Sunday Roast is satirical and should not be taken as defamatory, nor does it reflect any political stance of the Oxford Student.

Rordon’s made it through fifth week (well he hasn’t rusticated at any rate) but to be honest he’s not sure why he bothered. None of the freshers will give Rordon a moment of peace and quiet, and now the Union folks are starting to sacrifice their next victim. It’s all starting to do Rordon’s head in a bit.



You made it through fifth week. Congratulations! So did Rordon, just about. It was, however, one of the worst weeks of his life. It all started when his tutor demanded that he hand his essay in on the actual deadline – a shock the likes of which Rordon had never before experienced. Everyone knows the ‘deadline’ is really just the time you should have thought about starting to maybe have a glance over the pages-long reading list by. But, alas, apparently his tutor did not share his sentiments because he’s “third year now” and “needs to actually do work for his degree”, and Rordon was left pulling an all-nighter in the library and doing the most work he’d done in weeks (6 hours). It was horrible. Then, just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, he was told that there was, in fact, another essay due, five days after the first deadline. Rordon couldn’t even go out to Park End more than five nights that week – a truly terrible time. And then, Rordon got the worst news of all. Apparently in Trinity he has exams, that determine the grade of his entire degree and THEN he has to go and get a real job and work for the rest of his life and-

(Ed. Rordon did not get any further with the Sunday Roast before I found him rocking back and forth in a dark corner of the library where he was writing this. We hope his existential shock wears off soon. Mainly because we can’t find another columnist at this short notice.)



Tragedy this week as a large group of freshers were firmly bitten by a highly invasive bug inflicting them with a horrible disease that will mar the rest of their time at Oxford. Rordon spoke to one friend of an afflicted fresher who reported, “It’s just an awful awful disease: they’re constantly being woken up early and getting horrible colds, and it also seems to be affecting their ability to stop going on about it. They haven’t shut up about it in weeks now”.

The disease in question is of course rowing, as a fresh wave of novices got their first taste of racing on the Isis. Every year it’s the same thing, but it’s still always upsetting to see such a large group of innocent youths snatched away from the straight and narrow (or at least that’s what Rordon calls it – it’s fair to say his tutors might not quite agree, but if they have a problem with him turning up to tutes hungover they shouldn’t organise them for before 4pm).



Rordon can’t believe it! There’s a Union scandal! And it involves access, dodgy excuses, an exclusive clique of people and a bunch of mind-numbingly dull rules! As we gear up to make a bunch of new ‘friends’ in seventh week, it’s depressingly reassuring for Rordon to know that the same old Union persists and that his purchase of Union membership remains his worst decision ever.

Rordon wishes the President/those trying to impeach the President (delete as appropriate depending on where your loyalties lie this week) the best of luck this Thursday. It promises to be toxic. 


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