, more “quality time” to study that is. By sticking to my plans and lists, I create certain rules for myself, which allow me for example some time off without having a bad conscience. Additionally, it gives my life structure in a hectic environment such as London. When it comes to revising, preparing for exams and writing essays, having a plan is essential. But when planning takes up more time than the actual writing and studying, it is a sign of procrastination. That should definitely be avoided because it is counterproductive.

I made an overview of deadlines for the Lent and Summer term during the Christmas break. (It’s not too late to start/to make one yourself yet!) This way I can keep an overview and can check off things I have done, which never fails to produce a great feeling of pleasure and accomplishment. However, having this overview doesn’t mean I finish things earlier than absolutely necessary. Yes, I realize I have a deadline. Yes, I start thinking about it early. Yes, I keep thinking about it a lot. And suddenly: yes, I’ve thought about it for so long and sketched down so many ideas and thoughts that I get lost in details and almost miss the deadline.

Thus, too much planning can go hand in hand with over-thinking. Rumination, the psychological term for it, can take many forms. In my case, it is the planning that sometimes goes too far. Other overthinkers leave things to the last minute because they are afraid of making the wrong decision. This might be not finishing an application because one isn’t sure about which approach would be the right one. Or worrying about an exam so much that one doesn’t take up studying in the first place. Or a personal example: I changed my dissertation topic three times in the last eight weeks because I didn’t know which would be the “right” or “best” one. That means that I did a great deal of initial research thrice But at some point I just had to make a decision – for my own sanity and also because final dissertation topics had to be handed in – and stuck with my last idea. Now, I have to trust myself that it was maybe not the best decision, but a good one nonetheless.

But what can one do to prevent or overcome the vicious circle of rumination? Everything that makes one stop dwelling! That can be anything from a short walk, a coffee or a workout. The idea is to get distracted (in a positive way) for a while. Leaving the matter that is causing distress aside, can result both in a more productive attitude and in refilled energy reserves. For our mind is much more extraordinary than we generally make it out to be, this kind of distraction doesn’t necessarily lead the mind to let go of a matter completely. That means, we are still “thinking” about a struggle without even noticing it consciously. And sometimes the aha! effect, also know as “Eureka!”, hits. This phenomenon is called insight in psychology and refers to the sudden moment the solution to a problem springs up without warning. Suddenly, one sees that a the creative approach for the application is better. Or one discovers a new kind of motivation to start revising. Or in my case, when I realized that is doesn’t matter which dissertation topic I pick as long as I am interested and it is realistically achievable.

In the end, I think, everybody needs to find a healthy amount of planning for exam preparation and essay writing which is fine as long as it doesn’t end in procrastination or rumination. This amount depends, as usual, on the individual herself. I know I couldn’t live a sane life without my plans, lists, and little rules, but every once in a while my mind has to be untidy to surprise me, as well.

Every time before finals, I try to comfort myself in the same way: “You have been a student for years, and you know how to manage your time to be prepared and get through it.” Unfortunately, self-comfort is not useful when essay deadlines are so close and exams are waving at me. I seldom complain that I am stressed out, but I do feel the pressure: fewer sleeping hours, more caffeine taken, being easily upset or anxious, which all result in a disorganized schedule and messy life. Since pressure cannot disappear during this special period, how can we relieve pressure to a certain degree so as to let it play the role of motivation instead of obstruction? 

Study: Study is not the whole part of our life, but it is grades that matter the most from our time as students: we need to graduate and get our degrees. Once you are prepared, your confidence can relieve your pressure to some extent. If you are interested in your courses, you will find it easy to review all materials from lectures and seminars. If you are not, pair up with your friends because during the process of group study, your perceptions will be broadened and you can gain confidence from the teamwork. The reason one of my friends teamed up with me was hilarious. We had different Easter vacation plans that I would head to Europe while she was going to fly to the United States, but without negotiations before, we found we left London and came back on the same day. She said cheerily: “That’s a funny coincidence. It means we should study together!” It is a sense of safety to have a good friend who has my back and is there with me during the hard study time.

Sleep: In order to fall asleep during finals week, you need some self-control to stay away from caffeine after 4 p.m. There is a joke about sleeping well: decorating your bedroom like a classroom. I don’t know whether this method will work out, but counting sheep just makes me more conscious. I will connect “sheep” with “ship” rather than “sleep”, and then my thoughts will fly to the sea, the beach, and the sunshine, which all make me want to buy an airplane ticket and have my vacation in Hawaii. Meditation before going to bed is helpful. You can sit on the carpet or bed, clear your mind, take a deep breath, concentrate, and begin your meditation. After five or ten minutes, even if you cannot recognize any changes, your blood circulation is more smooth and steady. The peaceful feeling covers you, so it is a good time to go to bed.

Eating Habits and Exercise: Another joke about stress: the reason why when you are stressed, you eat ice cream, chocolate and sweets lies in the fact that“stressed” spelled backwards is “desserts”. It is true that under pressure, we are more likely to turn to desserts. Even if I pay much attention to calories, I will ignore that during finals. However, eating healthily is good for study and sleep. For example, walnuts and almonds can give brain nutrition; bananas and lemons can help you better memory; spinach and yogurt can calm you down. Besides eating habits, exercise such as yoga, jogging or even taking a walk can relieve your anxiety and pressure a little. These exercises have similar functions to meditation that can give you a peaceful mood. Once you have control of your emotions and feelings, you feel you are in charge of your life.

Pressure is not a bad thing. You can always grow from each experience of stress. Study, sleep, eating healthily and exercise can relieve your pressure, but the confidence is formulated inside. Once you can handle situations, pressure can be turned into motivation which can push you forward. So let the pressure pass over you in a way that means you are not harmed by it.

In the letter, Kirchner cites a United Nations declaration from 1960 noting the need to ‘bring an end to colonialism in all its forms and manifestations’ and claims that the Malvinas Islands case was blatantly one of colonialism, being described as such by a General Assembly resolution from 1965. The UK should return the islands, the letter implies, because the international community wants it to.

The issue has surfaced yet again due to the recent referendum, posing the question: ‘Do you wish the Falkland Islands to retain their current political status as an overseas territory of the United Kingdom?’. With the outcome categorically supporting the UK’s position, Argentina has unsurprisingly voiced its explicit opposition.

I may study International Relations, but the epic clash between the UK and Argentina isn’t something that has concerned and shaped my waking life. My only connection to the issue before January was through the anecdotes my dad had shared about his experiences in Argentina.

In 2010, my Dad spent five weeks directing a show in Buenos Aires for a local company. Whilst he was working there, a stage technician of a similar age refused to talk with or even make eye contact with him. This odd behaviour continued until my Dad, being the people person that he is, asked him what was going on. The technician revealed the assumption that as he was British, my Dad must have supported the war that had torn away six of his closest friends. Once my dad assured him that this was not the case and that in fact he hated Thatcher and abhorred a war that was nothing more than ‘imperialist bullshit’, they reached a pact of understanding. In fact, whilst the Argentinian guy had been surrounded by the senselessness of war, my dad had been campaigning at university for the ‘unnecessary’ conflict that killed 907 to end.

From a human point of view, I sympathised with the technician. Kirchner’s letter points out that the Falklands Islands are 8700 miles away from London. That’s a heck of a long way, and the only reason they’ve been held on to is because they serve a strategic, not a human, purpose. Giving them ‘back’ just makes logistical sense.

Similarly, I should probably state that I understand just how offensive the label of ‘farce’ is in a nationalist debate. Much like the tensions in the Balkans, or between those living in China and Taiwan, ownership of the Malvinas islands is about much more than satisfying some principle of international law. It is about doing what is right for the country,and for generations past. I’m sure that Argentinians wouldn’t have to search very hard to find anecdotal evidence of those that lost their lives in the war in 1982, or to hear stories about how the islands were forcefully taken away back in 1833. Add to this the anger-inducing humiliation of British headlines, such as the Sun’s ‘Gotcha’ about the sinking of the General Belgrano, and it’s not hard to see where the anti-British drive comes from.

Truthfully, however, I don’t think that the Argentinians have any say in the matter any more. There comes a point at which you just have to accept that what’s done is done. The world simply couldn’t function if every single group fought the battles of every generation preceding it. The process of international law that Kirchner so eloquently refers to does have a mechanism for dealing with this – called ‘uti possidetis’. It loosely translates from the Latin as ‘as you possess’, claiming that territory and other property remains with its possessor after a conflict. In other words, if territory now belongs to someone else, and the world kind of accepts it, you’ve got to leave it be.

There is, of course, a danger here. Shouldn’t every conflict for territory just cease? Am I not just telling the families that have lost loved ones in Palestine and the monks that have given their lives for the Tibetan cause to just shut up and deal with it?

Well no, I am not. The case of the Falklands/Malvinas is distinct in that public opinion is consistent with the rule of uti possidetis. The right to self-determination (a competing principle that says that people should be able to choose whom they belong to)  was exercised in the referendum on March 10th/11th, and they chose to remain affiliates of the British. As a result, Argentinian posturing looks like the ‘imperialist bullshit’ that we were exercising when we took it in 1833. I support what the people want, and what the people of the Falklands want is strikingly obvious.

In that sense, the debate is a farce that has been reignited for ulterior motives. It’s kind of stupid to hate the UK for killing people when you go to war with it, opposing the governments that manipulate ancient feelings of nationalism for political gain and thrusting you into the conflict instead.

The people of the Falklands want to remain British and the islands have been British for 180 years. Where’s the debate?

I can picture it, walking down Houghton Street with my son or daughter in about twenty or thirty years time exclaiming “when I was your age, this is where I had my lectures” or “that building wasn’t here back in the good ‘ol days!” Memory is a funny thing, really. As much as we all now complain about the crumbling walls, formative courses and that fickle force that is student politics, most of us will grow a strange bond to this institution as we depart for bigger, and hopefully better, things.

Before I don the rose-coloured glasses, though, I want to give a rundown of what I think the School is doing right, and what it needs to work on.

First and foremost, the LSE needs to stop accepting donations from war criminals and Holocaust deniers. While they won’t disclose whether or not the new donation vetting process since the Woolf Report has actually stopped any money flowing into the LSE from shady sources, I would have thought that after the disastrous public image hit the Gaddafi Scandal inflicted on the LSE, the good people at ODAR would have looked at renaming the Sheikh Zayed Theatre, perhaps this time honouring someone who did not actively support Holocaust deniers.

This is not to say that the LSE must hold all their donors to a moral benchmark usually reserved for clergymen (well at least the non-paedophile men of the cloth), but a quick scan of the CIA’s Most Wanted list may be a wise idea before accepting cash – especially if it’s inside a briefcase. All hope is not lost, though – the man for which the new students’ centre will be named, Saw Swee Hock, seems like an all-around decent human being. Hopefully the School can continue to solicit donations from people like this.

Since I promised to highlight some of the good the LSE is doing, it’s time to heap praise on Craig Calhoun who was a stellar choice for LSE Director. Since he has taken up his post he has been a very positive force for an institution that needed strong leadership after the Gaddafi Scandal. While there is still much to do in winning back LSE’s reputation from the series of meltdowns in recent years and in as much as Judith Rees was a solid Director for her brief time in the position, the appointment of Calhoun will hopefully set the School on the right track for the future – and what I personally believe will be privatisation within the decade.

There, that was some praise. Now time for some more whingeing.

Another area the School desperately needs to work on is the centre block of buildings. That’s basically the East Building and Clare Market, but also St. Clements. By all accounts, the latter – while ugly – doesn’t need much of a redoing, but the former two need more reconstructive surgery than a car crash victim. How these buildings have been allowed to fester in the condition they are in is, quite frankly, appalling. The peeling paint on the exterior of the Clare Market staircase connecting to the East Building is reminiscent of the empty town of Chernobyl, 30 years after the disaster. Although, somewhat luckily, it appears we, unlike Chernobyl, don’t have any radioactive wolves roaming through the streets. But it is no wonder LSE is known as the ‘greatest academic slum’ in the world. Estates is very good at acquiring new buildings at good prices, but the upkeep of the older buildings at the School has to be urgently looked into.

In my time at the LSE there has been a great deal of change – over three years there have been three Directors of the School and two fees increases. Hopefully once the dust has settled over the donations scandal from 2010/2011, Calhoun and the rest of the leadership team at the LSE can get to work attracting the best and brightest – not just the rich and wealthiest.

It has been a great three years, and there are so many people to thank for that. Just like every school, the LSE has its share of issues. With a little work, this institution can gain back the reputation it deserves.

Oh, and the asbestos. Please get rid of the asbestos.