The Humble Origins of Sir Hubert, Part III
To be or not to be. That is a question someone ought to actually answer sometime. But the question I am going to answer now, is this: how did I, Sir Hubert H. Humphries, receive my degree in higher rambling? Well, it certainly wasn't easy.
I received my letter of acceptance to Oxenfridge only days after my resignation from CEO, although I have remained on the Board of Directors for the British Jaffa Cake Corporation ever since. Now, many chaps have asked me as to the actual locality of this famed University and I, being one for honest answers, have responded that I am not quite sure. The University has, for centuries, been extremely hard to get into, and not solely on account of burdensome, academic standards, but rather because no one actually has a clue where the Dickens it is. I imagine this has lent greatly to the University's aura for the mysterious, although admittedly it makes admissions a somewhat complicated process.
I, in fact, had never actually applied to the University, and received my letter of acceptance not so much as an invitation, but rather as an impressment notice. Upon my opening of the letter, I went through a brief period of shock, closely followed by elation, constipation, further shock, disbelief, flatulence, and finally another shock, knocking me out cold. I assume this shock came in the form of the Oxenfridge Recruitment Officers, known for walking softly and carrying big, pointy sticks capable of rather nasty concussions. The next thing I knew, I had awoken in the inner chambers of Oxenfridge with a rather large bump on my tender scalp and a terribly sore posterior. The next morning, I ran the Grim Gauntlet (which had a survival ratio of one in seven) with record time, and was ceremonially inducted into the class of '07 after determining to major in Historical Ramblings with a minor in Floral Arrangment.
My following years in Oxenfridge were, albeit a painful process, marked with success and I will continue with my revelations upon a later date. Cheerio, chaps!
I received my letter of acceptance to Oxenfridge only days after my resignation from CEO, although I have remained on the Board of Directors for the British Jaffa Cake Corporation ever since. Now, many chaps have asked me as to the actual locality of this famed University and I, being one for honest answers, have responded that I am not quite sure. The University has, for centuries, been extremely hard to get into, and not solely on account of burdensome, academic standards, but rather because no one actually has a clue where the Dickens it is. I imagine this has lent greatly to the University's aura for the mysterious, although admittedly it makes admissions a somewhat complicated process.
I, in fact, had never actually applied to the University, and received my letter of acceptance not so much as an invitation, but rather as an impressment notice. Upon my opening of the letter, I went through a brief period of shock, closely followed by elation, constipation, further shock, disbelief, flatulence, and finally another shock, knocking me out cold. I assume this shock came in the form of the Oxenfridge Recruitment Officers, known for walking softly and carrying big, pointy sticks capable of rather nasty concussions. The next thing I knew, I had awoken in the inner chambers of Oxenfridge with a rather large bump on my tender scalp and a terribly sore posterior. The next morning, I ran the Grim Gauntlet (which had a survival ratio of one in seven) with record time, and was ceremonially inducted into the class of '07 after determining to major in Historical Ramblings with a minor in Floral Arrangment.
My following years in Oxenfridge were, albeit a painful process, marked with success and I will continue with my revelations upon a later date. Cheerio, chaps!
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