From Kent to Cannes

Three friends set out on fund raising mission to raise money for The Great Ormond Street Hospital.

Bike Ride charity Donate! Great Ormond Street Hospital Kent to Cannes Ollie Wax

You may have seen a rather lanky boy wandering around Bristo Square donning a scrum-cap recently. You may have wondered how far Meadows Madness has spread?

Ollie Bunting, Poppy Seeley and Phoebe Weston are embarking on a 900-mile cycle from Kent to Cannes in April. They’re planning to complete the feat in less than two weeks.

All keen sporting enthusiasts, the cycling trio are taking the opportunity to raise money for The Great Ormond Street Hospital, in aid of Ollie’s little sister Ella who was born two months prematurely.

In order to encourage donations, Ollie, Poppy and Phoebe are undertaking a series of tasks as they hit specific targets.

At £500, Ollie began to grow Bradley Wiggins sideburns…

Allez Wiggo!

Having hit £750, Ollie is wearing a scrum-cap for this entire week, day and night. This began on Monday morning. As a passionate, but failing, Italian student and striving to finish two essays before Friday, he planned to while away the hours in the library inconspicuously.

Unfortunately, feeling particularly intimidated by the 4th year honeys on the surrounding computers (queue Spotted Edinburgh Uni), he slunk off home to the comfort of his kitchen.

Hey, hot stuff

Ollie joins me today for the third target. We have him lain down in our spa (the sofa cushions are arrayed on our sitting floor), lit the candles and incense, put the ‘chilled’ playlist on and Lizzie, our resident beautician, is ready to wax his back, chest and armpits.

For those of you that don’t know, Ollie is 6 ft 4”, tall, dark and handsome (he told me to say that) but most importantly, he is HAIRY. Ollie coined the term “best snail trail in New Town.”


A fine specimen of a man

“It’s actually really annoying because if I get a girlfriend and she says she’s going for a wax, I’ll say, ‘Are you sure you want to put yourself through that?’ Rather than, ‘Yeah, go wax yourself, bitch,’” he says.

“What have I done?”

“Please don’t touch it after, it’s really quite tender.”

60 wax strips later, we have had a few false alarms, pit stops, ear curdling screams, blood, cramp, a moisturising finishing wipe or two, no tears, redness, a bruised male ego and a waning friendship between the doctor and her victim, Ollie is shaking but his body is as smooth as a baby’s bottom.

“I feel like a woman. Do I look bigger? … I feel fat,” he squeals.

“I’ve realised my hips are really quite feminine.”

If you feel sorry for Ollie, or just think he’s mad, please donate:

Or give him new tasks for higher checkpoints! Comment below.