A Most Jovial Transfer Student

Pleasant day, fellow school-chums! Ah, coming from a rousing jaunt upon your “skated-boards,” I see. Very good. I am young Lord Pansy of South Lancashire, a recent enrollee to your good university, here to begin my studies. Perhaps you’ve heard of my daddy, Sir Edmund Pansy, proprietor of England’s largest haberdashery? Oh, how I do miss him so!

Forgive my sobs, but it’s been hardly a fortnight since I parted ways from Daddy. It pains me greatly to recall it now: how we kissed the tears from one another’s pale cheeks as he entrusted me to the bosom of Residence Life. When I think how I’ll never again feel his bristly moustache upon my ear as he whispers to me sweet dreams beneath the gossamer canopy of my bed, or of how your Pappa John’s Pizzas will evermore replace Mummy’s warm biscuits and molasses, I find myself quite overcome with melancholy.

It’s very kind of you all to hear these laments. But I shall burden you no more with my heavy heart. Let us keep in good spirits and mischief—for that is what young scholars such as ourselves are quite apt at, are we not? Indeed, I believe I’ve spotted several of you wearing your denim knickerbockers far below the knees, or sipping forbidden spirits, or uttering the most taboo of words—like “swell” and “fuckhead.”

Dear me, what o’clock is it? Then I’m expected at a most intriguing class entitled “Gay Studies.” Why, by its very name it should prove quite fun! I truly look forward to such lectures, learning of Newton’s theorems, the mysteries of the Far East, and of Mother England’s glorious triumphs over the savage peoples of darkest Africa.

I enjoyed the company of you all so much I can barley contain myself. May we meet again? Perhaps for one of this weekend’s many local soirees I’ve heard rumor of. Let us try this: I shall tie a yellow ribbon upon the campus’s southernmost chestnut tree, and if you should like to go together, then one of you shall untie it tonight.

Oh, I must go now and find my longtime friend and bosom schoolmate, sweet Laurence, for he has the finest collection of silken ribbons north of the Thames. Good ‘morrow, friends! And learn well!