Run. Hide. Lock the door. The hacks are upon us.
With the LMH enforcer and the Anti-Politician each loved up with their own newspaper, the Univ Queen and the Blue were left awkwardly glancing at each other across the dance floor. Alas, no romance flourished. John Evelyn is not sure if this was because of a fundamental incompatibility or just because the Blue is yet to strum up the courage to start a conversation.
Meanwhile, Daddy Oxlove has gathered 4 of his finest sugar babies and slid into the fray. Come to think of it, John Evelyn hasn’t seen many critical Oxfess posts about his campaign. Strange, that.
The swarms of tourists around Oxford have excitedly noticed that Harry Potter is running in the Union elections this term. However, in this version, Lord Voldemort is played by the Atik cheese floor. Shaken by this new wave of attention, Hermione scurried off to buy a new scarf because “the only other one I have is Gucci and I can’t really wear that in election week haha”. John Evelyn hopes these two magical candidates won’t be joined by their friend Ron on Friday.
Speaking of optics, there was a horrible mix-up last Saturday, as the Union thought they had secured some pro bono stonework on the front entrance, but were surprised to see a gaggle of white-tie-toting elderly gents flood the bar. Turns out there is a difference between a free mason and a Freemason. Apparently one difference is that free masons don’t enjoy tucking into the free snacks left out for the 93% Club in the Goodman.
Friday’s election is not the only one on people’s minds, as the Union’s approaching bicentenary had Lieutenant “Initiative” and Mr Put-Me-On-Bicentenary-Committee jockeying for an early advantage in the race to still be here for the celebrations. But that’s another story for another Jevelyn.
After hours of gruelling scrutiny, interrupted only by the odd rat or Freemason, our candidates are ready. By Union standards, this campaign has run without too much drama. But Nullius in verba my friends; predictions of electoral civility can age almost as fast as a Union career. To your marks my little hacklings, the polls await.
No more to come. John Evelyn x