Cambridge nightlife: a limerick

Oliver Yeates paints us a colourful picture of the night in poetic verse.

annoying bollocks Cambridge Drinking Limerick Nightlife poetry

Cambridge’s only major student newspaper without a culture section presents some fine poetry for you to muse in between your studies.

Our poet, contemplating.

Our poet, contemplating.

There once was a Cambridge student,
Who lived a life ever so prudent,
For the limerick job,
Let’s call him Bob,
Now I’ll tell my tale eager and fluent.

Bob was drinking one night with friends,
And he would hear them speak to no end,
Of Cambridge clubs,
Of bluster and buzz,
‘Life’ ‘Fez’ ‘Cindies’ they began to commend.

The first night Bob partied in Life,
A tale of boozing, sharking and strife;
Set in a pit,
That stank of dog shit,
Swaps and John’s boys hunting for a wife.

Bob's night wasn't great. Kuda seen it coming.

Bob’s night wasn’t great. Kuda seen it coming.

A night in Life just ends in shame:
You’ll drunkenly tarnish your name,
Repugnant sweat,
And VK regret,
From Cambridge’s dark side does Life get its fame.

To Fez Bob went on his second night,
Simply put: it gave him a fright.
“Is that indie I smell?”
Bob couldn’t quite tell:
The “coolness” of Fez is pure shite.

No fun to be found here, Bob.

No fun to be found here, Bob.

Bob then came across a BNOC,
A leering, jeering insufferable cock;
His fake wide grin,
On his fake wide chin:
Bob wanted him gone, tick tick tock…

“Lola’s” Bob’s friends do not mention:
“We avoid the gown v town tension”
A place quite cool,
But as Cantabs don’t rule,
“So where would be right?” was now the question.

Well, on their third drunken flight,
Bob found a club that was just right.
With music of cheese
And fair outdoor breeze,
Cindies is the Queen of the night!

And Bob was as happy as this guy.

And Bob was as happy as this guy.

How are you feeling after that? Peturbed that your experiences differ so far from those of our protagonist? A little bit annoyed? Itchy?

The power of poetry.