Jesus doesn't want me for a sunbeam

Nirvana's Unplugged came out when I was a teenager. It came as a relief for kids like myself, who wanted to be cool but didn't like modern music. Yes, I was a bit weird: I spent lots of time reading novels and listening to classical music, but my best pals, the ones who still are my closest friends, were all good-looking, sporty and had motorbikes.

Anyway, I was saying that Nirvana's Unplugged was less horrid (as in noisy) than all the crap Cobain & Co had produced so far and therefore I could feel good buying a CD with music written by people who were then alive... if not for too long. My English was... well, I didn't speak English and not even the help of a bilingual dictionary was enough to decipher the nonsensical lyrics. My favourite song was Jesus doesn't want me for a sunbeam, the literal meaning of which was obvious to me only last Saturday when I found out that Jesus's Oxonian alter ego, reified in the form of Christ Church, also doesn't want me for a sunbeam, nor for anything else.

I imagine this is the moment for me to say that Christ Church is crap, their food is inedible and they are pompous and boring. Well, all this is true, of course, but the salary was great, I don't want to leave Oxford and both my cousin and my supervisor had that Junior Research Fellowship before I arrived, which makes my failure a bit like a family business. At least as pompous as Christ Church is Peterhouse-Cambridge. Some of its most prominent alumni are gay members of the tory party, so I definitely belong in there. My interview, on Wednesday. More news soon!