[title]
1. The naive fresher
Sophie once exuded a youthful optimism that would have you vomiting internal organs from your face hole. She dreamed of cocktails in Soho, scholarly debates in basement cafés and passionate trysts with cultured intellectuals. But no more. Sophie now downs value cider, yearns for that 40 percent pass mark and wakes up on Saturdays next to some bloke she found chundering outside Londis.
2. The perpetual picketer
Upon hearing of more planned education cuts, Eve’s face battles between expressions of hurt and rage as if she’s trying to subtly shit out a cheesegrater. She’s been pretty instrumental in protests over the past few years, except now there’s just far too much to chant about and it’s left Eve without her voice. And that, dammit, means she now can’t burst on to ‘Question Time’ and recite her profanity-filled Jeremy Hunt limerick to a live nation… Probably for the best.
3. The last-minute crammer
Bella spent most of her third year partying, but it’s two weeks until finals and all must change. She hits the books hard, while mixing near lethal blends of Pro Plus and Red Bull. Meanwhile, a full year’s worth of studying has left you with barely enough mental capacity to understand a paperclip. Graduation arrives and you shuffle your drained carcass up on stage to collect your 2:2, just as Bella appears like a radiant Bond girl celebrating her first-class degree. The bitch.
4. The financially oblivious
You’re petrified that glancing at a bank statement will cause pinstriped financial wraiths to rise up from the netherworld and force overdraft repayments until your soul is reaped from your wallet. Hugo, however, lives in blissful ignorance. His parents transfer enough money a month to cover tuition, living costs and that spontaneous weekend break to Toulouse he abandoned his group-project obligations for. For you, the weight of your mounting debt feels like Hagrid has jumped upon your shoulders for a casual piggyback. Piss off, Hugo.
5. The library lodger
Embittered by the rent hike for his halls, Chris has traded in his life of 4am fire alarms for a solitary existence in the 24/7 library. He’s concealed by his makeshift book-fort and grumpily hoards all volumes on debt management like a financially concerned bibliophilic goblin. On the plus side he lives rent-free; on the downside, Chris has no shower and smells worse than fetid camembert guarded by a farting cat.
By Robert Dixon, who’s still trying to find a second rhyme for ‘Jeremy Hunt’…
Illustrations: Nathan James Page