I’ve never really considered myself much of a gloater. Up until now in fact, I’d like to have thought I was a gracious and considerate opponent. When I won the year eight I.T. prize for example, (yeah that’s right BIHATCHES) I modestly insisted that everyone else’s websites were as good as mine. I quietly maintained that charlottesweb.com was just the same as everybody else’s project, and that I had simply got lucky. I hadn’t actually. My site was amazing. Fact. Similarly, when I told my brother not to stick his foot on our fire because his sock would melt, he ignored me. And yet when the polycotton blend was firmly smelted to our sitting room stove, I helpfully detached it, peeling off pieces of his scorched and blistered toes without so much as a wry smile. See? Nice. Not gloaty.
Recently however, I seem to have had somewhat of a lapse. Since I finished my degree, I have gloated outrageously, hideously, and without restraint. I have literally laughed in people’s faces. I have asked pedantic and irritating questions that I well know the answer to. I have danced around the kitchen in my pants and played ‘WAG Anthems’ at obscure and insociable times, with max volume on my speakers. My respect for other people’s work ethic is, I would say, minimal at best. Its not that I think I’m going to do exceptionally well at my degree – I don’t. I just know that I have finished, and some people haven’t. Some people, when this is published on Wednesday, will be queuing outside the library at 9am and praying not to have to sit on a FatBoy beanbag. I won’t though, I’ll be asleep. I’ll get up later, have an elaborate and unnecessarily large breakfast like pancakes, maple syrup and bacon, and then get back into my unmade bed to play diner dash for another four to five hours and drink strawberry Frij. And that, my friends, is why I cannot help but be so repellently smug.
Those of you who are reading this though, are not revising. Therefore you too are a gloater like me, and we can gloat together. So, in culinary terms, here’s how to make the most of your new found freedom and your housemates irrepressible doom in the most irritating way possible.
Fry things. No one can really ignore a frier. The sound of vegetable oil firing off like an AK47 in the kitchen should be enough to disturb any hardened student, locked away in their bedroom. If not, the yelps of those foolish enough to enter in will surely do the trick, as they leap in extravagant and outlandish movements to avoid the pellets of boiling hot fat. Fry tempura, fry fish, fry chips or mars bars, but just remember that if it isn’t pinging against your ceiling, it’s not nearly lethal enough. For extreme frying and extra fun, pretend you are doing shot put: swing a slotted spoon of recently fried food and fat above your head, before suddenly releasing and watching its elegant and deadly flight elsewhere.
Space invasion. Nothing says “I’ve finished and you can’t ignore me” like an entire kitchen dripping with fresh pasta. Hang spaghetti from the most invasive places possible: other peoples clothes airers, a shower or your front door are all good starting points. Remember that everytime anyone has to move any of your cooking, they’ll get annoyed and will eventually have to ask why you did this. Then you can tell them that you’ve finished your degree. If you want you can combine it with some kind of YES! Airpunch or lower body thrust. Either way, you win.
Micro-wahey!-ve. Put something in your microwave and listen to the ping. Sounds almost exactly like “woop! I’ve finished!” doesn’t it? Microwaving anything and everything is a sure fire way to expressive your positive and upbeat mood, without actually saying anything annoying. Externally, you can say “oh yeah, your revision sounds really difficult, not long to go though, want me to test you?”, while all the while the microwave haunts “kachiiiing! I don’t care! In five mins I’ll be at the Designer Outlet wrist deep in Cadbury misshapes! Wooooop!”