I entered a University of Exeter seminar room with the hopes of enjoying a nutritious snack. Before I knew it, the room began to fill and I was surrounded with first year history students. No matter to me, I like to feel social and the topic may well interest me. Sat at the back of the room I continue to dig into the large bowl of food before me, even doing away with my spoon to properly dig into it with gusto. I have a habit of slipping by undetected and successfully did so for the first 15 minutes of the lecture, all the while enjoying factoids about the Somme. All was going well. That is until a suspicious, studious student to my left realises they don’t recognise me.
They begin to pick out the small details. They’ve not seen me here before, despite the fact we’re deep into term 1. Perhaps I’m here from another class that clashes this week. But no, I’ve not been at lectures either. Not even week 1. Brave for a fresher.
Resitting first year, possibly? But then why not make the effort to attend, if I’d already failed once? It doesn’t add up. Not at all. Their gaze tracks every motion from hand to mouth with scorn and deep thought. Every tick of the clock another thought bringing them closer to the reality.
Until… eureka. The moment it all clicks. The moment they understand what I am and what I’m doing here. The answer was under their nose the whole time. The smell was in their nose. They’d been distracted by visual detail. Haricot beans in a sweet tomato sauce.
They stand to announce this injustice. This revelation. Inflicting shame upon me in front my peers, those words cut deep into my soul. Those oh so familiar words that a man like myself has heard a thousand times before. Judged everywhere I go. Intimidated into silence.
He stands and, sweat dripping from my brow with the realisation of what’s to come. The room falls silent. A grin grows across every face in the back row. Every face but mine. His lips part and he finally speaks as my whole world collapses around me:
THIS NI🅱️🅱️A EATIN BEANS
🤣🙀🍴