Image Description: a crying Oxfess logo on a dark blue background
After a brief hiatus for the vacation, Rordon Gamsay is back with a big announcement. All this time, he has been an Oxfess admin, and he’s now prepared to spill the secrets behind everyone’s favourite(?) Facebook page!
I start every morning in the same way. 3:45 AM, bottle of tequila on the floor next to me, staring blankly at my computer screen. My eyes have started twitching, so I told my friend on Messenger that I needed Blue Light glasses so that Zuckerberg would know what to send me for my birthday. It might not be a ‘healthy’ lifestyle, but it is the only way I can keep up with the insane number of submissions we are getting to Unifessions. It’s really blown up. Get posting, all you Oxfess BNOCs!
I check my page, and – if there aren’t enough beefy comments – I sometimes throw a few extra submissions in. I really do love gifs of fish hooks, and recently I’ve been expanding my collection. If I am stuck for inspo, I usually just accuse a college/society/staff member of skinning a cat/throwing a cat from a tower/having sex with a cat (ring as appropriate). But I like to switch it up every now and then just to keep things interesting. Just sprinkle some random initials here and there. Anything that gets people tagging their friends is golddust to the lowly Oxfess admin, and I guard it carefully.
For appearance’s sake, I am obliged to post some of the sappy confessions to balance things out and create the illusion that I do not live just to watch Oxford burn. I have considered investing in a fiddle to fully double down on this Emperor Nero imagery, but they’re quite expensive on eBay and I spent all of last term’s ad money on a Blu-ray copy of The Cat in the Hat, so I can watch Mike Myers brandishing a baseball bat in glorious HD, and a large quantity of cheap Tesco Cava.
It’s not that I need to know what everyone is thinking all the time, but it will make world domination easier later down the line. All those silly Union hacks think that they’re going to run things, but they don’t realise that the real next Murdoch has already gamed the system. I know about all the times they did ket ‘just to try it’, and I will have them wrapped around my little finger (insert evil laugh here).
It gets to around 10AM, and I decide that it is time to venture from my cave. It’s difficult, in a world of hacks, to convince anyone that you are human, but I do have one thing going for me. I don’t need them to vote for me: just to like, share and comment. Pret is where they all gather; so I stand across the street, hiding in an alcove, until I spot one of them I recognise, and see my opening.
“Hi, how are you? How’s things in the Union? Say… did you see that thing on Oxfess the other day?” It’s 30 seconds in and I have one mention down. Another two and I can own a Top Fan badge for my own page. Now to gradually steer the entire conversation to the page, to really make sure I have their commitment. But no! They see another hack, and suddenly everything is all about the Union again. The window is gone, but it’s all right. I’ll just write an attention-seeking submission about them later.
On my way home, I check all four of the dating apps I have downloaded. Not a single match on any of them. The situation is getting desperate: I haven’t got any all this term! I can’t believe that my bio – ‘swipe right if you love The Cat in the Hat (2003) as much as I do’ – hasn’t attracted more attention!
But then a flash of inspiration strikes, and I am once again surprised by the magnitude of my own genius: I’ll just set up another Oxlove page!
Yet what to call it? How can I signify that it is supposed to represent something apparently different, yet at the same time something that will remain completely indistinguishable from everything that has come before?
Another flash of inspiration (I’m getting a lot of them today. If this metaphor were to be taken literally by this point I would be blind). I remember the Union hacks from earlier. Suddenly I have the perfect title!
‘The Alternative OxLove’, I type into the screen, and smile to myself.
I reach for the Tesco Cava once again. It’s time to craft some new submissions. Oxlove to ME @ ME. You’ve earnt this.
This is intended as a piece of satire and should not be taken as defamatory.