Cambridge Spies

The Princess and the Pee

The tale of a roused “Sleeping Beauty” received an altogether heinous slant last week, care of Robinson’s own (perhaps hispanic?) answer to the tale’s requisite Prince Philip. Waking alone after a night of post-swap romance, this less than charming prince discovered his distressed damsel cowering on a nearby couch. Telling of how she’d been woken by him mistaking their place of rest for the room of rest, as it were, she was quite pissed off to be quite pissed on by our quite pissed protagonist and had left him in his own wee mess.

Flowered Bedding

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The Fellows’ Garden at the College of God displayed a vivid array of Blues this week: a plethora of violets, myriad hydrangeas and then the odd, burly sportsman romping in the bushes. Having failed to find his room key, our Casanova hoped to woo his lady with green fingers and dirty hands. Yet, the enchanting re-enactment of the Story of Creation which he had planned, fully-fitted with twinkling stars above and bare earth below, was not so secret and the pair, spotted making good use of the flower beds, will surely have left with more than just their consciences soiled.

Taking the Piss

Amid after-dinner japery at one College bar this Sunday, a distinguished male, submitting to a dare, attend to an unsatisfied penchant for top tipple and polished off a bottle of his own personal distillation. Determined to get both on the piss and his own inside him, he guzzled the still-warm 2009 vintage which, to the delight of onlookers, failed to settle and came straight back up along with the usual Bombay fayre which had preceeded it. In a final act of graciousness, our he took a fresher, along with all his  own freshness, back to his very own Warren. He refrained from offering a her drink...