I miss the JMCC and want my meal card back

Plain pasta has taken its toll


You used to laugh at it. You laughed at the oily soup, the overcooked meat, the way the militant staff stopped you smuggling an apple out at breakfast.

Now you sit in your freezing kitchen, eating alone because you only live with three other people. Your pasta sauce went off so you’re eating plain spaghetti seasoned with burnt onions. You are desperate for a diner area with an unlimited supply of milk and four potato options.

You once turned your nose up at the JMCC. Now you’d do anything to go back.

I need to find out where this goes

I need to find out where this goes

The JMCC kept us fed, watered, and (vaguely) healthy. Sure, the quality nosedived after Spanish night during Freshers’ Week, but now four incredible dinner options only appear in your dreams. Fajitas AND steak?! Have mercy.

You moaned about the staff. But you should try catering for thousands of teenagers either hungover, stoned, stressed or a mixture of all three. Think of poor John McIntyre, slaving away in the kitchen while you complained your beef had a vein of fat. Fuck you.

Also, have you ever noticed how long it takes to cook something? Spend an hour chopping, slicing, frying and stirring for something to taste nice? I’d take something mediocre but immediate any day.

The days of sitting down with ten mates on a Sunday morning still buzzing from VK sugar content and settling in for a big fry up session are over, my friends.

This guy is literally paid to cook you dinner. I'd kill to have someone cook me dinner.

This guy is literally paid to cook you dinner

And now you are just another emaciated second year living in a mice ridden flat in Marchmont above a family with a young baby who cries if she hears noise after 9.30pm so you can’t have any wicked cool flat parties your housemate Christian was going to DJ for. But you haven’t seen Christian in ages. You haven’t really seen any of the gang now the girls live in New Town and Paul lives with his football friends.

You only really all got together at dinner time in the JM fucking CC, and now you’re having heart palpitations because you realise how fucking alone you are, and fuck this course and just get me a fucking JMCC hot chocolate from the fucking hot chocolate machine and of fucking course take the mug away before you get any fucking water in it you fuck.

I miss the JMCC. I want my meal card back.