Master students

While living in the university town of Uppsala I have built up a sizeable dislike of master students. This can be a problem, as there are thousands of them. They flock to Uppsala like mosquitos to stagnant water, all with the same belief that their unique ideas will change Earth for the better.

Master students are easy to identify as they all look the same. Not in a racist kind of way, but rather a xenophobic kind of way, as they’re mostly foreign pricks. They dress prepared for any conceivable weather condition. Always the same khaki traveller pants with a zip around the knee, in case the sun makes an appearance, giving their pale, hairy legs some light. This is true for both sexes. A light all-weather jacket, usually baby blue of an expensive outdoor brand. Their shoes are brown and orange cross-trainers, as though they’re always on their way to meet up with a hiking group. And, of course, their trusty backpack carrying a BPA-free water bottle, complete with carabiner which serves no bloody purpose.

For important, busy, intelligent, planet-saving, better-than-you people, master students spend extreme amounts of time at cafés with like-minded arseholes. Perhaps it’s a part of their brilliance which the rest of us are unable to grasp. If you find yourself seated at a table within earshot of them, ie anywhere in the café, then prepare for enlightenment.


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