The History of Oxford

Part I - From Inspiration to Founding

The following definitive history is extracted from the seminal history text, Red Sauce & Brown Sauce: A History of Our Stupendous Land, Compiled by the Royal Society of Wikipedia Scholars for the Future Lord of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, King Dwayne I of the House of Deer. The book opens with the greatest poem ever written: "Oh what rogues and peasant slaves were we / before we saw His Royal Majesty; /[DIH] ensared him like a flower to a bee, / And the rest, you see, is our history."

1962: A group of drunken uneducated fashionists stumble into a party at Cambridge University and announce they will no longer be attending classes (which they never did). Everyone laughs, and they become a hit at the party. The group remains at Cambridge as a traveling pack of minstrels, offering their services as subhumans to be pointed and laughed at. They title themselves, 'The Doomsberry Clan'. Their first and only vinyl record, 'domeastrawberryanddomeitgood-clan', goes on to sell seven (7) copies.

1963: The group is signed up for an international tour by a wealthy goldsmith from Russia named Imazov Greatska Conartistivitch.

1965: After a long, arduous trip on horseback, the fashionists arrive at Goldsmiths College in New Cross, believing London to be Russia and Goldsmiths to be the goldsmith's palace.

1966: After entertaining Goldsmiths students and stumbling on a poster which reads, 'Let's lower tuition fees!', the group realises that the big money is in education. Resolved to set up a grammar school, they pack up and make their return journey to Cambridge.

1971: After a long detour in Wales where the group stumbles upon poster which reads, 'Let's stop prostitution!', etc., etc., the group finally finds Cambridge. Their old student-patrons are gone, however, and they are quickly kicked out for indecent exposure (they wore only loin-cloths at the time).

1972: Wandering again, one member of the group, Adolf Stalin, has a dream of a cow defecating in a river. He resolves to name their new project, 'Cowford'.

1973: After wandering some more and searching for the prophesised place where cows defecate in rivers, the group stumbles upon a sign not far from Cambridge which reads, 'Let's stop mistreatment of the cow'. They realise this is the spot, and name it 'Cowford'. They put their great wealth together and purchase what they believe is a cow, but is actually an ox, and begin flogging and raping it endlessly in the hope that there is money to be made from their activity.

1975: Realising that no one is paying them for beating and raping the ox, a member of the group, Senurfs Innecor, has a massive brain-fart and decides to make a school out of such an activity. They make a sign which reads, "We kik kow you gif kash". An astute passer-by, a coalminer on his lunchbreak, corrects the sign, noting that they are in fact mistreating an ox. They rename it alternately 'Oxcow' and 'Cowox' for several hours until the coalminer, in a fit of intellect, tries, 'Oxford'. The group bows down in worship for finding someone of the same intelligence as the people they met at Goldsmiths, and announce that the coalminer will be their first Leader.

1976: Oxford Kindergarten School (OKS-ford) receives its first student: a lost boy who, passing by, giggles at the group teachers. Mistaking his snorting laughter for the English language and believing the boy to be signing up for school, the OKS-ford founders capture him. He is chained up and disciplined for disobedience until he is indoctrinated and promises to be their next Leader.

1979: Milktits the Ox supposedly dies of old age (it had in fact been dead for several years, but no one noticed the carcass decay), and the group decides to branch Oxford Kindergarten School out into other areas. They turn first to their roots by teaching fashion and, given the extremely low level of brain power required to manipulate people into purchasing identity and self-worth, quickly reap massive success.

1983: Applying their new-found talents to other subjects, 'Oxford University' is officially founded on 21 January. On this day all newborn babies across the country feel and are imbued with an instinctive repulsion to the school.

NOTE: One of these children, alive today, is still sadly in denial of this impulse, and actually attended the cultural and intellectual backwater near Cambridge. In fact, the 'Petunia Syndrome' (named after the unfortunate subject) has since been identified as a rare delusional disorder. Its symptoms are difficult to detect, but usually manifest in the subject wearing scarves with the university logo, and believing intensely that Oxford was in fact established in the 11th century at the latest. If you encounter such an individual, please contact local authorities immediately, for another symptom is believing that King Dwayne I will not come to rule.

On Fashion & Fashionism

Petunia the Evil One has recently posted what appears to be a blog entry. Do not be deceived, dear reader: this is an attempt to make you believe she is saying something important. The large pictures do more than demonstrate her incapacity for language: they affirm her desire to turn you into a brainwashed peasant.

Do you want to be a peasant? No, likely not. But there is nothing wrong with dressing like one. Petunia, you will notice with only a momentary glance, spews an ideology which can only be labelled as "Fashionism" - it is a system wherein rationality is tossed aside, and for a social hierarchy it relies on designer clothing, jewellry, makeup, scent, and other useless articles. In other words, you are placed as you dress.

I will not ramble on about the evils of fashion in the world: how it is a corruption of the human spirit, a degrading of the self into an object of mindless consumption and ignorant presentation. As if a logo might embody a state of mind, a belief, a principle, a movement - as if colour coordination equates to commitment to your fellow man or woman. Fashion is the disgusting result of our sick society's obsession with the superficial; and fashionism the hijacking of this en masse cultural stupidity as a means for Petunia and her collection of evil white cats to rule the world.

I shit you not.

We are in the grips of a coming struggle. Its spectre haunts Europe and rises with the moon. The countless fools who find meaning in collars, khakis, belts, and cowboy boots will soon witness the sky grow black; they will soon feel a tingle in their abdomen. It will all be too late, of course; for the black sky will be their forgotten mascara-drenched tears, and the tingle my 1972 Barbara Streisand Candle Collection Series 1 candle-putter-outer poker emerging from their stomach. And in the distance they will hear us laugh.

They will see it unfold as it has been foretold in the Blog of Revelations, last of the Blogosphere, and we three horsemen (looking for a fourth to make it more psychologically satisfying - applications still accepted...) will ride past the plain white gates into the New Valley of No Judgment where all wearable things are only worn for utility, and where global warming has ceased to be a problem because ignorant televsion-bashed brainless shitheads who overconsume for their own god damn feel-good shallow-minded piss-in-the-river-what's-it-to-me I'll-wear-what-makes-me-feel-sexy-and-good-about-myself-because-I-have-no-other-source-of-self-worth so let's-pollute-everything-and-buy-sweat-shop-but-YAY-DESIGNER fucking no-good self-centred mentality WILL BE FUCKING SHOT AND DROPPED IN THE CLEAR AND CLEAN RIVER!

But not into her trivial dogma. Fashionism will die. Join us now.

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