Whilst I appreciate the ire with which you apparently all feel you have been betrayed, or just wanted a day off from your ridiculous schedule of lectures, please remember one key point: Nick Clegg, and the Liberal Democratic Party, whom you voted for in your indebted droves on the back of a number of pledges, including this issue of tuition fees, came third in the election. Third. By a country mile. This, one suspects, makes turning political pledges into legislative promises virtually impossible in a democratic society.
As it transpired, while the two main political bullies had a pre-arranged ‘off’ in the prison yard of the British electorate, the Lib Dems traded in their cigarettes and toothpaste, wore tight pants, a bit of lippy and started winking at both leaders, whilst tucking up their manifesto better than Lady Ga Ga in an origami competition. All of this, safe in the knowledge that if Libby D played her cards right, she could have a privileged and notorious partnership for her term inside, as long as she could take the pain of the Tory girth and sit on his front bench twice a week.
It should have come as absolutely no surprise to you, the supposedly-educated youth and future leaders of the country that you have been let down or betrayed by a politician. Heaven forefend! Not a politician. Lying? Get away….I assume that some of you ‘students’ are also studying politics or history: it would appear you need to pay more attention in class, on top of more cash.
Have you actually thought about what your career will look like after you’ve spunked £25K on a degree? There are approximately 8,000 graduates a year coming out of university with a degree in media studies, primarily aimed at carving out a long and distiunguished career in journalism. The first lecture you attend should be entitled “You Have Picked The Wrong Course, As This Career Path Is Dwindling And There Is No Money In It – Unless You’re Brilliant Or Related To An Editor” by Professor Jobdoom. Perhaps you’ll think twice about a degree in a dogtoss subject that means nothing in the ‘Real World’, and spending 3 months writing a dissertation on the ‘Value of Red Cabbages to the Lithuanian Society In Britain’s Societal Underbelly’. It is useless to everyone, including you, your lecturer, the poor corduroy-encrusted sap that has to mark it and your parents overdraft. And Lithuanians.
Could you study medicine? Of course you could. Why not? It’s worthwhile, and ‘gives something back’ and there will always be demand, as people are always going to be ill or injured, especially if there are riots on a monthly basis. Or, perhaps, just maybe, the government could cut the budget of the NHS, the single biggest employer in Europe, to ensure that when the next tranche of nurses comes off the graduate production line there are NO JOBS! With the future in your eyes and hands, how can you see or feel so little of what is clearly coming down the tracks?
Whilst avoiding the education system since the age of 17, and some would say well before that given my secondary school attendance record, I did however spend plenty of time with student friends of mine in classic escape-the-parents, 4th-choice-on-the-UCCA-form locations such as Worcester, Northampton and Bath, amongst others. The time was spent avoiding lectures, cleaning, and any form of food that needed cooking with a saucepan, whilst dealing with hangovers and wondering whether or not the embarrassment of the night before would be remembered, then in turn forgotten by those around you. Not, it appeared, worrying about whether or not what they were ‘learning’ was going to contribute to they themselves, the World in general or go near covering the costs of the debt they were accruing.
I also recall spending hateful amounts of time cursing and shivering while waiting for buses to get into town to go drinking, or back again – which brings the entire idiocy of smashing up a bus stop in the name of protesting rage the most ridiculous strike ‘against the system’ a student could activate, other than banning Pot Noodles from corner shops. Who’s going to be stood there complaining about the lashing wind and rain on a dark Wednesday night, post-gig/pub/girlfriend rejection (delete as applicable), that the only shelter available is smashed to smithereens? You lot. The bloody students. Revolting.