Things had been rough for lil’ Oscar ever since he’d lost his little paper after “The Case of the Squandered Budget”. Oh, he’d tried everything to stop them from taking it away from him: blog posts and columns and even editorials, but nothing had worked. But he hadn’t fought his way up to the top of Europe’s biggest student newspaper just to lie down and die like a common or garden Alexander Litvinenko!
He’d set up stall from his treehouse, with a sign in crayon reading: “Oscar Webb, Mysteries Investigated, Editorials Written - 25p a Day”. He’d even pinned his NUJ card to it. “Look mum,” he said, showing the offensively-stereotyped yet voluptuous Mrs Webb excitedly. “It’s like I’m a real journalist.”
“That’s nice, Oscar,” replied his mother in a wearisome voice, before returning to her third bottle of wine of the day and preparing to spend the day lying to her friends about what her son was up to. No sooner had Oscar set up shop than his first story dropped right into his lap, like a stripper with an inner ear infection. He was biking home from the local WI bakesale, apricot jam smeared all down his breeches, when he heard the tell-tale sounds of a window being smashed from the garden of his next door neighbour, Mr Johnson.
“Gee whiz!” cried Oscar, picking up the shattered glass and getting his finger- prints all over a crime scene. “This looks like a clue! The first piece in a puzzle that’ll make it all the way to page eight of the local paper! Who could be behind this? I’ll bet it’s that Mean Old Metro- politan Police, they’ve always had it in for me.”
“Oh just fuck off, Oscar,” sighed Mr Johnson. “It’s just those kids from the es- tate.” He pointed to a gang of hooded teens further up the road, leaning on bikes. Like an experienced green-grocer, Oscar knew bad apples when he saw them, and these apples were so bad, they were practically Hitler’s own Granny Smiths.
“I’ll show them,” said Oscar. “I’ll get an exclusive interview, which I’ll then butcher into a self-serving column on the sociologi- cal causes of delinquency in western youth. After all, what’s the worst they can do to me for just trying to talk to them?”
Oscar Webb (1997-2014) was the edi- tor of London Student from 2013-2014. He will be sorely missed. RIP.