Thought you knew Cambridge? Well think a-bloody-gain!
You’ve been here for at least one year. Despite this, you are still the same disgusting ruffian that left junction 13 of the M11 several months ago. Why, you may ask as you gasp into your foie gras at hall, do I make such an accusation? Well, you uncultured heathens, here is an article that can put you straight and enable you to converse properly in the pretentious island that is Cambridge.
Actually pronounced New-Ham, after their rowers’ thick thighs. You may not believe me, but it is the root of the saying ‘Sleep with a Newnham girl and wake up with ploughman’s in the morning’.
St John’s College
Pronounced ‘St Legends’, on the fact that the best known human beings, May ball and food originate from one of its many and luxurious courts.
A degree that actually is pronounced ‘Too scared to apply to a proper subject, so applied to this with…’. If the with is followed by drama and navel gazing, you should probably dump Greg Hill and leave Homerton.
The degree actually started life as ‘I can catch a ball, am strong and can run fast, give me a place please’. Well, the old name didn’t stick, but don’t be surprised if you hear a couple of old boys shout it out around the college squash courts.
Also known as The Tab. Didn’t you know your favourite journalism is actually formed from a secret fellow-driven conspiracy from Pembroke? Like a shitter Dan Brown novel, Pembroke is at the heart of some controversy/unethical investment no one really cares about.
When it was founded, the college was named Corpsusch Risti, after its German megalomaniac benefactor. Since several world wars and world cup defeats, the Cambridge college has distanced itself from its Nordic roots, leaving behind a bastardised name that is actually a pun.
This started life as a club for the sons of hard working Yorkshire miners. Hot glasses of brown ale would compliment strong discussions about the state of British industry and how many sugars is too many in a mug of nan’s tea. All this changed when Thatcher broke the miners’ strike and the premises were taken over by some old Etonians in a coup. The great Pitt fights of the eighties receded into the twattish debauchery of now. If only current members knew of its humble beginings.
So you see, witless Cantabs, there is more to Cambridge than names that are phonetically pronounced. There is history and damn good history at that, which throws ambiguity into the face of your misconceived rationality, leaving behind a fog of reality.