Bristol UK

Emily in Paris nominated for Nobel Prize

After 2 Golden Globe nominations, Netflix series Emily in Paris has been nominated for a Nobel Prize, The Whip are not at all shocked to report.

According to Alfred Nobel, Nobel Prizes are awarded “to those who, during the preceding year, have conferred the greatest benefit to humankind” and we should probably take his word for it because it was his idea. 

Did Emily in Paris provide great benefit to humankind? Of course it did! Remember that bit where she ate a croissant and practically had an orgasm? I’ve been thinking about that for months now. 

Or what about that time she went to the wrong floor because she’s a silly, silly American? Laughing at American people being silly is one of my favourite things to do! Really helped me through my parents divorce.

Plus, I really like Lily Collins. Did you know Phil Collins is her dad? He’s the guy who does that drumming in that song. Like duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh DUH! Makes me cry every time. But back to business…

Emily in Paris, oh the places you’ll go! 


Read the recommended readings. READ THEM AND UNDERSTAND THEM!

Blackboard breakout room spirals into absolute chaos after that one self-professed Etonian einstein (others call him the dickhead in Dickies, or simply Smelly as he rarely changes out of his lacrosse kit) attempts to take control of the session, in spite of being a general dipshit who just happens to have an RP accent. The Whip reports.

“Will you stop talking” talked the student who never stops talking, via the medium of talking, with mouth and sound and talk and whatnot. “Will you please listen? It is not for the student who actually does all the work to decide a point of order – you have no authority here, Helpful and Good Seminar Contributor!”

This attempt at an insurrection by Big Talker angered Helpful and Good Seminar Contributor. She knew that he only skimmed the first, last and middle pages of his reading so he had more time to be a legend — the odd bit of shagging, drinking, occasional chunder into a loafer before necking it… almost like how a mummy bird feeds its children. Beautiful.

In her rage, albeit calm and collected on her pixelated surface, she evicted him from the summit. Big Talker sobbed onto his iPad — “but, but, but… I’m posh! You can’t kick me out for being posh. That’s classist isn’t it?”

“She’s kicked him out! She’s kicked him out!” exclaimed the Big Talker’s ally, Little Contribution. It was then that he, reader of few, bullshitter of many, suggested that she was the ill-read one.

“I take charge! Read the recommended readings – read them and understand them!”

He was soon promptly exiled. Democracy: 2. Home counties blokes who chat shite in seminars: 0.

Bristol UK

Brexiteers watch Bridgerton to find the pull-out method doesn’t work

At school we were taught that the pull-out method doesn’t work. But like many students, it hasn’t stopped the UK trying. It seems the old “close your eyes and think of England” trick couldn’t be more current in today’s post-EU climate.

The pull-out method, otherwise known as coitus interruptus, has been in use since biblical times, popular amongst fuckboys in powdered wigs and Dominic Cummings. Romp-saga Bridgerton repopularised the method but with an unwanted comeback.   

After her mother’s wed-bed advice, “birds and the bees? I don’t know her”, Daphne is convinced she and the Duke can belly-to-belly around their bedroom, gardens, and Heaven! Forbid! The! Library! Ladders! and still not be With Child. Yet, Daphne’s pregnancy proves that the Duke’s “honeymooning” into a tissue is not a reliable method of birth control. (The Whip does not recommend this at home.)

Upon watching, Brexiteer viewers have found that the pull-out method does have its comeuppance. After some long 47 thrusts (sorry, years) into the EU, Britain officially divorced her counterpart on the 31st of December.

At first, Europe was like Bridgerton’s ‘Diamond of the first water’: if you weren’t her, you would want to be in her. Britain is like Simon, a fuckboy who has been in Europe for some time but cannot commit all the way. Daphne is just as frustrated as Europe, although she hasn’t introduced any tariffs…yet. You can’t expect to get divorced without any tears along the way.

In both Bridgerton and Europe, there is a reason the pull-out method is a missed conception. It just doesn’t work.

Yes, I am certain Britain can spill its seed elsewhere, but will they have magic stars? Probably not.


Shoe Zone, Peacocks and Woolworths welcomed into the FTSE 100

In case you missed it, the stock market was temporarily brought to its plutocratic knees by a network of Redditors funneling shares into doomed business, GameStop. The seizure begged many questions, mainly, what if the next global financial crisis was caused by a sweaty teen in a cum-stained My Little Pony t-shirt? Imagine an economy where traditional Laissez-Faire or Keynesian approaches were discarded, and instead, the doctrine of 9Gag user FedoraTheExplorer_69 was upheld.

But what would this anarcho-capitalist society look like? Well, first, you’d be encouraged to sell your own nan for a packet of crisps — doesn’t even have to be a nice flavour, could be like an expired packet of Wotsits or something. Cryptocurrency would make entrepreneurs of us all and we’d see saddos like 4Chan user FurryFunTimes_420 come second on The Apprentice. The London Stock Exchange would smell like body odour and blueberry vapecloud. Yum!

But back to the matter at hand. Not to be bested in the global marketplace, Great British stock market wankers have spewed their neckbeard wonga into equally shite shops. The Whip chatted to some edgelord economists to find out more.

Chad, 34, mum’s shed said, ‘when I think of profitable items, I think of a puke green peplum dress. So I flitted through all the potential ateliers and fashion houses and landed on Peacocks. It’s where fast fashion meets supply teacher: I’ve tapped a gap in the market I think. The future of apparel starts here!’

‘Was also gonna invest in Sports Direct, to sink my teeth into the sock market. Then I considered Anne Summers because I think knickers would probably trade pretty well at the stocking exchange. Decided to settle with orthopedic shoes as we’ve got an ageing population, which means we’ve got a load of ancient feet — which reminds me, pumice stones are my next major investment. Anyway, you know where the old buy their crep from? ShoeZone. I’m gonna be filthy rich!”

After a whistlestop tour through high street shops that have probably gone into administration, we interviewed Gremlin, 17, atop an anime body pillow:

‘I see real promise with this whole Woolworths enterprise. A shop that sells everything from Davina McCall’s exercise DVD to Michelle McManus’ exercise DVD? That’s big money mate! If you whacked something like that online you’d be singing to the tune of, oh I dunno, approximately £143.6 billion. Some madman should give it a go.’

After explaining that Woolies had shut its doors decades ago, Gremlin responded: ‘well, there’s always JJB Sports.

Bristol UK

Year abroad student learning surprisingly little French trapped in Surrey

Ah, the year abroad. Once frustrating for your friends, now just as frustrating for you. 

With many unable to travel thanks to Brexit and that pesky ol’ corona, The Whip decided to interview some 3rd year languages students about their year abroad experience. After all, they’re getting pretty lonely in their parents’ houses and could use the company…

“The closest I’ve got to a culture shock was a particularly bad yeast infection”, said our first interviewee, “and when I reached out to the uni for help we got back this blanket email: 

Dear Year 3 students, 

Sux 2 be u lol 

Yours Sincerely, 

The Department of Modern Languages

… made me cry a little bit to be honest”.

Others we spoke with shared her disillusionment, such as Rob Hughes, who simply responded with “Je joue au football le week-end avec mes amis” and some heavy sobbing when we asked if his French had improved. 

Some Spanish students have been going to extreme lengths to try and replicate the year abroad experience from home, with one reportedly changing all her clocks to Cuba time. “I haven’t seen sunlight in weeks” she told our reporter, shivering and taking yet another long drag from a ‘cigar’ that was clearly just a tampon wrapped in brown paper. 

Looks like karma finally got those smug bastards…

Bristol UK

Parents demand gift receipt for the disappointment you’ll give them at Christmas

Struggling to find a gift for your parents this holiday season? Don’t worry, you’ve already given them more than enough! It’s a yearly struggle to find the perfect gift for your guardians, but they’re definitely more interested in your short comings than anything you scrounge up last minute. On that note, fuck the gift, let’s try and make things as impossible as ever.

Why not start off by bringing up your graduation prospects, beat them to the punch. In this economic climate, it’s a recipe for success. It’s all about controlling the narrative this festive season.

Maybe this year it’s time to embrace the teen-angst personality you manage to adopt whenever you step foot inside your family home. Let’s get ANGRY for no particular reason. Someone making a comment about your appearance? Scream uncontrollably like a domestic Flashbang.

Picture this, you’re feeling boozy at the dinner table, the conversation is feeling a little dry… no better time to bring up your opposing socio-political views. Pass the brussels sprouts and let’s talk imperialism. Any senior member of the family will surely choke.

If you’re feeling especially devious or trapped into an uncomfortable conversation that needs to end, it’s time to wear those skeleton’s hanging in the family closet. Like a bat out of hell, throw that drama bomb and run away.

You can truly become a treat to have around. Whatever family traditions you have over the winter holidays, I’m sure there will be ample opportunity to create some scandal. Here’s to the gift they can’t possibly return… you!

Bristol UK

Subject parent goes out for pack of cigs during family Zoom quiz and never comes back

I’ll level with you folks, this one’s a tearjerker.

In COVID Britain, it’s estimated divorce rates have increased 34% since first the lockdown in March – households torn apart, children left distressed and confused as they adapt to single-parent life and that’s just amongst Childhood Studies families.

In a sorry chain of events, it seems one more relationship has fallen victim to the virus, as Ted Perrins, a 20-year-old, 2nd year Geography student and father, left a family zoom quiz ‘for a smoke’, but never returned, leaving his wives and kids distressed and concerned.

We caught up with daughter, Millie Harper, for more details.

“We were the perfect nuclear family,” said the bereft fresher, “two mums, one dad, four kids, living it up at the same uni, going to the pub like all good families should be doing – simple, but effective.”

Following the introduction of a 2nd lockdown, however, everything changed for the geographers, who were forced to transfer their weekly ‘pub seshes’ (their words not mine) to virtual form.

“Obviously Zoom does a job,” Harper continued, “but you just can’t recreate the electricity of a cold Steam smokers on a Tuesday night, or being told to put your mask on while going for a piss at WGs – it’s just not the same.”

Ted had ‘gone out’ just two weeks later, his Zoom background of the Bahamas the only thing to remember him by.

According to his family, the signs were subtle but apparent. As well as fewer ‘wow’ reacts in the group chat, his quiz questions changed from things like ‘what’s the capital of Slovenia?’ to, ‘what’s the best baccy for money?’ with ‘what’s the psychological impact of parental abandonment?’ for a bonus point. But of course, hindsight is 20:20.

A final plea came from his eldest daughter, stating, “Dad, if you’re out there, please come back – we still need to decide on a theme for our joint 21st.”

Truly heartbreaking.

Bristol UK Uncategorised

Gap Year students forced to find themselves in parents’ living room

Gappers travel halfway across the world to experience a culture completely different from their own. We have all met (or been) the self-proclaimed explorer who won’t let you get the next drink because they modestly have to tell you about that time they found Nirvana in the Gangotri temple in the Uttarkashi region. Hedonistic wankers. But, with lockdown restrictions, this year’s trustafarians find themselves closer to the bank of mum and dad.

The Whip visited Arabella Deferred, to see if her lockdown nap year had invoked any holistic awakenings. It sounded like pure debauchery.

The morning Thai Chi class has been replaced by Joe Wicks. The Ethereal Haze once founded on the far-reaching views of the Andes, is now created by the fractoluminescence of the Sainsbury’s Van. Arabella has also found a way of “building character” through baking banana bread, after many failed attempts at learning Mandarin.

Arabella describes life amidst the pandemic as a “culture shock”, she scoffs: “I’m no hypochondriac but getting used to lockdown life has taken its toll on my  physical-mental-spiritual-ecclesiastical wellbeing that I can only describe as finding myself.”

Overhearing her father say “uncharted waters” for the 56th time, reminds Arabella of “the perilous waters of the Amazon River I would be exploring if I was still on my Gap Year”.

Spying on neighbours becomes the new safari, for curtain-twitching Arabella, who at this point in the visit has already succumbed to calling 3 dealers for some “naughty salt” which apparently helps her to “transcend reality through mind-numbing Epicureanism with a dash of getting absolutely mortal”

“Drug dealahs count as key workahhhs right?” asks Arabella, with trailing vowels and no hint of irony detected.



Bristol UK

Big Ralph Lauren logo: small todger, study confirms

A study by science confirmed today that there is an observable negative correlation between the size of the logo on your Ralph Lauren polo and the length of your wang. 

“The larger the horse the smaller the steed” explained a guy we interviewed, who we’re pretty sure was either a scientist or a pervert on account of his long coat and inability to make eye contact with our reporter. “This phenomenon can be observed in both length and girth” he continued “and to be honest I’ve had a great time doing the observing”. 

We also reached out to William Gates (no relation), intern at a hedge fund and victim of the phenomenon, who let us in on the big problems his micropenis has been causing –  “Daddy always taught me that polo shirts with logos smaller than our polo pony were a symbol of destitution. I never truly realised the effect it would have on my own lil Will… how am I supposed to continue the family name when I can’t even find IT half the time?”

Emotional about his ‘situation’, William spent the rest of the interview trying to soothe himself by name dropping celebrities he’d had ‘supper’ with and explaining the rules of cricket. 

We’d like to remind any readers in a similar situation that it’s ok to seek help. After all, isn’t having a small pecker really more of a state of mind? 


Mindful king doubts self in seminar

Last Tuesday morning, the world stopped for a second. During what would have been an ordinary 9am seminar, one prodigious Politics student exhibited game-changing behaviour, apprehensively uttering the words, “I’m not sure if this is right, but – ” before stating his opinion. Incredible!

“Miraculous stuff,” admits Missy Andrist, fellow seminar attendee and Politics BNOC. “Often boys in our seminars can be witheringly patronising when it comes to their contributions. Or pipe up in dispute, only to paraphrase exactly what another girl has just said. This kind of timidity from a man is pretty radical.”

Another female witness to the milestone told us, “When I first heard him express uncertainty before inputting to the discussion, I thought, my God, I can relate to this, hard,” shaking her head at the previously unsuspected depths of a man’s self-awareness.

Upon meeting the man himself, sensitive sensation Theo Cordial, we pick up on his gracious energy; he has the air of a gentle man who loves country walks feeding the ducks, who might also stay in on a Saturday night to iron his socks. He smells of home-roasted coffee beans and organic rocket. Although we didn’t ask, he definitely uses vegan soap.

We urge him to explain, how does it feel to be resisting gender stereotypes at university in such a revolutionary way? “Please leave me alone,” he replies, clutching his books (we think most likely feminist literature) and briskly walking in the opposite direction. “I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.” Humble king!

Bristol UK Uncategorised

Student house wifi found guilty for torture at The Hague

Wi Fi was found guilty for torture and crimes against humanity in the International Court of Justice this morning after a long and arduous trial.

The prosecutors were a collective of students’ parents, who somehow managed to all be barristers, mostly upper-middle class, and entirely used to super fast fibre optic broadband. So fast that papa’s money can be wired to the account before one even need to ask!

Cries for Wi Fi’s demise were omnipresent in student homes across the country. Proof of torture and crimes against humanity was put forward by the prosecutors in the form of internet data speeds and microphones, picking up shrieks of pain and anger and live reactions such as “this is killing me!”, “I’d rather be waterboarded” and “it’s taking ages for my porn… I mean seminars to load!”

The campaign was fierce, the defendant, Fi, argued that if students’ Netflix binge habits and Tiktok addiction wasn’t so rife within their “disgusting little dwellings”, the internet would be fine.

As much as Mx. Fi did have a decent case, the jury found it hard to sympathise due to lack of a connection.

Bristol UK

Lack of student fun exposes huge vacuum in complaining neighbour’s life

We spent a day with Redland’s soul-searching community in an attempt to gain a better understanding of Bristol’s next big health crisis.

Charles, a semi-retired lawyer and full-time narc, stares wistfully out of the large french windows which overlook the drive of his Redland townhouse. A Range Rover sits idle on the drive, but it is clear that Charles isn’t appreciating the majesty of his oversized SUV.  “I remember the days when I’d be making three, four or maybe even five complaints to the university and police respectively about student fun in the area. I’d spend whole evenings listening out for the sounds of laughter and music, and then report it immediately to the police. But it’s all changed.” As Charles reflects on the new covid reality a marked change in tone presents itself. Transitioning from proud nostalgia to angered regret, Charles is clearly grappling with the fact that Redland just isn’t what it used to be.

From shouting at young people, sometimes toddlers, on the downs to watching YouTube videos of parties being shut down, Charles has tried to recreate the “thrill of spoiling someone’s evening and wasting police time. To Charles, however, it has become painfully obvious that simulating the real thing is an impossible task.

This change in daily life is especially hard on a group of people who have, almost imperceptibly, built a whole identity upon neighbourhood vigilantism casting students as public enemy number one. Charles uses a pertinent, though not quite as relatable as he thinks, thought experiment to convey his plight; “imagine how Batman would be feeling if The Joker were permanently killed and then times that emptiness by a thousand”. Truly harrowing stuff.