In my earlier and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I have been turning over in my head ever since: go to Oxbridge or the Ivy Leagues for your wives, but never for your mistresses.
This week, he repeated that advice to me after a successful persuasion: “Return to your studies or find yourself cut off”. Terrified as I am of the life of the poor, I regrettably announce that the First Crusade against the tracksuit bottom is over…
Furious at my father for selling me out, yet simultaneously inspired by his romantic notions, I vengefully embarked on what many friends have told me was an inappropriate extravagance. Whilst charity has always seemed a deeply unnatural notion to me, I decided to roll the Cambridge die and submitted myself to the gods of love vis-à-vis RAG Blind Date.
I imagine that Vicki (her spelling, not mine) of Basildon-origins was somewhat bemused upon receiving a RAG form with nothing more than an attachment detailing transportation arrangements to Le Meurice at 228 rue de Rivoli, Paris. I was worried that my restaurant choice was a little clichéd but the godliness of their scallops with black truffles was too much not to share.
I was waiting in the bar with a Bellini for my incoming lady. The piano offered cool jazz. Unmatchable couture concealed slender bodies. The sophistication was unsurpassable and I was positively reeling with excitement at the daring lust or tender love that lay ahead! And then she arrived…
Entering with all the grace of a pursued boar, she tottered toward me almost spilling out of her short, sparkly High-Street-Sale-something. It/she approached and opened its/her mouth, littering the refined landscape with its/her ghastly discordance: “Hiya! I’m Vick-ay”, it/she grated, “I can’t bel-ayve wey-are actua-lay he-ar’”. Neither could I. I couldn’t believe that I was actually here. With it/her.
The tiresome, shallow nature of its/her conversation was, at first, soporific. However, by the time we were seated for dinner I had requested paper and a pen and was actively scribbling notes on this creature’s nonsensical output.
Much of our night comprised Vicki reading aloud to me. Not works of erotic literature but, rather, the digital updates of her acquaintances’ liaisons back in our university town. Their doings were a dismal and unwelcome education for me. I was baffled by this brave new world. Are people really content with this uniformity? Could it be that they are genuinely satisfied with the Facebook stalking, the chain restaurants, the ‘dressing down’, the banter, these Vans of Mortality, this post-Cindies “porking”?
My father’s advice now seemed desperately out of touch. Oh, what for Romance, Cambridge?
Vicki quelled my concern and assured me that our cohorts were not all bad. “It’s fun,” she said. “Let me show you.” Knowing all the words to My Fair Lady by heart, the invitation was irresistible. Leaving the glistening lights of Paris, I went in pursuit of the Cambridge gutter…
The tiresome, shallow nature of your column was, at first, soporific.
It still is. Unlike Thorpe, this is not so-bad-it's-entertaining, it's just a diabolical attempt at humour. Please stop.
Not sure what you are trying to do here. It's snobbish, and it's not funny. You're trying to imply that any girl who shops on the High Street/is from Essex/wears a short tight skirt (perhaps the most worrying one) isn't worth bothering with and is a 'mistress rather than a wife' even though she's at Cambridge? This should never have been published.
This is supposed to be satire- stop taking it so seriously!
It's definitely not satire. Or funny
Great article! I really don't understand the hostility generally directed at 'The Tattler'- it's hilarious and I can genuinely see a lots of the aspects of this chap's character in the people you see/hear wondering around John's, the Pitt, CUCA etc…
You can fuck off, mate, you said the word "chap".
Even I think Amused is an idiot.
Even you? I suppose only a true idiot can see idiocy in another.
This is actually getting worse and worse.
The Tattler's identity revealed: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michael_Winner
Just not really funny at all.
This one was at least a bit funny, unlike the last two. You're still a despicable human being though.
This is hilarious. Keep it coming. Love it. Mmmmgood.
shit
There is a scary lack of big names on The Tab.
I took my RAG blind date to U21s training
this column is so bad that even TPJ is getting thumbs up. says it all
…twattler please fuck off?
mainly boring but i found 'these vans of mortality' a funny frase
Does no one understand that this article is supposed to be a work of satire, taking the most extreme characteristics of the worst Cantabrigians and stereotypes of Cantabrigians and combining them into an amusing character?; the author is not defending the views of his character but rather is mocking them.
Did you lot all also start throwing your toys out of the pram when you read Porterhouse Blue?
The problem isn't that it's satire, it's that he's doing it pretty fucking badly
it's still not funny
"an amusing character?"
This is the part I have trouble with. It's not actually funny.
everyone understand it's meant to be satire. the point is that it's fucking terrible satire.
What a load of bollocks
look if everyone stops commenting on the tattler articles, or better yet, avoids reading it in the first place, The Tab will probably get rid of it.
I enjoy them…
If anyone is offended by them then they really are a delicate little flower and probably ought not to have unresticted use of the internet anyway. The rest of you who comment so negatively because you don't find it amusing do have have the option of not reading the articles, and those of us to whom the humour does appeal can continue to enjoy the witty social commentary on the upper-class cantab stereotype…
No one suggested they were offensive, so your flower comment is just silly. The thing is, the Tattler's articles don't exactly get the old chuckle muscles going at all.
if everyone stops commenting on the tattler articles, then there won't be any comments to read, which are the best bit: think of a Tab article as some dire classical history of Rome which you have to slog through if you want to properly understand the Renaissance comedies which keep referring to it
Satirical portrayal of upper-class cantab stereotype meets satirical portrayal of distressed, socialist, serial tab commenter.
Lazy and extremely dull- rather like the choice of Le Meurice. If you're going to write about something that never happened you could make it a little more interesting.