THE FALOPIAN: SUMMER TERM 2021
Hello Public
Health England,
Winkley here,
they’ve been
really mean in
The Falopian
about me.
York
Peak’s getting more
powerful and pirate
Tonks is gone.
The Times They Are A-Changin’
EDITORIAL
At The Falopian, we generally try to incorporate an overarching
theme to our issues. Here we are met at an unavoidable crossroad
in our selection of concern: Change. Last time we wrote of the
downhill trajectory that Shrewsbury was heading, albeit due to
exterior factors. The question on The Falopian’s collective lips is:
‘Will Winkley build back better?’ We face interior change now,
with appointments and sackings frequenting Glyn Ferriday’s
newsletters.
With Tonks, Middleton and Walters all moving to pastures new,
The Falopian contributors now face something of an existential
crisis. Who will claim the greasy pole climbing crown in issues
to come, replacing Pete? Whose appearance will be mocked as
vehemently as Maurice’s in the future? Who will be there to
censor this marvellous publication and safeguard the pupil body
from the toxic ideology emanating from this magazine when
MJT’s influence has diminished? Well, that is yet to be decided.
One thing that will never change is that you should take it as a
compliment that you are interesting enough to be mentioned in
this publication. With the dark clouds which loom ominously
above our heads, we look to ensure humour can pull us through.
And remember, there’s good change, and there’s bad change.
Floreat Falopia!
The Juvenile Meddler, The Sheriff’s Officer
Your Humble Servants:
The Juvenile Meddler
The Sheriff’s Officer
John Lost
Plural Release
The Queen’s Uncle
Dangerous Poultry
Brown Sauce
Remembrance Sunday
Salopian Sketches: A Picture of Change
I come here now to speak of change,
Perched on the river above the town,
The sort that seeks to rearrange,
The school sits heavy, doors closed, rundown.
And topple foundations, walls and rock,
Static and stale, with pupils held in,
Upon which we’ve lived, from the very first clock.
No town leave allowed, it’s East Berlin.
It started in 1882,
KH I know has its many critics,
When Moss moved Shrewsbury to a school site new,
With the KH app no more than a gimmick,
Leaving the Tudor black and white walls,
New queue and seating systems in place,
For MSB work house and Alington Hall.
To maintain the sacred track and trace.
That was then, so what about today?
On Microsoft Teams, we’ve toiled behind screens
Well, the plague hit us hard with rules to obey,
Break out room banter between edgy teens,
With freedoms stripped and social life lost,
Remote exams and teacher assessed grades,
Locked up in school at such great a cost.
While a day boy mum cuts their son a skin fade.
God is dead. Chapel’s knave is still,
Now all this change has had its toll,
Sunday services lost as religion falls ill,
Our school looks different, has it lost control?
No more can we sing from the English hymnal,
I’m not too sure, I couldn’t say,
The world’s gone quiet, seems too plain and simple.
The school’s a seesaw, could tip either way.
BUILD
BACK
BETTER
Praepostor Application for 2022 (the gender gap)
Dearest Mr Winkley,
I believe we have a lot in common that will allow us to work well together if I receive my Praepostorship at
the start of the Michaelmas Term 2021. We are both sexually active, keep rats as pets, and have a shared
hatred of Miss / Ms (is she married? if so Mrs) Peak. It would be a complete privilege to gain the extensive
leadership skills that come with the role of Praepostor. My Morrisby results have revealed that the queue
managing skills gained from the position will help me advance with my work experience stacking shelves in
ASDA after school. The position of Head Boy may promote me to till manager, or even the new Head of
Futures at Shrewsbury.
I have to be a Praepostor as I have done nothing fun wrong at my time at the school. Since birth, I have only
done volunteering and extra-curricular activities. For example, in third form I received the Nobel Peace Prize
for my extensive work in Yemen, the Shewsy, and Riggs. Without these valuable skills I think I would not be
able to prevent riots breaking out in the pasta queue in KH. My work has meant I have spoken to numerous
people of different backgrounds, cultures, and religions, which will be vital for communication at this diverse
and multi-ethnic school. I have even started a Parlare Society in Saudi Arabia, where I have hung up a Pride
flag on the Mecca Mosque to demonstrate my willingness to agree with SLT members at any cost. The SLT
members spread the word of God (or Allah), and should therefore be taken literally. I still use a school bag,
pencil case, and hand my phone in when at home. The amount of power that I will receive as Postor will mean
that I will not change anything in the school unless it is your idea to do so.
The role of Praepostor is one of the most important roles in the school. There is no one else that can listen to
the instructions of the SLT and their vision of change. As the Rt Hon. Leo Winkley (2018-present) told us
during his annual year-long speech, Salopians are embodied by the Cephalopod - the Octopus. I believe I am
the embodiment of an Octopus: wet, slippery and a suck up to larger powers. These attributes should guarantee
my place as Postor (as well as my life-long disability), and will help change the school completely into how
you, as leader, want it.
Regards,
BE A POSTOR
Martin Luther King, Ingrams.
Mk.2
Oi Winkers,
I am a girl.
Issy Johnson-Jones, MSH
It’s #seriousfun
A Tale of Two Meals – Holroyd Howe
Deceit: the action or practice of deceiving someone by concealing or misrepresenting the truth.
INSTAGRAM
VS
‘We provide hot puddings,
regularly serving delicacies
such as light crisp Belgian
waffles with toppings of
cream and premium syrup.’
VS
A frozen pot of white and
red cream with what looks
like a fur ball lumped on
top.
‘Our meat products are
sourced from the very best
manufacturers and provide
the necessary protein for
growing girls and boys while
simultaneously
appearing
and tasting exquisite.’
VS
This monstrosity, not fit even
for canine consumption.
‘Chicken is a staple of
the Salopian diet; we
offer succulent breasts
and drumsticks with
accompanying
carbohydrates for a
healthy body and mind.’
VS
A nice array of beige
matter,
with sickly
orange strips of carrot to
liven the colour palette.
Anyone for solidified
chunder?
REALITY
Masterclass: How to write a Falopian article
AO1. A witty title – often aggressive or outrageous; either way it catches the readers’ attention
with panache.
AO2. A Day Boy joke – every strong article is underpinned by a strong anti-day boy sentiment.
Whether it be their alleged lower economic status, or their affiliation with the Hugo Boss /
Norf Face clad townies, they never cease to act as a point of comedy.
AO3. A Communist joke – this usually follows on from mention of the Day Boys and targets the
apparently socialist running of Shrewsbury School which by the way is blatantly obvious.
Either way, Capitalism is sick, and Communism is shit – look at Venezuela and Cuba, right?
AO4. Lots of long words – this in itself targets the less linguistically talented cohort of Shrewsbury
School i.e. Day Boys (some of these points overlap…cool!) and yes the PE department. Also,
it makes the author of such a column feel bloody cool when (s)he can rattle off the word
‘indeed’ sixteen times in one article. This author is a master of synonyms. (S)He will often
opt to disregard modern day parlance in exchange for a language more befitting the
Edwardian era.
AO5. Length – it has been said that ‘brevity is the soul of wit’ but, did you know that the very same
character in Shakespeare’s Hamlet said also (notice what I did there – I inverted the words
‘said’ and ‘also’ to make me sound scholarly) that ‘outward flourishes’ are to be encouraged?
I do English A Level so I can make these critical comments on the works of Shakespeare and
come off appearing pretty educated. But, in brief, the more literary references you can pack
into an article the better – length is good…
AO6. Overuse punctuation – So, this point: what it’s really saying, in brief… is that (bearing in
mind all other AOs), that you should / could use as MUCH variety in your (yes you!)
punctuational toolkit as possible to look and seem, even appear like a proper and genuine 5*
Times New Roman semicolon user type of author.
How not to write a Falopian Article (due to the abhorrent views presented)
An Open Letter to Winchester from Shrewsbury
The Falopian HQ
Nag’s Head
22 Wyle Cop
Shrewsbury
Shropshire
SY1 1XB
Dear Mr Tim Hands,
It is with a heavy heart that we write this letter to you. It came to our attention that you recently announced
Winchester’s departure from the direction of God’s will by allowing females into your hallowed institution
within the next couple of years. Following a torrid time with tarts in our school, we would urge you to
reconsider. If that is not a possibility, then we have something to propose.
Before we reveal our idea, allow us to explain why the presence of girls is so damaging to the spirit of the
great British Boarding Schools. Women are inherently dangerous and inferior- according to decorated and
recognised gender scholars such as Augustine of Hippo, and Theofrastus, women are the origin of sin and are
made of men to service men. They deceive, distract, and devalue innocent young boys, rather like Catholic
priests.
Let’s talk numbers: girls spend 80% of their day crying (The Sun), 93% of their money on barely-there
garments (see MSH for details), and 99% of their day consuming hard pornography (whilst crying at the same
time). This does present some challenges in the classroom. For further evidence of the detrimental effects
female power has on our society, one need look no further than what occurred in the aftermath of women
receiving the vote: The Holocaust, Soviet Expansionism, and 9/11.
Another problem commonly experienced when one has ‘da bitchez’ in the school, is that for around a week
of every month, they pose a serious danger to anyone who attempts to speak to them, with grievous bodily
harm, knife crime and lynching all recorded on ISAMS (all instances led to a tardy book being issued). This
may partially explain why Shrewsbury’s academic prowess has diminished since the entry of these ladies
(other reasons include outbreaks of seriously damaging feminism, the biannual Miss Shrewsbury beauty
pageant, and the clamouring for cooking and cleaning to be added to the syllabus).
We have so far neglected to emphasise perhaps the most disgusting consequence of females joining the school:
the amount they distract our precious and promising boys. Whether it be a stray knee or a dashing elbow, how
can boys be expected to work if such things are visible in the classroom? The tendency to allow cleavage to
be seen underneath the shirts has caused at least a few redundancies in our staff, simply as a result of the
female’s desperation to be noticed. We have had to experience this, don’t let it happen to you too. *
So if you are intent on letting girls join, please take ours. It would be of great use to all of us who want to see
the Salopian Spirit thrive once more, rather than see the bosoms of a desperate rat.
Yours Sincerely,
Stereotypically Sexist Teacher
*If you are a teacher reading this and find it offensive, this is why the uniform policy is how it actually is.
Relevant Houses as England Players
EDH: Marcus Rashford they love giving food
away to other people.
MSH: Phil Foden - this bloke
invited a load of prostitutes to his
room, so we think there must at
least be a bond between him and
the excitable ladies of MSH. With
points earned in this house for
how much they achieve with
boys, they surely fit the
description of the girls Phil Foden
paid for.
Ridgemount:
Mason
Mount - both completely
overrate their respective
managers.
Severn Hill: Raheem
Sterling - so past their
prime it is ridiculous. Yes,
they somehow still make
the team sheet for cool
events and ravey parties,
but does anyone really
like them anymore?
Rigg’s: Nick Pope - both
use their showers as a loo
(probably).
Radbrook: Jack Grealish really cool or really
autistic? No one is quite
sure.
Grove: Eric Dier missing a manager at
the moment for really
surprising reasons.
Churchill’s: Dele Alli – don’t
really see them very much
anymore, and when you do,
they’re a bit shit.
Port Hill: Harry Kane – yes,
they can play football, but
have you ever heard them
speak? Harry Kane’s speech
impediment is charmingly
mirrored by the Port Hill
boys’ inability to express
themselves in any way that
does not make them sound
like they dropped out of
school aged 6 to run a lowlevel legal high shop.
School House: Jude Bellingham to be fair, there aren’t any players
of Asian origin in the English
Football team, so we have decided
to labour this joke and suggest
that School House, with its
overrepresentation of ethnic
minorities, has a link to this player.
Ingram’s: Harry Maguire - they
are both extremely ugly on the
outside. However, both perform
their functions, with Maguire
being a wall at the back, and
Ingram’s, proudly devoid of a
moral compass, providing idiocy
and hierarchy consistently.
Oldham’s: Dean Henderson no one has ever heard of
them, they have never done
anything that impressive,
they are always just there.
absdsafjgf
BREAKING: PETER FIDDLETON TO LEAVE
Peter Fiddleton has been appointed the
next Headmaster of Oswestry School
taking effect from January 2022. He
commented:
“It’s an honour, obviously, but having
been scaling the greasy pole for the past
eight years and exhausted any potential
of rising up the Salopian hierarchy, I
have decided to move my efforts to
Oswestry. Yes, it’s a shit school, I know,
with very few notable alumni despite
having existed since 1407, and with a
Wikipedia page not nearly as
comprehensive or long as that of
Shrewsbury’s but I’ll look to change all
that. I chose the photo on the left by the
way, look at the gaze, that half smile
which shows my approachability as well
as my unflinching tenacity, the side on
angle (how dynamic he is!), my well
gelled hair, my piercing blue eyes, my
nice tight fitting suit, that’s me, all me.”
Peter later said that he was looking to
head to St Peter’s York for the 2024
academic year in the event that a higher
salary becomes available there.
BREAKING NEWS BREAKING NEWS BREAKING NEWS BREAKING NEWS BREAKING NEWS BREAKING NEWS BREAKING
Perhaps Mozzer misinterpreted his parents’
advice when they said wear protection.
Social Media: A Comprehensive Guide
Navigating the world of private school social media can be tricky at the best of times. There is a strict code
of conduct that must be adhered to religiously in order to achieve legend status. Hence, The Falopian has
taken it upon itself to publish a set of golden rules that any aspiring 3 rd former can live by.
1. The basic essential for any high-flying Instagram post is an assortment of drinks and cigarettes –
placed casually of course – to fully show you off as the epitome of cool. And remember too: if you
didn’t post your night out on social media, it didn’t happen.
2. Birthday pictures are a necessary part of any friendship group but can only gain you points if you are
the only person that looks good in the photo.
3. To make your way further up the social media scale, you can even take pictures of Polaroids and
photos on digital cameras – bonus marks if it’s a picture of you taking a picture. Who doesn’t want to
be a Pinterest girl?
4. Take pictures of the right people: anyone with less than 700 followers should not feature on your
feed.
5. To look the part, baggy trousers and tiny tops are imperative. Bikini pictures are acceptable but only
after copious application of fake tan. Alternatively, dressing like a homeless person also fits the
guidelines. See-through tops gain you both plaudits and fap tributes.
6. If your caption makes any sense, you’re doing it wrong – the more expert social media users
understand that captions may only include obscure inside jokes.
7. For the more ignorant of our readership, a common mistake is to post on a regular basis.
8. When snapchatting members of the opposite sex, never send full face photos. Nobody wants to see
that.
9. If you have not used at least three private school sounds on TikTok, you may as well delete the app
now.
10. Finally, the rule to forevermore live by: never under any circumstance, no matter how much effort is
put in, must you show that you have been trying. No one likes a try hard.
Looks like Harding went big
at Charlie’s 30th, pretty cool.
Salop on Tour
A guide to what is or is not the thing to do on a Gap Year
Apart from ‘just chundering everywhere’ and the work experience opportunities with IBM or Holroyd Howe, as
relentlessly advertised by Whis Crain, young Salopians often have no idea what a respectable and educational Gap
Year looks like. Gone are the days when Daddy could hook you up with a tour of India through connections in the
East India Company or a year in Hong Kong, as one of the Taipans was Grandpa’s old chum at Oxford. Yet the Gap
Year does not need to be spent at home re-watching Made in Chelsea Ibiza or searching up ‘white man seduced by
foreign girl in Rio’ on a certain website; here are five destinations, hand-picked by The Falopian travels editor, to
spice up your year out and help you rediscover yourself:
1. Chiang Mai, Thailand
Yes, it is one of the cheapest cities in the world to live in. Yes, it has also got temples that you can pose in front of for
your Instagram fans. Yes, it even provides a three-day express conversion course complete with a certificate which
shows that you are now a monk who cracked the meaning of life. But all of these pale in comparison to the Ping Pong
show (do not search it up), an artistic masterpiece, a phenomenal culmination of Asia’s 2000 years of culture- one of
the necessary sights to see.
2. Xin Jiang, China
Ever wondered what it would feel like to be Marius/ Valjean in Les Misérables? Experience it first hand by going to
Xinjiang wearing the Kufi or Hijab. Start a barricade, meet your Cosette, get thrown in jail… all for the price of £5.99
(classic white knit Kufti, Amazon, next day delivery included). Who needs the West End?
3. Hong Kong, China
Zip down to the former colony after Xin Jiang for the infamous rave known as the Hong Kong Sevens. Past attendees
report a significant improvement in skills such as hand-eye coordination (chucking piss disguised as beer at others),
communication (schweffing underage girls), and problem-solving (finding your mate in the banana suit when there are
at least 300 people in the same costume). SeriousFun
4. Buenos Aires, Argentina
Chukkas, Chicas, Chat… the ultimate triple-C. A go to for the curtains-sporting, schöffel-wearing, ‘yeah matey’saying bunch. In fact, it is so full of public-school wankers that people call it El argentino Cuadrado de Sloane. A year
spent in BA usually leads to a tan, a loss of virginity, and an unhealthy relationship with cocaine- a truly
transformative experience.
5. Paris, France
What? Les Frogs? Don’t worry, this is less radical than you think. For the females amongst us, Paris has the highest
culinary-schools-to-population ratio, so you will never be short of cooking and baking classes to attend. Paris is very
pretty.
Now a submission from a reader, who, for obvious reasons, wishes to remain anonymous:
Tales from a Salopian Virgin
If you’re reading this article, then you probably fall within one of the following categories. Firstly, you are a slightly sad,
lonely, and self-deprecating individual who hopes to find some sort of solace in what you will read. Secondly, you are
an ‘alpha-male’ type, who enjoys sporting the latest JD trackies and feasting off the awkwardness of the meekestlooking third form in order to hide your profound insecurities. Thirdly, you are a teacher, who has managed to get your
grubby little hands on kindly been lent a copy of this year’s edition; if this is you, might I politely remind you that
everything written is wholly satirical and not malicious.
Now, it should be noted that virginity is somewhat of a stigmatism at Shrewsbury School. Wherever one goes – grot,
KH, house etc – all that anybody talks about is sex, drugs and rock and roll. Let’s not forget that gone are the days of
Bob Dylan and Pink Floyd; we must now make do with the latest ‘6ix9ine’ album or single from ‘Dave’ (whoever he is).
Yet the point remains: for those of us who have not felt the warm embrace of a female, we feel akin to a Salopian refugee.
For example, I remember back in 3rd form when a certain skinny and feeble looking sixth former called me a “massive
virgin with ‘dick cheese’ on my fingers”. Presumably the ‘dick cheese’ was a reference to the copious amounts of butter
that had slid away from my piece of toast and onto my hands. What’s more, since entering the prestigious Shrewsbury
6th form, this pressure to ‘do the deed’ has mounted, resulting in me messaging almost all members of the Shrewsbury
High 5th form asking them for a ‘cheeky meet at Pride Hill, G&Ts at Nag’s Head, and shag at Dreamers’. Needless to
say, my cherry remains firmly un-popped.
With those anecdotes aside, I must return to my original point and come to the crux of this article. To the category that
I mentioned first, concerning those of us who cannot relate to the perplexing philosophical questions of “what’s your
favourite sexual position?” or “yo mate, have you tried 69?!”, my message is a rather simple one: don’t worry, be happy.
There is plenty of time to find ‘the one’ (Mark Corrigan reference intended), and if all else fails, I note with interest that
several Old Salopians have found the local massage parlour to be of good use: please contact Port Hill or the driver of a
certain white Ford Focus for more details. Despite the undeniable advances of various members of the Salopian
community, *you* have made the decision to rebuke them and continue to take care of your desires ‘single-handedly’.
If you find yourself within the second category, I must say both congratulations and commiserations. Congratulations
in the sense that you have achieved some degree of social standing in finding yourself a willing-enough fair wench to
have sex with, but commiserations for the long-term effects of this not-so-momentous achievement. Unfortunately,
you’ve peaked too soon and have been oblivious to the advancements of the ‘virgin losers’. It is this first group who will
go on to achieve great things, who have protected and nurtured their spermatozoa until just the right moment, whilst
it is your group who will go on to pastures new at Oxford Brookes, Nottingham Trent or indeed Bristol (West of
England).
Finally, if you’re a teacher reading this article, I find it a slight enigma as to what you may now be thinking of the
Salopian community. Will you now examine your classes with an eye to their sexual exploits and note which of our
categories each student falls into? Well, I’d certainly hope not. In truth, I don’t really have much of an interest into your
thoughts subsequent to reading my piece; I just hope that whatever you make of it, please don’t report me to ARP – I’ve
rather enjoyed my time in office thus far.
But nevertheless, the take home message is this: virginity is a precious thing and shouldn’t be taken for granted. Can’t
we all just agree that - virgin or not - we can all find consolation in the fact that whatever our sexual experiences, we’re
all part of the wonderful Salopian community? And if that cheesy one-liner, solely included in an attempt to absolve
myself of any wrongdoing, doesn’t comfort you, I’m sure the ladies on the end of this number should be able to solve
your dilemma: 01691773671.
Floreat Salopia!
Signed, The Gesta Francorum
Trouble in Paradise (H1)
It is a calm and breezy day in mid-June, and all of the 5th and U6th historians have long since finished their exams. Now,
OJC is looking to the future and trying to prep his followers colleagues for the summer handover.
OJC: Well, I’d like to start by thanking all of you for coming to today’s meeting and showing your commitment to
ensuring that the History faculty remains one of the best faculties that Shrewsbury has to offer.
HGM: Um, Ollie, I hate to interrupt, but I think that Chris – I mean Mr. Cook – isn’t actually here yet.
OJC: Oh, you’re right – thanks Harry. Can anybody pop out and have a look for him?
Meanwhile, IPH has been eagerly tying his laces ready for an opportunity to get a quick 1K in.
IPH: Of course, Ollie. Back in a mo!
OJC: Right, now that’s sorted, let’s get back to the task at hand: ensuring a smooth succession. Just before we get stuck
into the admin and logistics, has anybody got any suggestions that I can pass on to the incoming H of F? Yes, Sam?
SCG: Yeah, I was just wondering whether we could do more Nazi Germany stuff, especially for the Third Form. Maybe
we could introduce a eugenics component to the syllabus, or re-enact some of the important historical events?
Kristallnacht perhaps?
At this very moment, DAGN can no longer contain himself and draws out an antique pistol (presumably WWI era) and
attempts to fire at SCG. OJC manages to calm tensions down and avoid total anarchy.
OJC: OK then, any other suggestions?
LAEC: Hi, yeah, I know I’ve only been here for a short while, but can we possible do more law stuff? Maybe change
the faculty to encompass law, history and politics, and call it ‘Social Sciences Studies’ or something equally uninspiring?
Whilst OJC was mulling this over, a great bellow came from the bottom of Hodgson. HGM immediately dropped his
cress sandwich and carton of freshly-squeezed OJ and sought shelter underneath the office desk – he knew who what
had just arrived. This was a signal that tee-total Chris was a mere memory, and all hell was about to be initiated. IPH
was nowhere to be seen - presumably CEC had eaten him as a mid-morning snack, along with a few Radbrook/Moser’s
third form. CEC kicks the door open, and in doing so exposes his man-mountain stature and lack of any reasonable dress
sense. Indeed, he wields his trademark Shropshire Gold tinnie in hand, and Wowcher-bought tie around his head, as if
to pay tribute to his childhood heroes (that is, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles).
CEC: “Whatsuppppppp. How are my favourite little neeks doing? Louisa, you’re looking fit today if I may say so.
Where’s that little runt Harry?”
At this moment, HGM dug up enough courage to pop his little head from underneath the desk, and so calmly utters an
immensely powerful spell in an attempt to render CEC’s intimidation tactics useless…
HGM: “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words wi-”
CEC puts HGM into a semi-serious headlock and begins to aggressively nuggie his forehead, which results in HGM
crying. CEC, a man of honour and mercy, drops him to the floor and labels him a part of the female anatomy.
A very Salopian leavers’ trip
As I write this article, bronzing myself on a standard-issue British beach, ciggie in one hand and a tinnie in
the other, I feel a sense of duty to provide our slightly less aged readers a guide to a great lads holiday. Don’t
worry, females: this article is unisex and therefore valid for any of your potential adventures.
So, let’s talk leavers’ trips. Four vital ingredients go into a great culmination of the Salopian experience:
price, location, weather and (with a cheeky wink) quantity/quality of clunge.
Starting with location, we had the slightly unusual situation of having to choose a suitable destination within
the British Isles as opposed to venturing out further to the continent. And, admittedly, the pints were more
‘spenny’ and the locals slightly less welcoming, but all in all we found our accommodation to be a
reasonably suitable hunting ground. When deciding on this crucial aspect of the holiday, try and find the
cheapest place that is within a reasonable walking distance to the beach. That way, you avoid the
monotonous daily task of booking taxis and can get down there quickly.
Yet, the quintessential lads’ holiday wouldn’t be complete without an appropriate amount of poor weather
throughout the week. Indeed, we enjoyed our fair share of rain and heavy wind, but never let it dampen our
spirits. A wind-swept chassis was a common occurrence on the sandy beaches of Cornwall, with only
minimal physical damage (a piggishly pink nipple left continuously erect).
A great motto for the trip is as follows: the cheaper the better. Essentially, if you’re spending over £150 per
person, you’re doing it wrong. Look for the biggest house for the cheapest price as that way, the Asians can
have their own room and you won’t have to indulge in a marathon of League of Legends, instant noodles
and 2-pint chunning sessions. Aside from this, having your own room links well into our final criterion: that
of the punani.
Now, I know what you’re all thinking: how do we get the largest quantity of fit birds into our house? Well,
fear not young reader for this is the question that we had prior to our arrival. Admittedly, we had a friend
who just so happened to know half of the female Cornish population, but I still believe that the following
method should work well for the future generations. Firstly, go to the beach and scope out the chicas.
Secondly, identify a group with potential and engage in a few games of bums within a 50-yard radius of
them. Then, get the fittest guy in your group to ‘accidently’ knock the ball over to them and engage in a bit
of pre-match chat. Hopefully, you’ve impressed them enough to entice them to come and meet the rest of
your group, which just so happens to be where the make-or-break scenario quickly follows: do they find you
bearable enough to come back to your pad (loveably named ‘The Pussy Palace’)? Assuming that they do,
perhaps a false presumption for the majority of groups, buy a drinking game and let the sessions commence.
I can’t legislate for what happens after this, but hopefully you will go on to find my advice useful.
10 Ways to Get Good A Levels and GCSEs with Teacher Assessed Grades
1. Do the work necessary, be talented enough, and reflect this in your assessments.
2. Offer, and sacrifice, your anal virginity to the necessary teachers.
3. Be family friends with the Headmaster.
4. Find the mark schemes to the only past paper not shown to you by your teacher.
5. Listen when your teachers tell you the exact questions coming up.
6. Set the answers as your home screen on your phone (you know who you are).
7. Become an international student/get Covid-19 and cheat in your remote exams.
8. Slip £50 to your teacher (£10 if it is the P.E. department).
9. Pretend that you have extra time (Thgirwniaw Noemis).
10. Claim some form of extenuating circumstances – previous ones include heartbreak,
KUWTK ending, and a bee being a form of distraction in the exam hall. Anything will
work, just ask the Grove and Mosers lot.
I
L
M
Leaders’
Young Leaders Award
Lives
Recruiting U6th NOW
Matter
Quod: A Eulogy
R.I.P.
QUOD
1552 – 2021
Quod was murdered in a calculated and methodical
fashion by ARP and PJM. It shall be remembered as the
last bastion of gentlemanly pursuits and Saturday night
seduction. It embraced its tenants with a warm glow,
frolicsome music and floors which supported the most
zealous dancing. Ably handled by the greatest party hosts
ever to grace this Godly earth: Mo and Hansen. They
delivered every week, rain or shine. That was until the
usurpers, the Machiavellians, PJM and Peak saw a
potential route to power. Megalomania pierced their
troubled minds and they strangled the life out of our
humble friend. Lights were turned on, music ceased to
skim across those remembered walls, all was silent and
still. Quod now bathes in God’s spiritual abode - Stott
Pavilion. Pilgrimage to Stott is encouraged.
HELD IN GOD’S HANDS
The Results: How did Salopians Utilise the 5-minute Break whilst in Remote?
Never averse to investigative journalism, nor known for avoiding the most important issues,
The Falopian decided to discover how the Shrewsbury Pupil Body spent its time during the
break between lessons. With the help of Mr Armstrong and Mr Welch’s pie charts and
expertise, we have collated our findings from the survey that Mr Winkley sent out to you all
in an email entitled ‘To masturbate, or not to masturbate, that is the question.’
As alluded to in the previous paragraph, the decision to ‘tickle one’s pickle’ proved
resoundingly popular, as Salopians compensated for the fact that their right hand would no
longer be used for a chong in Hodgson. Following a flirtatious breakout room, or an angry
exchange with a teacher playing the role of dominatrix, the urge was clearly too strong to
overcome. A particular combination of raw talent but also experience was needed to manage
this deed in the allotted time, substantiated by the number of boys arriving three minutes late
to lessons. The Falopian makes no comment on the act itself, but as Gandhi famously said, ‘If
you need the deed, you need the speed’.
Some of the purer members of our great institution found arguably wiser ways to approach
this period of rest, including rushed cigarettes, mugs of tea and cocktails of codeine and sprite.
However, the second most common act during this time was in fact the completion of Top
Schools. Some phenomenally accomplished A level Further Maths students actually managed
to complete both their self-love and homework during this time, a feat as impressive as
Moser’s managing to hold a social with people from other houses.
Twelve members of the Port Hill 4th Form, upon the encouragement of Leslie Drew and Huw
Peach, attempted to reduce their families’ carbon output by killing their grandparents during
their Christmas dinner. They then used the 5 minute-breaks daily for snacks, which were
provided from their nan’s rotting muff. This had the added effect of reducing the amount their
parents were spending, combined with the inheritance of a council flat, which allowed them
to purchase more firearms from the Syrian Liberation Army for their gang warfare (see the
latest Shrewsbury E-Newsletter for further details).
How do you spend your time in the 5 minute break?
Wanking
Purple Drank
Ciggies
Completing Top Schools
Making tea
Eating your grandparents' remains
Boris Johnson has thanked Steve Fox on National Thank
a Teacher Day through IGTV. Mr Fox, he said, was
“fantastic”, and truly inspired a generation (see below for
verification). Fox is reported to have taught Boris a
number of things, most notably though, the special talent
of looking in two directions at once – see left. Boris has
said that he often uses this skill to make people feel
uncomfortable, as they never know who he is looking at.
How to be Employed in KH
Working in Kingsland Hall is the pinnacle of high-end dining in the south-west of Shropshire. The asbestosridden, soviet housing block is a place of pilgrimage for aspiring chefs and staff throughout the country. Whilst
Holroyd Howe is continually inundated with young, keen (and adequately greasy) applicants, they tend to
recruit people based on the following criteria using the acronym below:
L- Learning difficulties are required as understanding portion size and plate numbers is not needed for KH
staff.
I – Internationalism is a must, considering Shrewsbury prides itself on being a diverse and multi-ethnic
community. Language barriers are not a hindrance as pupil requests for a small and large portion are the
same.
N- National Minimum wage is key. Being paid by the hour incentivises long queues and colder food.
D - Differentiating between a fork and a knife.
A – Ability to chop up roadkill animals into the school meat feast pasta.
May 2021
Chemistry
GYYW
Poor
Acceptable
Gracie-poo started the past two terms somewhat tempestuously. After being forced into quarantine, she suffered a
meltdown and never fully recovered since. Rev K’s weekly online chapel service might just provide the solace she is
seeking. She has the ability but will have to work more diligently to secure the Head of Faculty post she is clearly
aiming for.
English
JRFA
Poor
Good
Jacob has always been fun to have in class but I am afraid he hasn’t improved much from Lent. He has already been
given sixteen warnings this term for booning right before and during lessons after coming up with excuses such as
‘my wife wifi is defective’. This goes against the school expectation for staff and he should expect quadruple SD
every week until this improves.
Mathematics
CWO
Good
Excellent
Charlemagne is clearly an intelligent master and had the potential to do very well for himself, had he concentrated
on Mathematics and not the quizzing society. I understand that it is his ultimate passion but he should have more
self-control. You don’t get into the Queen’s bunker simply by being good at University Challenge.
Biology
H(A)SME
Acceptable
Shit
Henri seems to be having an identity crisis lately- he is unsure whether he is a Biology teacher or KSI. I congratulate
him on his 225 views on ‘Flipgrid- how to submit a video’ but a nudge from the parents reminding him that the
career as a youtuber is reserved for neuro-diverse adolescents will do no harm.
History
HGM
Divine
Divine
Zoom, as expected, did not stop Harold from excelling at delivering his ‘Grandma’s nightshirt’ speech. No one cares
about the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution… as much as he does. He has earned himself a well-deserved break in sunny
Manchester and I look forward to seeing his tan when we reconvene.
KH Black Tie Dinner
Chronology of an evening of class and sophistication
It’s 7:15 in the evening, you’re having those last few sips of contraband Imperial Czar Vodka,
while fiddling with an unforgiving bow tie. Your housemaster has already warned you of the
sin that it is to ‘pre-load’ before such events; you didn’t listen. Your fellow U6th, all slightly
red-faced, trickle along the corridors discussing the evening’s proceedings with excitement
and anticipation. It’s been ages since anything even remotely resembling a social occasion has
happened, so this is bound to be good, you tell yourself.
Oh how wrong you were.
At 7:20, having congregated outside your house for the compulsory U6th photo of you all
looking ‘dead posh’, you stroll over to the venue for the evening, the scent of Paco Rabanne
heavy in the air. You picture yourself as you plod to KH, you are the Reservoir Dogs, walking
in slow motion as George Baker’s bass guitar riffs seamlessly over the snare drum.
You’ve arrived, and begin to size up the opposition. Some girls have let you down; you’d have
preferred a British 1950s issue pencil dress but a few opt to wear what look like elongated
latex gloves. Never mind, of course appearance matters only very little when such titillating
conversation is on the cards. Making your way over to the drinks table, you are confronted
with buck’s fizz – KH have tried to be quirky and different, but yet again, it has failed to pay
off. You wanted a cigarette and champagne, but no, you get buck’s fizz and a chong… cue the
collective grunt.
Time to go inside. You are secretly happy that you didn’t have to sit next to two girls but were
kept to the confines of your housemates. After all, girls are scary, unpredictable, and
sometimes laugh at peculiar moments. Indeed, despite claiming to your mates that you were
ready for some serious chat with the chicas, you take comfort knowing you are safe from
embarrassment and humiliation while in the company of the boys.
You have a good friend to your left and a slightly less good friend opposite. You run out of
things to talk about after three and a half minutes. You tell yourself that the clinical KH white
lighting, the lack of intoxication, and the ubiquitous presence of shit dinner jackets, shit
cummerbunds and shit tartan is killing the evening. Not many people agree with you, so you
don’t air your opinions but scan across the room smugly in the knowledge you are wearing
your great grandfather’s wide-lapelled dinner jacket and have a pre-rolled cig ready for
consumption later.
‘Dinner is served’ – you expect a Hogwartsian meal to manifest on your table, but no, the very
short KH manageress yells at you to grab your grub. You are met with the infamous KH tray,
with its marbled patterning and sticky surface; what better podium for your food? If looks
could kill, then the pulled beef cone (?) consisting of intestinal strings and firm young carrots
would have left several fatalities. KH, to both your food and your presentation, I say bravo.
Alcohol. The catalyst for [enter all synonyms of the word banter]. A cheap but cheerful Campo
Viejo Rioja. You scout the non-drinkers: they tend to be Asians, lightweights, rowers etc, and
subtly communicate the fact that you want to down their drink. You declare to your neighbour
on the left, ‘We want the finest wines available to humanity, we want them here, we want them
now’; he nods his head in agreement and continues to study his mini wine bottle.
Tired of the conversation that your neighbours have to offer, you look over to the teachers’
table. God, they look bored. Slumped on their chairs, Chipperton and Russell look as though
they despise the school: to them we are the bourgeoisie, the aristocratic elite, the very scum of
the earth. Tonks thoughtfully sips his red wine, uncaring, but we don’t blame him as he needn’t
answer to anyone.
Finally, pudding is served… crème brûlée. The solid layer at the top resembles the skin of a
third degree burn victim, puss oozing and bubbling – quite the spectacle. While that pale matter
rather optimistically labelled ‘pudding’ slithers through your digestive system, the speeches
are called. In brief, you enjoyed the Head Boy’s speech, with its close to the bone humour and
good delivery, but the Head Girl’s, well, I’m sure the girls found it thoroughly amusing.
Time to go back outside. Mosh pits and vapes await; after all, what more could an edgy Upper
Sixth Former want? Bass drops and the soft crackle of e-cigarettes sound the evening as the
rowdiness levels increase. The onslaught of day boy abuse ensues: Feed the day boys! you
scream at the top of your voice… they’re all commies anyway. You’ve lost your voice by this
time and decide to remedy it with a boon behind Stott Pavilion, by far the highlight of the
evening.
You spot the beam of a site warden’s torch, a hearty jog back to house follows. The warm
alcoves of your house look inviting. Soft lamps cast long shadows in your room as you discuss
the evening with your mates, set to the reassuring orchestral works of Vaughan Williams. Back
to the Czar it is.
New Girls’ House
It may have come to the attention of many readers that the school has applied for permission to construct an
entirely new fifth girls house (with a capacity of 57 boarders) on bottom common – staying faithful to the
promise of ‘providing complete refurbishments to the boys houses before thinking about more girls.’
Due to be constructed in the space next to Ridgemount, a place currently known to most Salopians simply as
‘the dump’, the house will be situated on what the architects have called “the picturesque edge of a plateau”
with “panoramic views”. Therefore, it seems the house will possess not only striking views into the back of
Hodgson but also a sweeping outlook over the CCF sheds and the old AstroTurf – a truly enviable position
for any building on the site.
The pictures released by AJA, the same architects
who designed Hodgson, have stirred further interest
in the design. The front of the house appears to be
protected by an outer wall that would look more at
home surrounding an embassy or fortress, with
sliding wooden shutters that can completely seal off
access to the main doors. Perhaps this is an
indication that the SLT expects further incursions
by the dreaded ‘townies’ onto the school site and
have thus incorporated defensive structures into the
design. The wall, alongside measures such as
minefields and Mossad-trained snipers should
hopefully be just enough to deter a terrifying force
of up to FOUR bike-borne youths from the town
wreaking havoc across campus. On the rear of the
house a large, circular door gives the house a
striking resemblance to Hobbiton, with a number of
seemingly redundant chimneys adding to the oddity
of the design. Equally, the addition of a house,
rather than a conversion of an existing one, also
poses the question of school pupil numbers.
Assemblies were painful enough as it was and the
addition of another house area will do nothing for
the already packed Allington Hall.
The house is significantly overlooked by Hodgson’s rearward classrooms, with the IT department reporting
that in the hours after the release of the plans the searches for ‘long-range camera lenses’ increased tenfold.
Equally, it may partially explain as to why A.B. has been so inquisitive about borrowing a high-power
telescope from the astronomy department, although he has always attested it is simply for ‘stargazing’.
Aside from the design itself, The Falopian is delighted to officially announce that
Sally Pearson has been selected as housefistress elect for the as-of-yet unnamed
and as-of-yet non-existent house. Pearson is said to have brown hair, a dark olive
green Barbour jacket, a lovely scarf and a ceaseless smile. She loves squatting
down in fields to take selfies with her bitch. Sally is currently deputy head of
English at Winchester, a house tutor in Morshead’s and a dog owner, although
little other information is available.
Sally Pearson and her owner
fin