Oxford blue

The Oxford Union keeps on inviting me to give them a speech, but I’m not the least bit interested. You can’t flatter a gorilla into performing on a sinking ship. Their desperation for celebrity speakers became evident when they hosted a lecture from Miss Katie Price, a 33-year-old English “glamour model” best known for the buoyancy of her bosom. 

After eight minutes of stellar oratory, Katie ran out of things to say, prompting the organiser of the event to call for questions from the floor. A beefy rugby-playing student asked Katie who her best lover had been. 

“It could be you, you look really fit up there – buff!” she answered. “I bet you’re too young for me,” she added ruefully. 

Full marks to Katie for disqualifying a potential stud on account of his tender age – I give her credit for her principled approach to brazen whoring. Someone then asked her what she looked for in a man. 

“If you wanna get ten men to stand up here naked, I’ll show you!” she declared. 

Sadly, none of the lads in the hall accepted her generous offer of a free knob inspection. Some audiences are just too shy to participate. The conference ended amid raucous hooting and cheering, to which Katie responded with raunchy pouting and blowing. 

The next logical step would be to make her an Oxford don, so she could oversee new degree programmes in Bawdy Repartee and Artistic Disrobing. A woman with her contacts could easily recruit qualified staff to give lectures in arse-wiggling and chest exposure. As the gifted students began to graduate, Oxford University could offer PhDs in groping and dogging. 

The main downside of such an exciting development would be its effect on the traditional subjects. Young humans already need tremendous self-discipline to study the arts and sciences when they’re far more interested in rampant fornication. My old friend Dickie Dawkins would find the ranks of his followers severely depleted, as all but his most devoted groupies went off to learn about hoochie-mama-ism and the like. Although he earns plenty of money from books and TV appearances, having to cancel his lectures would be a crushing blow to his pride. You can’t salvage the ego of an intellectual by telling him to count the cash in his bank account. 

Dickie could always hang out with his hairy cousins, of course. I’ve told him on many occasions that he’d be welcomed with open arms if he wanted to join my band. He could pontificate in the jungle to his heart’s content while we pretended to listen in rapt attention. A man who promotes the idea of primate consanguinity ought to be entirely at home in a community of apes. 

Katie could hang out with us too if she wanted. It's quite possible she might find life in academia too dry and oppressive. Although we could never make her an honorary gorilla because of her artificial bust, we wouldn’t mind at all if she ran around naked and sexually harassed the local witch doctor. There’s no point having guests if you won’t let them do their own thing. 

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