Here are four things every King’s College London student should give up for Lent

As the intellectual members of our audience (who haven’t spent February in a pit of intoxication, overcompensating for a dry, miserable January) will know – Lent is upon us once again.

Although originally an opportunity for Christian celebration, it’s become clear that Lent has turned into a glorified and shameful re-attempt at your pitifully failed new year’s resolutions.

Traditional sacrifices include chocolate, caffeine, a diet consisting of Too Good To Go meals, or simply the joy of living.

KCL students, however, have a uniquely tragic and hilarious set of habits that could use some serious rehabilitation – or, at the very least, reconsideration.

So, if you’re a King’s student looking to broaden your horizons, here are a few meaningful (yet admittedly painful) suggestions of ways to make a change for Lent.

This list is sure to have you feeling like you’ve had a hefty dose of The Substance after the glorious forty days and forty nights ahead of us.

Learn to say ‘no’ to the Greggs queue

It’s beyond me why one would ever consensually add partaking in a queue that rivals Heathrow passport control into an already stacked day of lectures.

However, I can understand why the student mind would conclude that a freshly baked, steamy sausage roll is the answer to all of one’s life problems.

Nothing heals the bleeding wound of poor academic security and uncertain future career prospects quite like a Greggs.

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It’s a habit that establishes itself as even more reasonable when you factor in its multi-use nature! Once you’ve polished off the steak bake, the wrapper doubles as a makeshift pack of Kleenex to dry away those tears (you’re welcome).

Why not really push the boat out and grab yourself a coffee from one of King’s many cafeterias instead?

Nothing feels quite as noble as waltzing into the River Café, raring to give back to the academic community that already does a splendid job of draining your bank account, at a rate that would make a high-interest loan blush!

Approach that counter with philanthropic pride, and order your £4.95 oat latte.

Adopt academic transparency

I get it.

You have a pastel-coloured notebook, pristine enough to send the gods of the 2015 Tumblr scene into a state of overexcited arousal. Your MacBook sufficiently creates an “I’m intelligent, busy, and useful to the world” narrative when placed in front of you at whatever TikTok-hyped central café you’ve chosen for the day’s ‘study’ outing.

I fear its time we address the reality, however, that behind every “productive study session” Story post is a student on the verge of a 2007 Britney Spears style breakdown (buzzcut included).

Perhaps this Lent, we embrace the cruel yet honest truth. Why not post a cute, candid selfie crying into an overdue essay, and eating a pot noodle so foul that it wouldn’t even be fed to a feral zoo animal?

Better yet, take one for the team and quit the ‘I have it all together act’.

Instead, acknowledge the overt fact that academia is indeed a recipe in disguise for good old fashioned insanity.

Bonus points to those of you who are daring enough to disrupt your picturesque February dump with a shot of your laptop battery on 3 per cent. We all see the ominous notification hovering above from that one girl on your course asking: “Babe, are you okay? Haven’t seen you in weeks…”

Stop thinking Sports Night is a good idea, literally ever

Although this lifestyle alteration should be a universally understood rule year-round, I’m going to exploit this blessed time to drill the suggestion in once and for all.

It’s become exceptionally apparent to me that a Wednesday evening filled with regret, intoxication, and (more often than not) tears has become a glorified excuse for self-sabotage.

Engaging in a weekly sports night that actually results in success is just about as likely as getting on with that one flatmate that seems to have a kink for blocking the sink with Italy’s entire pasta supply.

This Lent, choose a cosy and endearing local pub. Choose a playful games night-in. Choose literally anything but the fiery pits of hell they call Guy’s Bar. Choose peace.

The mere fact that this establishment is content with the connotation of its name being a stubborn straight male with ’17 in 1’ hygiene products should be enough to deter any form of willing attendance.

Jesus himself could resist the temptations of Satan. You are more than capable of resisting the submersion of yourself into an evening that consists of drinks resembling cat urine (in both flavour and appearance), football players that belong in high security prisons, and bouncers whose only goal is to destroy any morsel of self-esteem you had remaining.

Glow-up your lecture fashion

To my fellow pretty mess girls, I get it.

Recovery from seasonal illness, combined with the aftertaste of Sambuca crawling up your throat whenever you attempt to utter a greeting so simple as “morning”, doesn’t make the greatest foundation for a groundbreaking fashion statement at your 9am lecture.

Alas, your Year 11 leavers hoodie should stay within the bounds of the context which it was created for – a lockdown depressive episode, or a field that’s been abused so aggressively by empty Echo Falls bottles that it’s a miracle summer fruits hasn’t begun to leak from the roots deep in the soil.

Jesus largely remains an icon due to his impeccable sense of style and his revolutionary robe – the same mark will not be left on your behalf  historically if you continue to attend uni in a sriracha stained pair of joggers.

This same pair likely leaves those around you wondering if you found yourself in a heavy duty boxing match with a fox during your commute, or rather, if you are in fact just grotesquely unhygienic and in need of serious intervention.

I’m all for loving yourself and being comfortable in your own skin.

But when the self in question resembles a casting call for the role of Fantine in Les Miserables, and the skin in question still reeks of cheesy chips and fake tan, I fear we are slightly exploiting our own right to self-expression.

This Lent, why not invest in a nice, comfortable pair of jeans? Or at the very least, a hair comb and some deodorant?

Transport yourself to the beginning of this article and reconnect with the inspiration here, ladies and gents – the substance. A 24-hour Dove roll on and a tangle teaser is really all it takes to regain some self-respect, and trick your peers into thinking you’ve had a miraculous overnight glow up (Demi Moore style).

Good luck, and may your Wi-Fi connection be slightly stronger than your willpower!