Ivy Poachers

Reporter

Camford is a city in crisis. The walls of its historic university buildings are being stripped of the ivy that gives the city so much if its character and makes it so attractive to tourists.

The cause of this defoliation is not drought or pestilence, but the work of ivy poachers.

They strip the ivy vines of their leaves and sell them on a burgeoning black market for ivy leaf products, which many people believe have intellect-enhancing properties.

And in an increasingly competitive job market where a double first from a prestigious school is becoming the minimum academic requirement, students and anxious parents are turning to ivy leaves to improve the chances of getting that double first.

Meanwhile, the buildings themselves are deteriorating. Walls that have long been ivy-covered are now drying out and crumbling. Cracks in the wall are exposed to the elements, and winter ice is exploiting the cracks and opening them up wider.

Tourism is suffering too, as once-beautiful buildings become eyesores—crumbling ruins—with leafless ivy tendrils seemingly being the only thing preventing the walls from collapsing completely into the river below.

The so-called “ivy heads” seem to be unconcerned by the environmental damage being caused by the poachers—for them, the supposed benefits of the ivy leaf products justify the damage.

The mother of one “ivy head” agreed to speak to us on condition of anonymity. The names that you hear in her statement are therefore fictitious.

Mother

The Blenkinsop-Parburton family has sent its offspring to Camford for the last three hundred years, don’t you know, and the mere fact that they attended university here has ensured that Blenkinsop-Parburtons bcame diplomats, high-ranking civil servants and cabinet ministers.

But mere enrolment isn’t enough anymore—even string-pulling among our connections won’t ensure Algie a job for life in one of the more prestigious embassies. He actually has to get a good result.

Unfortunately, there have been too many cases in our family of cousins and other close relatives “sharing the matrimonial bed” so to speak, and the old intellectual capacity has taken a bit of a nose-dive, so poor old Algie’s struggling.

Reporter

Have you tried private tutoring for your son?

Mother

Dear me, no! If word got out that a Blenkinsop-Parburton was being privately tutored, the family’s reputation would be ruined!

Reporter

Yet you’re happy for the world to know that Algernon is part of a culture that’s effectively destroying the very city that enabled generations of your family to move in such exalted circles.

Mother

One doesn’t view the situation in quite that way, don’t you know. Ivy leaves are quite the thing among the aristocracy—there’s no stigma whatsoever. I personally know of several titled families as well as three world leaders whose offspring use ivy leaves quite openly. It’s a perfectly legal substance and should be regarded as just another health supplement.

(End of interview with Amelia Blenkinsop-Parburton)

Reporter

Professor Kwok Tunn is Dean of one of the colleges whose riverside building is threatened by the ivy poachers’ activities. He has made a study of the ivy leaves market, and claims to understand its dynamics.

Tunn

Claims about the benefits of ivy have been circulating for decades. They certainly pre-date the internet, but it’s fair to say that social media have made the claims more widely-known.

As many people know, in America there exists a group of prestigious universities collectively known as the Ivy League. It’s thought that the Ivy League gave credibility to hitherto suspect claims about ivy’s efficacy and created an underground market for ivy leaf products among the British aristocracy. And while the supposed benefits were relatively unknown, those that partook seem to have gotten ahead of their classmates. Demand was low, so the poaching that went on was barely noticeable. But when rumours started circulating on social media, consumption sky-rocketed and the city’s buildings have suffered accordingly.

Reporter

Why do the city’s fathers not farm ivy commercially and sell it? Surely it would generate significant revenue that could provide funding to restore these damaged buildings.

Tunn

Unfortunately, any old ivy will not do. It must be ivy harvested from the walls of a seat of learning. It’s thought that the walls are saturated with knowledge and wisdom, which the ivy absorbs and stores as so-called “intellect stem cells”.

Reporter

Has any of this been proven scientifically?

Tunn

Not yet, but anecdotal evidence leads scientists to believe this is the case.

There was one study done, in which groups of students were given either university ivy, regular forest ivy or a placebo. Those given the university ivy achieved higher results than the control group that was ivy-free.

Reporter

And the group that was given regular forest ivy?

Tunn

They turned in papers that were full of flora and fauna trivia that the ivy had absorbed from the trees.

(End of interview with Tunn)

Reporter

It’s clear that the City of Camford cannot do nothing. But Ivy protection rangers have so far failed to capture a single poacher, despite the presence of multiple CCTVs at every known ivy-poaching hotspot.

One expert has proposed that all the ivy in the city be cut down and used to flood the market with cheap ivy leaves. This would be a double whammy for the poachers—their source would disappear, and the price of ivy leaves currently in the supply chain would plummet.

However, critics of this idea have pointed out that the resulting damage to the buildings as well as the tourist trade would be devastating, and the city’s reputation as a centre of learning might never recover. Some of these critics also point out that the poachers would merely move on to other university cities—a situation that would further increase tension and animosity between Camford and its rivals.

There is light on the horizon though. The Government has ordered a study to be made of the situation in Camford, with recommendations to be published by the end of this year.

What those recommendations will be, and whether or not such an ambitious timeline is possible are unknown at present; only time will tell.

In the meantime, the ivy poachers will continue to ply their trade, and the venerable old buildings that comprise some of our greatest universities will continue to crumble.