The Uni of Winchester, oh leafy green Winchester, an ever so peculiar enclave that would probably be a town-sized elderly home if not for our humble Uni, we’re easily the Viagra to the widespread proverbial erectile dysfunction.
But I can only big-up this place so much, because yes, we have flaws, even if we are based in the ‘best place to live in the UK’ – we’re not spotless. There’s plenty of things that totally suck at the University of Winchester. Here’s that old-school cliche ten to explain why:
Need any more be said? What good did some trendy Starbucks-going rascal think flooding us with Macs would do? It’s endemic to our Uni and is spreading slowly, some precious hold-out areas remain Microsoft controlled; but it’s not looking good for us. Those sticky, sweaty minimalist keyboards, mouses with broken scroll-wheels things, and those huge monitors preventing one from admiring attractive females without noticeable leaning that will blow your cover, it’s a disaster all round.
It’s mostly microwaved, you snakes. Legend has it many are still waiting for their hideously named ‘1894 burger’ or the ‘dolly don’t jump’ (Yes, that’s a lamb burger) —whoever runs this thing must have had a right field day making up the names. However, for the student that wants a quick munch, well, they will have to communicate in these mysterious, abstract terms. We all try to get around it, asking for ‘that burger’ or some chips, but no, they insist you recite their precious names. I can only imagine how difficult internationals must find it.
Sounds innocent, doesn’t it? “The SU Shop” how quaint, how convenient. How nice of them to grant us commoners a convenience store. No, it’s an inconvenience store. Cheeky additional charges for every purchase, generally grossly overpriced, and it sells that cheesy line of Uni merchandise found at nearly every Uni, that will make you a walking billboard. Avoid it.
Ever had the urge to pay like, five quid, to be underwhelmed? If you have, then turning up to BOP or Detention will do you some favours, namely; Uppity security that loves to push you around, having the ‘time of your life’ in ‘the Vault’ (which sounds like some sort of punishment at a supermax; it may as well be). Their photographers love to get the propaganda on social media of people pretending to enjoy themselves, it’s better than admitting they wasted a fiver. The night resembles a high school disco without the glow sticks. ‘Detention’ is the alternative music night, usually dead, the ‘sex, drugs and rock and roll’, without the sex or drugs, and to call it ‘rock and roll’ is a stretch at best.
The Uni has had the misfortune of being based on a bunch of slopes that comprise a massive hill that dips down into Winchester itself. Buildings need suspended walkways to make the best of the utter short straw that is the sorry landscape this place is built upon. The result is that everything is short of space, so good luck with parking, buddy.
You put all your laundry in a machine, just for a person sitting nearby to nonchalantly say “Oh, that one doesn’t work” despite having blatantly watched you load the machine. Also, these machines will never give you back your money, it’s daylight robbery.
Built at a time when your grandmother’s mammary glands were perky. Creaky, mouldy, and with walls thinner than my patience for this place. (Yes I am a reluctant St. Lizzie’s resident), Alwyn is the same looking building, so assuming it’s the same, a mess.
It’s all well and good having girls around, but when men are an endangered species, you have Winchester Uni. You’ll get Attenborough here soon looking for one of us.
The sound of our people, the 4am wake-up call, mostly caused by people who gas themselves with deodorant without open windows, or are unable to operate a toaster. Because of their sheer frequency, most people don’t actually evacuate their halls anymore. The fact people would rather burn than go outside really says something.
A cult of liberals that would rather tour Winchester’s pubs than deliberate on pertinent political issues, suppose that’s rather akin to actual politicians; so I’ll let this one slide for realism.
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