Filling in the gaps
An unusual air of excitement pervaded the leafy campus of the Greg Dyke Career Memorial Goose Sanctuary this weekend. It could have been the new-born hatchlings that are waddling around campus with that air of untouchability reserved for the sickeningly cute. It could have been the proud goose-parents, who are willing to go as far as butchering Baronesses to protect their ailing young ones. It also could have been a small sports tournament named after a large war that we hosted this weekend that brought with it joy, tears, victory, defeat and, most importantly of all, banter.
Tensions between York and Lancaster Universities came awkwardly to a head when a drunk Langwith student grabbed the head of a sleeping Lancastrian rugby player, thinking it was the famous Golden Duck (or to Goodricke students, Fit Duck), sitting on a chubby pink rocky outcrop. Did they really think that lurid hair made them look sexy? Did they really miss the fact that, when huddling in a pack, it made them look like an identity parade for a sex crime?
Anyway. We won. Hooray! Enough. A win at the manly sporting event whose name is suspiciously close to a girly flower serves only to distract us from the real issues. And the picture is grim. The University is taking our money to pay for Heslington East (of course they are. Don’t believe the lies.), and I have Brian Cantor’s word (off the record, of course) that if that pesky public enquiry doesn’t allow the plans to go ahead, his Plan B is to take any remaining money the University has left and live out the rest of his years in hiding in Mexico City. If there is even enough money left to do that. If not, his Plan C is to open up a modest sweet shop in Dudley, which will, of course, go bankrupt after plans for a massive expansion, ‘Haribo East’, are refused permission by public enquiry. History is cyclic, don’t you know.
As a result of all this, York campus will be empty, haunted by the ghosts of old YUSU sabbatical officers and Redwatch informants.
Redwatch! You’d honestly think unhinged nationalist nutters would have found better things to do than hang around a university campus populated by mild centre-leftist alcoholics, eccentric academics, psychopathic geese and a hockey team who drink wine through fish heads prowling for victims. Apparently not.
Come on, guys! There are still council seats around without a failed BNP candidate. Sign your names up! Everyone loves a failure. Unless you’re a BNP failure, in which case everyone still thinks you’re a wanker. Ian Dawson got fewer votes than my mate’s flatmate, who only put his name forward as a joke. And half of those votes were probably the geese anyway.
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