The last Newnham room goes to Joe Wakeling , good work, some of the glowing recommendations for Newnham 10 include "Easy access to dirty alley" and "only the occasional woodlice (often dead)". On the bright side, one former resident points out that the thin walls allow your neighbour's music to drown out the sound of your own sobbing.
To the rest of the new Newnhamites, I hope you're all looking forward to a year of thinking "My room smells weird, but it's too cold to open the window, and what if that belligerent looking squirrel gets in?" Welcome to the house of fun. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RIacAO4Ttyk
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Elena Rastorgueva snatches up this gem of a room! Small in stature, we hope this room will appear proportionally bigger to the lucky fresher. She will need a place to hide, as online evidence suggests a feud between her and Lizzie Merson, who was also vying for treasure trove that is D7b. In additional news, one Newnham room (of the soggy, basement variety) remains. Who will it be?
Us bloggers are getting bored of having to search for freshers on Facebook in order to remember who they are, and whether or not we can take the piss out of their room choices. So, we are deciding to rant about something else now.
Flis' palatial presidential suite, O0 has been the subject of many a conversation during the past few weeks. Has our Supreme Leader cheated the system? Does Adam Isherwood's room match up to the room in which Christopher Marlowe stroked his fine hair? What is it about O staircase that earns it the CompSci privilege of 0-based indexing? We provide some answers. To put it simply, Flis did not want the pressure associated with Q1. She said, "Well, I simply won't be able to live up to the standards of a room haunted by the Isherwood's colossal gains. So, after becoming President, I used my Catering panache to ensure Kenza would become a judge at the Corpus Bake-Off. Once the 'cake' lured her in (cakes are always lies, for future reference), it took but an evening of choking and chatting to ensure that O0 would be mine." Fair enough, Flis. Now you also have the the opportunity to monopolise the JCR showers and devastate the hopes of all in old court wishing to remain vaguely clean. Harrison Fookes has recently chosen Newnham 8, to the great pleasure of this blogger. The white-haired New-Zealander, who must have acclimatized to the various flavours of British flatulence by now, must prepare himself well for his next adventure - one to the Room of Mysterious Smells. After choosing to step into Ben Mackworth's shoes and take up *serious* rowing, the adorable giant will also follow Ben Waters' footsteps by living in the Pelican't editor's room next year. (We also hope that like Ben Waters, he continues to maintain his magnificent mane and well-defined cheeks, but if I continue now it'll only get more awkward). Let's quickly get back to the topic of Newnham 8 and take a cheeky peek at its fabulous room review- Good luck Harrison.
Jacob Bradley, who promised to take D7b if he got a blog mention - you've had 4 now, you ungrateful bastard (though admittedly this is mainly because we don't know the names of the rest) - has in fact chosen Newnham 1. From here on, he will be referred to as 'he who must not be named' to prevent his big head from getting any bigger, and his false promises from getting any falser. Public feeling on the matter includes: "This has compromised my welfare. Is it too soon to oust him?"
This blogger has just noticed that X5 has been taken by fresher Sam Deutsch. It's a dump. We have little to say in favour of it, but go on Sam, you stick it to Eton.
The aforementioned mathematics pundits have been drawing up models over and over, but can seem to find no rhyme or reason in the room-choosing habits of the freshers. Dotted around Newnham, T Street, and all the weird blocks beginning with 'B', in an apparently concerted effort to avoid one another, they remain sparse and widely-spread. Reports claim that the freshers have recently been overcome with a realisation: they are not all one person with too many arms and legs. Perhaps the room choosing pattern has been in reaction to this, a desperate attempt to gain autonomy and break out of their homogenous fresher identity. Second years, maybe it's time to start learning their names.
In D7b news: Fresher Lizzie Merson (known only for being last on the ballot) was seen jovially celebrating the prospect of living in this hovel on popular social networking website, Facebook. Hotly contested, we can only hope for her sake that Jacob Bradley (known for no real reason) doesn't get there first. ... goes to Tash Law, at 33. No Canessa, but still a ///wavey\\\ move. In other news, the colonisation of Newnham slowly splutters on, with seemingly less than enthusiastic gusto.
By our first-year correspondent, Rowan Hawitt.As a muso, and daughter of Junior (because she's younger) Senior (because she's been here for longer) Organ Scholar Catherine Olver Junior (because there's been one of her before), I can provide an insider's perspective on the murky privileged world of the muso room allocations. Whichever one of us cracks first when James Buxton sings a quarter tone flat in chapel gets last choice of the rooms with a piano. And while legend has it that the organ scholars get such large rooms so as to squeeze in a grand piano, it's really just that they need all the extra space to accommodate their egos.
Jacob Bradley (*yes, now you better pick D7b*) has rightly pointed out that Tanmay Sukthankar applied to be an organ scholar just because he thought they were for medics and hence he would have excellent medical facilities. Of course this is not true, but it's solely because of this reason that my marriage to Tanmay will be eternal. Even though you may be jealous of our exclusive college-based rooms, we're actually just a masochistic bunch who wish we could partake in the thrill of the chase- who wants the comfort of knowing you have a room large enough to swing a double bass when you could be a hair's-breadth from a Botolph cell? Not me. Lara Spirit successfully pissing off the first years, I imagine. I couldn't care less. I already have my room.
If you've just tuned in it's time for the next instalment of our acclaimed series 'Weird Fresher Choices', this time entitled: 'Beldam? Really???'
The eagle-eyed amongst you will have noticed that one of Beldam's main charms is its overwhelming similarity to the most soulless of Travelodges, but apparently that laundry room change machine is just too much of a draw for the bright-eyed freshers of Corpus Christi College, Cambridge. Nothing screams 'home' like a panoramic view of the Eagle's bins, apparently. Managing to entrap a fresher with false promises of a welfare chocolate fountain, we asked them what it was about heavy wooden grills blocking out every reasonable hope of natural light that set their hearts aflutter: 'I just thought entombing myself in Beldam's perennially dark corridors was my best chance of never having to hear the phrase 'Pablo Price' ever, ever again'. You heard it here first, stay tuned for more entirely accurate and not made up fre$her go$$ etc. In an exclusive interview with Jacob Bradley, a fresher continually in monetary debt to the second years, we have learnt that the freshers seem to have a morbid fascination for the corpse pit that is Botolph. "Basically, freshers love Botolph", says the man. Jan Zamirski (who's stated that he may be biased, but he knows a thing or two about College) will be disappointed. After living in Botolph for a year, which can be confirmed by some of the Botolph shopkeepers, he dutifully informed students about the True nature of Botolph Court. Kev Wong's review of Botolph 9 comes to mind as well, but that gem is too large to be inserted here. Do give it a read. I don't think the freshers have.
P.S. Jacob said he might pick D7b if he gets a mention on the blog. Read that last sentence again. You have to go to Newnham, you have no choice. It's a yearly tradition to be forced into small, dark, damp rooms, that you still have to ask Mummy and Daddy to help pay for. Another year of your parents asking when you're going to live in the nice old bit. Another year of questionable marks on shower ceilings and strange smells. But hey, haven't you always wanted a sink in a cupboard? And you get to see squirrels dry humping from your bed.
I think we can all agree, the freshers have no taste. The top 7 have, for some ungodly reason, opted twice for Botolph, second only to S staircase (a.k.a the anus of corpus) in shitty-ness. In other news, fresher Lizzi Hawkins is apparently threatening to take a New Court room, in her endless pursuit to make friends with the year above. Good luck Lizzi.
And so we have it folks, day one of the room ballot is officially over. The last few moves have involved Ben Mackworth and Jared both on the reserve list, Jack Congdon and Angus in C (is that even a staircase?), a rogue Ethan in Newnham, Rob Bowman hitting up those nostalgia feels in his fresher room, and Tom Bevan aka hipst33r, the unanimous winner of our "third years likely to steal T-Street" poll, indeed in T-Street. A special shout out to Maddie P, who's just picked T3, for appreciating our humour. An even special-er shout out to Rowdy Ransome for this honest and heart-wrenching room review. And a not so special shout out to Ben Blaney who had no excuse for missing his slot. Here's the boy making the decision whilst contemplating his curry. See you on the flipside. Freshers, get ready for the bloodbath.
On his victory lap of P 4a, the last Old Court room, Jonathon Emery befell some mysterious tragedy. Some say they saw a small, blue haired person sneak down the staircase, muttering something about long lease. Others blame the rabid badgers rumoured to live in the dark confines of F 14.
While Shirley continues her three year migration around the dark corridors of Beldam, our favourite absentee JCR officer has unsurprisingly gone awol. Is she in a supervision, dissecting a raccoon or planning her next barbeque, only time will tell.
Subi, the world is watching. Just like a phoenix
Rising from T Street's ashes Zoe strikes with speed Ben Mackworth has already informed his "friends" that he's about to leave, and won't be back until 8pm. His "friends" give the year permission to rain shit down on him, feel free to aggressively text and message him. It's not even like anyone cares where Ben Mackworth lives. Fuck you Ben Mackworth.
Corpus's second favourite ghost (after Henry Butts himself), Isabella Hadjisavvas, has gone for C1, a room bang in the centre of College. Rejoice not, for this is no indication of her reintegration into society, but rather a test of her own will - for long will she be able to remain in her room alone with her shower, toaster, and revision post-its without emerging for a cheeky night out at Cindies? From her New Court-facing window, Isabella will be watching over her (Pixar) minions, shaking a rogue fist at those that disturb her endless pursuit of the triple-starred first.
In a dramatic turn of events, Harsh Prasad has made the monumental decision to take the room...next door to his current one. After a protracted selection process we secured an exclusive interview with Mr Prasad:
Q: 'Is the prize of H10 worth the abuse you suffered throughout the process?' Harsh: 'If I'd known the danger of walking around college during my slot I would have just stayed in H, which I guess I have done anyway. Don't ceh' In a dramatic turn of events, George Ransome has eschewed X staircase altogether, heading instead for the plush penthouse of M5, Old Court. Perhaps being at the top of M staircase will make him feel closer to his beloved North? [Edit: we have been informed this is not how geography works]
Now on to Harsh Prasad and Bella Hadjisavvas, recently voted Corpus's cutest college married couple. True to form, they are reportedly taking a tour of college /together/ in order to assess their options. Opinion currently divided as to whether this is literally adorable or just a time-consuming faff of stratospheric proportions. The ballot has not moved for a while. Let's talk about things then.
The X-Men, Corpus' own mutants have sealed the fate of X. The Whiteks have emerged as WhitX. X5 is the last remaining room, but last year it slipped through the third years and more than half of the second years. The current owner of said room, Rowdy Ransome, continues to think*, to the annoyance of a few, but to the entertainment of the many. As the ballot proceeds, friends become foes and foes become ... err, stay foes. In a hunger-games-esque drama, spectators start to bet about interesting dynamics like the power of the reserve list, the power to get a first and the power settings the T-Street ovens have. When will the first of these cards be played? *may be thinking about unique factorisation domains and not rooms. The ballot grinds to a halt as George Ransome, aka 'Rowdy Razz' takes to the stage.
It's a tense moment: his mathmo clan is colonising X staircase as their spiritual home, but to join them George must pay the ultimate price of choosing X5, a room only notable for having more furniture than the 11m squared of floor space actually available to it. Further complications are added by the fact that George had the misfortune to choose X5 last year, and word on the grapevine is that he has hated it even more than poncey southerners and their low alcohol tolerances. However, we could not reach out to George for comment: as far as we can tell he is still trapped between the wardrobe and bookcase jammed into X5, where he disappeared around October 2015 and hasn't been seen since. The yearly struggle for Y staircase has ended with a triumphant battle cry from Tom Chalklen, who threatened to sacrifice his college children if he didn't get it. After the horrors of being forced to live in Old Court for a year, our congratulations go out to him.
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