Andy is a Jerk

With regards to Ridley Scott…


“Are you not entertained? Is this not why you are here?”

Maximus, Gladiator (2000)

An ode to Wednesday, my favourite day of the week.

Your spelling, so cruel;
while some others start their week,
for me, you bring rest.

I love Wednesdays. “Fundamentals of Analysis” is my only class(For me, good stoichiometry is like sex. No matter how complex it gets, you’re still basically going through the same motions as when you first started), but what’s more, the powers that be have made it so my weekend starts Wednesday at noon.

A typical Edge Hill Wednesday night ritual goes something like this: get drunk on a £2.69 2-liter bottle of White Ace cider, meander towards town while singing any of a number of English drinking songs, dance like an idiot in Alpine. It’s simple, but we like it.

Alpine: Incapacitating first years since 2009

Alpine is a new club in Ormskirk, which consists of equal parts hot tubs, pillow fights and men in polar bear costumes. Conveniently, on Wednesdays, the drinks are made cheap enough that one could affordably sedate a small polar bear, if perchance tranquillising arctic mammals is what you fancy.

Unfortunately, I was a bit too ill to engage in the usual debauchery, so instead, I found myself spending some time in the room of my good friend Andy.

Andy reminds me a lot of another of my good friends, the glowworm. The glowworm seems like the perfect bro; always shares his beer, tries to introduce you to his cute female friends, and if you need an extra pound for that midnight donner kebab, the glowworms got your back. But just as you get close to the glowworm, it ties you down with a web-like snare and slowly devours you.

Andy, obviously plotting something maniacal

For Andy, he replaces “having a brightly flashing abdomen” with a little thing called FIFA. Back in Singapore, we played the occasional game of FIFA, but it usually revolved around drinking large quantities of alcohol, where when one player was particularly miserable (I.E. me), he would be rewarded with the privilege of downing a hearty number of brewskis. In Andy’s newly taught version of FIFA rules, a 5-goal loss results in an apology to the victor being given online; 10 goals and the apology is done publicly. This has helped to explain the number of men I’ve seen busking for FIFA lessons outside the hub in rags.

After “agreeing” to these terms, Andy, being the sadist he is, proceeds to adeptly brutalise whoever was foolish enough to think FIFA was just a game or that he might extend mercy. Andy does not show mercy. Andy does not know mercy; only victory, and its sweet taste. I found Will crying in a corner, as Brooke played a sad song in lament. My own dance with the devil ended 9-1, and though shaken, I escaped with my life.

But mark these words Andy: My name is Kevin “Danger” Hess, owner of a beaten spirit, composer of a poorly-written blog, and I will have my vengeance in this life or the next.

As per my contract, I am required to present him with an online apology, and thus I offer forth the following in the hopes that it is acceptable.

Dear Andy,
I am sorry I did not act sooner to quell the unspeakable evil that lives inside you. It has become increasingly clear that there is no help for you anymore. God only knows what horribly cruelty you will commit next. May he have mercy on your soul.

Pretentious Introductory Post!

Now 30% more self-referential!

“You’re dealing with the demon of external validation. You can’t beat external validation. You want to know why? Because it feels sooo good.”

Barbara Hall, Northern Exposure, Gran Prix, 1994

I have no idea who Barbara Hall is, aside from what I found flicking through her wikipedia page, and I only know of the above quote because I googled “random awesome quotes”, it appeared on the first page and it made me smile.

This is about the level of logic and reasoning you can expect in most of my blog posts, which, if the hyperlink didn’t tip you off, is what you are reading; a blog about my experiences at Edge Hill. Edge Hill University is an institution in Ormskirk, Lancashire of the U.K. which theguardian ranks 28th nationally for my Education course and regularly gets shortlisted for University of the Year.

I also happen to be rather fond of it.

More than the sum of its parts, I find myself liking my time at Edge Hill more than I probably should. I can’t really put my finger on it. The surrounding town, while charming, is much more podunk than the cities I am used to and the campus is certainly lacking in Vaudevillian theatres and steel-framed roller coasters. For all intents and purposes, I should be bored; very, very bored.

And yet, I love it here. I am intoxicated by the events that occur around me and find myself growing more and more attached to this institution each day. The Hill works in mysterious ways, but, as if i had ripped it straight out of a fictional university pamphlet, I feel like each day is a new adventure. Thus, the first half of my blog title:


As describing the mystical forces at work at Edge Hill is not a straight forward process, I feel I can accomplish it best through recounting my various encounters with it. In less overtly pretentious terms, I plan to talk about select experiences I’ve had here. I do not intend this blog to be all that educational or informative, but I do hope to keep it entertaining, and perhaps it will give a better idea of the life of an Edge Hill student, albeit an offbeat, narcissistic one.

I am writing this blog for prospective students, local and international, keen to get a more personal opinion on the college. I am writing this blog for parents curious as to the level of moral and physical degradation their sons and daughters are inflicting upon themselves as students at the Hill. I am writing this blog for my good friends Will and Brooke, who demanded I mention them in my introductory post and will likely feature in more than a few of my adventures. Most importantly, I am writing this blog for you. I do not know you yet, but I think we are going to have fun together.

Finally, for the perpetually curious, the rest of my blog title is a silly, trite nomenclature joke. It’s not very funny and is vaguely inaccurate, but I like it.

So deal with it.