Change is overrated

You’re on the brink of it. You’ve spent the last few months being told that your exams were too easy, your future is jobless, your university fees higher than ever, your hair too long and your generation’s romantic comedies too full of Gerard Butler. Most of these things are not true. Gerard Butler does appear to be able to star in several movies simultaneously, however.

The good news is this - you can forget that now. Those people are behind you - confined to your old secondary school, bitter tabloid newsrooms and your hometown. You’re now a free agent, a university student with the power to be who you want, say what you want, and claim to have done things in your gap year that are physically impossible or otherwise massively unfeasible. Don’t be the guy who claims to have taught modern dance to underprivileged kids in Brazil. Don’t be him.

The bad news is that, as Spiderman taught us, with great power comes a proportionally higher number of dickheads. If there’s one thing Imperial excels at, it’s dickheads per student, and as Freshers here you’ll find that your year bears the brunt of most of them. You’ll see the rich fashionistas who flinch every time they come into contact with someone poor enough to need a student loan; you’ll be treated to the business plans of a dozen Financial Times-reading arseholes, whilst struggling to breathe under the torrent of disdain being poured all over you; you will encounter the endless borderline-insane student politicians and activists who want to change the world by shouting loudly at it; and you will of course have to put up with the weekly opinions of the sort of self-aggrandising lunatics who hide behind pseudonyms and write for student newspapers. Cocks.

If I’ve accidentally labelled you in that list and you’re feeling uncomfortable now, well, so am I. Don’t worry about it. If you’re not on that list but are getting apprehensive about the prospects of spending the next three years with the people on it, then that’s good. You should be. There’s a lot of talk about how great a new beginning this is for you, and how you can be who you want to be, cast off the insulting nicknames that insinuate various sex acts with domestic animals, and reinvent yourself as a new person. Unfortunately, if you were the kind of person who naturally attracted that sort of nickname, then don’t expect to stay Mister Definitely-Doesn’t-Shag-Goats very long. Here’s a sad truth - university doesn’t change most people. Particularly the nickname-inventors.

But it can change you. Now there’s an idea. You can realise that you’re surrounded by one of the most fantastic cities in the world, full of real people. People who aren’t interested in your private life, or your childhood spent on farms. You can realise that, whilst the percentage of arseholes has remained about constant, the number of people you’re studying with has increased tenfold. Look in the right places, and you’ll find the people you want to be around. So here’s your Freshers’ Week advice from Uncle Angry - and this is a thing I try as hard as I can to stay away from in normal weeks, so enjoy it while it’s not full of vitriol and hatred - is this: don’t change.

The thing with change is, it feels good at first, especially once your parents have sodded off home in the car and you realise you can put your towels anywhere you bloody like now thanks Mum. But the allure will wear off eventually, and you’ll realise you’ve spent the intervening time pandering to people who are to oxygen what that fleshy bit in the middle of you is to your trousers.

That’s ‘a waist’, for those of you who have started drinking already (which I always recommend before reading Felix). I’d leave you to do the boom-tss on the nearest desk. Enjoy Freshers’ Week - I’ll see you in term time.