Students Told: 'If You're So Bloody Poor, Go On The Game'

As a survey published today in lieu of journalism shows that students entering university this September are likely to graduate owing an average of £23,000, millions of people who went to the university of life instead - after leaving the school of hard knocks with a clip round the ear - told them to stop bloody whining about how they're soooo hard done by and try living in the real world instead of a cosy, alcohol-filled bubble.

"A' didnae mind subsidisen' yon student ponces back in the guid ol' days o' grants, a' tell ye, mon. At least yon posh scunners wid use theer fancy degrees ta help the likes o'me, lak operaten' on ma friggin' piles or getten' me awf wi' a twel'-month suspended," grumbled small pensioner William Bampot of Glasgow, tucked away in a corner of his local, now remodelled as a hilariously-ironic student bar called Twerp's.

"But these idle bastuds nowadays are lucky if they get intae McDonalds or Lidl - lak ma dorta Morag's guid-fer-nothin' bairn Mad Jimmy McGovern, th' wee shite," he mumbled into his cups. "Nae bluidy use waven' his 2:2 in Environmental Science aboot when he's restockin' the shelves wi' fucken' German cornflakes."

"If theer so bluidy puir, they might want tae spend the odd night in wi' a buke instead o' pessen' it up alla time," he suggested, raising his head from the table. "Mind, a' see some o' th' lassies're fit enough, mon, mak' nae mistake. Ah cuid fair see 'em aal right fer a few bob after a night on the lash, y'ken?"

"Aal a'm sayen's: th' offa's theer," he added hopefully.

A spokeswoman for the Russell Group of Proper Universities concurred with Mr Bampot, saying: "Unfortunately, an ever-increasing number of Peter Andre and Kerry Katona clones who slouch into jumped-up polytechnics - most of which were hairdressing schools 20 years ago - seem to think that their noddy degree in Surf History will open the door to lifelong fortune and happiness, living with a gorgeous model in the sort of luxurious house you only see in debt-consolidation and stain-remover ads.

"The reality is that, if they're lucky, they'll scrape their way into the kind of mundane, paper-shuffling, soul-draining tedium that used to be that special layer of hell reserved for those with nothing more than CSE grade 1 in Writing Your Name and Counting To Five."

"However, for nice middle-class children from the Home Counties who sensibly follow in their parents' footsteps by choosing a real university made of stone, the world will still be at their feet as mummy and daddy will already have covered their little financial bottoms," she pointed out with a smile.

"Basically, if you are a student and you're finding it hard to eke out your pitiful loan, you may as well pick your lamp-post, flash your naughty bits from under a two-inch skirt and think of it as work experience for the rest of your life," she explained. "If, on the other hand, you spend your holidays skiing in Switzerland or at the family gîte in France, and your term-time evenings are taken up with planning your placement year with Uncle Quentin's futures team - well, let's say a trifling five-figure sum isn't going to unduly blight your prospects."

A glum-faced member of the National Union of Students' executive committee - whose hopes of being parachuted into a safe Labour seat come the election were rapidly disappearing over the horizon - made some subdued noises that might have been ever so slightly critical of the government's educational policies, but were vague enough to be construed either way.