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How to… Defeat fifth week blues

A gargantuan monster unfurls from its tightly-kept foetal position, and rises its drowsy head, bearing saliva-soaked fangs which reek of lethargy and drunken arguments. That’s right. 5th Week is approaching. 

I don’t know what it is about 5th Week. I don’t know why, or what, or who, or where, or how. But I do know that 5th Week is not for the merry. 

Now over the last few thousands of years, Oxonians have developed several coping techniques for 5th Week Blues. I don’t have time to go over all the tried and failed remedies, instead I come with one new tactic.

So. Right now it’s Friday, which means you’ll be limbering up for 5th Week, and all the tears, pain, exhaustion, and indulgent complaints it entails. At least you think you are.

But of course if you follow the magic words which you are about to read, inscribed upon this good-quality thin material derived from dried pulp with wood n grass n ting in it, then you will never step anywhere near aquamarine, navy, turquoise, teal, or azure. 

You’re going to need to buy some supplies. Your shopping list is as follows:

1. An A5 Diary, where two pages map a week‘s worth of time. 

2. One new black fine-tipped sharpie

3. A pack of five Tesco’s Finest Belgian Deluxe Triple Chocolate cookies

4. Monster Munch

5. An eraser/rubber

So you’ve done your shopping, and you are now sitting in your room. Unpack all your shopping and lay it beside you. Pick up the A5 diary, and turn to the double-page spread which depicts 5th Week. Pick up the rubber. Fiercely rub across the whole page, imagining that you are obliterating the week. This is what some people like to call a metaphor. Never underestimate a metaphor. 

(If at any point someone tries to interrupt you, pick up a pack of Monster Munch (placed handily beside you as I instructed), and throw it instantly at the particular acquaintance who is trying to socialise with you. This will naturally dispel them with ease, either due to the acutely queasy fumes that Monster Munch emits, or the strange fanatic reaction of those Monster Munch obsessors. Who will grab the pack, and scarper, to eat away their soul in peace.)

Once you feel you have sufficiently metaphorised the week, brush the rubber shavings into a neat pile and then rush to the nearest sink and wash wash away. There can’t be a shaving in sight. 

Now obviously the 5th Week is still there. Don’t worry. Use the sharpie and make quick and aggressive swipes across each day’s dated titling. Ha! Fuck you 5th Week. As we know Sundays mark the beginning of the week in Oxford (what is that even about), so at 11.55pm on Saturday, clutch the diary to your chest and chant the colours of the rainbow over and over again. DO NOT SAY BLUE. It’s probably best not to say Indigo either. You can never be too safe.

With good luck, and the right spiritual spheres, life should zoom straight on to 6thWeek. I hope all is more pleasant over there for you.

Oh, and the cookies are for me, as a thank you present. You know where to find me.

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