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View from the (Cam)bridge: week two

Well, this week I’m offended. No, not “offended”. Cut that. I’m just plain pissed off. I usually fall asleep on the train. It takes a waft of Cornish pasty and a pre-requested nudge from the new, confused acquaintance on the seat opposite (they tend to think it some twisted chat-up line) to wake me up on the London-Cambridge sojourn. But this weekend a lethal conspiracy between caffeine and excitement meant I remained awake for the full forty-five minutes. And pulling up at Cambridge station – my station – a travesty was to be had. For the first time in 2 years, I was greeted by a sign that can only be explained as a sick joke involving sarcasm, or condescension…or condescending sarcasm…or sarcastic condescension. It read: “Cambridge, home of Anglia Ruskin University”. I mean, really? It’s like saying Freddie Ljunberg’s an underwear model. That Britney is Jamie-Lynn’s sister. That Arnie’s the Governor of California. That the UL is somewhere people go to work. My inner pikey was awakened as I started itching for a spray-can and the veil of dusk.

And what else is the ‘Bridge offering up these days? You may have heard about this already. Here’s hoping you haven’t. But a couple of Cantabs have fallen just short of creating their very own world. Like, well, God or something. We’re that good down these ends. It’s like an extended version of Geography GCSE. You know what I’m talking about? That last question on every paper. Twelve marks for a case study, usually a rural example and always about a “dormitory settlement”. No one bothered finding the textbook, so everyone made up a village and gave it an economic crisis, a failing bus connection and an evil plague of escaping stockbrokers infesting its best properties. Now, where was I? Yes, these two Light Blues have taken that ol’ exam scam further. The Paddlesworth Press
(http://www.varsity.co.uk/arts/2578) is an online paper with “news and views” about the eponymous village. From “Global Hand Washing Day” to protest marches, the site is kept up-to-date with terrifying realism. An article in The Guardian about the “fictitious” community sparked outrage. The website’s headline read: “Paddlesworth villagers have met The Guardian newspaper’s “Plot off the Press” article with widespread ridicule and derision”.

As far as the internet is concerned, Paddlesworth is a fully fledged settlement. They’ve taken it so far that those mentioned even have their own Facebook and Twitter accounts – Major Fitzroy-Howard’s one for your next Sunday Evening Stalk Session. Humour aside, it’s a telling investigation into the power of the internet. Given that most journalists in this country see their job description as “Google Summariser”, I’m just waiting for the day when Paddlesworth is covered on BBC Weather. And for those who question when this internet-age Leviathon will quiver to a halt as these Cambridge chaps run out of fodder for their pages, fret not. The Apocalypse is neigh. So you must log on before Doomsday comes, if only for inspiration. A racist selling dolls’ houses? Now there’s your niche, a gap in the “real world” market just waiting to make you millions.

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