Swap Review: Fatcatz vs. Freshers
Catz ladies and gentlemen hit the Mahal.
Who: The Fatcatz of St Catharine’s College Vs. Fresher Girls of St Catharine’s College
Location: The Mahal. Of course. No marks for originality.
Theme: The armed forces/emergency services. Again, a tad tired boys, but everyone likes to entertain an alternate reality in which they are in fact, contributing to the health and defence of society, rather than hand-picking freshers from the grainy pictures in the Freshers’ handbook and throwing korma at them (fun, yes; a valuable contribution to the society in which we live, debatable). But nonetheless, we’ll give them the benefit of the doubt for ‘boys will be boys’.
The rating system has begun and, to give them their dues, the Fatcatz have made a quite convincing entry. Their elder counterparts, the Chundercatz had beaten them to the honour of wining and dining the Freshers, so they were out to prove themselves worthy. Decked out variously in scrubs, camouflage gear and RAF uniforms, they cut a fine form as the noisy rabble turned off Silver Street and down the alley to the Mahal which I like to refer to as Purgatory (your fate is yet undecided: will you be sat next to a Blue or the one who’s been pre-lashing since 2pm and can now do nothing but dribble down his chest and try and grope you under the table?). By all accounts, a war of attrition broke out where it was every man and his rice for himself. The boys can hold their drink: all of them made it to the college bar post-swap (which was more than can be said for several of the girls), bearing their curry stains like proud war wounds, and proceeded to continue the night…expect a long evening with these boys. Fez was the post-swap destination of choice, although by this point – the knock-out round – one Fatcat was flagging and by his own admission, was put to bed by a third year philanthropist: when interviewed the next day, he protested ill-health and blamed a premature pre-lash for his early exit. Girls, if you’re keen to see whether his protestations are justified, arrange a swap with this lot. By all accounts, the evening was low on scandal, though maybe the boys are just being coy, since apparently one member of the society did go AWOL, next seen the following morning. A suitably good time was had by all.
Therefore, all that is left is to make some broad, sweeping statements about their performance.
Stamina: The boys definitely did better than the girls in terms of holding their drink and staying the distance.
‘Bant’: My male contact informed me that the girls were ‘good chat’, if a little intimidated by the rowdy second years. Fines centred around ‘fresher T.I.s’ – tuck-ins for the uninitiated – which apparently resulted in quite a few Fatcatz having to down their pint glasses of house wine…
Rowdiness: Based on the state of their costumes – Kitchener would be spinning in his grave if he saw the state of some of the swappers camouflage kit – not a lot of the Mahal’s menu was ending up down the gullets of those involved. (Possibly a good thing: the more curry eaten, the more that can be regurgitated, partially-digested hours later). So make sure you practice your aim. Tip: hurling chunky liquids e.g. vegetable soup – kind of the same consistency as curry – into the gyp room bin might be a good warm-up for a night with the Fatcatz.
Tab Says: They might out-drink you but there were no reports of chundering so no need to worry about one of them throwing up on your shoes. Rowdy enough for a good night, not so rowdy that you’ll need to activate that rape alarm that you got free at the Freshers’ Fair.