Finals of a Diarist...
Standing round a barbecue with the parents of my friend, St Annes New Man, I heard a physicist describe his recently ended finals as a "steady diet of physics and masturbation". I would concur with this although as yet I have not managed to do much revision. However, I am now preparing myself for the inevitable, buying stationary and post-it notes to make war on history, and digging in for the final offensive. (See you in Berlin, chaps.) Reading lists are forming and it turns out that there are all sorts of books on history that I was quite innocent of. I'm starting to suspect that there are some people who actually make a living out of the subject and are not simply honing their knowledge for particular Trivial Pursuits questions. ...
Columns: The Rules
So, Ruby returns with her final set of epistles for you lovely young things. Having drowned in a sea of chocolate eggs, we find ourselves at the start of the 'summer' term, traditionally eight weeks of Pimm's-fuelled frolics interspersed with the odd onerous essay or an unfortunate set of mods/finals. Following hot on the heals of last term's pitiful but unsurprising report on how little action you guys are getting, I propose to bring you my own, personal, fool-proof guide to getting laid. My disappointment on browsing through 'The Rules' dating manual cannot be emphasised enough. The point of these dull, Stepford-wife instructions? To secure a man for life, sacrificing one's own needs for said man's comfort. Hmmm. So, guys, wanna get trapped or wanna get shagged? And equally, women, 'Let him take the lead in the bedroom... don't be demanding'? I thought not. Pleasure first, at all times. These Rules may not lead to hearts and flowers, but they will get you copulating like animals. Have you got the stamina?
Columns: Jack in the Ox
The Just Typical Stories
Columns: Knackered Chef
I like to wake up with a grin on my stomach and calm on my face. Since I started baking my own bread the journey into consciousness has never been more uplifting. No matter what you've been up to the night before, whether it was snorting coke off your own arse or sobbing through movies on late night channel 5, you will arise with as much spring as the dough you are about to prepare. Get out of bed and head straight to the kitchen in some tracksuit bottoms make a cup of tea, and then put on an apron. Get out the flour, any will do really, beginners might like just to try plain white flour. Put on some music, move rhythmically towards the cupboards and get out some fresh yeast (free from friendly bakeries!). Weigh out a pound of flour into a large bowl and half an ounce of yeast into a small one. Stick 2 teaspoonsish of salt into the flour and do some mixing with a big wooden spoon. Put the flour in the oven until its warm. Measure out half a pint of warm water and then pour 3 tablespoons of water over the yeast and mix up with a pinch of sugar until it is pasty. Yeast is quite nasty on the nostrils - a bit like rank lager but don't worry, it's all good....
Columns: Bog standards
Shit. What's a journalist to do? What brave new frontier is there left to cross in Oxford life? 'Fear and loathing in the lower Rad Cam' - get the Park and Ride into town at 9am, set for a 0th week of unparalleled, 24/7 debauchery among every book ever written (hey, like cool man). Only to have your plans thwarted by an extra from Cell Block H madly ringing a bell at 9.48pm each evening. I get the impression drinking liquid ether might be frowned upon too....