Campus Safari: Rich Bitch

We continue to take a look at the species Leeds seems to nurture

On the outside, the Rich Bitch is a truly beautiful specimen, a sparkling gem in the crown of the Leeds University campus. However, beneath the drop-dead good looks and the big fluttering eyes lies a terrifying creature. Not afraid to use its claws, this beast is a truly brutal force of nature; capable of tearing your self-esteem to shreds with little more than one viciously sarcastic “darling, you’re wearing that?”

Despite its seemingly endless supply of cash, the ‘haircut’ is a foreign concept to the Rich Bitch, as is the ‘comb’; the only thing that matches its hair in size is its pout, which can grow to gargantuan proportions. The tan is St. Tropez; not the kind you find in a bottle, but the kind you find on an all-expenses paid Christmas break with the family helicopter at one’s disposal. The clothes are unmistakeably designer, with excessively large logos just to make sure that you know how really, really fucking rich they are.

A close relative of the peacock, this creature feels the need to parade its beautiful accoutrements to all around; expect this designer obsession to stretch to everything from glasses to phone cases, with enough expensive jewellery to rival the dragon from The Hobbit. Most often found in the Versailles-style luxury of Charles Morris, the Rich Bitch survives solely on a diet of Refectory light-lunches and daddy’s money. When not venting childhood insecurity as violent bitchiness on the hockey or lacrosse pitch, Rich Bitches can be found lining the walls of Tequila, looking proudly down their noses at all the guys who don’t even have a slight chance of pulling them.

A poisonous creature when engaged, one can be sure to receive some kind of two-faced comment when interacting with members of this species: describing your look as “so charity shop tramp-chic”, perhaps, or saying that your humble family abode reminds them of their “super-cute little guest house”. Do not let these insults get to you; when they berate you for the hundredth time about the hideousness of high-street fashion, don’t fret. Merely comfort yourself with the thought that this is their peak; all that awaits them after the twilight of their university days is bad botox and an inevitable prescription drug problem.