At last we discover the truth behind the famous All Soul's fellowships. Those who have wasted parts of their lives applying for these coveted positions, a group which, I am ashamed to say, includes myself, may find that Mr. Mellors’ poem explains one hell of a lot. What is the point, we wonder? Why did we spend those countless hours poring over articles written by boring cretins, or take time trying to persuade insensible academic half-wits the validity of our research when it turns out that bladderial prowess is the only kind of distinction that these morons value? God, I hate them. God, I’m depressed. I need cheering up. Now, what do I have here? Oh look, those nice big purple tablets. I wonder where those came from? Let me try … mmm, that’s nice. Mmm … yes … th-a-a-t-s … ni-i-i-ce (CH).