Secrets of the unicorn

To declare that something is “where it all began” – well, it’s dangerous, because if you wish to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe. But here, in a way, is where it all began (a series of three tweets from August):

Thursday, hello. Today I get to find out about my unicorn from a printed table of uppercase letters. (Hope for vowels and consonants!)

Been asked to wait outside until I’m a pretty blonde with nice breasts.

So I have secured me a unicorn, and it’s a nice unicorn, really nicer than I deserve. So that’s nice.

And that was that. Of course, a similar charade happened every year (some of the best that I remember are curiously absent, as though deleted, or only ever imagined in the first place)…

I still don’t understand how sitting an exam can be used to calculate someone’s blood group.

…but this was it. I could dig up “Where’s a good place to wee in Durham?”, but – well, I have done now (and I’m not sure it was worth it). The end.


So! How are you? I am a student – yes, that’s how I am.

The main purpose of the higher education system is to teach the more pompous boys and girls, who wish to postpone behaving like a proper person for a few more years, and so who go to university, not to put bread in the microwave oven. But I actually discovered that secret a few years ago, which raises the question of what the hock I’m doing here.

Well, clearly I’m still desperate to postpone sensible behaviour for a while longer, no matter what I already know about the interaction of wheat and radiation. But besides that, it doesn’t really feel outrageously expensive – of course, I just screw up my eyes and ignore the debt, but as well as that, means testing is just rather kind to me: like, I can afford to have two keep two different kinds of extra virgin olive oil! Nobody expected that.

The unicorn is made from out of concrete, and goose poo, and automatic doors that are just slightly unsettlingly late to start opening when an approaching pedestrian is detected. But more importantly, some people live in it, and they are largely nice, which is a relief.

People to whom, in many cases, means testing is less kind. It turns out that an endless source of fun is looking up people’s former schools on Wikipedia to find how many dead Home Secretaries are “notable alumni”. It also turns out that braying received pronunciation is right annoying in the dead of night. I do wonder which category people guess I must fall into – but there’s no way, no way at all, that I’ll ever find out, clearly.

People, as well, who are overwhelmingly distressingly handsome (an adjective whose use I am championing for use with nouns of all genders, by the way) – but I’m already strangely inured to that.


What I really want to do is direct, and after I promised myself to give up doing soul-destroying PHP (especially WordPress) stuff, of course I then went and helped redesign a ruddy student newspaper website. The most recent part of that has been to make very minimal updates to a five-year old fantasy football game, which I mention only as an excuse to include this tangentially related video:


What else is there to mention? I’m sure there was more. I bought and ate a Pot Noodle (which should surely be some noodles?), believing it to be some kind of rite of passage, and I felt degraded afterwards. On only one night so far have I imbibed too much liqour and wound up in fugue state, in a field of cold mud without my shoes. There’s nothing else – that’s the end.