Sex Positions By College: Part 1

There’s a sex position for every letter of the alphabet, day of the year and as far as we can tell, all of the creatures in the animal kingdom. Outrageously, however, there does not appear to be a corresponding collection of carnal contortions for Cambridge colleges. The Tab has set about putting this right.

Christ’s. Celebrating the res-erection. This is when, after a long night in the college bar, a couple head back to the bedroom, start getting it on, and there’s a pause in action when she goes to the loo. During the pause, however, he realises he’s kind of tired, the alcohol takes effect, and…well…everything gets a bit limp. She’s already been seen leaving the college bar with this guy, everyone knows about it, she’s damned if she isn’t going to get a shag, so she turns up the heat again. If he springs to attention again, there is a little moment where she has a quiet smile of success and he swears softly under his breath in excitement: “Christ”.

Churchill. Known for little other than being horrendously ugly, this minger of a college can only deserve one thing: paper bagging. If you’re doing it Churchill style, take a hint from the college’s books (if, that is, they have books that far from the city centre…) and do it somewhere secluded, so no one will know quite how low you have sunk.

Clare. Prowd owners of some of the most beautiful gardens in Cambridge, how better to celebrate this riverside college than with a bit of fun al fresco? May we recommend not getting smoochy in the Fellow’s Garden on that (inevitably beautifully sunny) particular morning in June before the Inner Temple Garden Party turns up, as one Clare couple may have done last year…

Clare Hall. Yes, apparently this is a college. No, I hadn’t heard of it either. So getting it on the Clare Hall way can only mean one thing: a Cindies dance floor snog with someone whose name you don’t know, although you might have known previously, and have now forgotten, except that you’re pretty sure it sounded like the name of someone else you know, but …you’re not sure who.

Corpus Christi. Which if my rudimentary Latin serves me (good god, that was a bit public school) means ‘Body of Christ’. If I were a Jew I could be controversial at this point and argue the child of God is yet to come to earth, so this must entail sex with…well, no one. a.k.a. cuddling up with Mr Johnny Five Fingers. Alternatively, dependent on your religious leanings, if Jesus was the son of God, he’s been dead an awfully long time, and as such, “he’s into Corpus Christi” is the new phrase to watch on the necrophilia scene. I know which one I prefer guys.

Darwin. This particular sexual activity ‘the Darwin evolutionary challenge’ makes for a busy evening. You need to start with a small, hunchbacked, hairy creature without opposable thumbs. I hear CU Boxing Club do a good line. Move to an acceptable if rather short model who has learned to use simple tools, such as a Rugby (/Women’s) Blue. Then finish the evening banging a natsci, who most impressively manages to string sentences together. Sometimes.

Downing. Downing-a-pint? Down-in-Great-Yarmouth? No folks, this one is an all time favourite of mine: a-guy-going-DOWN-IN-Good-humour. Yes, you are going to perform cunnilingus, and damnit, you’re not going to complain that your tongue’s tired afterwards, or indeed, during, except that, I quite like it when you talk while you’re doing it, it kind of tickles, but in a good way, so Please…Don’t…Stop. This being one of the sportier colleges, a show of stamina is key to successful performance of this otherwise simple position.

Emmanuel. No, please don’t shag the ducks. But thank you for pointing out they have a pond. They have a pool too actually. So here, just for you, the only water based sex position that actually works: he needs to be standing in water that comes no higher than mid-arse. She needs to be lying face-down, sideways across a lilo, holding on for dear life. From there it’s a slightly squeaky, rather splashy standing doggy style. Yes ladies and gents, it’s The Emma. Enjoy. Preferably not in Emma pool.

Fitzwilliam. His name is William. He is fit. He goes to Fitz. Find him. Exclaim with joy: “You are Fit William, you go to Fitzwilliam!” Now go and do some work. He probably has a girlfriend.

Girton. Agreed, unless you were pooled there, you have never been there. If you are unfortunate enough to fall in love with a Girtonian, it must be love, because nothing else can keep long distance relationships alive in the stressful Cambridge environment, this one’s just for you: phone sex. Let’s face it, they’re much too far away for a late night booty call, so pick up the phone, put your hands down your pants, and let the dirty talk commence.

(Gonville and) Caius. This is a fun one. Handcuff your chosen victim to the bed, naked, obviously, then conveniently lose the ‘Caius’.

Homerton. My editor suggested Homo-town. She goes there, she would know, right?  But there’s another more obvious contender for gay sex,  so instead we turn to incest. No one at Homerton can be arsed to leave, so college bops have a phenomenal turn out, and there’s certainly no one else from other colleges there, so they all just have lots of Homerton-y sex. So here’s to keeping it in college. (Everybody else, best leave this to the experts down south, it can get very, very messy.)

Jesus. The girl has her back up against wall or other hard surface (wood preferable), arms against the wall at 90 degrees to the body, and gets nailed. Ahem. Yes.

King’s. Classic missionary, man on top, velvet robe optional, with the women’s legs (beneath every great man there is a great woman. Or something) wrapped around him, feet placed on top of his head to make a crown, with toes splayed to make the pointy bits. For the jewel encrusted effect toenails can be painted deep reds, blues and greens. Et voila: The King’s college position.

And that brings to an end the first half of this lustful list. For Lucy Cavendish to Wolfson College, watch this space.

Illustrations by Tasha Sales.