As one esteemed scholar once taught me through the medium of song, bitches ain’t shit but ho’s and tricks. And nothing demonstrates that more than the appearance of the website Sponsor A Scholar UK this week, which seems to have mysteriously gone ‘down for maintenance’ since it was brought to widespread Twitter attention.
Never mind, because I was lucky enough to give the site a thorough read while it was still online. In case you were wondering, it basically offered female students the chance to get their hands on £15,000 worth of ‘education sponsorship’ money, in exchange for some private meetings in a hotel room with their businessmen sponsors. Of course, the money only covers companionship, the site hastily added – anything else that happens is a private matter between consenting adults. However, it did then add below that sponsors would expect a ‘high level of sexual intimacy’ with their students, so it’s pretty unclear how all of that figures.
This awesome turn of events mirrors the useful tips offered up a year ago by John Specht, UK vice president of totally cool stripping establishment Spearmint Rhino. ‘Some… girls are on their own, and their parents can’t help them or are unable to help them,’ he was quoted as saying in that national bastion of decency, The Telegraph. ‘With the rising student fees, the students know they can come in and earn the money they need to survive. Why not? We don’t force anyone to come in.’
Well, true, John Specht isn’t going to physically go out into the streets and drag a hot humanities student, kicking and screaming, into his den of iniquity. And by the same token, David Cameron isn’t going to mosey on down there and present her with her first sparkly gold thong or pair of diamanté nipple tassels. Hell, the creator of Sponsor A Scholar UK isn’t going to actually sit on the hotel bed and give Lucy from Croydon tips on her ball-cupping technique during doggy style. But you know what? They all might as well do.
By raising student fees to £9,000 per year and implementing loans that are impossible to meet, the Conservative government has become complicit in pimping out your princess. Where would Sponsor A Scholar UK be, if Cameron’s policies hadn’t created the soul-sucking vacuum in which they live? It might even all feel a bit more honest if George Osbourne threw caution to the wind and took up prime space for a lapdance at the local gentleman’s club, White Lightning clenched in sweaty hand (local to his constituency, which is a rural middle class commuter town in Cheshire, not exactly known for its scantily clad ladies. With George’s notorious wiles, however, I’m sure he’ll find one.)
Despite the obvious fact that most women must go to university equipped with bangin’ bodies, sultry moves, the raw ambition to star in ‘College Girls Go Wild’ and the dream of rubbing their oiled-up tits in the faces of balding men called Ernest who work at Goldman Sachs, applications remain open for Spearmint Rhino and other such dream jobs. I know, I know, it’s unfathomable not to take up such an opportunity, but it’s true. And while we’re all for choice amongst the wimminz in this workaday world, where is the choice when the vice president of Spearmint Rhino is breathing down your neck and reminding you of your student loan as he tells you how much your arse is worth per hour? If you’re struggling to make ends meet, and your arse is worth more than your coffee-making abilities down at the local Starbucks, you might as well grin and bear it as Ernest rubs another Viagra-laden erection against your PVC underwear.
So will you sign up to Sponsor A Scholar UK this year? Perhaps not, but someone will. And if they do, I think that Cameron should have a personal video-link to the hotel room where some heaving entrepreneur sweats grey hairs out over a young girl who’s trying to pay off her debts for a masters in Chemical Engineering, projected onto his bedroom wall. It’s icky, ain’t it, David? But you’re at least partially responsible for this beast with two backs, and it’s high time I think you owned it. Sweet fucking dreams.