Bog-roll in the student house
A necessary precaution
Many things are deemed to be precious within a student household. Fresh underwear, cider, Miss Microwave and her radioactive goodness and the one comfy chair in the dilapidated damp box you like to call the living room are each important comforts. However, if you really want to strike at the heart, at the very drunken soul of your average student, then take away that which he holds most dear: his toilet paper.
Bog roll (or ‘golden bum hankies’ as they have sometimes been referred to) are not just simply a necessity in a student house. They have become a form of currency, stronger than any Stock Market. For guaranteed alpha-male status, hoard the toilet rolls and watch how an ordinary scene develops into one of mass hysteria.
Without his soft, silky papery comfort at his disposal, student-man reverts to a more primitive state of being. Grunts can be heard from within the bathroom as the student discovers his private quarters are somewhat lacking in papered relief. Muffled curses echo through the house. He could have sworn he put a new roll in there that same morning as he begins to damn his curry consuming housemates. The student is in a tight, not to mention vulnerable spot and now must barter his way into maintaining a clean pair of underpants.
In the past, I’ve been at university sitting in a lecture theatre, when suddenly my phone would ring and on the other end would be a desperate, toilet roll deficient sounding housemate.
‘Mate, mate…mate, you don’t happen to have any toilet paper on you? In your room, maybe? Mate, we’ve run out! I’m not messing around ‘ere this is serious! Mate, you still there? I feel like Stig without his dump ‘ere, you know what I mean?! Mate…can you help me out?‘
Somehow, I had acquired this reputation of storing my own private stash of rolls, which was true but it became slightly annoying when the people I lived with phoned me up, sounding like druggies haggling for their next score.
‘Please. I’ll buy you a pint?’
Ah, the student resorting to alcohol to sweeten the deal. How very cliché. All well and good but does a pint have the same practical benefits as a lovely soft roll of peach dyed ‘southern’ comfort? Can a mere beverage soothe the outer turmoil of a man bereft of a bidet? No, no it cannot, so they were often forced to walk down to the off-licence to stock up on an emergency supply while I sat and rolled amongst my papered acquisitions, often pretending to be that mischievous cute puppy in the toilet roll adverts.
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