Winchester College: An urgent appeal

DEAR parents and alumni,

The socialist Keir Starmer has put pressure on the prime minister to withdraw the charitable status enjoyed by us here at Winchester College, the £46,000 per year fee-paying school attended by Mr Sunak himself. 

For the sake of humanity, this cannot be allowed to happen.

As winter draws in, we at Winchester are forced to send an unseemly plea for money to stave off the destitution that would surely follow if Starmer’s cruel, jealous measures were brought into place.

So what difference can you make?

Just £5 would get you a derisive chortle from our staff. £5? You might as well give us five pence, you ridiculous peasant.

£5,000 would go some way toward helping our rifle club, which is crying out for a new annex. And if the proletarian mob were ever to start a revolution, I’m sure we’d all be grateful for those shooting skills.

£10,000 would help provide glass protection for our extensive art collection in case class war anarchists from Just Stop Oil attempt to destroy civilised society by throwing paint at them.

£20,000 would be enough to provide a lifetime’s supply of enamel paint for our rowing boats and a straw boater for every pupil. These may not appear strictly necessary, but not wearing one would be terribly bad form.

So help Winchester maintain the facilities that have enabled us to produce tomorrow’s Conservative MPs. MPs with the talent and unwarranted self-confidence to line their own pockets and tank the economy faster than anyone thought possible. Please give generously.

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You did a full 360 on the swings, and other playground lies you told

WERE you desperately trying to impress your peers as an idiot child? Here’s some of the implausible shit you claimed to have done in the playground. 

Completing the monkey bars one-handed

How? You apparently successfully climbed along an entire line of monkey bars using only one hand, but unfortunately there was no one else around to witness this feat even a professional rock-climber would find impossible. You were playing fast and loose with the truth, and soon your peers would doubt if your uncle really was Keith Chegwin.

Doing a full 360 degrees on the swings

Eager to forge a new, better reputation for yourself after being seen pissing yourself in the sandpit, you pushed the nuclear button of lies. If you did this under your own steam, you’d broken the laws of physics. If one of your parents pushed you with enough force to complete a full rotation, you should have been taken into care.

Climbing up the pole

You hoped everyone would believe you’d managed to heave yourself up the fireman’s pole on the climbing frame. Despite seven-year-olds being quite light, everyone knew you were talking bollocks. Particularly when they asked you to show them and you said you’d love to but you’d just eaten a big lunch.

Going at 1,000mph on the merry-go-round

Was this simply the biggest number you could think of? Yes. Were you just hoping to claw back a bit of dignity after several people at your school saw you dizzily stagger off the merry-go-round and be sick in a hedge? Also yes. You did not break the sound barrier on a playground ride, you utter lunatic. Everyone would have heard the sonic boom, among many, many other problems.

Jumping over a plane on the trampoline

Claiming something like this was a real act of desperation, a boast so profoundly thick that even the four-year-olds would look at you with pity. In what world would a shitty, rust-addled trampoline poorly maintained by the council be able to propel a child some 30,000 feet into the air? In the tragic world of your attention-seeking imagination, that’s where.