Ellie Porter

More by Ellie Porter

The Royal Wedding: All for it!

4/29/2011

Let’s face it, it’s hard not to get caught up in all this Royal Wedding lark. All that paraphernalia, the mugs, flags and life-size cut-outs – it’s infectious. All those people who remain supremely unaffected are either made of stone or simply Royal Wedding fanatics, trapped inside their own little cupboards of denial, and, though they may refuse to see it, jealously. Now you may scoff, but it’s true.  I’m not saying you’re pining for the beautiful balding head of our future King, but girls, if there’s not a tiny part of you that’s the least bit jealous of Kate then you’re either lying, or simply wrong.
 

To start with she’s beautiful, and then there’s the mere fact that she’s having the biggest most talked about wedding in about a century, and, to cap it all, she’s about to become a Princess. If that green eyed monster isn’t clawing away at your chest right now then I’d be pretty surprised. 


But what could perhaps be called her biggest asset has been overlooked; her intelligence. She’s done something very original, and pretty smart, in her bid to get closer to the one person who can have really influenced her to marry Wills; Harry. Now that’s not to say that Wills isn’t a handsome and respectable chap; he’s got a lot going for him, but who could resist the carrot topped, politically-incorrect charms of Prince Harry? See, now you’re jealous. She’s one step closer to the Prince that everyone actually wants to marry. Sneaky, eh? Now my predictions in the past may have not been exactly accurate but you can bet that within the year the divorce papers will be signed and every single female in the country will be mourning, because another Royal Wedding will be on the cards, and Harry off the market. 
 

Stephen Nightingale

4/22/2011

Stephen Nightingale

Age: 20
Hometown: Wilton, CT
Degree: Gender Studies
Hobbies include: Meeting new people and making friends
Where would you take a girl on a first date?: Balaka takeaway
Most romantic thing you've ever done?: Splitting a dinner instead of having the girl pay for the whole thing

Cricket in Scotland

3/24/2011

Say What? Cricket, in Scotland?

What does the word cricket mean to you? If anything, it most likely conjures up images of a quaint little country ground, overlooked by a darling little pavilion adorned with hanging baskets and surrounded by a white picket fence (or if you're American, a little green bug). As you bask in the sun a team of hunky cricketers (this is your imagination remember, you can allow yourself these luxuries), all dressed in white, passes you, all heading off for their half-time tea and cakes. 

Now instead picture a sodden pitch, players huddled under shelter, hunky men gone, instead replaced with shivering girls, whites stained with mud, clutching cups of luke-warm greying coffee and watching a steady downpour of rain. Welcome to Scotland. 

Women’s cricket isn’t the most popular sport at the best of times, but women’s cricket in Scotland, really? I’ve played cricket in rain before, and we all know that it’s an occupational hazard of the game, even in England there’s always a chance a game will be called off, but this really is something different. Now don’t get me wrong, I love cricket, it’s a great game full of skill and surprise, but when you can only play for ten minutes before you’re forced off the pitch due to torrential rain the whole fun of the thing is pretty much just goes down the drain.

Sick of the Lizard? Themed Parties in St. Andrews

3/16/2011

Warning: the following question may shock and offend, but wait, hear me out, you might find yourself saying ‘yes’. Are you fed up with The Lizard? I know, I know, blasphemy, right? But give me just a minute, I think I may have a better alternative to being trampled by rowdy, intoxicated rugby boys every other night (as appealing as that does sound). The themed party. Ok, so it’s not the most revolutionary of ideas, but trust me, they can make a sweaty night at The Lizard even less desirable than it is already starting to seem. 

 

For those observant ones of you out there you may have realised that there is only one club in St. Andrews (if it even merits such a prestigious title). A shocking perception, I know, but never fear, the trusty themed party is here to save you. Now, beware, we don’t want anything straight out of Bridget Jones, so no Vicars and Tarts please, keep it original. So far the St. Andrews themed party scene is doing pretty well for itself, this year has already seen a nice amount of not only impressively imaginative, but also, in absence of the Lizard scene, sufficiently rowdy, themed events. 


In celebration of Super Mario’s 20th birthday, South Street welcomed the likes of Toad, Donkey Kong and dear old Mario himself for a night of booming music and dancing on sofas with an appropriately themed Mario bash. Another joyous occasion was the release of the Chilean Miners, and, smeared in what I can only assume what was supposed to be coal, rather than random streaks of black eyeliner, and with trusty head torches strapped on, the St Andrews partiers celebrated in (somewhat grubby) style. 

 

Dan Dubé

3/9/2011

Forget King James II, forget Wills and forget Kate, St. Andrews has a new celebrity in town.  No, this is no mere heir to the throne, no measly vessel of the Lord’s divine right to rule, this, my Lords, Ladies and gentlemen, is Mr. Daniel Dubé. 

 Now what’s that?! Never heard of him?  Well, perhaps you don’t recognise the name, and I don’t blame you, for he’s more commonly known as the infamous ‘Jack Casanova’. Clad in a fraying lax pinny and faded pink cap this boy is the height of irresistible. At the mighty height of 5’7” and with his ‘cute French nose’ (his words, not mine), who can blame all of those poor, unsuspecting, and occasionally inebriated, girls for falling before his feet? Initially a dark horse, Monsieur Dubé has risen through the ranks to greatness, overcoming all doubt and adversity, finally conquering the dance floors at both Bongo Ball and Welly Ball. His critics, surely few, can hardly doubt him any longer, especially after the Palm Beach Affair. Never before has a narration of such brilliance been seen in the world of amateur soft erotic writing. For those of you ignorant to the marvel that was this stunning piece of literature, let me summarise: one night, three girls, a sauna floor, a dramatic game of truth or dare and, as a consequence, a whole lot of entertainment.