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The Daily Shame | August 29, 2015

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2 Comments offers strangely convincing reason for Nick Clegg’s tuition fees offers strangely convincing reason for Nick Clegg’s tuition fees

Back in the 90s – and I’m not pretending these were innocent times – I was at university in the lovely city of Leicester. This was during the era of Loaded, and when FHM switched from ‘words’ to ‘tits’ (anyone remember that? No?). Anyhoo, the world back then appeared to be in awe of a beer-swilling ‘cock-monster’ called Fuzz. Well, when I say the world, I mean half the population of the halls of residence.

Fuzz was what was known back then as ‘a lad’. We knew him as a cunt, but to some people, he was ‘a lad. Well, legend has it that Fuzz had bequeathed his presence upon the student nightclub one Friday night, and had managed to ‘bag’ himself a young lady of blonde appearance, from the same halls of residence.

At roughly two in the morning, a naked Fuzz, it is alleged, appeared on the landing of the third floor and screamed “it’s OK, lads… she swallows!”

Now, this story has me thinking. First of all, a group of ‘lads’ were downstairs at that very moment, huddled like Nasa scientists waiting for the results of the Mars rover. The toilet overfloweth with nervous shit. The atmosphere, to say the least, was tense. But the results were in. She swallows! High fives all round. Tears, in some places. This was a truly momentous occasion. A bunch of young men were truly worried about whether young blonde lady spits or swallows, and they could now go to bed and wank with a little more clarity. Because “it’s OK”. There’s some relief there. They had obviously been worrying about this for a long time.

Secondly, the young blonde lady who had swallowed was obviously sat there, head in hands, thinking “well, I guess I won’t be marrying Fuzz after all.”

Or maybe not. Perhaps the whole ‘legend of Fuzz’ has been blown out of proportion.

Still, I was refreshed and invigorated to see this weekend that the legacy of Fuzz has not been left unguarded. is apparently one of the most popular websites on what we call ‘the internet’ – a thing of mystery to us back then. It wouldn’t last, we said, as we leafed through the pages of Loaded. Nobody uses it, except for nerds. The internerd, we called it.

Lord Fuzzy Fuzzborough of Fuzzington, as was his full name, laughed in the face of the internet. You could be out ‘shagging birds’ apparently, not surfing the internet for, erm, stuff. Whatever you did back then. It was all spinning gifs. No… the internet was not for us. But apparently, it’s all the rage now. And is ‘the big thing’ with something like 400,000 ‘likes’ on Facebook, whatever that means. Replace ‘likes’ with ‘wankers’ and I think you begin to get the point. is the modern-day Fuzz. But worse. At least the legend of Fuzz is there to reassure his friends with spit or swallow tales. brags to the entire world. Run by some cock called Alex Partridge, who probably spends his days glued to his leather chair by month-old semen, this site contains pearls such as “Medley of Minge”, a ruminating piece about the different types of ‘vagina’ (sorry, woman) out there ‘on the market’.

Medley of Minge is such a masterpiece of wankery that even the great Fuzz would look down on this and marvel. ‘A cornucopia of clunge’, it continues, with a word I’ve never heard of. It offers some very useful advice about fat women:

2. Unfortunately, it’s easy to mix up a chubster for a preggers, so you could possibly end up prodding a poor innocent foetus with your giant willy. At least you’ll finally be able to claim a threesome.

Delightful! How much of a cunt do you have to be to write this? Well, let’s delve deeper, shall we… also seems worried that you’re going to catch something or worse, just get lost:

1. There’s a large chance that you could (a) catch something or (b) get lost in the abyss that is Victoria’s vagina.

There’s also a handy guide on how to ‘Fuck Shit Up’, which is not something that we’ve ever attempted here, so we thought we’d give it a go.

Step two: Prepare yourself to fuck shit up.

- Start tugging one off to some porn, the kind that you judge yourself for, but don’t finish. Just leave your body brimming with hormones and sexual tension.

-Lift some weights, do this naked and in front of a mirror.

-Eat a manly dinner consisting of at least 3 different types of meat.

-Burn some stuff to prove to everyone you are master of the fire element.

-Don’t shower, keep it musky.

Yadiyadiya. And on and on and on. Alex Cockwank Partridge tries to defend this ‘website’ thing of his, probably because every feminist in the land has called him a knob and so has the Guardian and all the papers, and his mother has probably disowned him too:

Take a step back for a second and ask yourself, “Is this article serious?” The humour is in how absolutely inappropriate and outrageous the “advice” is, it’s the idea that men are these boorish animals to whom advice like this is actually useful. It’s taking the piss out of the entire (normally female targeted) magazine industry which dispenses lifestyle advice and sex tips…

Students love articles that don’t take themselves too seriously. The site isn’t out to offend, it’s to give them a break from the heavy stories in the mainstream news and to have a laugh. Alex, Editor.

Oh yes, I get it now. It’s ALL IRONY. As was the rape article that you had to take down where you called it “surprise sex” and suggested that, as most rapes go unreported, you can “play the odds”.


Now then, Alex Cockwank Partridge is probably the kind of guy who went down to London to campaign against tuition fees, you remember, those fees that you’d have to pay back once you got a job. However, his site provides perhaps the ONLY convincing argument FOR those fees.

If £9,000 a year focuses your mind on actually doing some studying instead of drinking, shagging and writing your crappy website, then it’s a good thing. If, while downing your fifteenth tequila on a Wednesday morning, you suddenly think “hey, mum and dad are paying for me to be here and it’s really going to cost me”, then that’s a good thing.

Unfortunately, the tuition fees don’t matter to rich little wankers like Lord Fuzz of Fuzzborough (his real name) or Alex Partridge, who can rely on the bank of Mum and Dad to get them through with absolutely no regard for how much of their inheritance they’re pissing away en route to getting a middling 2:2 in a shit degree that will never get you a job.

Those who want to study, who can’t afford it, have to go out into the real world and get jobs and stuff. Or those who DO study, and have to work in the pubs and clubs you frequent… what of them? offers a smug, wanker’s-eye-view of a privileged lifestyle pissed up the walls for three years, and a very convincing argument that these people SHOULD be charged for their education.

So maybe tuition fees aren’t the way forward. Perhaps, then, universities should introduce MORE work for these fuckers. Lord Fuzz of Fuzzington studied something crappy like ‘American Studies’ – a 3-hour-per-week piss-up of a course that involved writing something about the civil war and not much else. How’s about introducing midnight lectures? How’s about introducing SHITLOADS more coursework, exams and drugs tests.

Miss a lecture, and you have to pay for it. Fail an exam, you pay for it. Universities, you have a rich seam of money available to you, and it’s all from the wankers at Go get ‘em.

Oh, and if anyone from is offended by this, we’ll take your own line from you. It’s “banter”. Now, back to your bedrooms.


  1. Brilliant article.

  2. Gareth

    I had idea you might like it

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