THE PIT Issue 855

Christmas 2010

Its CHHRRRIIIISSSSTMMAAAS

PRESIDENT’s SHOUT Dear Panda,

I can only apologise for what happened on the dance floor at

the Royal School of Mines. It was very polite and generous

of you to turn up so late; I know you have a busy schedule

laying around eating bamboo and generally doing next to

nothing in your zoo pen. However I did not think your arri-

val would result in the miner crowd going mad with happi-

ness, resulting in your head being ripped apart and then fi-

nally being worn as a hat by the Davy Bearer. This was not

our intention and for that I send my sincerest apologies!

Now that I have apologised to our beloved soft toy that died

on the dance floor last Saturday. Can I say what a term it has

been! Everything has happened since the arrival of the

Fresher babies including drinking and dining at the various

dinners, tours in the countryside with the DLB, paintballing

with MatSoc, oh so many bar nights, students from the

Netherlands visiting and so much sporting action that I

would be writing to an unholy hour to discuss it! Not too

shabby for a faculty union consisting of two departments.

I hope, if you are a fresher you have enjoyed the first term

and now feel a part of the Miner family. If you haven‘t had a

chance to get involved yet, there is still plenty of time and

we are always welcoming those to the community. There is

so much still to come this academic year and I‘m brimming

with excitement at the prospect of next term and 2011! The

reason why, is the hallowed Bottle Match. Yes one of the

oldest varsity matches in the world with it going into its

109th year and still as strong as ever. I‘m sure you have

heard tales about it already so I won‘t regale but with the

biggest event of our year still to come and so so much

more…all I can say is I hope you all rest up over the holi-

days and have a lovely break from the coursework.

Anyway before I ramble, I hope you all have a Merry

Christmas!

Miner love

Ben Moorhouse

PS. Once again I send my apologies to Mr Panda for being

sharked on the dancefloor!

RSM President/Towel Boy

EDITOR’s NOTE A Christmas Carol

As Fiona sat in her bed the morning after xmas dinner, she

cursed the fact that she had mixed so heavily the night be-

fore;

‗Bah! Humbug‘ she exclaimed

‗Shut up - you enjoyed it really‘ replied Katy ‗stop com-

plaining, or you‘ll be sorry...‘

Fiona drifted back to sleep, only to be woken up a few hours

later by the ghost of nights-out-past.

The Ghost took Fiona back to the nights of the past, showing

her what fun she had had over the past week; the Medic‘s

‗version‘ of Beauty and the Beast, Darkside, curry in brick

lane, Friday night at the union, and of course the RSM xmas

dinner the night before.

The Ghost showed her how much she had enjoyed herself,

and then took her back to the comfort of her bed. Fiona went

back to sleep, happy that she had relived so many good

memories.

Next she was awoken by the Ghost of nights-out-present.

The ghost showed her that it was five pm, and that she

should be going over to a friends house, and then onto B@1.

Later that evening, when Fiona had walked back from Ham-

mersmith, eaten chicken nuggets and apologised for falling

and breaking Katy‘s room, she drifted back to sleep.

Pitch-black outside, an unearthly noise awoke Fiona. She

turned, glad to see that it wasn't another mouse trying to at-

tack her, but the ghost of nights-out-yet-to-come. This ghost

took her to future nights such as pub golf and bottle match,

and showed her how sad she would be if she missed them

because she feared another awful hangover.

Harrowed by the experience, when Fiona woke the follow-

ing morning, she got the bus as fast as she could to the un-

ion, and ordered a pint.

Merry Christmas Miners

Pit Editor

Upcoming......

The Full, unedited ramblings of Jamjam

Memoirs of a sexual terrorist can now be found at

http://the-sexual-terrorist.tumblr.com

Anti-cummingtonite

Look-alikes

Although he gets the gold medal for EFFORT, this boi will has so far remained TOOTH-

LESS in his (many) sharking attempts:

Matthew ‘Carp’ James Joseph Swanson

The Week in Pictures:

Alcololz: Rohyplolz: Sleeping Beauty:

Mrs H. Ore Solves all your problems:

QDear Mrs H. Ore,

Last night, at the annual RSM Christmas dinner I witnessed a shocking event. A creature I can only de-

scribe as a hybrid pygmy-dwarf-troll-mutant, invaded this formal dinner dance and proceeded to act in a

most unsuitable fashion. After consuming a hideous amount of alcohol he claims he ‗won‘ on our be-

loved DLB raffle he proceeded to enter a war-like trance on the dance floor. Uttering his high pitched

squeal of ―yeah, yeah, yeah‖ (a primitive war cry?) he proceeded to ravish many of the good ladies and

gentlemen, felling an innocent Romanian peasant girl in the process. Having satiated his appetite he then

collapsed on the pavement outside, to the disgust of a nearby tramp.

Later on in the evening I have heard reports that suggest this monster recovered enough to hijack

an ambulance and kidnap his good friend Alec Mitchell. He later tried to mate with several paramedics,

using the unusual courting technique of vomiting all over them, before finally being subdued with a large

dose of rhino tranquiliser.

Evidence suggests that this aberration inhabits the steamy shower rooms of the American Football team,

where he preys on homosexual americans who mistake his horrendous grunting for sexual advances. Fol-

lowing this recent outburst however, I fear for the sexual health of myself and all the rest of the RSM.,

who are clearly no longer safe from the horrors of the locker room.

In my desperation, I turn to you Mrs H. Ore… how can we save ourselves from such a horror of the

night?

Ayeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyyeyeyeyeyeyeyyeyeyeyeyeye DAVE. Nah nah nah nah, yeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyey,

YES.

Obviously Mrs H. Ore has had a little too much cooking sherry this week, but don‘t fret,

she will be back again next year, and hopefully a little more sober.

She has little else in her life to interest her, and the home tells me she looks forward to the

post bag full of problems that she receives from the Royal School of Mines each week.

So keep her spirits up, otherwise she will stalk her favourite couples on facebook, and we

all know how that ends!

If Mrs H. Ore has answered a particularly difficult or life changing question for you, and

you feel you need to show your appreciation in some way, her carers tell me she

especially likes off-white cardigans.

RIP

If your parents pay for you to travel all over the world you'll have a great life, but for some reason you'll also be

miserable, you'll fail your geology degree (twice) and everyone will hate you

by Yik Lun

I'm sipping my beer, staring at the fresher I know I can't get, hoping she thinks I'm not gay and isn't repulsed

by my 45kg hairless frame (when will I get those ―pubes‖ I keep hearing about?). For Dutch courage I down my

10 pound shot of malibu and suavely ruffle my greasy black hair. She sees my staring and gags (or does she just

want to choke on my 2-incher?), but before I get a chance to ask her out, she leaves, visibly shaking.

I change my facebook relationship status to ―in a relationship‖ (for 4 hours, oh well it was worth a shot, she re-

ports me all the same. Fuck! I thought I had a chance cause she was young, turns out she was 14. FML).

Strange how life hits you like that, isn't it- like a kick in the balls from when you're wearing you're favorite

mini-towel round the house (or being crushed by your never-ending pile of dirty dishes...what am I paying my sis-

ter for anyways? Bitch). Isn't it funny how you can fail the course twice and still act like you're top dragon, kind of

like how my Dad feels when he doesn't wipe his ass or flush the toilet after taking a massive shit when babysitting

me after I failed the first time last year. To be honest, I did get to look at a second round of snatch; though not one

of them came to my house warming party (Stuck-up bitches), but I can't complain, when I did go to the one lecture

this term it was worth it.

Looking back on my time in the RSM, there were just so many highlights: thinking about all the hot and

sweaty girls in Urra, cumming in the showers, watching my semen make it's way towards Karvelas' Hobbit feet

five cubicles down (ed. Karvelas was probably passed out by that point though (YEYEYEYEAH!)); my failed at-

tempts to become pit editor were amply made up by the intrigue surrounding my sexual life and non-educational

exploits (pretending to smoke with the world's coolest South American, making friends with gigantic lesbians who

ate more food in one sitting then the RSM combined, going on hitchhikes to try and shag my partner); and finally,

trying to touch up:

Hebditch, Ioana, Fiona, Lizzie, Lucy (don't think I forgot about you, you little tease), Magali, Hannah, Rebecca,

Carmen, Kim, Zach, Pam, Ellie, Sarah, Kelly, Grace, Loh, Miriam, Kirsty, Natalie (whilst in bed with Mark),

Olivia (whilst in bed with Ben), Esther (whilst in bed with Christian), Chunter‘s

gf and Harriet (whilst in bed with Lutsko - managed to walk in on you both at

least once you bastards ;) ), anyone I've forgotten? What about Callista? Is it

love? Worth a shot...). Yep, I was definitely the coolest, tallest, most talented,

spoiled chinese guy around.

Anyways, looks like my time in the RSM's up. Guys, it's been a lot of fun,

and I've learned so much, especially about how to piss off the whole world just

by being alive. So next time you've been staring at a girl and she runs away gag-

ging just remember: maybe she's thinking about choking on your 2-inch love-

stick, hell, that's good enough for me.

(Note: I'll probably be hanging out at my flat in London for the next few months

if anyone wants to come visit, my number is 07674352451 (extension 4532 if

I'm at the office writing my next article), my next house party is January 21st if

you want to come, don't forget my sister swallows, hope to see you there x).

Here is brief account of a quite frankly outrageous, maybe even scary, event that I think epitomises my first

term in the RSM.

The lesser drinkers among you may remember the RSM Halloween Bar Night. My younger brother Sam was

visiting that weekend, a naive 17 year old just wanting to share a drink with his brother. This is his fateful tale...

We walked to meet Lewis and George and assemble our costumes. Lewis slutted up, everyone wrapped me in

loo roll, and George decided to go in his usual Friday night gear (see FB.) We made our way to the bar and got

the drinks in. There were some games I don‘t remember, some drinking out of pumpkin buckets, and there was

a lot of Haribo. Most of the night‘s events have been given the attention deserved, and Sam‘s story is yet to

kick off. I will, however, point out that our beloved George was the only Fresher to take over a minute in the

yard and that Jo finished in a ridiculous 3rd place. Some people need to up their game. Jo, keep representin‘.

So the night‘s frivolities came to pass, and at some drunk o‘clock I walked the stumbling, bumbling buffoon

home to Fisher Hall. We were in a guest room because my shit hole room was leaking, so we had bunk beds for

the first time since childhood. Sam collapsed on the top bunk. An uneventful two hours of sleep later and I was

awakened by a lot of thrashing around above me. Sam ran past me towards the window and I shouted at the

goon to just spew in the sink as he tried to force open the window. It turns out guest rooms don‘t have the win-

dow restrictors on them that they claim to have. He got it open, and started to clamber out...

By now I was stood next to him, still shouting at him to be sick in the sink, and that we were on the first floor

and he was being a tit. No response, in fact he didn‘t even seem aware of my presence. I blinked and when I

opened my eyes he was FULLY OUTSIDE. Perched on the narrowest of ledges above a garden that in no way

belongs to Imperial. By the time I realised his intention and tried to stop him he was already lowering himself

off the edge. There he was hanging above some unsuspecting South Kensington toff‘s doorstep in just his un-

derwear. He let go, he fell, he hit the ground hard. Sudden recognition in his eyes, he started to gawp around,

not knowing where he was or how he‘d got there.

―SAM GET THE FUCK OUT OF THAT

GARDEN IT‘S A £1000 FINE YOU STUPID

BELLEND!‖

He looked up, looked confused, grunted, then

legged it. I ran downstairs with my keys and

swipe card and waited for him. He walked round

the corner with 3 guys, luckily from the halls next

door. I could see him struggling to explain his

situation and worried that they might take him to

a warden, or rape him or something, so I went

over. I apologised, explained, and then put the

poor sod back to bed. His parting words were ―I

know you won‘t believe me Jack, but I really

thought someone wanted me to jump outside.‖

It seems the RSM are just too much for some to

handle

Fresher Jack

RETRACTION: moron Steve is not ‗Twat‘ fresher, he is ‗too lazy to write me any form of

rebuttal‘ fresher. :)

Freshers’s Corner

Dear Father Christmas,

Each year people always write to you asking for things but we thought we would send you a

Christmas story to entertain you on your long journey from Lapland.

Once upon a time in a place called Chicken Cottage, the respectable half of caravan 10 (kirsty and nel-

ly) met a fabled creature on their adventures back from Metric. It was the mystical …asian Will Dow.

In celebration of this most sacred of meetings, Craig and Henry tried to convince asian will that more

chicken would stop craig pissing in the sink….futile attempts… Meanwhile Nelly tried to forget she

walked into lamppost while holding onto Craig- ‗shall-i-tackle-a-steward- and –get-kicked-out-

Elstow‘.

Then the long awaited social gathering of the season arrived….BYRNE AND NELLY‘S SANG‘S

BIRTHDAY PARTY…Let‘s get wasted….after overcoming Byrne‘s ‗becoming-a-woman-and-

wearing-heels‘ moment the RSM descended on the Elk bar to get down and dirrteh…Sang proceeded

to drink the bar dry and dance/rape EVERYONE, Kirsty learnt that she was in fact a twin, Byrne was

learning not to be Bambi and Nelly was hanging after a few drinks as usual….

If you were eavesdropping in Elk bar, some of the most memorable quotes from the evening include;

‘where is my fucking phone?’

Sang-its-my-party Kim

‘the dj’s got us falling in love againnnnn’

Sang-the-dancefloor-rapist Kim

‘I am no use to anyone in this world’

-Yes sang in this state you are no use to anyone in this world

‘you look after her, she loves you, and you’ve exchanged body fluids’….’you have the same body fluids!’

‘sang I saw your phone in belushis’

James- we-still-have-your-fish-Tolley

Never one to be outshone, especially at her own birthday party, Byrne (now affectionately

known as Byrne Vom-a-lot) proceeded to do BAAAAD THINGS…Vomming in ones bed is normally

frowned upon in any situation, vomming in ones bed with two other people in it with you…and admit-

ting ―‘I had to poke it to see what it was…mmm meaty‘ is frowned upon ALWAYS…

.

Christmas Time with Caravan 10

The Aftermath….

Friday morning

BYRNE DIED….Her Lit review wasub-

mitted by Nelly and Lab work done by

Sang. *Caravan 10 love*

….‗I am a disgrace to Homo Sapiens‘…

...‗I signed onto learn, not to drink‘….

Nelly resigned as Sang‘s BFF

Kirsty got hangover from Jan Cilliers‘

lecture

Sang and Byrne were tame (for once!) at

netball xmas dinner

Figure 1: Byrne in a BAAAAD PLACE….

Yes we are sitting on the floor in the RSM corridor…

RSM XMAS DINNER – Back on the Canon!

A civilised affair filled with drinking and dancing proved to be

a rather well-behaved night for caravan 10 with the only she-

nanigans involving Kirsty‘s slippery nipple (See figure 2 for

reference) and Nelly‘s ‗broken shin ‗on the bus followed by a

bottom exposing piggy-back down North End Road.

CLASSY…

Happiest news of the night though….We have to go wedding

shopping!!! Emma & John are going to make babiessss! YAY!

A wonderfully Christmassy week was brought to a close over

some KFC and good old CARVAN 10 LOVING….

THE END.

Figure 2: Kirsty‘s slippery nipple

We hope you liked our story Father

Christmas….Cant wait to see what I get

in my stocking this year…!

Love and xmas wishes,

CARAVAN 10 xxxxx

p.s. Byrne wants to know ‗who died out-

side the faculty building????

Exercises of the week:

After Christmas: GOLF

‘FITNESS’ WITH RSM NETBALL For a team with a 100% winning record, fitness is our

top priority. Our bodies are temples. We live for the

gym.

A healthy diet is

essential…

Resting after a tough ses-

sion is a must…

Keeping hydrated is key…

And shot practice is important

for a high score line. Drink

more, dunk more.

In other news, our team

‘mascots’ (Gary, Jermain and

Bruce) would like the chance to

go home for Christmas. TOLLEY

SORT YOUR LIFE AND FISH OUT, I

WANT MY KITCHEN TABLE BACK!

QUIZ

Welcome to the Quiz section of the Pit.

Answers meant points, and points got PRIZES. With a perfect score in only one entry, the winner is

*DRUMMMROLLLLLL*

IAN!

Well done Ian—I‘ll bring your prize to pub golf? It may help decide the winnnner……..

Answers from last week: Pope Clement VII banned: Mushrooms Isohels join equal areas of: Sunshine Jeremy Clarkson really doesn't like: The Porsche Cayenne The Stig was almost: The Gimp Isaac Newton also invented: The cat-flap Bono is also: A brand of hearing aid Serendipity comes from: An Arabian name for Sri Lanka

Help the intrepid freshers find their way to the best bits of an RSM Christmas Ball

Sitting on

Santa‘s

knee

Masquerading

as an

ex-stuffed toy

Finding that

special some-

one under the

mistletoe