Get in, Morty, we’re going to arbitrarily decide which C137 universities Rick and Morty characters would attend

Come step through the door of perception, embrace the dawn sky and its clouds that read: nothing matters. Accept and enjoy fleeting distraction.

Nobody exists on purpose. Nobody belongs anywhere. We’re all going to die. Now come read this article.

Rick Sanchez – Bristol

They’re a genius, you’re told. The only reason they aren’t changing the world is because of their need to be constantly inebriated and to go travelling at every possible opportunity. Old, red brick, too much acid.

Morty Smith – UWE

A couple of IQ bands behind Rick. Hell, you don’t even take as many drugs as Rick if we’re being honest. But you go to Motion all the same, tagging along and trying to contribute, painfully aware infinite poly iterations of yourself exist across the country ready to take your place at any moment.

Summer Smith – Cardiff

No one wants Cardiff to be in the Russell Group, no one wants Summer to be in on this adventure. But she’s here for character development and “Welsh representation.”

Beth Smith – Bath

The dour offspring of a more prestigious, red brick institution. Daddy invents inter-dimensional travel and as a result sits on a FTSE 100 board of directors. Studying Veterinary Science, you intend to return to Surrey and specialise in equine care.

Jerry Smith – Bath Spa

You’re never going to get a job.

The council of Ricks – UCAS

Most of us are granted access to the citadel, enjoying its fruitful Mortys and undergraduate qualifications. Your only other option is the Machine of Unspeakable Clearing Doom, swapping conscious and unconscious minds, rendering your fantasies pointless while everything you’ve ever known becomes impossible to grasp. Also every 10 seconds it stabs your balls.

Unless, like the scientist formerly known as Rick or Rick Sanchez (C-137) you don’t get an offer, the rogue.

SEAL Team Ricks – Hendon Police College

“Terrorick!”

“Rickpig!”

All common phrases in the young PCSO’s handbook.

Pickle Rick – Glasgow

Your entire undergraduate degree is spent trying to figure out if it’s possible to pickle yourself in bucky, one Friday at a time.

Gearhead – Manchester

Sure, everyone in halls knows him as Gearhead. What they don’t know is that behind this aptronymous moniker lies an impossibly posh heritage. Revolio Clockberg, Jr. is his real name, you’re shocked to discover while sorting out documents for the second year house.

Squanchy – Man Met

Tell me this isn’t the Met 6am aesthetic. Back at afters, the Met student manages to squeeze “nos?” into a sentence with the same alarming regularity Squanchy says squanch.

Mr. Meeseeks – Durham

“Look at me, I go to Durham!”

They exist for a single task – fulfilling parental expectation. Once they’ve done that and landed the grad job, they’re absorbed into the corporate ranks and essentially stop existing.

Unity – Oxford

Graduates of the dreaming spires are so homogeneous you’d be forgiven for thinking they were in fact a hive mind, its consciousness emanating from the RadCam.

Real Fake Doors Salesman – Cambridge

Your school’s careers adviser told you: “Don’t even worry. Don’t even give it a second thought. A degree from Cambridge will open so many doors for you.”

Little did our Cantab in the making know, they were real fake doors.

Krombopulous Michael – Imperial

Probably serial murderers in their spare time, and definitely haven’t realised this is something to be ashamed of.

Dr Xenon Bloom – St George’s

Co-founder of Anatomy Park, you will in all likelihood be murdered by a disease running rampant through the BioMed labs.

Cromulon – Leeds

“SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT!” he screams as he walks into the charity shop, in search of a tatty Fila jacket.

“SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT!” he screams over the noise of pounding dance music at the guy who’s offered to sell him something on the Space dancefloor

“SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT!” he screams at the DJ, as he waits for the drop to transport him to a higher plane.

Birdperson and Tammy – Exeter and Falmouth

Devoid of personality, but with impressive pecs all the same, the life of stability inevitably falls apart when you try and get involved with Falmouth to bring a bit of spice into things.

As with any coast-bound student artiste feeling the strains of rapidly approaching deadlines, Tammy snaps. At your wedding she kills you, only to bring you back to life later, rambling something about a ‘final project’.

Snowball – Sussex

It was all so manageable when you turned up to your East Slope room during freshers – a nice, obedient Home Counties kind of person.

After two terms at Sussex and you’re ready to lead a revolt against the masters. You’re not their pet, and it’s time to give them a taste of their own medicine.

Ants-In-My-Eyes Johnson – Hull

Living in Hull, the best you can hope for is to have ants in your eyes

Mr Poopybutthole – Lancaster

Despite their constant insistence, nobody believes that Lancaster are a real top 10 uni. Sure, the memories are there, but we’re convinced they’re fake. Lancaster students act mortally wounded at the mere insistence they don’t belong at the top table of academic brilliance, dining on the meatloaf of research excellence.

Ron Benson and Gareth Jefferson – QUB and UUJ

Belfast has lessons to learn, like the futility of conducting a race war based on nipple structure. But I’ll be damned if that ripple nippled bitch is superior.

Eight Jan Michael Vincents – York

There is no quadrant P, only D bar. For some reason there are many Jan Michael Vincents, all essentially the same and ultimately forgettable. For some reason there are many colleges at York…

Principal Gene Vagina – Bishop Grosseteste University

When your name reminds everyone of genitalia, there’s no escaping it.

Greedy Gromflomite – LSE

Say, friend, why have you chosen to study at LSE?

For money.

Tiny Legs and Regular Legs – Nottingham and Trent

Is it possible to affix any other stereotype to Nottingham than regular? And is it possible to think of them without simultaneously imagining their endearing, but functionally inferior partner.

Sure, there’s a rivalry, but to the outside world these two make a fine, fine duo.

King Jellybean – King’s College London

This entry has absolutely nothing to do with noncing and it’s only because of the repetition of “King” that it exists.

Fart – Open University

An amorphous cloud of gas, filling the space in any room or middle-aged CV, spurting off nuggets of wisdom obtained after work in the converted bedroom study.

Scary Terry – Liverpool

To the uninitiated, Liverpool seems a terrifying prospect. Sure, it’s the city of your dreams, but not in a good way.

Get to know it, and it’s actually a wholesome place, misunderstood and just in need of a chance. Bitch.

Abradolf Lincler – UEA

Surely it’s only a matter of time before UEA’s SU add the genetic hybrid of Abraham Lincoln and Adolf Hitler to their banned costumes list.

Ice-T – Newcastle

Oooh, you don’t take a coat on nights out? Someone’s gonna accidentally get frozen into a giant ice crystal.

Shrimply Pibbles – Royal Holloway

Searching for a human penis because there are literally none on campus.

Bangor – Philip Jacobs, PersonalSpaceShow.com host

Stuck in Bangor, on the far side of Snowdonia. All because you care about your personal space.

Birmingham and Aston – Michael and Pichael Thompson

Brum was named first and got the good one, the second’s seems like a hasty afterthought.

Aston. Asston. Ass town. Hehe.

Piece of Toast – Bournemouth

Bournemouth’s big night out revolves around a piece of toast.

Jessica – Edinburgh

For Morty, Jessica is distant and unobtainable. As is your university for any would-be visiting friends.

That is, until they muster the courage and find out it’s pretty charming.

Mr Goldenfold – St Andrews

As the best non-Oxbridge university for the subject, you just really care about Maths.

Arthricia – UCL

Is there any difference between getting to lectures through central London and living on a planet that routinely engages in a murderous purge?

Blim Blam the Korblok – Sheffield

No one sets out to eat a baby, but when 3am rolled around and Balti King was shut, they’re left with no choice.

Two Brothers – Southampton and Solent

Mexican armadas, murderous grannies, and the actual moon coming crashing down are benign threats compared to the perils of each of the four corners of the Jesters dancefloor, where a brother-like bond forms as students huddle together to avoid the locals.

Doofus Rick – Leeds Beckett

Free from the burden of being a Russell Group-level genius, Beckett are free be a bit more innocent, have a bit more fun, and get a slightly weirder haircut.

Roy: A Life Well Lived – Warwick

The Warwick Bubble feels like your whole life. When graduation comes, it feels like you’ve done everything, old before your time. Three years has flown by and it was so real.

Take off the goggles, there’s a world out there.