Christmas holidays. A time for the textbook family-holiday question:
“So, darling, any nice boys in Oxford then?”
“Mm, yes Mum, beating them off with a stick on a daily basis.”
While this, according to my dearest mother, is just me being “facetious”, there are a couple of boys who could probably do with having the stick removed from their arse and having it belted across their head a few times. There are some in fact, who can be so outrageous, you can only hope they’re joking.
One Brasenose boy in particular should hang his head in shame for casually dropping into conversation last week that everyone, just EVERYONE, says that Brasenose is the college of real brains or old money.
Something gave me an inkling he was in possession of the latter and not the former. What does he expect girls to say?
“Oh God, you gorgeous hunk, you make me want to lie back and think of England!”?
I should have walked away as soon as he opened his mouth to spout more of his vacuous chat but it’s strange how something so repulsive can be so fascinating at the same time. Actually, who am I kidding? It was just downright hilarious!
“So on my year out, I did Brazil, Argentina, India…”
“Please could you just stop there a sec and explain in a little more depth the process of “doing” a country? Any illegitimate kiddies on the way?
He didn’t hear me. In fact, I don’t think he even realised I was still there as he spewed forth his mirror-rehearsed torrent of crap.
“Yah, I mean, it sounds stupid when I say it but I really, genuinely feel that I left a piece of my heart in Goa.”
“You’re not wrong there.”
Never in my life have I wished to locate my soul in India more – if only to have it saved from this oxygen-thieving moron.