How do you solve a problem like admissions?

The dilemma of introducing a higher grade at A-level

University admissions will always be a tricky business to manage. Ensuring fairness amongst a large number of stakeholders, all aiming to get the best deal, is no easy feat. The main problem with admissions is that it is predominantly based on A-level results or equivalents which aim to reflect ability but also reflect consequences of fortune and privilege which the applicant cannot control. This is a problem inherent in the current system but the introduction of A* grades at A-level, part of government reforms to 14-19 education, is set to make the situation even worse.

The motivation behind its introduction is an acknowledgment that top Universities are finding it increasingly difficult to differentiate between applicants who all have 3 ‘A’ grades. The A* will enable Universities to identify the best candidates and therefore make it easier for them to make their offers.

However the situation is not that simple and it is important that the access implications of introducing the A* are fully realised. The Aldwych Group in particular, which represents students at the research-intensive Russell Group of Universities, has come out against the introduction of the A* because of its potential adverse affect on widening participation. The argument for our opposition is based on the reasonable assumption that the students who will benefit most from the A* introduction will more likely come from the independent sector and/or privileged backgrounds.

A student from a privileged background at an independent school, who has the advantage of small classroom sizes, the best teachers and private tutoring is already more equipped to achieve the top grades and is even more likely to be in that top percentile who will achieve the prized A*. Contrast that to the student from a local comprehensive who studies hard to achieve an A grade but hasn’t had the advantages just listed and may just miss out on the A*.

The answer to this initial problem is to suggest that the local comprehensive student be given a lower entry requirement than the independent school student. This levels their equality of opportunity and enables them both to attend a University that reflects their potential academic ability. However, that just creates an even bigger problem.

Suppose the independent school student achieves three A* grades and is not offered a University place due to heavy competition, while the local comprehensive student is accepted with three A’s. Is this system any more just? Has the first student again been penalised for factors for which they cannot be held responsible (e.g. their privileged background and financial status of their parents)?

The solutions for admissions to highly competitive institutions aren’t readily available but the introduction of the A* doesn’t seem to be the answer. The universities of the Russell Group will be forced to use it as a way of separating ‘extremely good’ candidates from ‘excellent candidates’ and inevitably it will be students from non-traditional and widening participation backgrounds who will be most disadvantaged. Of course, no single institution will opt out of using it for fear it might suffer in the competitive market of admissions. It is up to us to put pressure on the Russell Group to reject this bit of legislation across the board, for the sake of fairness and diversity.

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What David Hockney has to tell us about football

Why the sudden glut of blond footballers? A conversation I had with the artist back in 1966 gave me a clue. . .

In 1966, I went to interview David Hockney at a rather run-down flat in Bayswater, central London. He was 28 and had just won a gold medal at the Royal College of Art.

In his lavatory, I noticed a cut-out photograph from a newspaper of Denis Law scoring a goal. I asked if he was a football fan. He said no, he just liked Denis Law’s thighs.

The sub-editors cut that remark out of the story, to save any gossip or legal problems. In 1966 homosexual activity could still be an offence.

Hockney and a friend had recently been in the United States and had been watching an advert on TV that said “Blondes have more fun”. At two o’clock in the morning, slightly drunk, they both went out, bought some hair dye and became blond. Hockney decided to remain blond from then on, though he has naturally dark hair.

Is it true that blonds have more fun? Lionel Messi presumably thinks so, otherwise why has he greeted this brand-new season with that weird blond hair? We look at his face, his figure, his posture and we know it’s him – then we blink, thinking what the heck, does he realise some joker has been pouring stuff on his head?

He has always been such a staid, old-fashioned-looking lad, never messing around with his hair till now. Neymar, beside him, has gone even blonder, but somehow we expect it of him. He had foony hair even before he left Brazil.

Over here, blonds are popping up all over the shop. Most teams now have a born-again blondie. It must take a fortune for Marouane Fellaini of Man United to brighten up his hair, as he has so much. But it’s already fading. Cheapskate.

Mesut Özil of Arsenal held back, not going the full head, just bits of it, which I suspect is a clue to his wavering, hesitant personality. His colleague Aaron Ramsey has almost the full blond monty. Paul Pogba of Man United has a sort of blond streak, more like a marker pen than a makeover. His colleague Phil Jones has appeared blond, but he seems to have disappeared from the team sheet. Samir Nasri of Man City went startlingly blond, but is on loan to Seville, so we’re not able to enjoy his locks. And Didier Ndong of Sunderland is a striking blond, thanks to gallons of bleach.

Remember the Romanians in the 1998 World Cup? They suddenly appeared blond, every one of them. God, that was brilliant. One of my all-time best World Cup moments, and I was at Wembley in 1966.

So, why do they do it? Well, Hockney was right, in a sense. Not to have more fun – meaning more sex – because top footballers are more than well supplied, but because their normal working lives are on the whole devoid of fun.

They can’t stuff their faces with fast food, drink themselves stupid, stay up all night, take a few silly pills – which is what many of our healthy 25-year-old lads consider a reasonably fun evening. Nor can they spend all their millions on fun hols, such as skiing in the winter, a safari in the spring, or hang-gliding at the weekend. Prem players have to be so boringly sensible these days, or their foreign managers will be screaming at them in their funny foreign accents.

While not on the pitch, or training, which takes up only a few hours a day, the boredom is appalling, endlessly on planes or coaches or in some hotel that could be anywhere.

The only bright spot in the long days is to look in the mirror and think: “Hmm, I wonder what highlights would look like? I’ve done the beard and the tattoos. Now let’s go for blond. Wow, gorgeous.”

They influence each other, being simple souls, so when one dyes his hair, depending on where he is in the macho pecking order, others follow. They put in the day by looking at themselves. Harmless fun. Bless ’em.

But I expect all the faux blonds to have gone by Christmas. Along with Mourinho. I said that to myself the moment he arrived in Manchester, smirking away. Pep will see him off. OK then, let’s say Easter at the latest . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 22 September 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times