Ah, Oxford. Ah, freshers' week. Ah, when the fresh and brightest faces appear in Oxbridge. Ah, those excited moments. Ah, those disappointed moments. Yes; freshers week is certainly an experience for everyone, men and women, regardless of race, colour or creed. From the moment it begins to the moment it ends, freshers' week is absolutely filled with time.
So without further ado, here's just a few of the zero “do's” and forty thousand “don'ts” of coming to Oxford University!
DON'T get paralytically drunk to the point that you vom in that bit with the sofas in at the Bridge, the security guards lead you outside and say, “I think you're done for tonight, love”, so you hail a taxi and when you get in you vom all over that too so he throws you out and leaves you to stumble over Hythe Bridge alone, and then when you get to Rad Square you collapse while screaming out the half-remembered words to “Without You” through an unswallowed mouthful of doner, seriously gashing both of your legs, and as the paramedics wade through a pool of blood mixed with vom and chips and ketchup you hear them say, “fuck's sake, if the bint does this ONCE MORE I say we just leave her”.
DON'T let anyone film you during sex in the first week, even if they're the one you're having sex with! When it comes to the first week, you can TRUST NO-ONE. Treat it like 24, except the terrorists are trying to have sex with you, instead of kill the President! Once freshers' week is over, those darling buds of young romance may just be dead leaves blowing in the autumn breeze and uploading videos to Youtube. And if you become an Oxford celebrity, who knows who'll be offering your most intimate moments to the student newspapers for cash (as OxStu deputy editor, I bought eight)!
DON'T be “that couple” - you know the one! - who are cretinous enough to start a relationship in the first week! We all know what's going to happen. Either you'll break up after the first week, or you'll stagger on for three months and collapse into violent bitterness, or you'll be torn apart two years after university when his career starts taking off and you're left with the twins, or you'll end up crying at the side of their grave when they leave you all alone forever. And all the time you'll be thinking, “why did I waste my university days on this person?” Be rational! Wait a few more years until you find a relationship with no possibility of loss.
DON'T answer all requests for coffee with the demand that they go through your agent! Often, your agent will just forget to pass on the messages.
I hope that you find this as entertaining as I do. I wrote it at to this post at the Sex at Oxbridge site. It passed through moderation and was live for 24 hours - then the blog's owner realised just how damaging the criticism was so she pulled the comment. In the interests of maximum embarrassment I am reposting it here:
ReplyDeleteI have realised what the problem is with this blog: you are a sex blogger who has hardly had any sex. Look, you have had nine cocks through you in your entire life. That is why you have to fall back on the emotion shit because you just don't have enough sex to write about.
Compare yourself to Belle, or The Girl, or even this silly bitch who was fool enough to pick a fight with me, and you will see that they have all ridden industrial quantities of cock. Thus they had something to write about.
You haven't, which is why you don't.