(This is another article due in the Freshers’ Week edition of Cub in September.)
Well done. You’ve made it to your final year. You just about scraped through last summer’s exams and can behold September as some kind of academic purifying fountain in which past laziness, shit essays and 6-day vodka comas disappear under your new mantra: THIS YEAR I WILL WORK HARD.
However, thanks to banks, Americans and something about big mortgages the whole world has shit its eyelids off in lunacy and it’s graduates who have taken the hardest bumfingering. In fact, by the time you read this, you’ll probably be wanking taxi drivers for money or face down in a kebab in someone’s bath.
Even if you aren’t a feckless tyke and you actually spend every second of your final year in the library furiously blow-jobbing the works of Kant into your skull, you’re still going have to pad out your CV like all these other mortals. Because when you graduate, more talented, smarter and more handsome people like me will be getting all those cozy jobs and, more than likely, you’ll spend a good deal of your first year out of university sat on your mum’s sofa watching Cash In The Attic with your hands in your pants.
The trick is to start early. Get volunteering from your first year and cycle through part-time jobs like The Curve gets through that weird rice to build up your CV as much as you can.
If you’re an arts student, chances are there are some degrading ‘culture’ volunteering opportunities where you sit in the arse-end of a museum putting stuff in envelopes for 14 straight hours just to say you have experience in the sector. If you do all that mental engineering stuff then you’ll probably want to rub your genitals on a bridge in homage to Brunel or just get hoovered up by a medical school like everybody else.
If you’re looking to make it as a lawyer, you’ve probably already swallowed all that Freshers’ Week anus about doing pro bono work because employers love it. Maybe they do. But if you’re the kind of piece-of-shit degenerate who uses the poor and needy as a CV filler just so you can get £60k-a-year at Clifford Chance then I’m going to get this issue, roll it up and ram it into your fucking eye socket you enormous, quivering, vacuous, chickenshit, piss-weasel, bastard son of a fucking…
A big opportunity for volunteering is the London Olympics. Those of you just starting at QM will no doubt have a chance to stand around in a yellow jacket waving at tourists and pointing like an Art Attack zombie toward the Olympic Stadium. And I know, it’s all very exciting. The ‘biggest sporting event in the world’ (which by the way it isn’t: err, hello? The World Cup?) happening in your very own town is terrific, no? Hundreds of athletes from all over the world coming to London to compete at the peak of human sporting achievement, all within a disgusting Central Line ride of where you live and work? Brilliant! Except, well, no. It isn’t.
As sporting theatre it’s almost unrivalled. But as a means of unifying Londoners, of ‘regenerating’ a poor area of the East End or of giving our battered economy a Lemsip and a hug? It’s utter rubbish. For a start, the people who benefit in the long run are the Westfield Group and dickless suits of their type who slap a shopping centre in your living room and push your face up against the windows of M&S showing you all the shit you must have but can’t afford and then swipe your bum cheeks raw with your credit card. Others who benefit most are the property developer bellends who seem to think of ‘regeneration’ of an area as BUILDING POSHER HOUSES and then turn up with their spangly gated communities, keeping all that nice, shiny money within the walls of their minimalist twat palaces and privatising huge areas of public space. Also, you think Stratford locals are getting horny about the games? Those who can still afford to stay despite exploding rent rates and the cost of living are going to have to pay for all this lovely regeneration themselves or move to the likes of Barking and Plaistow just so you can have a nice big New Look and stand in the same fifty-mile circle as Usain Bolt.
No. Don’t legitimise it. Fill your CV with stamping on kittens and it will be an infinitely more moral use of your time. There are better ways of finding valuable volunteering opportunities (The Whitechapel Mission, Provide, etc.) and it’s up to you to put your annoying morals on hold to get the jobs you want. For the freshers among you, you have a while to work on how best to convince employers you haven’t spent three years drinking yourself into the next dimension. For the final years? Well, you’d better get stamping.