Since arriving at Cambridge University, my tastes have become more ‘lowbrow’. Previously, I had had fantasies about watching documentaries in my free time and being able to answer at least one question from University Challenge. The summer before Cambridge, I watched random YouTube videos about classical music, taking careful notes in a folder labelled ‘New Me’ (which I would never open again). I then watched Lucy Worsley’s documentaries, which I would later find out were considered populist and lowbrow by other historians (I didn’t even know it was possible for documentaries to be lowbrow). Of course, these efforts were all in vain, and I faced the painfully predictable experience of imposter syndrome as soon as I arrived at Cambridge.

I wondered how on earth I managed to sneak in when a portion of my personal statement was based on what I learnt via Epic Rap Battles of History and its comment section. A sense of failure soon crept up on me – less related to my actual studies but rather my inability to reach the elusive ‘cultured’ and ‘intellectual’ ideal for myself. It wasn’t enough to attend all my lectures and routinely scrap out a weekly essay, I had to wake up to Melvyn Bragg’s voice from In Our Time, read the news (not via Instagram reels) and then a 19th century novel for fun, and somehow find this not a tremendous effort but rather routine.

“A sense of failure soon crept up on me – less related to my actual studies but rather my inability to reach the elusive ‘cultured’ and ‘intellectual’ ideal for myself”

However, competing with this nagging insecurity was another voice that chanted – “Let’s just watch trash. Let’s watch Heartstopper again. And again and again and again.” Of course, not all would consider Heartstopper trashy, not everyone physically recoils at its simpering wholesomeness, awkward dialogue, and just… Issac. For me, it’s an eye-rolling experience, and yet one I’m completely addicted to. It’s difficult to say I dislike the show when I’ve probably watched it more times than most self-proclaimed fans. I’ve basically memorised every coy line, and my partner’s and my snarky commentary to accompany it. Why not watch something good? Well, there is great comfort in trash; it invites you in and provides space for relentless commentary – and I love complaining. I don’t want to watch something in silent reverence amongst friends. Films like Hot Frosty (a Christmas romance where a snowman comes to life) don’t demand that – there’s room to gleefully mock while engulfing popcorn and mini rolls.

“I don’t want to watch something in silent reverence amongst friends”

And of course, trash is easy. And Cambridge is hard. It was this exam season when I realised – why bother pretending? How was I supposed to cope with the onslaught of work if not armed with trash? I indulged in a great deal of reality TV, which I admit I was snobby about in the past, and it was great. And now the summer has rolled around, I don’t want to give it up. I don’t want to pretend I will read Bleak House, I want to watch Sharknado (sharks in a tornado). If you have the same appetite as me, I have some suggestions for a trashy summer.

You can’t go wrong with the Sex and the City movie and its sequel. The first film concerns Carrie and Big’s wedding and various relationship problems. When you are attracted to none of the male characters, trying to understand why the women behave the way they do is like watching a foreign movie without subtitles – almost incomprehensible but perhaps more fun because of it. Yet Sex and the City pales compared to the nonsense of Sex and the City 2 - where the girls take a trip to Abu Dhabi. This white woman’s fantasy of Abu Dhabi is absurd and at points unbearable – I don’t want to spoil any key plot points, but I think the line “Lawrence of my labia” sums the whole thing up. Why bother to try to read Edward Said’s Orientalism when one can pick up on the dangers of orientalism just by watching this film?

Or, if you want American teenage rom-coms created by writers who have never met a teenager or maybe another human, then the late 2010s were a goldmine for this genre. With Swiped, Sierra Burgess is a Loser, The Kissing Booth, and After, there is so much content that I am probably too old to indulge in. If you want reality TV, watch The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives. Will it provide valuable insights about the lived experiences of Mormons? No. What it will give you is swinging scandals, shouting matches, and labioplasty (cosmetic surgery on the labia), combined with constantly going “is this the end of Momtok?” (the name of their TikTok group). Then they’ll hit you with some random Mormon scripture in the most out of place moments, breaking the fabric of religion and reinventing it in Momtok form. Enjoy!