"A chant that we've been workshopping in Oxford that maybe you guys want to join in? It goes "Gaza, Gaza, make us proud, put the Zios in the ground."
Yes, the most privileged of the world's youth at the most prestigious university on the planet huddled together to come up with a rhyming slogan to support Gaza terrorists murdering Jews.
And in the end, it doesn't even rhyme.
I'm just trying to picture the scene of the workshop in Oxford.
Scene: The WorkshopMagdalen College JCR, late evening. Fairy lights flicker over armchairs and tea stains. Four students in ill-fitting keffiyehs huddle around a low table littered with gin glasses and scribbled notepads. SAMUEL WILLIAMS, floppy-haired and commanding, leads the circle. OLIVIA lounges elegantly, THEO sprawls like a lacrosse jock, ELIZA fidgets with her pen.SAMUEL: (adjusting his keffiyeh) Right, comrades. Rally tomorrow. We need a chant that rhymes with
"proud" but stings like settler-colonial guilt. Punchy. Political. Not another bloody "river to the sea"
—that's so last term.OLIVIA: (sipping gin, iPad glowing) Edge, Sam. Something that calls out the oppressors without
triggering the dean's wine hour. "Zionists" is too wordy. "Zios"? Short, snappy. Like a slur with a syllabus.THEO: (scrolling TikTok, spilling IPA) Zios works, dudes. "Jews" is too grandma's attic—ADL nightmare.
"Israelis"? Nah, sounds like a travel agency. Zios it is. Now the kill shot: "Kill the Zios"? Straight fire.ELIZA: (shivering theatrically) Kill? Too American Psycho. We're poets of resistance, not slashers.
"Burn the Zios"? Evocative, but climate vibes are off—think wildfires in the West Bank.SAMUEL: (nodding, scribbling) Implication over incrimination, Eliza. Met's watching.
"Genocide the Zios"? Fanon would approve—violence as history's midwife.OLIVIA: (rolling eyes) Heavy, Sam. Alienates the normies. Remember "Exterminate the Settlers"?
Vice-chancellor called it a "lapse." I Ubered home from cocktails in tears.THEO: (snorting) Tears? Bro, go big or go home to Daddy's estate. "Bury the Zios"? Nah. Wait—
"put the Zios in the ground." Earthy. Final. And it half-rhymes with proud if you slur like we're pissed
at evensong.ELIZA: (clapping, giggling) Yes! Gaza Gaza, make us proud, put the Zios in the ground.
Nursery rhyme for the apocalypse. Try it—rhythm's got that gritty incompleteness. Real resistance aesthetic.SAMUEL: (standing, keffiyeh fluttering) Brilliant. All in? Gaza! Gaza!ALL: (chanting, voices rising) Make us proud! Put the Zios in the ground! (Repeat twice, echoing off portraits.)THEO: (frowning mid-chant) Half-rhyme though. Ground-proud? Like a haiku on bath salts.OLIVIA: (snapping selfie) Perfection's propaganda poison, Theo. It's raw—like Rafah rubble.
Post-rally, we're viral. Noble work.SAMUEL: (smirking at window reflection) Steadfast. To the spires—and the streets.Lights dim as they disperse into fog. Chant fades like a flawed echo.
It almost demands a response chant: "Oxford wankers waste their time/cannot even make it rhyme."