Not a headline you see every day, but a real headline nevertheless, and one from the Independent no less. As soon as you see the word "student" you immediately think "guilty" don't you? I do any way. In fact I think of a scruffy, and guilty, unwashed long-haired dirty lazy "the world owes me a living" tramp. The cupboard is bare, I'm skint but starving. I know! I'll cook the hamster. That will fill me up, and immediately make me seem whacky and thus render me incredibly popular with the ladies, who strangely currently appear to think that I'm a total wanker. Two birds, one stone. Fucking Einstein me. I might even have a bath tonight and put on my lucky Bart the Fart Simpson pants and pop down to the Uni bar for a half of cider. We aren't informed how said oik decided to cook said rodent. KFC style is where my money is going. I mean he won't have gently poached it in a bain marie of warm milk with basil and chives will he? As in the ...

As you probably know I'm a keen University Challenge sort of a Border Terrier, as I like to keep my paw in so to speak. Well I was shocked to watch last night's episode to see four spotty youths sit in bemused silence looking at each other and shaking their heads. The task before them was to name a piece of music played by a brass band. It was unmistakeably The Lord's My Shepherd, which they played almost all the way through. These lads were looking at each other as if you were asking them to name the original starting line up of the Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band such was the look of incredulity on their spotty, puss-riddled faces. Come on, let's have it, urged Paxman. "Erm, Jerusalem?" came the response! No doubt these lads will move on to become captains of industry because Daddy's well connected in the City. An unpolished pooh on a plinth is winging it's way to the knobheads at Magdalen College, Oxford.

Thomas Bell of Brigg are officially the kindest, people in the whole wide world. Not only are they the first people in the world to ever send me a parcel, they are the first people in the world to send me a parcel of pig's ears. Not just one or two either, 50 of the bastards. 50! That's way more than you get in a poxy packet from Asda. I mean I haven't actually counted them yet, but it says 50 on the box, so that's good enough for me. I'm so excited I'm shaking, shaking like a you know what. No, not a dyslexic on Countdown, a shitting dog, that's what I'm shaking like. 50 pig's ears! It's taken 25 pigs to make them. That's a lot of pigs. I reckon I can do 10 a day, so that lot will last me right through to the weekend. Woooohoooo, party on. I think I should send them something really special back in return. A coveted Nogger's dog white pooh, encrusted with sweetcorn and hand finished by Faberge, on a mahogany plinth is on the way to Brigg...