everything I’ve learned from the BBC and various books growing up tells me that nothing happens at Oxford and Cambridge except murders, secret societies, homosexual longing and possibly the occasional orgy (which begins in homosexual longing and ends in someone being murdered)
Also spies. Sometimes there are gay spy orgies with or without murder.
And it would be so terribly gauche to confuse those last two, to go and really let your hair down at the gay spy orgy only to be caught out by the sudden murdering. ‘I dare say old bean, this is a bit of an outrage,’ you would attest, manhandling erotically sticky corpses out of the way. ‘Terribly bad form.’
except murders, secret societies, homosexual longing and possibly the occasional orgy (which begins in homosexual longing and ends in someone being murdered), spies, and propelling shallow flat-bottomed river craft with 14-ft poles while dispensing brittle witticisms through a curtain of fair, floppy hair
fixed it
add 14-ft poles to orgies to taste
Well, of course! How else would you get to the orgies and spying and murders? On a bus? I don’t think so.
And bicycles. You also get to orgies and spying and murders on heavy, dark-green recalcitrant-looking High Nelly bicycles with books and a scarf in the basket.
What about the tea?
Mooncustafer 