Helena Horton, Kallum Taylor, Ron Burgundy. Immortals. They ride on the wings of gold, encrusted geese high above the common student in their unrecognisable husks. Some of you coming freshers may not simply be satisfied with the vie de quotidian of the average fresher. You may be one of those rare individuals destined for campus divinisation….and if you seriously agreed with that, your ego probably guffawed at the notion that you could ever be confined to just University stardom. But that’ll be for future political journalists to analyse.
Of course I refer to the intangible title of Big Name on Campus, aka BNOC. Here I will to lay bare the different ways in which you too can gain such privileges as: prolonged awkward eye contact with strangers, inaudible drunken remarks on a night out, and the occasional mention in campus media.
The fastest way to gain rapid attention at York is to pull up a chair to the Cuban missile crisis that is the feminist debate. You then have a choice, agree or disagree. The secret being that it honestly doesn’t matter either way. No one actually cares, just so long as you plaster your name and vague opinion on every social media site and minor publication available. Don’t forget to abuse those who disagree with you, however slightly, to within two human rights acts of genocide. Eventually everyone will forget that you wanted to ban V Bar baguettes because they were a phallic symbol and just remember that you were the face of all that fuss. #BFEM
If you’re gifted enough to be able to use your unnecessary MacBook’s keyboard in 4/4 time, you could become a DJ. No one else has thought this ever. You could even establish your own independent, never before seen, club night playing deep house vibes until everyone gets kicked out of Mansion because they got bored and tried to sneak into the strip club. However you then run the risk that it will be your alias, ‘Materialistic-Dubdick’ that gains notoriety, not you. Never mind, once you open Big D everyone will know just how seamless and klaxon-filled your crossovers are. #BDJ
Do you have the stamina of Mo Farah, the leadership of José Mourinho and the muscle definition of Madonna? By becoming any sort of university sports captain (except Ultimate Frisbee) you’ll undoubtedly be seared into the minds of all who serve under you. Especially if you made them shove a Twix up their arse during Rugby initiation. #BDSM
If you just so happen to be white and privately educated, pretty please do pursue a line in student politics. It’s basically like becoming a superhero. You should wear a ridiculous outfit. But rather than a cape and shiny pants try a denim jacket with scarf and too tight trousers – freshers don’t worry you’ll get that once you see your student president. York students are too thick to read manifestos, so don’t worry about your politics, just legally change your name to a highly recognisable, middle class brand, get their logo up everywhere and you’ll be YUSU President in a day. #BJACKWILLS
You could go for social blitzkrieg and hold as many positions of authority as possible. The less you leave for everyone else, the more fame you’ll gain. So what if you’re the LGBTQ-Welfare-Bar-Willow-Kuda-Revs- Fetish-Merchandise-Chair-Captain. That’s more than your chump flatmates have ever achieved. #BBUSY
Own a shirt with five or more different patterns and colours? Aroused by the raised eyebrows towards your 90’s Will Smith freshness? As long as your cheek muscles are strong enough to enable 24/7 pouting you won’t ever have to actually say a word. You and your tie die, corduroy dungarees can bask smugly in your vintage glory. #BEL-AIR
Go for the BNOB approach and sleep with as many people as possible. If enough people catch your own particular brand of chlamydia then they’re bound to know your name. All you need to do is hit Willow around closing time every night with a pre-booked taxi.
In the end, if all else fails, be that guy who got scurvy. #BPIRATE