The menacing hum of the Toyota Corolla hybrid has recently become a sound that strikes fear into the hearts of swathes of Redland undergrads, and for good reason. It represents the forces of fun-spongery; the powers of party puritanism – it’s the eco-friendly murmur of UoB Security Services patrolling our streets.
With the Noise Pages’ persistent narcing and nagging, inarguably spurred by the exponentially increasing brattishness of the student populous, West Bristol has seen the number of these snowflake-silencers surge. The Whip caught up with one of the victims of these recent crack den crackdowns to find out more.
“Yeah, so the gaff was packed mate”, croaks the lad, gesturing towards a space that was presumably once occupied by three lacrosse boys, the aroma of ballsack and a gravity bong constructed out of a Robinsons Fruit Shoot™ bottle.
“And then I was like ‘Rah, some nonce is banging on our door.’” His eyes cloud over for a second, reminiscing about the shit house party that nobody went to.
“I answer the door, and it’s some jebend from campus security” continues the purveyor of shite-dancehall-at-obnoxious-volume. “Almost considered inviting the poor tosser in”, he chuckles, “probably got fuck all social life, hasn’t he.”
The lad concludes with a quip about how “campus security are just wannabe policemen”, before showing us the Oxbridge rejection letter that hangs above his bed, drenched in tears and suspicious white splatters.
Reaching out to one of these enforcers of boredom, The Whip was met with a similarly unenthused response: “didn’t wanna be a PCSO anyway”.
Maybe campus security are not as different from students as we might think.