A handful of submissions this week weren't publishable, and so they weren't published. Nothing more to say about it than that - we read everything, we make calls, and occasionally the call is no. Back to normal next week.
York Students Discover Housemates Are, In Fact, Feral
Another week, another domestic ecosystem teetering on the edge of biological collapse.
The submissions are in, and the message from York's shared accommodation is consistent: your flatmates are not okay. Reports this week include the classic failure to wash dishes, compounded by the audacity to then use someone else's, leave those dirty too, and presumably feel nothing about it. Common decency, it turns out, is not included in the accommodation fee. Neither, apparently, is the social contract.
Then there is the matter of hygiene more broadly. At least one student this week has filed what can only be described as a formal olfactory complaint about a housemate whose relationship with showering appears to be casual at best. Meanwhile, another flat is apparently thriving in a haze of collective chaos - gassy, unbothered, and seemingly delighted about it. York student housing: a rich tapestry. A smelly, dish-covered tapestry.
If your flatmates are reading this, they won't recognise themselves. They never do.
York's Dating Scene Continues To Punish The Optimistic
Romance in York this week: three attempts, zero clean landings.
One student has found themselves trapped in the most maddening of modern predicaments - someone who agrees to a date, cancels on the day, and then repeats this cycle with the reliability of a broken boiler. Three times. The student in question has been admirably charitable about it each time. At some point, though, the benefit of the doubt becomes a lifestyle, and that lifestyle is called suffering. Just say no. It is a complete sentence.
Elsewhere, a submission alleges that the ghost of Freshers past has resurfaced in spectacular fashion. According to one account we cannot verify, a previous regrettable encounter apparently involved the other party treating the whole thing like a post-match debrief - muttering private self-assessments, delivering unsolicited tactical analysis, and, a submitter claims, requesting feedback before checking their phone and declaring the session satisfactory. We were not there. We simply pass on the vibe.
York romance: occasionally electric, frequently a debrief, always content.
York Students Are Looking, Longing, And Largely Saying Nothing
The city of York: beautiful, historic, and full of people staring at strangers from a safe distance.
The law faculty appears to be doing numbers aesthetically this week, with multiple students independently noting its population with what can only be described as enthusiasm. One submission described a late-night York encounter with a law student as genuinely one of the best nights of their life, a statement doing a lot of heavy lifting given it culminated in being ghosted. Another student has broadcast an open invitation to dark-haired engineers entering their masters year, which is either romantic or a very targeted LinkedIn post.
Also in circulation: an anonymous love letter described as being of Austen-level emotional intensity, sent several weeks ago to someone the writer clearly considers exceptional. No response has arrived. The writer reports that hope is gone and only agony remains, which is dramatic but, honestly, fair. Separately, someone is deeply taken with the idea of being height-dominated in the manner of a Nintendo character, and another student wants an Australian accent badly enough that they nearly moved hemispheres for one. York: a campus of quiet yearning.
Everyone fancies someone. Almost nobody is doing anything about it. Carry on.
Drama Soc Vs. Mahjong Soc: York's Culture War Nobody Asked For
Two societies, two reputations, one week of unsolicited verdicts.
Drama Society has taken a beating in the submissions this week, with students lining up to offer their assessments. The consensus is unkind: too pale, too damp, and collectively in possession of what multiple sources describe as wet-wipe energy. A counter-submission did attempt to defend the society's honour, though its author immediately undermined the case by identifying themselves as a Drama Society member, which rather calls the objectivity into question. The society has not issued a statement, presumably because it is busy being theatrical about something else.
Mahjong Society, by contrast, is enjoying a moment. Multiple students this week have independently noted that the society's membership is, to use the technical term, fit. Whether this reflects genuine tile-based talent or simply good casting is unclear, but the society's reputation appears to be trending upward regardless. One other society, meanwhile, has been flagged by a submitter who claims it has failed to fill committee positions for what they describe as months - an organisational catastrophe, allegedly, and we do mean allegedly, regardless of whatever else is being said about the atmosphere there.
Join a society for the community, stay for the committee drama, leave because of the committee drama.
The Library Couple Are Back And They Must Be Stopped
There is a time and a place. The library is neither.
They have been spotted. They have been reported. They are, apparently, still at it. A student this week expressed what can only be described as escalating frustration at repeatedly encountering a couple making out in the library with the kind of commitment to the bit that most students reserve for dissertation deadlines. The submission proposed consequences we will not be elaborating on, but the sentiment - that this behaviour is antisocial and must end - is noted and seconded.
The library is, in theory, a shared academic space designed for quiet study, existential dread, and the quiet consumption of meal-deal sandwiches. It is not, by any reading of the student handbook, a venue for romantic display. The couple in question either do not know this or do not care, and based on available evidence, it is the latter. Other students are trying to fail their degrees in peace. Have some respect.
The library has enough going on. It does not need this.
A Miscellany Of York Behaviour That Defies Easy Categorisation
Not everything fits neatly into a section. Some things simply exist.
A student outside a York nightclub this week was apparently showing strangers cartoons, which one recipient found charming enough to submit a shoutout about. Separately, someone was observed in a pub spending three minutes bent over struggling with their trousers while wearing an arm sling, which is the kind of scene that writes itself. The drinks vending machine on Fairhurst floor one has been described as moving like a nervous new employee, which is either a maintenance issue or the most poetic thing anyone has sent us all term.
A student visiting from another university apparently declined to make any romantic move whatsoever and then departed leaving a towel in a condition that raised serious questions about the visit's actual purpose. A student has confessed to an untimely personal emission mid-intimacy and is, understandably, still processing this. Someone cannot stop cheating on their boyfriend. Someone else misses their mum. Another person's tastes have been clocked by a flatmate who has drawn conclusions that are, frankly, difficult to argue with. York: never boring.
Every week we think we've seen everything. Every week York proves us wrong.
- 3 - independent submissions this week expressing appreciation for Mahjong Society's membership on aesthetic grounds
- 1 - Austen-quality love letter sent, responses received: zero
- ∞ - dishes left dirty by someone else's flatmate, per the collective testimony of York's shared accommodation sector