I first met the all-knowing giraffe in my youth, when she saved me from an unfortunate situation involving a rather strange looking man and a triangular trampoline. Since then, the giraffe has been a mentor of sorts. It was her that guided me through my brutal divorce in the tail end of ‘96, a service I can never thank her enough for.
And so, when I heard about the upcoming Union elections, I picked up my notepad and pencil (the giraffe is ethically opposed to ink-based writing apparatuses), and boarded the 134 to ZSL London Zoo.
When I get there, the giraffe is in good spirits. “I’m doing good, darling”, the giraffe peers at me through her long lashes, “I knew you would come today, I saw a presidential candidate recently. He didn’t talk to me though, just stuck a poster to my rear and sauntered off. Fortunately, I have foreseen terrible things in his future, as is usual for people who use Linkedin in the middle of Scala.”
However, her spirits appear to dampen slightly when it transpires that I’m writing for The Cheese Grater.
“For fucks sake, not this shit again. I’ve told you time and time again to dump that twat rag. It’s a waste of your time, and it is most definitely a waste of mine.”
“Oh please, wise giraffe” I say, “I need to appease James Balloqui and this is the only way I can do it.”
And so begins my interview with the all-knowing giraffe.
“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about politics, or something actually important?” She begs, “fascism is very much on the rise, and I also have the upcoming lottery numbers.” I assure her that the Union elections are the ONLY thing I care about, and she sighs.
“First of all,” she says, “I hope you realise that absolutely no one will vote. No one did it last year, and no one did it the year before.”
Well, it doesn’t hurt to be hopeful, does it?
“It does. It hurts me.”
I would never want to hurt the all-knowing giraffe.
“Let’s start with the presidential candidates - do any of them have what it takes?”
“There is no ‘what it takes’. Your “president” role is an excuse for some fat lazy bastard to sit on their arse and get paid thirty grand for it. But are any of the candidates better than absolutely hopeless? No. They all pledge to make food cheaper but I’m telling you now - this categorically will not happen.”
I then ask about Equity and Inclusion, a famously well-known and respected role throughout the student community.
“It will be taken by an extremely well-intentioned person, but unfortunately their photo is not at the top of a weekly email, so they will fade into obscurity. Education, too… In fact, most of the roles will mean the person who gets them can live in lucrative obscurity. Why aren’t you going for it, fucking idiot? Who says no to thirty grand?”
“Okay, fine,” I say, “and finally, what about sleeping pod-”
The all-knowing giraffe kicks me swiftly in the head.