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...a sweatshop of moxie

Sunday, May 01, 2005

Remember when May Day...

Meant tacky Russian tanks being reviewed by grizzled Politburo members in tacky suits? Ah, for the good old days.

After the Fall, not to say Implosion of Communism behind the Iron Curtain, we're now saddled with May Days which feature nothing more than limpid banners touting, "No more Hiroshimas", and "Tear down this Dubya!".

Unfortunately for Oxford, we would much rather have tree-huggers than the age-old custom of Magdalen Bridge jumping into the Cherwell on 1st May.

Now in my "day" at Oxford, the tradition had really declined, falling the way of totem-pole climbing, and dunking freshers into Mercury if they misbehaved.

So the answer is no, I never decided to brave the frigid waters of the old 'well, meself.

Would that the over 100 boozed-up "gownies" had done the same this Sunday. They would've been saved many broken legs.

Free Booze to the First 1000 Swimmers

I mean, don't they know, even with a crate full of Boddies in them, that if they jump from a height of 30 feet into water no deeper than up to your waist, something's got to give -- and that something is rarely the water.

At least they wore clean Calvin Kleins.


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