Woke up this morning in an ancient University of Oxford dormitory previously inhabited by renowned thinkers...

>woke up this morning in an ancient University of Oxford dormitory previously inhabited by renowned thinkers, politicians, writers and scientists
>smiled and clutched my duvet at the memory of French kissing an aristocratic girl last night in her dorm after watching Lilya 4-ever
>tfw she tells me all about her childhood friends and how their parents were politicians, barristers, chief executives and other people occupying the most high-paying positions in society
>tfw she invited me to stay over and I said I'm not ready which made her smile and whisper "Congratulations, you passed" in my ear
>tfw walking around Oxford alone on a chilly, dark and somewhat foggy night and feeling dozens of potential novels, poems and short stories flooding my subconcious
>no lecture until this afternoon so I eat a large breakfast prepared by humble (poor), submissive catering staff
>currently sitting in my dormitory watching students dressed in fashionable thick coats walking around the quad to and from their lectures
>literally just took a sip of hot chocolate and then smacked my lips and said "mmm aahhh" after yet another Peak Experience here at the UofO
>will probably do some reading to prepare for my lecture this afternoon, may meet up with "the guys" (my largely privately-educated friends) to discuss the topic of the lecture beforehand

Yet another day of academic bliss. I still can't believe it. Are there any decent Campus Novels set at the University of Oxford that could remind me in a few decades' time how perfect this place is?

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HAHAHAHA
OP keep doing this, I enjoy your participatory novellette even if nobody else does

I went to Oxford, and the reality is most of you are awkward spergs or posh indiots.

Sometimes I'd strike up a conversation with a lowly Oxford nerd and they'd look like a frightened bunny, stutter and laugh nervously.

Is this all just a response to the Londonfrog? It almost seems too perfectly contrived and formatted to not be.

>kissing after watching Lilya 4-ever
The only romantic thing to do after watching that movie is mutual suicide.

>tfw she invited me to stay over and I said I'm not ready which made her smile and whisper "Congratulations, you passed" in my ear
This is such a fucking autistic post but I can't stop laughing

Please please strain your imagination to picture yourself doing the following

>closing the door of your dormitory room behind you
>waiting outside is a tall, handsome, extremely civilized and well-dressed young man of the same age
>the heel of your fine black leather shoes touches the high-quality, aesthetic flagstone floor and echoes along ancient walkways and corridors
>down a flight of stairs you emerge from a sheltered walkway into a quad of old stone buildings admired by tourists from all around the world and currently your home
>the sky is blank white, a fain rain falling onto your Caucasian, muscled, very well-proportioned facial skin and lightly damping your thick, carefully styled hair
>you laugh aloud, overcoming the melancholy imposed by your vast intellect, at a joke that only some 300 people in your country would immediately comprehend
>your friend, whose parents each earn over £100,000, and whose boarding school costs added up to over £500k over the course of his life, praises you for your sharp grasp of his own eccentric sense of humour
>through a stone archway and a pair of ancient iron gates you make your way down a narrow street, leaning into the wind, saying "hallo!" to a few of your peers who will go on to earn three times the national average wage by the age of 26
>small bands of exotic tourists take your picture and smile as you pass them by, some even reaching out a hand and giggling like children as you extend your own hand for a fleeting shake
>the lecture theatre is close by and you walk single-file through a trench formed among the piles of fallen autumn leaves
>suddenly you feel an elbow bash against your own elbow
>you prepare to turn and unleash your working class-verified and thus somewhat mysterious and romantic rage upon he who injured you before realizing that it is in fact your cute, sensitive, shy, studious crush who playfully collided with your elbow
>"hey you!" she says in her RP accent, smiling with lips pressed and eyes wide, centuries of high-status emanating from her graceful, genetically profound, slender physique
>"hey you too" you respond, adopting a facial expression of feigned cheekiness which is more commonly found among the lower orders (from where you have emerged, thank g-d!)
>the lecture is about to begin, you inform her, and she hastily pushes a piece of paper into your hand before pressing her hands to her face and pseudo-jogging away in embarrassment, her face flushed red like a true English Rose
>in the lecture theatre the elderly, wise, sophisticated professor is mumbling to himself as he shuffles towards his podium
>you open the folded paper beneath your desk and read three words written in a style of writing unintelligible to the dumb, near-illiterate peasant masses: "I Love You"

The fact that all of the above is literally something that may and probably will happen to me is beyond fulfilling. I could no longer settle for a life in which the above is unlikely to take place.

This is like Elliot Rodger type stuff, man, you need some help

>through a stone archway and a pair of ancient iron gates you make your way down a narrow street
I have to admit this is a bit of a strain given that nobody would describe the porter's lodge as a stone archway nor the large wooden doors as iron gates. Not all that many tourists around in late October. The nearest trees of any substantial number are on the far side of Trinity, so I'm not sure where these fallen autumn leaves have come from. That last piece you should have been able to figure out from google maps. Come on, put the minimum of effort into your roleplay.

Ummm....

Those are in Trinity, didn't you say you were living in Jesus?

Lol true bleakest movie ever.

>doesn't understand the notion of visiting other colleges to meet up with friends

Do you even have any mates lad?

...

Best thread in years. Keep it up OP.

The greentext narrative says the writer is leaving his dorm room, entering the quad then exiting via a stone arch and iron gates. The only exits in and out of Jesus college are wooden doors. Except the small gate where they keep their bicycles.

My my did your earn BA in pedantry you poor sod! Your grasp of narrative rhythm is undesirable to say the least. Bad chappy.

OP's character is of course a cringer, but maybe he is being liberal with his depiction of Oxford, a la Celine's Paris.

I thought he was going for verisimilitude to drive the point home? Flagstones on anything but the ground floor, I mean really.

I'm a Russel Group pleb so I don't know about specific features of Oxford myself.

I think he just wants to create an atmosphere.

Your childlike grasp of narrative sequence is embarrassing. Do you need your hand held at literally every stage to comprehend a character's movements and geographical location? Stepping out of a room and then walking on flagstones does not mean the flagstones were on the 18th floor, my good man, it simply means that the Author simply overlooked that part of his plot which dealt with walking along the upper floor hallways. Perhaps individuals with so little going on in their lives, such as yourself, would rather every minuscule detail be described at great length in order to keep you entertained, but I'm afraid the rest of us, who are close readers of OPs posts and loyal supporters of his distinctive writing style, understand that he will "skip over" certain bits in order to provide a compelling story.

That actually makes less sense. He'd have to leave his room, go down the stairs to the quad then go back up stairs to walk down them again. That overblown pompous writing style you're using has been done to death by various Veeky Forums posters, I suggest you find a new angle.

>literally just took a sip of hot chocolate and then smacked my lips and said "mmm aahhh"

tip top kek, OP, keep up the good work

You can tell OP is trolling because he can't distinguish between the bourgeoisie and an aristocracy

>Peak Experience

They both are the same in England.

I attend a Oxford reject university and the posh private school kids are all like OP.

Daily reminder that if you're (you are) wedding doesn't make it into Tatler you are seriously retarded and should probably kill yourself:

tatler.com/gallery/best-society-weddings-of-2017

>>literally just took a sip of hot chocolate and then smacked my lips and said "mmm aahhh" after yet another Peak Experience here at the UofO
fucking got me, best line in the thread

>implying white people go to oxford

to the top then to the kek

>>tfw she invited me to stay over and I said I'm not ready which made her smile and whisper "Congratulations, you passed" in my ear
fuggin lmao

Oxford is like 99% white, this isn't America

me2

Should ı feel bad for not going to Oxford. Tell me its filled with AA students or something so i'm not depressed

Depressed Londonfrog mash-up when?

>tfw could have gone to Oxbridge but didn't have the self-confidence and / or ambition
>tfw try to make up for it by doing a postgrad there, but it's obviously not the same

81% of students at Oxford have at least one parent who occupy a top-band profession, which only around 25% of British people do.

51% of Oxford students are from private schools, costing anywhere from £11,000 a year to £38,000 a year or more when you factor in music lessons and all the rest of it. And those who don't attend private schools tend to have attended top grammar schools in areas where house prices dictate that your cohort are from a similar socio-economic background.

I personally know a lot of people who attended Oxbridge who are thick as shit (muh rote leaning), arrogant, degenerate yet manage to land god jobs due to connections and prestige. Look at the nation's current crop of top actors, or top lawyers, or top barristers, or top anything. These aren't typically people who had to struggle to get where they are. They are the kind of people who are born with people holding their hands, and whose grasp is not relinquished until retirement.

>he's content in his life
You can't be that smart then buddy

I'll take this over the London retard any day

It certainly isn't the same, and I am glad you appreciate that fact (because it is a fact). I mean turning up at the University of Oxford at the age of 24, 25 or even 26 (!) is probably something of a novelty for an otherwise poorly educated individual more familiar with universities where "lad" "culture" and the liberal distribution of high grades for the sake of inclusion are the norm, but there is nothing quite like arriving in Oxford as a fresh-faced 18-year-old, clutching your wooden chest, your leather-bound books and your lengthy, scroll-like syllabus for the year which trails behind you like a wedding train. At first you settle into your ancient dormitory, checking the light fittings work, opening and closing the curtains, testing the comfort of the bed by sitting on its edge and bouncing your bottom a few times. But then you hear voices and footsteps echoing in the corridor outside. A brisk September breeze creeps under your door, which you open to be greeted by a gaggle (yes, indeed, a gaggle!) of fellow newcomers, each brimming with excitement and enthusiasm for being allowed to study here at the world's finest educational institute. You walk around together, exploring little nooks and even smaller crannies, looking up at statues and busts of great men and women, blowing the dust from slabs of stone on which the names of philosophers, scientists and politicians are carved. You meet other students from rival college, chanting your own college chant merrily as you drink mulled wine as Christmas approaches, roaring as the sports teams from your college defeat a rival ("Hurrah!" you yell, shaking your friend's hands and smiling so broadly your jaw aches all night!). And then one afternoon, as you are reading your book on a bench on campus while waiting to attend a lecture, you notice a girl sitting down beside you. Her hair is bobbed, her jaw is distinct and perfectly formed, her beauty is so overwhelming and is tempered by a cuteness, an aesthetic fragility, a grace so appealing that you don't even notice that you are staring, and that she has noticed you doing so (cheeky chappy!). And then she comes out with it; the quietest "hello" you've ever heard, following by a sniffle and a grin. Her cheeks are blushed. Her eyes flutter. You know this is the girl, nay woman, you will one day marry.

He posted it again, the absolute MADMAN

Called you a faggot yesterday but this is the best lit meme I've seen in a while. Keep it up faggot

All this written from some dude's sad room. Good job loserfaggot youve made me feel pity for you.

Like many of the finest memes, it also has a strong element of truth.

they fucking well aren't

I know a guy that went to Eton and Cambridge but i only found out about it afterwards.
I wonder if he thought i was ultrapleb.

>I know
>he thought

Do you still know him, or not? Get your tenses in order pleb.

What's the difference? Bourgeois always have royal links, they're sons of barons and earls.

this is good satire of the post from yesterday, no?

That's why you shouldn't get so mad when you don't get in. They odds are stacked in their favour.

Make the most of what you have and blame god for not making life ez.

t. Know many private school mouth breathers

Who /working class/ here like me? Wish I was born in Sweden (yes) or Norway.

>Bourgeois always have royal links
wrong, they're the kids of mayors and town burghers and shit or they're total randos like in america
>they're sons of barons and earls.
if they're the legitimate kids of barons and earls then they're part of the aristocracy

>They odds are stacked in their favour.

This is what failure-addicts (i.e. poor people) actually believe.

If you aren't willing to accept that the upper class in Britain are genetically pre-disposed to be far more intelligent, ambitious and successful than the plebs of this country, then you simply have to explain why Child A from generation upon generation of peasants can't sit down and learn something as well as Child B from centuries of upper class stock.

I think he means that the bourgeoisie has been marrying with the aristocracy and/or buying/receiving noble titles for long enough that the two have been fused together.

polish working class here, struggling. where are you from?

Kek, this is great. Keep it up, OP.

Poor (sic) bait, my man. You have to be subtler.

>n-nice bait, h-haha!

I still know him but only met him once.

>I think he means that the bourgeoisie has been marrying with the aristocracy and/or buying/receiving noble titles for long enough that the two have been fused together.
what like ian flemming

and no the aristocracy still exists as a separate entity, there might be mixes in the bourgeoisie but the aristocracy still exists

What a curious relationship. Are you Grindr buddies or something?

This is a very funny meme - although I’m not sure if it’s the same OP as last time. It reads differently.

>her face flushed red like a true English Rose
Daww

It’s kind of startling how many people think “bourgeois” means upper class. I even went through all of college thinking this.

To be fair, owning property is largely an upper class trait in contemporary Britain.

Keep these low-class kids cucked, Brits!

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wew, laddie. wew.