The Best of Overheard at Cambridge

Because we definitely haven’t heard enough ridiculous stuff in the last few weeks.

bedders best posts caius hall English Facebook Formal Harry Potter Oscar Wilde Overheard at Cambridge Oxford physics Trump UL Voldemort

The Overheard at Cambridge Facebook page: a valuable go-to for all your procrastination needs, as well as some much-needed reassurance that an awful lot of us talk an awful lot of shit an awful lot of the time.

I’ll be honest that writing an article about one of my favourite sources of procrastination has proved a little bit problematic (stalking the profile of someone who liked a post in 2013 totally counts as research). But finally, I’ve compiled a list of some of the best things Overheard at Cambridge since the start of term. One university. Seven weeks. Countless amounts of pretentious crap:

It’s grrreat!

Tbh the real marvel of this conversation is the fact that the first speaker is apparently a talking dog.

Tbh the real marvel of this conversation is the fact that the first speaker is apparently a talking dog.

Given the recent trend for electing big orange animals to positions of power, I wouldn’t be at all surprised to see Oxford appoint Tony the Tiger as their next vice-chancellor.

Formal fowl up

Understandable tbh

Heaven forbid.

Of course, if you drink enough port you needn’t worry about tasting whatever it is that you’re being served anyway.

“It’s lasAGNa, not lasagNA”

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Broccoli: in which Harry swaps the wizarding world for Gardeners' World.

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Broccoli: in which Harry swaps the wizarding world for Gardeners’ World.

Vegetarianism seems a slightly incongruous life choice for someone who calls their followers Death Eaters, but nose or no nose, maybe Voldemort is just really worried about methane gas. Also, big up Mama Dolmio – everyone’s so concerned with the idea of Voldemort shagging Bellatrix that they forget she’s really the woman who has his heart.

One indulgence at a time, please.

Oscar Wilde would never stand for such self-deprivation.

Oscar Wilde would never stand for such self-deprivation.

While the self-control displayed by this pitiful excuse for a hedonist may seem alarming, I can only comfort myself with the thought that he was too busy at the time of this conversation indulging in another combination:

blood-sperm

On the subject of bodily fluids…

I'd buy his CD.

I’d buy his CD.

“Urinal Pavarotti” has to be the most glorious phrase I’ve come across during my time at Cambridge, and I study English.

This heartless invasion:

Not sure I know the meanings of the words 'lectures' or 'mop'.

Not sure I know the meanings of the words ‘lectures’ or ‘mop’.

As someone who faces the daily struggle of having to be up and vaguely humanoid by the time my bedder comes in at the ungodly hour of 11.30, I can confirm that the outrage is very, very real.

The real reason they give us college children

Cambridge University, effective contraceptive since 1209.

Cambridge University, effective contraceptive since 1209.

Pretty much sums things up, yeah.

Such gaucherie…

Yeah being able to talk convincingly about QM for any length of time is definitely the mark of an idiot...

Yeah being able to talk convincingly about QM for any length of time is definitely the mark of an idiot…

This reminds me of all the people who swear that their essays are total bollocks too, and then proceed to outshine you shamelessly in every supervision. Fuck them.

How to lose friends and alienate people: the Cambridge edition

B R U T A L

B U R N

As if being seen in Fez wasn’t enough of an insult in itself.

Cambridge in a nutshell

The line we all wanted to put in our SAQ.

The line we all wanted to put in our SAQ.

A world-class education, the beautiful architecture, you own dangerously-inflated ego – cite whatever reason you like for having applied to Cambridge, but really, we all know that this is the real one. Any social skills you’ve pretended to possess up until this point can be gloriously abandoned by the time week 5 comes around, and now it’s just a case of everyone riding out the rest of term in a bleary haze, smelling of dirty duvets and booze.

Oh yeah, merry Bridgemas, everyone.