LOOK AROUND YOU and marvel at the university of the future. Flags unfurl in the Quad to reveal the newest university logo – a cardboard box filled with aborted squirrel foetuses – as the Jazz society (now known as Jazzverein) display their horns proudly. Row upon row of culturally diverse students march past, all stepping in time, turning their heads to the paragon of virtue sitting in his provost-mobile. His arms are raised masterfully as if commanding the waves to dance to his provocative tune. Sodden with ecstasy, the students throw flowers and salute as they parade by.
The man in the mobile puffs on his Cuban cigar and nods graciously to the parade of obedient, diversely cultured students. This is Herr Grant and this is his Global University (or Uni-politik as it is now known). The realisation of his achievement causes a stirring in his loins. Artists among the crowd note that with his moustache gently wafting in the breeze, he is the globalised, culturally aware version of Michelangelo’s David – retaining the naked Classical glory whilst contributing his own brand of hairy modernity.
Historically the UCL ideology has been infused with the goal of becoming the ‘all-conquering-pimp-daddy-of-British-universities’ with room only for people of pure cultural diversity and money, lots of money. Conspiracy theorists did not believe this could happen whilst vegetarians still enjoyed civil liberties, but fortunately, the fantasies of one man and his funny little moustache did not stand still. After months of planning in the newly renovated provost-cave, Malcolm Luther Grant stood in front of assembled crowds, dressed in a white rhinestone studded jumpsuit and told them ‘I have a dream’, it was the first step towards the realisation of a true UCL – Uniformly Culturfied Limited ‘cleansed’ of superfluous, mono cultured elements.
Likened to the pubescent Charlie Chaplin, the Provost’s sense of fun has always been balanced by his ambitious world view and ability to kill a man with his thighs. Popular posters proposing UCL as not only a global, but rural university have appeared bearing the logo, ‘Your Provost needs Ewe’ with the authoritative image of a man in green tights pulling a sword from a sheep. The armed chimp patrols caused consternation at first, but it has only been students with undesirable velvet blazers who have felt the effects of the well lubricated machinery of mass murder at the provost’s disposal. All that remains of the hundreds purged are pillars of salt and laceration marks on the wall, depicting a flaming ‘P’.
Blessed or not, the Provost has survived 27 assassination attempts in the last 3 years, one of which eventually led to the Vatican denouncing corn on the cob. But most are willing to forgive the man who creeps down their chimneys at night, as long as he keeps plunging UCL ever deeper into the steaming pile of progress.