Tab Tries: Chat-Up Lines, Again

Life, Cindies, Fez – all purveyors of sickly-sweet, highly alcoholic beverages and all places of myriad opportunity for a man with a plan. The self-loathing was drowned by Sainsbury’s Basics White Wine, James Blunt was turned off in a fit of optimism, and the Kleenex were snugly tucked away. Five brave men ventured forth to ply respectable Cambridge undergrads with awful puns, blatantly sexual metaphors and cringe lines that make Chubby Brown sound like Shakespeare.

Yes, once more The Tab is going into the fray, attempting to find that elusive phrase that will melt all hearts and drop all knickers.

The Sleazy Smoker: “Have you got a light? Or should I just use the fire in your beautiful eyes?”

Response: “Yes. Here.” Then turned away to talk to a far more attractive man. The unlit cigarette hanging from my mouth garbled the words, and I had to repeat the line, which probably didn’t help much.

Rating: 7/10 if you just say the first part – guaranteed conversation starter. 1/10 if you actually manage to say the whole thing, as she’d have to be very drunk not to just walk away from you.

The Arrogant Twat: “I’m from St John’s. Let’s go.”

Response: She vomited a little bit in her mouth. Genuine shock and dismay were visible in her eyes. Frankly, all credit to the man who debased himself by saying this line. What was most sickening was that one girl actually moved over and started to dance very close, as if trying to ingratiate herself with our fake St Johnian. Now it was his turn to mouth-vomit.

Rating: 0/10 for any normal human being. Apparently, 9/10 for the sick and twisted social climbers. Poor, deranged girls.

The Classicist: “I’d buy you a drink, but they don’t sell the nectar of the gods here.”

Response: Flash of confusion, then an attempt to act cool by saying that she actually didn’t like that cocktail that much, and that she had a drink already, but thanks anyway. An explanation was offered, at which point her eyes entirely glazed over and any attempts at conversation died.

Rating: 6/10 had it not been explained. I don’t think I’ll prompt any angry responses by observing that Classics does not excite the average undergraduate.

The Fresher: “You know, my supervisor says I’m on course for a first. You could be my first.”

Response: Laughter from a large crowd of girls. Again, all credit to the man who had the balls to use this one. However, all was not lost; the irony became apparent, and conversation began. Numbers were exchanged. Somehow, the most appalling line was the most successful. We were shocked and awed.

Rating: 9/10 if they appreciate the irony, and you manage to pull it off without being too mortified at the words coming out of your own mouth.

The Druggy: “I have a pile of ecstasy under my bed.”

Response: Incredible amounts of interest and excitement, followed by disappointment and excessive defensiveness about drug abuse when it was revealed that this was not actually the case. Could have been risky if they’d been an undercover porter or something.

Rating: 10/10 if it’s true and you manage to find the right kind of girl in Fez.

The Rapist: “Does this rag smell like chloroform to you?” (Holding up soiled rag)

Response: One girl screamed, one girl gave a vicious slap, one girl giggled and the last girl announced that she’d heard that line before, and that she couldn’t remember what chloroform smelled like. We weren’t all that surprised.

Rating: 2/10, though higher if you find someone with a sense of humour and not a rape alarm.

The X Factor: “I’m sorry, it’s just… (suppress whimper) my hamster Bruno passed away last night.”

Response: Concern from one girl, who gave the customary arm rub and expressed her sympathies. Her (more attractive) friend raised her eyes heavenward and wandered off. Meanwhile, the girl revealed that she was a Christian and that she would pray for him. Our man realised his folly.

Rating: 5/10. All depends on the girl, this one. Watch out for Baptists outside Fez.

So there you have it. Mild success in the form of a phone number, complete with all 11 digits, but that’s all. Almost success with hamster girl, but then God cock-blocked our poor friend. Proof once more that the chat up line is the last refuge of a lonely Cambridge undergraduate, tanked up on cheap alcohol and desperately trying not to fall on the floor at Life and tearfully curl into the foetal position.