200 years of UCL and obviously its most significant years have been the 20 you have all had the pleasure of my company.
I feel a reflection is in order regarding the socs we’ve lost along the way. Now, as we all know, there are many ways to fell a giant : absinthe, harassment, and disaffiliation to name but a f e w.
To start, we turn to an unfortunate victim of that thing called time : oh Bongos. A relic of the 2000s and much like my hot pink whale tail, best left lost to time and SD cards. RIP Bongos, you live on through your more comical cousin, Balls!
Political socs seem to be especially susceptible to death by disaffiliation but annoy ingly, despite my MANY attempts, this bitch still hasn’t quite managed to purge our hallowed halls of the Tories. Are we waiting for this bitch’s ultimate take down, or perhaps when a Reform society is set up that will do it for us. Soc Bitch in bed w ith fascists... now there’s something you normally only see at Halloween. Either w ay despite not being actually dead, Tories are at least, like Pi Media, dead reputationally.
To end, a soc brought back from the dead: Men’s Rugby. How we all rejoiced when you lot were tackled in the heady days of 2018. Truly the Sainsbur y’s Local wine section remembers it well too.
The points I got on my nectar card that night... Oh, how they deserved to go. Playboy par ties with netball dressed as bunnies, lunar new year in “oriental” outfits, racist chants, and finally a whistleblown initiation.
But it seems that, like me after my first Sports Night 20 long years ago, they have come back changed this year. Perhaps a new leaf has been turned, or maybe less so when you hear the toilet paper tails—sorry—tales that my bitchettes have been whispering in my ear.
To 200 more years of scandal drama and sports nights. Chin chin UCL. I. M.