Why Cambridge is Better than Oxford – Obviously

Everyone knows Cambridge is better than Oxford**. We beat them at rankings. We beat them in rugby. We even beat them in having souls/hearts/minds.

Our successful Pentathlon team is just another way in which Cambridge excels over “that other place.”

BOSHING THE SCUM!

We trekked up to Oxford for our Novice Varsity 2010 Pentathlon match. This involved a 6:30 departure time and a 2a.m. finishing time, with a lot of malt loaf, cupcakes and horsecakes in between.

Because horse cake is good for vegetarians

Oxford does not excel over Cambridge at early morning fencing. The CUMPC novices stabbed and poked their way through several hours of stabbing and poking… even if OUMPA’s equipment kept breaking.

Cambridge equipment never breaks. We don’t even need equipment. We fence with our superior wit and morals.

…and we win at that too.

We then shot targets and ran in circles… and by ‘we,’ I mean CUMPC’s novices. I was just there to cheer them on and eat all the flapjack.

Group huddle, group support

That’s another way Cambridge beats Oxford: our cheering. We are much better at supporting our team.

It may be because we can still form words. I’ve heard Oxford can sometimes react negatively when combined with speaking abilities.

At the end of the day, CUMPC and OUMPA trekked to a curry house for a late dinner. As I wasn’t drinking, owing to this lingering demon fresher’s flu, I was free to enjoy all the banter.

Oxford does have superior drinking songs. You would think that after 800 years of rivalry, Cambridge would have come up with SOMETHING. But all we’ve got is “Cambridge! oxford. CAMBRIDGE! oxford. CAMBRIIIDDDGEE!”

Oxford, on the other hand, has a slew of jingly jingles. “I’d rather be at Brooks than the Tabs!” Is popular, as is: “Shoes OFF! If you hate the TABS.”

This one often becomes “SHIRTS OFF! If you hate the Tabs.”

I’m sorry, Oxford, but we have morals. We most certainly keep our shirts on.

Oxfordians also have a flare for the dramatic. Towards the end of dinner, a large group sitting at the table opposite of us stood up.

“I sconce (drinking term) anyone who would rather leave this restaurant than spend another minute in the same place as these stinking Tabs!” Exclaimed one man.

The entire table lifted their glasses, drank their drinks and quickly marched out.

Truffle hunting

…which really was what we wanted anyways. Too many Oxford students in one place may lead to serious moral destruction.

They are also infectious.

This is why I would rather be at Cambridge than Oxford, and why I absolutely love Pentathlon. Our novices are amazing, our team is amazing, and I know I will never be infected by poison. ***

**This is indeed in jest. I have a lot of friends at Oxford and I really adore them. And Oxford can be charming. …even if Cambridge is more charming.

***We do need better drinking songs. Seriously.

A Q and A with Cambridge Students at 3 a.m.

They call it the “Fresher’s Flu” at Cambridge. I call it the reason I’m up writing this post at 3 a.m. Either way, it’s a disease that sweeps over all of campus in the first month of lectures, an all-purpose title for coughing, sniffling, sneezing and dying.

Halloween picture at night

In honor of Cambridge-esque things, I want to talk about Hall tonight.

Hall, as I’ve mentioned before, is a formal three-course dinner in a candlelit room, with everyone wearing long black robes and sitting on massive wooden tables. We sip wine and make chat/banter/wine-smoothed conversation.

Today a Question and Answer game was on the menu. Here’s a taste:

Q: If you could solve one global problem, what would it be?

• Me: Food shortages.
• L: Inequality between the sexes (because being a woman is always, inevitably, a part of most interactions… especially in a college that didn’t start admitting women until the 1980s.)
• N: Conflict (“Although,” he said, “I’m not an idealist. But ideally…”)

Q: What trait do you find the least attractive?

• Me: Lack of confidence.
• G: Arrogance. (Which just shows how two people are so very attracted to different things.)
• L: Hating children (“Because children are not morally susceptible.” Spoken like a true philosopher.)
• J: Lack of intelligence. (To which someone responded: “I don’t find that an issue at all, really…”)

Q: If you could be any one thing, ideally, any profession at all, what would it be?

• J: A professor.
• L: A professor.
• N: A professor.
• Me: Not exactly a professor. A writer, probably. (“But what kind of books?” N asked. “Kid’s books? Pop fiction?” Me: “Good ones.” N: “Good luck.”)

The other questions I cannot publish here, because sometimes what happens in Hall stays in Hall. Suffice to say that this is why I love Cambridge… even if it is making me ill in early hours of the morning.

What would you ask a Cambridge student?