Dear Hertford College

Dear Hertford College, University of Oxford.
In regard to your recent rejection
Of me
Who was up for selection but
Alas
Could not quite reach the perfection as set by your standards, well
This is my answer:
It’s OK. Maybe I’ve just not matured enough, endured enough
Maybe I’m thick or you think I’m a dick
But I’ve hauled myself out of the pit of dejection
And I’m coming to terms with the pain of rejection.
Cos you and me, Hertford, we just didn’t go
Cos I know what I like and I like what I know
And with you I was lost from the start of the show
And we just didn’t fit
Cos I was shit
In my interview.

You see the first thing I don’t like is this:
Your floorboards creak. And everyone is either a bit of a geek
Or they speak
Like they’ve stepped out of Eton. Which is cool
But if you did it at my school you’d get beaten up.
On top of which, I felt like a fool turning up at the door
With my working class drawl and they told me to keep of the grars not the grass
And that if I persisted in breaking the rules I’d be out on my arse not my ass.

Second thing:
By my reckoning it isn’t so wise
To apply to a place
Cos you fancy a guy who once went there on telly.
Brideshead Revisited.
I fell in love with Sebastian Flyte
And I spent all my spare time seeking the site
Where he threw up that night
And I found it,
And I sound like a nerd but I’m gonna compound it by telling you
Just how excited I was when I discovered the place
Where the face
Came out of the book
In the first Harry Potter.
It’d since been replaced by Tarka the Otter
But I can handle rejection and resulting dejection
Cos I got into Hogwarts’ restricted section.

Third on my list:
And I know this one isn’t just you but you’ll do
Because Hertford it’s me versus you and I’m slightly pissed off.
I do not think
That a sink
By the bed
Is wise
Cos after a drink or three
I need a wee
And the loo across the hall is a bit of a trek
When you’re wrecked if you see what I mean.

But whatever I claim I’ve gotta take most of the blame for myself
And the shame is entirely my own.
I mean I made the decision to do no revision
Instead I played solitaire thirty nine times
I made up this rhyme
And swept three thousand mines
It’s an art you know and I’m smart in my way
But I still don’t get how to play hearts.

Now rejection sucks
But bad luck’s a part of what life brings and the thing is
I still got into King’s College London.
So while I’m still slightly bitter
At having to go to slightly shitter university,
I guess it’s just one of those things, I’ll be happy at King’s,
And the joke’s on you Hertford, cos I pissed in your sink.
And I wish I was more of a boff or a toff
But I’m not
So best wishes
From Eleanor Hough. (it's pronounced 'Hoff')