If you were to ask any University of Southampton student to describe exactly what it is that plagues the Hartley Library, they might have a hard time answering you. After all, itâs a pretty nice place, right? Itâs got a comprehensive collection of books and itâs generally quite quiet and itâs got that little cafĂ©. Really, on reflection, thereâs absolutely nothing wrong with it, right? No, absolutely no, wrong, negative, false, go directly to jail, do not pass go, do not collect 200. Hartley Library has a disease at its very core and this is why it needs to be immediately annexed by Vladimir Putin, the ex-KGB agent and oft bare-chested President of Russia.
âWhatâs your problem with Hartley Library, you hyperbole-spouting agitator?â I hear you cry. Well, Iâll tell you what my problem isnât. Itâs not that the book you want always seems to be on hold, or that half the plugs donât work, or that, on occasion, your ID card inexplicably fails to get you through the barrier. Those sorts of things are to be expected. Itâs not even the stench poltergeist, annoying though that is. (Whatâs that? You donât know what the stench poltergeist is? Look, Iâll show you. Go to the lobby. Stand around the middle, near that soft furnishing shaped like plus symbols. Take a deep breath through your nose. There! Did you smell it? Move around a bit. Try again. There! There it is! A distinct, yet somehow disembodied aroma. And not a pleasant one. Itâs exactly what I imagine a hamburger fried in body odour would smell like. And the weird thing is, itâs always there. Regardless of time of day, or presence of people. In that exact spot. It even survived the recent total refurbishment of the lobby, which makes me think itâs some ancient, sentient pong-cloud that was psychically linked with the building 150 years ago by a satanic, library-based ritual. Or some such nonsense. If you have any clue as to what it is, let me know in the comments.) No, the one fundamental, insurmountable problem with Hartley Library is that itâs always full of students.
I canât stand the students in the Hartley Library. Theyâre often loud, what with their talking and eating and breathing. Why do they insist on doing that? Itâs a library, for heavenâs sake. Canât you go inhale outside or something? And they take up so much space, especially the ones who plonk all their stuff down on a table and then up and disappear, shot-gunning the space for however long it is they decide to be chatting or eating or living elsewhere. I might sound bitter and angry about this, but I have good reason. On more than one occasion, a phone alarm (a passworded phone, I might add) has gone off in one of these absenteeâs bags and the rest of us have had to sit there while it blasts out some electronic whistle or other for FIVE HOURS. Believe me, I wouldâve moved away, were it not for the fact that every spare seat in the library was equally âbooked outâ with laptops, coats and bags. Hell is most definitely absent people.
This is why I want Putin to annex the library. I want a Soviet-style police state established immediately and I want library enforces in khaki uniforms, balaclavas and jackboots roaming about the place. Theyâd have wide-ranging powers: they could encase the mouths of chatters in solid concrete, throw noisy eaters out of a window (preferably on the top floor) and, most importantly, they could incinerate any property left unattended with backpack-mounted flamethrowers. And they wouldnât show any mercy either. You donât get a first chance, let alone a second. You needed the toilet? Tough. Now your Apple Macbook looks like a Cornetto thatâs been through one of those new microwaves in the lobby and thereâs nothing you can do about it.
Now I think about it, the good thing about asking Putin to take over is that we wouldnât even need to ask the permission of the University or SUSU. We could just hold a dubious referendum. The enforcers could be in place by next week. And who knows, maybe old Vlad could come exorcise the stench poltergeist too, while heâs at it? If nothing else, it would keep him out of Crimea for an afternoon.