SUNDAY ROAST: THE RETURN

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

Rordon is back and serving up the (late) dessert to your naughty noughth week. We’re off to a bang as Oxford University held its reunion party in Manchester, to which Rordon was not invited. Explosions in the political world were followed by literal explosions as lightning caused a recycling plant to explode outside Oxford- or maybe it was that dodgy concrete. HS2 was cancelled after its 2012 tweets resurfaced. The American XL Bully was banned for having that annoying accent. The only thing not being tossed out is this draft edition (sorry).

THE OXFORD UNION TERM CARD: RORDON REVIEWS 

After a vac as seemingly endless and boring as the playlist at Plush, Oxford is once again filled with the dulcet tones of fresh-faced first years hacking their way into the highest ranks of Oxford University’s most exclusive society (or at least a spot on the Cherwell’s BNOC list). In an attempt to earn more money than ever before, the Union has reached far and wide to create the most diverse term card yet. The card starts off with a bang, with the first guest being the nation’s favourite sex pest, Russell Brand. His speech, entitled ‘On Feminism – How Lolita changed my life‘, will start more or less promplty (depending on the arrival of the prison shuttle bus) at 7pm.  

In Week 3, Posh Spice turned philanthropist Victoria Beckham will be exploring the issue of childhood poverty. After reading an excerpt of her ghostwriter’s memoir, From Rolls Royce to Riches, she aims to offer a sensitive and honest account of pretending to grow up below Britain’s poverty line, as well as offering her personal solution. Following the ancient Chinese proverb, Beckham believes that rather than simply giving children money, it’s better to instil them with a healthy work ethic and and regular income by introducing them to the world of work at a tender age. Fashion activism rules!  

After the Union’s unique student-led debate in Week 5, wherein audience members are encouraged to explain why they are better than anyone else (ever), the St Catherine’s College marquee will be taking centre stage in Week 7, discussing the merits of tarpaulin and paper plates. Despite keeping their cards close to their chest, it is rumoured that the marquee’s speech is entitled ‘Entz in a tent- the more, the merrier?’

The term will finish with the society’s most prestigious guest yet, Duke Humphrey himself, holding a bombastic speech entitled ‘Stop sniffling in my fu***ng library!’. What an exciting term! 

OUT OF THE BLUE

With a 100% higher success at being retweeted by Shakira than the OxStu, Rordon was inspired to try out for Oxford’s very own Acapella society. It certainly is as feast for the senses: the stunning staccatos and plucky polyphonies of the all-male acapella group, grinning in their V formation like a hive of M&S bagging assistants. Don’t let all that testosterone fool you, the boys aren’t afraid of a bit of Girls Aloud, (catchy, but Rordon doesn’t want to taste their kisses in the night, if it can be avoided). Up on the stage, Rodon was hoping to channel Bublé and Jackson, but came out a little more Gove. He can’t sing, he can’t dance, and he sure isn’t ‘levelling up’ either. Maybe next year.

OXFORD’S MATING SEASON BEGINS  

As the sweet smell of BO swirls about the JCR, the sweat begins to trickle down my back. Another year, another batch of keen and horny freshers. Though Rordon has not yet had the chance to make sweet love himself, he has decided to document the highs and lows of Oxford’s mating season. Standing there, with the fluorescent light of the JCR penetrating his eyes, he observes what can only be described as the first act of the mating ritual. Nervous shuffling and awkward, rehearsed renditions of ‘Hi I’m Munty/Bunty/Cunty/Ethan, and I study English/PPE/Chemistry/etc.’ fill the room. The first inklings of socially adept behaviour begin to trickle in as alcohol loosens the supple limbs of these new specimens, leading to judiciously coordinated hand-on-arm action. At this point of the evening, the bop reps part the sea of eager freshers and begin to corral them to what will be the best night of their young and tender lives. Walking towards the cornucopia of joy, also known as Atik, Rordon overhears eager young men and women alike passionately discussing the merits (and only the merits, this is Oxford after all) of their admissions process, bestowing upon the fortunate ear of whomever is accompanying them their first experience of Oxonian dirty talk. After the confusion that is queuing and being shouted at by the staff, the second act of the ritual commences. Alcohol-driven hips swivelling and gyrating, the first fortunate couples begin to lock lips on what appears to be Oxford’s most potent aphrodisiac: the cheese-board floor at Atik. As mentioned above, Rordon has not yet had the greatest honour of exploring another’s body, so he must sadly stop his reportage here. We can only speculate that the rest of the evening included hefty amounts of dry humping, and the bumpy and crammed delights of student sleeping arrangements.  

ALIEN ENCOUNTERS

America is at it again. At first Rordon thought he was looking at Senator Mitch McConnell being wheeled out for a public address but was relieved to see it was just the body of an ‘alien’ found in Colombia. This “non-human alien”, (thanks for the clarification BBC), was debuted after NASA launched an enquiry into why no one else has bothered visiting our sad little planet. How NASA could only produce 36 pages on aliens when James Cameron can crank out 354 minutes makes you wonder if maybe a film degree is more valuable than a physics degree after all. Rordon was asked to approach Oxford’s Astrophysics department for comment on this extra-terrestrial romp but could only find the Hunger Games District 12 Justice Centre had been built in its place. Determined for answers, Rordon employed the time-honoured journalistic practice of copying from better new sources: In a wave of brilliant reporting, the BBC declared “There’s no proof aliens exist, but they might”. Glad we cleared that up.

Image Description: A cartoon image of roasted meat on a red and orange background, with the words: “Sunday Roast: Featuring the stories that didn’t quite leave the newsroom.”