Tonight’s the night, everyone. RAG Blind Date is upon us. The heady days of carefree form-filling are over and it’s time to face the music. Quite literally, if you were smart enough to ‘admit’ that your favourite song is Sexual Healing.

It would be lovely if all our dates turn out as matches made in RAG heaven: like-minded people bonding over the thrill of organised fun. But somehow, I have my doubts.

A match made in heaven?

And therefore I present to you my best attempt at an escape plan, should you need one. Anything that might get you arrested is out, RAG being for charity and all that, but a combination of these gems should do the trick. Perfect.

1. Apparently we form our impressions of someone within eleven seconds of meeting them. If alarm bells are ringing before you’ve bought your first drink, be tactical. Sow seeds of oddity now. Boys should ask for anything involving Malibu, ‘the real man’s drink’. Girls, a tot of sherry will do, or a nice glass of milk.

2. As conversations kick off, the tactics can begin. Stare at a point in the middle distance behind your date and ‘react’ to it: laughing or nodding are both good starting points. Eventually they will look around: It’s time they met your imaginary friend.

3. Awkward chat should now be flowing like a boulder down a mountain. Stuck for how to respond to your date’s love of knitting? It’s time for some baffling word games.  A splash of Pig Latin might be genius here, ofway oursecay! If not, perhaps repeat every every fourth word you say say?

4. Become a hobbies bore yourself, with the potential to waffle on for hours. If tedium won’t force their hand, add some sprinkles of public humiliation: if you were born to row, demonstrate your erg technique very flamboyantly, shouting loudly about the little cox you saw just this morning. Your date should now have at least one eye on the door.

5. If you need a shorter, sharper burst of the crazies then it’s time to whack out some impromptu musical theatre. Jazz hands obligatory, channel your inner Justin Bieber/ Miley Cyrus manic smile and go get’em, tiger. Don’t fall into the trap of doing anything sexy, like All That Jazz: weird dates might take that as flirtation. You Can’t Stop The Beat (Hairspray) or If You Were Gay (Avenue Q) might be more suitable. Get going on your Youtube homework now…

I’m a big girl now…

6… finished rehearsals? Excellent. This musical delight can segue into explaining why you construct this happy-go-lucky ‘facade’, pouring your heart out to your unsuspecting date about the ‘battle’ (use X Factor language) to overcome your very traumatic childhood. A past, tragic romance might be good here with ‘Timmy’, ‘Kitty’ or the like. Leave it very ambiguous as to whether the object of your affections was human or animal.

7. Now for a few quickfire rounds. Dribble unashamedly down your chin, for no reason. Beautiful.

8. Scratch yourself, like a student possessed. Imitate a monkey while doing so, for a whole new level of bizarre. Desperate times, desperate measures.

me want banana

9. Continue to move your mouth, but only mime words. Act as though nothing is wrong. Smile through the miming, just to prove how normal this whole situation is.

10. The aim here is to make your date leave. You are then free to continue enjoying the drinks deals and Cindies experience. In case you are forced to surrender, get handy with your smartphone and pre-download ‘Fake-A-Call’. As always, there’s an app for that.

That cushion is so last season.

Who said romance was dead? Go forth and conquer, RAG Blind-Daters.

One last spray of Joop! Jump onto your gooch for good measure. That bottle of College White hasn’t stilled any of your nerves, and you are one more worry-shart away from complete rectal prolapse.

Yes, your RAG blind date form may have been covered with carefully inked Percies, with ‘swallows’ as your prized date criterion, yet deep down you’re looking for more. Someone to kiss you on the lips, or touch your boobs under your puffa jacket. Someone, maybe, to feed you Revels one by one, carefully discarding orange and coffee whilst telling you it’ll all be alright.

Stick to the following advice and fully exploit your one night of being ‘the charity case’.

DO:

1) Lay your cards on the table.

While the conventional advice might be to hold them close to your chest, you’ve got to understand that Jane Austen characters make much less compelling dates than the kind of people appearing on Sun, Sex and Suspicious Parents. Declaring your admiration for your date’s well-aligned teeth is a flattering compliment, particularly if they are a dentist, although it is not a good idea to kick off by telling them that you got the handwriting on their form analysed by a marital compatibility expert. The trick is not to modify any friendly compliments on their personality or appearance with phrases such as, ‘just like my Mummy’, or ‘bigger than I have ever touched’.

Gnashers this good should never go uncomplemented

2) Draw them a picture.

This is so nice. A few tips: boys generally like incredibly detailed anatomical diagrams of genitals; girls like flowers and fairy castles. So why not mix it up? Show her you’re different, and knock her sideways with a carefully rendered reproduction of a scrotum (not your own). Ladies, get cracking on Cinderella’s chariot. Glitter Glue is like a carrot to an ass when it comes to men. You bear that in mind.

3) Injure your date.

It’s important to get this right. Strangulation in Giraffe is frowned upon within normal society. Brand her gently with the tealight, however, and she will be forever yours.

DON’T: 

1) Get pregnant.

This would be such a big mistake! Did you know that pregnancy may lead to weight-gain, breast enhancement, and even childbirth? If you really need to do a sex on your blind date, then remember these golden rules: keep your eyes open (it’s great to honour a theme, but it is polite to take a peek at your partner from time to time), less is never more, and wrap your winkle thoroughly in his latex onesie before you commence the dance of desire.

The worst RAG hangover a woman could ask for…

2) Use cutlery as a vehicle for flirty titillation, even if Hollywood says so.

Mary-Kate and her sibling Ashley were often wooed by men who seemed miraculously versed in the art of dangling a fork from a poised hand whilst talking gruffly with their eyebrows. The sexual weight carried by such a gesture is undeniable, yet requires weeks of perfection, impeccable mood lighting and sterilized silver wear. Attempts at this in the Mahal will only make you look slightly Sweeney Todd. Or Uri Geller.

a clear demonstration of the erogenous potential of the fork

3) Don’t dumb down your geography.

‘Is Asia a county in Africa?’ is only sexy in year 7. And it was only sexy in year 7 because that sentence evokes simultaneous images of Shilpa Shetty and Shakira Ripoll.

What’s that? Your date left while you were at the urinal? Oh well. This can only mean you are not very good looking, or that you can’t draw princess transport very successfully.

We probably wouldn’t go out with you either. And we have really low standards.

Friday 15 June

ROBINSON MAY BALL

Tickets: Price TBA. Available from 10 February for Robinson students and 12 February for general release.

Robinson 2011 review.

Saturday 16 June

PETERHOUSE MAY BALL

Tickets: £300 (standard), £350 (champagne reception), and £400 (dining) per double, with a £10 discount for Peterhouse students on their first double ticket. Available to Peterhouse students from 1 February, Peterhouse alumni from 8 February, and general release from 15 February.

Fun fact: Peterhouse is this year’s only white tie ball.

HUGHES HALL MAY BALL

Details to be announced.

Hughes Hall 2011 review.

Sunday 17 June

EMMANUEL JUNE EVENT

Theme: Illusion.

Tickets: £72 (standard) and £82 (VIP) including an optional £2 charitable donation. Available from 4 February for Emma students and  general release from 11 February.

Fun fact: In the past, the June Event has played host to Chase and Status and Artful Dodger.

Monday 18 June

CLARE MAY BALL

Tickets: £130 (standared) and £150 for guests from outside the university. VIP is £40 extra. Available from 10 February at 6pm.

Launch party: 9 February.

Fun fact: Clare’s Old Court lends itself well to design, with last year’s Alice in Wonderland theme seeing the Cellars turned into a rabbit hole and the Mad Hatter’s tea party in the Fellows’ Garden.

Clare 2011 review

JESUS MAY BALL

Theme: World of Festivals.

Tickets: SOLD OUT £122 (standard), £138 (priority), and £157 (dining) including an optional £2 charitable donation. Available to Jesus students from 8am on 31 January and general release from 12.01am on 6 February.

Fun fact: This year’s entertainments include a casino and a nine-hole Jesus Open Crazy Golf Course.

Jesus 2011 review

TRINITY MAY BALL

Tickets: £310 (standard), £370 (VIP), and £430 (dining) per double with a £20 discount for Trinity students. Available to Trinity students from midday on 6 February and general release from midday on 13 February.

Trinity 2011 review

ST. CATHARINE’S JUNE EVENT

Theme: Metropolis – Two Tales, One City.

Tickets: £77 (standard), £88 (queue jump) with 2% of ticket sales going to charity. Available to Catz and Corpus students from 4pm on 3 February and general release from 4pm on 6 February.

Clare bridge looking sufficiently glamorous

Tuesday 19 June

CHRIST’S MAY BALL

Theme: La Cidade Maravilhosa (Rio Carnival).

Tickets: SOLD OUT £122 (standard), £138 (VIP), and £157 (dining).

Christ’s 2010 review

ST JOHN’S MAY BALL

Tickets: Price TBA. Available from 7 March.

Launch party: 8pm on 6 March at River Bar.

John’s 2011 review

GONVILLE AND CAIUS MAY BALL

Tickets: £140 (standard) and £180 (dining). Applications open from 5 February for fellows and alumni and 13 February for current students.

Launch party: 8pm on 12 February in Harvey Court (Caius students only).

Caius 2010 review

NEWNHAM JUNE EVENT

Theme: A Night in Neverland.

Tickets: £67 (standard) including an optional £2 charitable donation, and £75 (queue jump) until 8 February.

Newnham 2010 review

The survivor’s photo – will you make it?

Wednesday 20 June

TRINITY HALL JUNE EVENT

Theme: The Four Elements.

Tickets: £79 (standard) and £89 (queue jump).

Fun fact: Read about the recent controversy surrounding Wolfson June Event picking the same theme.

Trinity Hall 2011 review

KING’S AFFAIR

Tickets: Available to King’s students from 10 February and general release from 19 February.

Fun fact: Sporting the motto “Beats not Bollinger”, King’s Affair is definitely the alternative May Week event. Swap your black tie for fancy dress and skank it up to bands, DJs and MCs on their 7 stages.

King’s 2011 review

PEMBROKE JUNE EVENT

Theme: El Dorado – The Lost City of Gold.

Tickets: £67 including an optional £2 charitable donation. Available now for Pembroke students and general release from 12 February.

Pembroke 2010 review

SIDNEY SUSSEX MAY BALL

Tickets: Available from 17 February.

Launch party: 16 February.

Sidney 2010 review

King’s Affair in full swing

Friday 22 June

HOMERTON JUNE EVENT

Theme: Fire and Ice.

Tickets: £47 (standard) and £52 (priority) with a 10% discount when buying 8 or more.

Homerton 2010 review

ST. EDMUND’S MAY BALL

Details to be announced.

St. Edmund’s 2010 review

WOLFSON JUNE EVENT

Theme: Elementa.

Tickets: Early bird prices until 22 February are £64 (standard), £70 (queue jump), and £86 (dining) including an optional £2 charitable donation.

Fun fact: Ladies – get £10 off your ticket when you hire a dress from Girl Meets Dress.

Wolfson 2011 review

Cambridge in the snow. What’s not to love? Here’s a collection of photos taken by you, our readers.

And since so many of you got your snowman on today, here’s a collection devoted to the icy men and women of Cambridge.

Got a better one? Send your photo to photoeditor@cambridgetab.co.uk and we’ll add it to the collection – the best will win a Tab t-shirt!

Photos courtesy of: Natalie Bird, Johannes Whittam, D.J. Maud, Tabatha Leggett, H Webster, Hannah Snellgrove, Catherine Airey, Anna Sheinman, Will Letton, Emily Alldritt, Andrew Smyth, Papatya Sutcliffe, Julian Tan, O.D. Onelli, Annabel Butcher, Abi Mitchell, Tom Wood, Oscar Williams-Grut, Tom Tryon, kjdoyle (via Flickr), Megan Pinches, Abi Lander, Henry Cooksey, Saskia Goldman, Rose Hall and Sana Ayub.

Many people have attempted to categorise the quintessential drunken Cambridge male over the years. However, they are not distinguishable by mere actions alone; it is something within them, a deep, incomprehensible force that takes over their entire being. After years of thorough, accurate and scientifically grounded research, the day has finally come to reveal this comprehensive guide to male drinkers.

All quotes are taken from real students. For their sake/’rep’ their anonymity has been maintained:

The Token Fatboy

‘My weight is necessary. More to love mate, more to love.’

He may claim he is fat because he plays rugby, but in truth he’s actually just very overweight. He doesn’t actually go the gym, unless the gym is made of fucking doughnuts. He can probably drink a lot for obvious reasons, and also makes other guys feel way better about themselves- a highly underappreciated talent. Often resorts to preying on younger girls as he struggles with people his own age.

Shake it

No Game

‘It’s about the quality of girls, not the quantity.’

This is probably the fat guy, but if it isn’t there will be a no game about. He may give off the air of being heavy drinking super-lad, but at heart he is a sensitive soul that really wants to be accepted by the opposite sex. His seeks a sense of identity and desperately hopes to one day acquire that ‘big dog’ status that will help him with the ladies. It won’t, he’s a no game.

Schizophrenic

7pm: ‘Hey mate, just off to the library to do a bit of work before tonight.’

1am: ‘Don’t you think it would be an incredible feeling to smash that guy’s head through a window?’

This guy has two personalities, except they aren’t caused by mental illness; they are caused by alcohol consumption. Nice guy, quite sensitive when sober. When drunk he gets aggressive. He swears to God he will ‘do that cunt’ if he looks at him again. More talk than walk. Just leave him to it; you’ll see your friend again tomorrow.

I love you…Hic.

Girl

‘I just think she’s the one. I would marry her. Wouldn’t our children be beautiful?’

Slow down there you wetter. Obviously too much of a man to talk about his feelings when sober, so tells you them when he is smashed. Deep down, he really cares about what people think of him and he really likes that girl but is worried ‘the lads’ will mock him because she isn’t very attractive.

Lone Ranger

‘I work alone. You are inhibiting me, go away.’

He is in his zone. Leave him be. He likes wondering around clubs on his own. Almost as if he’s very bored of his mates. He attempts to find new ones, but fails because he’s drunk. He then returns to tell you about how close he was to getting with a really fit girl. He then leaves again. Your conversation has bored him long enough.

Space Invader

‘HELLO! HI, I’M HERE. NOTICE ME!!’

This guy is into physical contact in a big way. His favourite hobby is getting in your grill. He gets far too close, beyond it’s not gay if it’s bants close. He pushes the line between friend and sexual partner to breaking point. He also knocks stuff over because he focuses far too much on people and not his surroundings. Embarrassingly, research undertaken by several of my friends has revealed that I fall into this category.

Mr Slimey

‘Do you want to play Pearl Harbour? The game where I lie down and you blow the shit out of me?’

or the words every girl fears hearing from that not-so-innocent stranger.

‘I’m sure I recognise you…’

Who’s that coming up from behind, it’s mister slimey, mister slimey. He does get a lot of girls, but then again he tries way too hard. A civilised upbringing has prevented him from reaching his destiny; a place on the Sex Offender Registry. But fair play to him, this guy definitely isn’t shallow. He weaves his way like a trained ninja to the dance floor. He doesn’t want to see a girl dancing in a group. That shit’s code red. Lone girl. Hello. Target set. Seek and destroy.

So there you have it: the drunks you should avoid in Cindies, and those that you should have a good ole’ boogie on down with…

Some people claim they’ve never done it, and normally, they’re liars.

The traditional Walk of Shame doesn’t have to be an imminent fate at University, but having a back-up plan of action never hurt anyone. For those of you as dedicated to Wednesdays at Cindies as you are to completing your degree: here’s how to deal with it when you’ve done the dirty deed.

a classy get-away isn’t always on the cards…

1. Realise where you are and get out fast.

Preferably whilst they’re still sleeping. Locate your pants from behind the toaster and make sure you have both wallet and phone. Stealth is the key; you don’t want to meet any smirking flatmates, especially if you can’t remember what you said, did or screamed. If any awkward social situations do arise, then fake identities are a great invention if you’re sober enough to think on the spot. Remember, mobile numbers always have 11 digits, and your best friend will never know if their name is the first to plop out of your mouth.

2. Now onto the walk of shame.

Boys, you’re at an advantage because the more dressed up you are, the better your disguise as a 9-5 commuter. Girls: that sequined dress isn’t so inconspicuous. But, why be embarrassed? Shuffling along looking at the floor is no way to deflect judgement; you have to own it! Stride on with confidence. You might have been shagging the arse off Brad Pitt all night for all the public know. A little self-belief and you’ll have those squares green with envy at your wild, youthful ways.

Brad knows no such shame as he chooses to do his walk in the nuddy

3. Sexual cleansing.

When safely back at home, the third thing to do is to wash away all that impurity in the shower. Scrub all that scrubber away! Rub-a-dub-dub!

4. Now. What to tell your friends…

Aim for something really bland. ‘Yeah, they were nice, they do economics’ is pretty boring and might not invite further questioning. They were probably too busy dancing to the Friends theme tune and didn’t notice you slip off in the first place.

5. Get checked.

Serious one, guys and girls: if you didn’t use a condom, then give yourself a slap on the wrist from The Tab! You can get STI checks at Clinic 1A at Addenbrookes- or try the NHS Sexual Health website to find the nearest clinic to your college. GUM clinics and most JCR Welfare teams give out condoms (and lube) for free, or you can bulk-buy 144 for just £12.50 from CUSU if you reckon you’ll be rutting maniacally and just don’t have the time or cash to keep popping out for 3 Durex at a time.

You saw it first here on The Tab…

6. Repent.

The great thing about Jesus is that he forgives anyone who is truly sorry, so all you have to do is to remember a few snapshots of your night (if you can) to evoke a feeling of genuine remorse. And, you know, belief in a deity might provide a useful crutch whilst you wait for those all-important STD results. Until then, make an earnest resolution to finish this week’s reading list, take up lacrosse, and see a play! In a few hours you’ll be so immersed in your new life the dirty feeling will be banished. That is, until…

7. You bump into them unexpectedly.

This is the only point at which having pulled a maths geek or member of the Tolkein Society can possibly be a good thing. However, if you’re unfortunate enough to have picked someone that regularly leaves their house, then don’t drop all your books in the corridor like a twat. Cool, calm and collected isn’t a clichéd phrase for nothing. Smile nonchalantly and say, ‘Hey there, hows it going?’. Don’t bother to listen to their response, but nod and walk off like you have somewhere purposeful to go.

Keep it cool…

8. Finally: Look on the bright side.

It’s ok! You didn’t kill anyone and your genitals are probably still intact. When you’re 40 and wound up with kids, you won’t be regretting a misspent youth with some solemn childhood sweetheart- you’ll be savvy, sagacious, and totally mid-life crisis free!

So, there you have it: sorting out the shameful shag, from start to finish.

One of the first things that my Director of Studies said to me was that you have to think of Cambridge as an asylum. Although we all like to joke about that guy who lives on your staircase who you’ve only ever seen once, for some this can become an absolute reality. And that’s exactly what happened to me this time last year.

My first term in Cambridge started out fine. I got all of my work done, went to lectures, and generally had a great time. Things got a bit stressful towards the end of term: I had to pull the occasional all-nighter and missed a deadline or two, but there was no cause for serious concern.

The problems began when I came back after Christmas. I had felt ill during the vacation and anticipated being able to do all of my holiday work in the couple of days before term started, and so I found myself starting Lent already behind on work.

After a week or two I started to feel very unwell. There were no particular symptoms, I was just exceptionally tired. I missed just about every lecture and class because I simply couldn’t get out of bed. Even when I made a real effort to get an early night I would still end up just lying in bed all day until choir in the early evening. It was as if I was living in a kind of fog where everything just merged into one single twilight zone. I didn’t differentiate between days, weeks, or months; I was just stumbling around in the darkness. The problem was that I was dreaming a lot and therefore not sleeping properly. (When you dream, your body and brain aren’t actually resting. It’s only in deep sleep that all the proper recuperation can happen.)  As a result, I was just getting increasingly more tired as time went by.

Things only got worse as term went on. I didn’t write a single essay or go to class for 5 weeks, which made me start to panic. I realised that I had to try to get back on track, but whenever I tried this I just ended up becoming incredibly anxious – I would have panic attacks and fits of rage where I would punch walls or hurt myself because of my inability to do anything meaningful. I ended up completely unable to sleep because as soon as I tried to switch my mind off, it just kept taking me to that dark, angry place where I was incapable of working and I became terrified of where my thoughts would go. I had to keep my mind occupied, so I would stay up all night watching films or television, anything to keep me awake until I could no longer keep my eyes open. I wasn’t eating either; I completely lost my appetite and was getting by most days on a paltry ham sandwich. Even that one meal wasn’t pleasant though – eating anything at all just made me feel unwell.

I had to get help. I spoke to my Director of Studies, who advised me to see the college nurse, the University Counselling Service and my GP, where I was diagnosed with severe depression and given medication for my sleep problems. But one day I woke up feeling so weak that I knew I couldn’t carry on. I spoke to my tutor and DoS again and we all agreed that degrading was the best option for me. I needed letters from my GP and tutor explaining my position and the college took care of the rest.

At home I spoke to my parents, who were very understanding. I started to see a counsellor who lived nearby and things improved very quickly; the medication finally got me back into a good sleeping pattern and after a decent amount of therapy it seemed I had properly broken the cycle. I’ve been back in Cambridge for over a term now and although there’s the occasional moment when I feel a bit down, I know how to cope. The problem I had a year ago was that I had no idea about depression and so I failed to spot the symptoms. It’s not a question of just curing depression and living happily ever after. It’s about being self-aware and promoting your own happiness in whichever way is best for you. If you take that brief moment to assess where you are emotionally then there’s no reason why you can’t flourish in this exciting and challenging place.

After squandering our precious student loans on countless cheesy chips, the man in the Van (of Life) still can’t correctly scribble Laura’s name. He called her Stacey, Mary-Jo-Lisa…actually he didn’t… he called her Cora. How many people do you know called Cora outside Downton Abbey?

Of course there is an alternative to our beloved trailer. We might not have met him yet but we all have an Uncle Frank. The Van of Death is as much a part of Cambridge as porters and punts and it was high time we paid this culinary critter a visit.

The boys are a vision in maroon

In the interests of scientific research, we abstained from our customary 2am homeward stagger, sauntering over to Market Squareat 9.04pm. Sober as the clergy, we weren’t the Van of Death’s usual clientele. Lola Lo’s wasn’t even open yet.

We were quickly introduced to the big cheese in the Van of Death pond. His name was Zaza and he meant business. He was quick to downplay the hostility between him and the Van of the Life but admitted he would ‘never’ eat there.

Frank’s van stands in serene juxtaposition to romantic Cantab skies

Our questions ranged from the commonplace to the frankly obscure including such gems as ‘What came first the kebab or the kebab van?’ and ‘If you could batter any object what would it be?’ When we were hit with the answers ‘what?!’ and ‘sausage’, we knew we were in for a rough ride.

Undeterred, we changed tack. Stirring up the age-old college rivalry, we asked him to name his favourite. A pensive pause. ‘Cambridge Regional College’ came the response. That’s controversial.

Perhaps we can forgive this slip.Cambridge students, much as he likes them, are not his target audience. Believe it or not he claims his main clientele are those he distracts away from the charms of Yo Sushi! next door. Quite a radical change of dinner plans but he assured us it works for him. The charms of his battered sausage must be quite overwhelming.

YoSushi!’s worst nightmare…

Have you ever eaten an egg burger? Or indeed ever heard of one? We were woefully unaware of this culinary masterpiece, the headstone if you will on the Van of Death’s menu. Zaza swore it was the best thing this side of Hades. We weren’t convinced by this ovine offering, sticking with a classic chicken kebab. You know where you stand with chicken on a stick.

Just four months into the job, Zaza wielded the ketchup bottle over our carton of delights as if he were destined for the Masterchef final. And you know what, it wasn’t bad. With a herby subtlety and enough salad to keep Gillian McKeith at bay, Zaza could make a kebab even a sober person would eat. I’d definitely ask him for his coleslaw recipe.

Every bit the beacon of light on a cold, dark night

But one thing is left unsaid. Zaza is a Cambridge character in a great man’s shadow. We never got to the bottom of the ‘Who is Uncle Frank?’ mystery. Some say he clocks on at 10:30 every night. Others swear he hasn’t graced the Van of Death for years. Or as Zaza suggested, he might just be in the car.

All we know is that he is a Cambridge Character who would rather remain unknown. But in the meantime Zaza, his apprentice and their crispy chippy goodness were enough to steal our hearts. See you after Lola’s. And yes, we too noticed that there was no apostrophe…

The good ship Tab Cribs has docked in Russia, where the temperature is successfully hovering around the -20 degrees mark. Most student accommodation is so far from the centre of Moscow that it makes Homerton look like some kind of annex to Grand Arcade, but I’ve tracked down someone who’s a mere stone’s throw from Red Square and happily nestling in one of Moscow’s most vibrant party districts.

Meet Lily, a 5th year management student at MSLU.

Blissfully unaware of the camera, Lilly tucks into a juicy tome

Alex Bower: So, tell me, how did you land a pad like this in the centre of Moscow?

Lilly: I don’t want to talk about it. We have this massive waiting list – normally you have to be from Chernobyl or have some kind of enormous psychiatric problem or something to get a place in one of these. I had to tell them I was miles below the poverty line and come in to plead every day for a week.

AB: What are your new hostel mates like then? I hope they’re not all nutters. Is it rubbing off on you? You seem to have set fire to that endearingly cute teddy bear at some point.

L: Oh that happened one winter. It wasn’t always a bloody furnace in here. Last winter it was really draughty and cold so to get round this we brought an oven in and turned it on, leaving the door open. The teddy just fell in. Fortunately we woke up in time to stop everything else catching fire.

Two beds yet only one pair of slippers. Who’s getting cold feet?

AB: Oh, that’s fair enough.

L: In terms of my neighbours, I’d say that most of them aren’t so right in the head. I used to be friends with one of the only outwardly normal guys here, but then he tried to commit suicide and went really mad. It was a shame.

AB: So is this standard accommodation, or is it better or worse than this normally? I have to say, while the outside isn’t so great, this is much nicer than I expected.

L: There are much worse, for sure. Having said that, there are some really aggressive, rabid, stray dogs that live in an abandoned building round the corner. They howl at night. Once, I went outside to take out the trash and found some of them waiting for me in a dark corner. Another time, a pack of six stopped me on the way back from a night out. I had to wait and come back later with some other people.

potted plant celebrating the near celestial ceiling heights

AB: Am I in danger then when I leave then? I quite like being alive.

L: Not really – they only go after women. They can smell your fear, I think.

AB: I know some people like that back in Cambridge.

L: Oh yeah, and I also forgot to say that we have a lot of mice. Thank God they’re not rats though. Once, a girl found a mouse in her fridge and panicked loads. It’s funny because we have a joke in Russian that says when you have no food in your fridge a mouse would hang itself. She went to tell the [porters] and they just pissed themselves about it because she thought she’d gone to all this trouble to make this old joke.

AB: That is hilarious on multiple levels. The elephant in the room is the other bed – where’s your room mate?

L: My current one moved out, because she’s from Moscow anyway so she just lives with her mum, occasionally swinging by. She’s a friend though. And as for the old one, she was great. I only really had a problem when she had a boyfriend – the less said about that the better. Normally you’re not allowed guests after 11 but he lived in the same hostel so nobody was to know. Other than that I’ve been pretty lucky, considering how mental most people are.

A clothes rack away from domestic bliss

AB: What are the facilities like? The corridor to the toilet looks like something from a Stephen King novel.

L: Haha – facilities?! We just got a washing machine, which is exciting. Before, I used to take massive bags full of laundry to my cousin’s place or just wash by hand. The toilets are pretty horrible and the only showers are on the ground floor, which is annoying. People often have to queue for a fair while. Also if you think this corridor is scary, you’ll be terrified by some of the other ones.

сексуальный одеяло!!!

Oh my. I don’t think there’s any need to see those – I’m scared enough by the threatening man checking passports at the door because his fist is a fair bit bigger than my entire head. Thanks for your time, Lily. До свидания. 

Hugo Boss, it turns out, was a Nazi. A fully-fledged, I’m-going-to-use-forced-labour-workers-and-what, Nazi. For real.

I did not know this as I meandered into the new branch in Market Square yesterday. Nor, I suppose, did Sienna Miller as she folded back her arm on that sofa to model for the company’s perfume, looking foxy and dewy and ravishing. Or maybe she did. It’s all horribly complicated.

The shop itself is entirely predictable. I had vaguely expected a Thermos palette of stainless steel paired with domineering blocks of black and muted browns – all were present and accountable. Racks were neat and uncluttered; service polite and restrained; tags folded into linings to create a streamlined effect. There was a shiny steel fire extinguisher as well as, mystifyingly, a few silver cups displayed presumably to congratulate you on having good enough taste to walk in.

You da Boss

Prices were also wholly foreseeable – jumpers for about a hundred quid, jeans for around eighty, watches for two hundred. The clothes are well designed, pared-down, classically-cut, trumpeting a chilled homogeneity that’s all the rage, so I hear, with City-types during weekend downtime.

Watches from £200

Jumpers from £200

The shop is not a travesty, not by any stretch. In fact, its slickness and CSI-lab vibe are quite soothing. A very, very shady past notwithstanding (and I slightly feel it should ‘withstand’), Hugo Boss will give anyone who wants to look just as sharp as William’s knife exactly what they want. They just probably shouldn’t want it.

Hugo Boss’s apparition in Cambridge is sadly not as bamboozling as you might hope. A year ago, our bonnie metropolis was awarded the zealously sought-after Clone Town title, with the accompanying report sighing, “Diversity is a stranger in Cambridge’s clone zone”. Indeed.