It’s time to recognise St Andrews for what it really is – the most tragic uni in Scotland

The University of St Andrews is known worldwide for hosting royals, rich Americans and for single-handedly keeping the gilet business alive.

With all its delusions of grandeur, it’s no wonder that Americans flock to the closest thing to Hogwarts to study.They revel in traditions such as avoiding stepping on certain plaques, skinny-dipping in the ice-cold sea and wearing red gowns for walks along the pier. Because they’re bloody weirdos.

Ever since Wills and Kate attended (totes their idols), swarms of wannabe royals have flocked to the ancient town. Mimicking their idols, everyone seems to study History or History of Art. Most likely because they enjoy the revision for it so much.

Their revision consists of masturbating over their family tree and their estate’s collection of Constable paintings – forget about Playboy. You’ll find a copy of Debrette’s hidden under their mattress.

On campus, in an attempt to convince themselves of their royal status, many students join elitist and entirely privately-educated societies, such as the Kate Kennedy club. These clubs only exist so they can drink away their sorrows from being rejected by Oxford and Durham.

And they also go along to chat to their mates Tarquin and Mungo about how many birds they banged that weekend.

Pheasants, of course. Not girls. No chance.

This is because the vast majority of boys here are cripplingly awkward. Trying to adopt the awkward Hugh Grant charm, they just resemble floppy-haired faux royalty. Speaking of Hugh Grant, he’s actually banned from campus for shagging too many students. No surprises there, really. After all, the ultimate aphrodisiac in the town is a posh accent and a page in Tatler.

It’s also not a shock that they’d hook up with an older gent, when most of them look like they’re in their 40s themselves.

They talk about Edinburgh fashion by saying that we all look homeless. And by ‘homeless’ they probably mean that your estate only consists of 700 acres, meanwhile, they all dress like clones of their parents. The girls dress like middle-aged ladies who lunch, which is likely to be many of their career choices. And the guys look like they enjoy reading golfing magazines, whilst swishing around a glass of Scotch.

Nothing exciting ever happens here

What’s more, the students all have horrifically pretentious names. I met a Hilaire once. Poor boy. That’s his actual name, that he has to live with every day of his sorry life.

Having visited a few times, I get the impression that the overall environment is horrendously bitchy and elitist. Think “Mean Girls”, if all the Plastics were educated at Harrow and had triple-barrelled surnames.

“We wear red chinos on Wednesdays”, you can hear them cry. Don’t have a signet ring? Don’t even TRY to sit with them. Asides from the horrendous student body, the town itself is pretty shit. It consists of cafes, churches, more churches. Oh, and the ruins of an old church.

The absence of nightclubs and anything vaguely resembling the real world means they spend their lives bitching about each-other at invite-only dinners. The blatant social-climbing is only rivaled by that of the cast of Made in Chelsea. But tell them that and their ruddy cheeks would turn a darker shade of purple in anger at the suggestion that you might think they were that nouveau riche.

It’s also pretty obvious that the whole town exists to price-out those not as wealthy as themselves. An almost complete absence of affordable University accommodation is not considered shocking. Can’t afford the minimum £6000 a year halls? You’re not welcome.

Of the few Scots who do actually attend, very many travel in from their homes in Fife due to the ludicrously expensive and oversubscribed halls. And, most likely, to avoid living with an incapable bunch of awkward, elitist Oxbridge rejects who have come to St Andrews because they weren’t quite ready to leave boarding school and mix in the real world.