The Little Things: Welfare, Aftercare, Who Cares?

HRH The King of Daytime Television

As the exam period draws ever closer there is only one thing on everyone’s mind, procrastination. Much like being an alcoholic, those of us who spend most of our revision time doing sweet FA tend to have our own “poison of choice”; some will spend all day on YouTube, some will simply sleep the day away and some will watch the royal wedding with the kind of attention that their exams could only dream of rivalling. Me? Well, my poison is The Jeremy Kyle Show. At this point I’m sure you’re all wondering how I can waste my precious time watching such crap and to be honest, I’m pretty sure that the reasons I watch it are the same ones that make the rest of its viewers tune in: it makes me feel good about myself and, just like the rest of the human race, I enjoy laughing at idiots and other people’s misfortunes.

So what’s my point? Well a few days ago, whilst watching the best TV show in Britain, I realised something. The one group of people you never see on Jezza are students. Our people drink more, have sex more and generally misbehave more than any other social group, so why have we escaped the Jeremy Kyle scum-catching vans that drive around Liverpool collecting “volunteers” to be judged in front of those of us who find it so easy to take the moral high ground? Well, I’ll tell you.

One thing that university has that Bradford doesn’t is welfare, by which I mean the system that gives you enough lube to fill a bath tub, not the system with which David Cameron takes pleasure in playing Jenga. Welfare gives us the most important thing that any student needs to get through this difficult time at university. Of course, the thing that I am talking about is masses of condoms. Honestly, it’s gotten to the point where we could fade them in as currency. Coincidentally about 75% of the reprobates on Jezza are pregnant, thus meaning that the chances of a student being targeted by the world’s most friendly man with a net are already cut. This isn’t just maths, this is Jeremy Kyle maths.

The final nail in the coffin for any wannabe Jezza veteran with a campus card is that unfortunately for you, you chose to get an education. And whilst I have had the pleasure of being introduced to some pretty brainless people here at university, the fact that they have managed to get into a place of higher education of any kind raises them far above the very low bar of intellect you need to be emotionally tortured lived on television. If you however are desperate to become the type of creature who could get on the front page of OK! Magazine then drop out of university, wear enough make-up for it to be considered a layer of clothing and maybe sleep with a family member for good measure and I’m sure the Jeremy Kyle scum-catching division will be knocking at your door with a black bag and some chloroform in no time.

So this time the little things in the back seat are my assignments and revision that have moved aside for a crazed man who provides help and support to the alcoholics and the unemployed who are beyond all hope and beyond the concern of the rest of society. So I give my respect to a man who is at least trying to help, whilst David is sat at home eating scones and worrying about the more important things in life, like money, and which blue tie to wear today.

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