Not for the Ukrainian Army this time but for the sheer number of 2nd year wetties who wouldn't take the step into no-man's land.
As the Mammadovinator strikes, the bottom of the ballot feels the wrath of ... well, the ballot. The only hope these Reservists now have is a major outflanking manoeuvre from Prize Winners. For that reason, I present to you my ABBA-inspired Ode to Prize Winners: Half past 5 And I'm watching this shit show in Newnham basement all alone How I hate to mourn my 3rd year on my own Chris Kelly's wind Blowing outside my window as I search for other rooms And it makes me so depressed to see the gloom There's not a First out there No one to swap their stair Gimme, gimme, gimme a Neek before dinner Won't a Mathmo help me get the Reserve List away Gimme, gimme, gimme a Neek before dinner Shunt me through the ballot to a better staircase
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