I need to make more male friends. Watching El Classico on my own in D Bar as none of my friends knew of its existence was a particularly low point this term. I’m currently taking applications, please email for further details.
Don’t flippantly joke about drugs with bouncers. After drifting off to a peaceful, triple-vodka Irn-Bru induced sleep in the toilets at Revs, I was rudely awoken by five bouncers banging on the cubicle door. Unsurprisingly, they didn’t appreciate me joking about having “smashed two grams in there.”
More Americans have been married to Kim Kardashian than have died of Ebola. It is immensely frustrating how Ebola became internationally recognised as a threat only when cases occurred in locations most people can point to on a map.
I need to buy a new jacket. For someone who considers Birmingham as being in the North, these arctic temperatures are ruining me. My current tactic of constantly wearing a beer jacket doesn’t seem a sensible long-term solution.
John Lewis’ Christmas advert is sickeningly sexist. What better way to cheer up misogynistic Monty, the prejudiced penguin than by purchasing him a female sex thing. Shame on you, John Lewis!
Moustaches are exiled to one month a year for a reason. Ryan Gosling is the only man-God who can pull one off, and he could make a Jimmy Savile Halloween costume seem fashionable as well as tasteful.
JCR elections are so much more fun when everybody’s drunk. Why can’t the General Election next year be as boozy? I’d love to see Ed Miliband ‘strawpedo’ a VK; surely the only way to increase his laughably poor polling figures?
You need to be rich, funny and good looking to make a woman orgasm. These are scientific facts. I found this depressing news on the internet in a report by Albany University. Don’t ask me what I typed in to find it though…
I’m not doing a proper degree. An informed and interesting discussion of Ovid’s Metamorphoses descended swiftly into a debate over Twilight and fan-fiction: so this is why English students are practically unemployable.
I have a farcical lack of work to do. This has allowed me to play too much hockey and get stuck – like Nikki Minaj trying to climb through a cat flap – in anything and everything on Netflix. What else is first year for?