In it for the money
If you want to pay off your student loan with cash to spare your best bet is to: (a) persuade an aged aunt or anyone you happen to meet to leave you everything in their will and discretely kill them off or fervently pray for their imminent death; (b) marry into wealth and arrange for a quick divorce; (c) become a city-banker, slaving your way to the top; (d) invest in British Telecom, WH Smiths and a horseshoe....
Comment: The Art of Blagging
A few weeks ago a female friend of mine sauntered to her weekly tutorial, somewhat late, having done less work than a disabled sloth. As she walked through the grand doors of Wadham, however, her classics tutor took one look at that anxious face and immediately ordered his pupil straight home to take a week off. Why? Well, this young lady had mastered the technique commonly known to you and I as "blagging" - a skill harder to learn than Welsh and more invaluable than a rape alarm in John Leslie's house. What had she done? Quite simply, this mistress of scam had made herself up in green eye liner with talcum powder in place of foundation and not brushed her hair, instead arranging it tidily in a scruffy nest on her head. Not a particularly original move granted, but one which a good half of the population (men) couldn't use - you see fellas, this is what I like to call the 'girl card'. The 'girl card' generally involves carefully placed cleavage being displayed prominently to susceptible male tutors in highly precarious situations, for example, when said sex has not written essay. Hair can also be used in suggestive ways, being twisted around an angled pen, occasionally getting stuck for effect and high pitched whines being sounded in distress to distract attention from said 'essay'. For those less fortunate members of the human kingdom who lack breasts, there are other, less gender specific knacks to get your way through life at Oxford. An underused but sure-fire modus operandi which is neglected by a good 50% of those at Oxford is the 'Northern' or 'State School' card. Use it and you're sure to bring any tutor, no matter how thick-skinned, close to tears, reducing them to an emotional rubble. Play up the fact that you were raised in a card board box in Sheffield, having only taught yourself to read after forfeiting a week's food money to buy a second hand copy of Tolstoy. Use words like 'underprivileged' and 'Eighteen years of Conservative cuts', emphasising that your school was under funded and damp, with a pupil to teacher ratio of 87:1. Having used it in, what can only be described as a disastrous tutorial, I have become acquainted with the power of this formidable trump card:...
Comment: Catch us if you can
Champagne and canapes. Rivers of gold and mountains of hardcore pornography. Freaks and fly-bitches. Big fuck-off diamond rings hanging from every orifice. They're all yours, apparently, should you have the gumption to just walk in, take what you want and walk out, sneering triumphantly as the sweating masses bicker over the prices of their rabble fodder. ...
Comment: Celebrity Death Match
It was a cold day whence Marcus "the loon" Walker perched his firm behind in the Randolph, tranquily musing over his recent hust at OUSU council over a lemon tea. As he sipped his beverage, Walker heard a distant noise in the shadowy corner of that placid tea room, and so, carefully placing his cup on its saucer, he turned, noticing that it was not the quarrelsome Alithstair Richardson of Teddy Hall, but William "the younger and spottier" Straw, the apotheosis of all his childhood fears....
Comment: Charity Starts Abroad
'Few issues," argued Chris Roberts in the OxStu the week before last, "are more likely to incite the pent-up fury of middle England and the right-wing press than asylum and immigration." I disagree. I have never seen socialists reach greater heights of apoplectic fury than when I put the case to them that increased immigration is morally wrong, is not necessary, and damaging to the economy. They kick; they scream; they call me a racist....
Comment: Ian Dougal-Smythe
Look around. If there is no immediate danger, await instructions from On-Train staff. If you are in immediate danger... I ponder these words as my train rocks backwards and forwards without actually going anywhere. The woman in front is looking disconcertedly at my spoon.
