A heartfelt welcome

Welcome to Oxford.

The Promised Land awaits: three-four years of pretending you’re happy while your inner-self longs for a normal university experience, talking in absurdities (‘sub-fusc’, ‘scaf’, ‘sconse’, ‘matriculash’… where does it end?) and living on the edge of a work-induced breakdown.

This is the space where I should congratulate you for getting in, then reassure you that you’ll have a wonderfully fulfilling and successful time here.

I’m afraid, however, that friendly welcomes aren’t really my thing, so allow me to offer you some much needed advice that somehow the glossy brochures failed to mention.

First and foremost: work out the cliques in college early on.

In an ideal world, we’d all mingle as equals in an academic bubble of like-minded communitarianism.

Something to aim for..

The reality is that your college will no doubt be filled with jocks, Eton boys, Eton girls (girls who allow themselves to be treated like veritable road kill by the Eton types for the sake of social standing), geeks, pot-heads, role-players, scrabblers, “poon slayers”, do-gooders, moochers, “I can’t go outside because the sun gives me headaches”-ers…. ad infinitum (think I’ll give my imagination a break).

Who knows, maybe you’ll find some mates amongst this rabble, but for now, be attentive.

Secondly: remember that there’s a world outside of Oxford.

And it doesn’t give a shit about your essay crisis, your drunken crewdate antics, or your perceived impoverishment (but Daddy, I only have an iphone 4!).

Just do your essay, stop trying to be a lad, and if you think you’re poor, go talk to one of the numerous tramps around Oxford and see how you compare.

Cardinal rule: be suspicious, very suspicious.

Hacks, despite their friendly and approachable exterior, are heartless robots that will make you crave the complete erosion of democracy if only it would stop them from badgering you.

Second/third year being overly friendly? They want something of you/to put something in you. Expect the worst.

Finally: be nice to your scout.

Goes without saying really. Even if he does hoard your most beloved possessions over the course of the year before publicly leaving it out in a box entitled: “Unclaimed property, help yourself” (it happens).

But the reason you should treat him/her well should really be because you’re a decent person, not because you require room service to match that of your maid back home.