I hate people.
A list of people no university experience would be complete without. Any resemblance to real people is exactly that.
The blogger/ photographer/ DJ.
Success these days is measured by how many extra-curricular pursuits you have, E.G; being a blogger/photographer/whatever. However, just because you spend £500 on a camera and use words like aperture, that doesn’t mean you have any discernible talent – and if your blog were so great then why do you keep clogging up my news feed with updates about the number of views you’ve had in the past 1.5 seconds? If you keep refreshing the page, then yes, your view count is going to increase.
The fashion student.
There’s always one dumb bitch who claims to be studying a fashion related subject who dresses like a pile of shit on acid. It is something that never ceases to amaze/confuse and, I would go so far as to say, anger me. If you can’t dress yourself with a degree of style, surely dressing others will be far beyond your capabilities. Or perhaps I am just not “fashion” enough to understand. Please, enlighten me.
The girls school slut.
You know the one; contact with boys has been kept to a minimum her whole life in order to gracefully skip past that whole “teen pregnancy phase” those co-ed sluts all seem to go through (I went through it twice). This girl has never had any male attention, other than from her geography teacher who tried and failed to molest all the girls on sports day (I would have let him). All those years of compulsory lacrosse have given her slender toned thighs, and years of enforced abstinence have made her poonting as tight as a baby’s fist. When she gets to university she is in her element, there’s not an eligible bachelor left on campus who hasn’t deposited some form of bodily fluid in her/ on her/ over her. However this usually comes at a price; all the money in the world can’t buy a sex education as good as that provided by sugar and seventeen magazine, both of which were sadly banned at her school. She usually ends up with herpes, and without her fat lesbian gym teacher forcing a rigorous training scheme upon her she gets her first taste of cellulite by the end of the first term.
Is it wrong to compare the slackness of a vagina to a baby’s fist? I can’t help thinking it is.
That annoying one from school.
Every time this bitch sees you she lets out an unrestrained scream of glee – “it’s such a small world!!”. Err, well it’s not really is it? We go to the same uni, we live in the same halls, why then is it such a shock that we have (despite my best efforts) bumped into each other. I didn’t like you at school and I like you even less now you have an inflated sense of self worth just because you were like totally blanked by Jay from the Inbetweeners at the freshers ball. Now you’re going to have to spend the rest of the year trying in vain to convince your friends you aren’t a massive loser (even though you probably are) and you weren’t friends with this girl at school (even though she was the only one who stuck up for you when Kerri made up that rumour about you having your first kiss with your king charles spaniel).
The one with a wife and 2 kids at home who constantly questions the lecturers. The butt of all jokes, but who secretly you wouldn’t mind blowing…don’t tell me that’s just me?
You met her in freshers week – she stood out radiant against a sea of shit. One year on; the bitch gets fat after too many curry kings and she won’t stop whining at you to let her come and stay this summer. Just be thankful you saw sense before this became your future ex-wife.
You can find him in the gym or crying alone in a corner lamenting the fact that steroids have made his penis as small and shrilled as a salted slug. He usually studies sport science or something, and is the chief conductor of the lewd songs about tits and beer and fanny.
words Daisy Devine