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“We've got ourselves a Cambridge up here in Canada too, eh?”

“The Oxford University Press would like to advocate that China had nothing to do with this article”

~ this bit about China did not get censored
Stephen Hawking's personal space shuttle lifts off from Clare College.

The town of Cambridge is situated at the heart of Fenlandia in Massachusettsshire, England. Now, we move onto the satire. The city takes its name from the Andy Cam, a former Engineering student at Queens' College. 6 miles outside of the town, he becomes known as Andy Ouse. The "bridge" part of the city's name is a mystery. It is thought that, with some more money wasting, the true origins of Cambridge will be uncovered, once a massive battle between the People of Cambridge, Common Sense and the Council is over, the floating Trolley dressed in nothing but a pantaloon will reveal all.

Or it could simply be that the name derives from the Cam river and a bridge that may have once crossed it. However, this clashes with the Council's common conception that the Ludicrous Moronicus, Roman god of fucktardery, built the Guided Busway to a random location and people loved it so much that they built a town here some 45 years ago, when the Council decided to build a load of shit. This was unpopular, and the Shite neighbourhood was re-branded as 'Kings Hedges' .

Seriously, Cambridge, what the fuck is wrong with you? Sort it out.


During the last census, Cambridge was found to be home to approximately 70,0000 punt touts, 40,0000 guardian reading communists, 25,000 awkwardly opposing conservatives, 10,0000 nerds, 1,500 fairly normal people, 964 homeless people (ironically) 10 cool dudes, 73 black squirrels, four purple swans, a kitten and a partridge in a pear tree. Unsurprisingly, it (used to) returns a Liberal Democrat MP, with some 29 of them on the Council. :/

Students make up the majority of the Cambridge population; as a result, if insufficient tourists were to visit Cambridge during the periods when students were home for the holidays, the entire town would rise half an inch from the fens.

Some 999.99% of the Population hate the Council. Some 45% of the Council are recycled Shopping trolleys. Small world, eh?

Also, around 50% of Cantabrigidygoolians have smoked some sort of weed in their lives. Even smaller world, eh?

No, run along, little Jimmy-snatcher

In recent years, Cambridge has had an large influx of Northern-style chavs. This can be seen while driving down Milton Road. The 'Hungry Whore(se)' has a psychic night going on. This is because northerners have still to discover that psychic abilities are infact bullshit. Alas, the Guardian-reading twats of Cambridge will probably welcome it. Did I mention, many people in Cambreeedge are infact land-lubbing Guardian-readers? No? Really? REALLY? I hate you.

Habits of the population[edit]


Consisting mainly of tourists, the habits of these people include, standing in the way of, well, everything, buying far too many Theodore bears from the British Teddy Bear Shop on King's Parade, and being annoying. This causes them to be lured into 'punts' unaware of the doom they face. This is why dying is common among tourists. The student punters who 'punt' for them actually rob them, then drown them, and dump the bodies somewhere near Milton, which is the real reason for the stench.


Not much is known about the habits of students, as they are never seen during the day. It is thought they move around slowly in slippers and dressing gowns toasting muffins, smoking pipes, and manualy achieving orgasm. This has in fact been proven to be the case for History of Art, History, Classics, and Land Economy students. However, the consequences of their habits can be seen all over the city. Trolleys are found in the river, where the occasional trolley escapes and goes on a rampage, killing various people before morphing into a Cambridge Councillor. Some 45% of Cambridge Councillors are ex-trolleys.

Also, needles can be found almost everywhere in the city; however, global warming has reduced this number due to homosexuality (damn those gays. They stole moustaches... and tight leather clothing... I mean come on, that was SO GOD DAMN MANLY). The smell of marijuana is common on most mornings, however no one minds and in the name of Kurt Cobain, students shoot themselves.

Lower down the educational ladder, Cambridge is home to some 6,000,000 public school students - of which, incidentally, 89% go on to never recoup the hundreds of thousands of pounds that their parents have squandered on their education. The main subjects at these institutions include: hair quiffing; male touching; the art of reading a letter on headed paper; pigeon plucking. Aside from these the best schools also run courses for mastering the art of annunciating as though you have a testicle stuck in your gullet (which may be an eventuality for the more promising students). Outside of academia students have the opportunity to waste their precious youth standing in a field with a stick or a ball while a middle-aged man in tight shorts pretends that he cares about their development as "sportsmen" whilst in fact just watching them roll in mud and touch each other suggestively - a phenomenon otherwise known as "rugby". For the mixed schools the females amongst the population can enjoy bending over clutching a hard rubber-covered stick spasmodically shunting a small ceramic ball. During their leisure these hapless youths enjoy laughing at the irony of dressing themselves up as a member of the lower classes and wondering around town creating an appearance of themselves as "ready for a fight". Yet this interesting practice should not be taken seriously as public school pupils are known to literally melt at the sign of a fist being raised. All in all, these useless wastes of space would be better employed as forced labour in a distant and miserable camp in some horrid area of the earth.


The Native population of Chavs in Cambridge, who are mainly pregnant and drugged-up morons, simply mope around, occasionally mugging people. After mugging people, robbing is commonly practiced. Then some debauchery occurs. We can't tell what happens after because all sources have been murdered before anything else happened.

However, everyone around Cambridge can hear and see the boy racers driving around. Most people want to shoot them, but all the students have stolen the guns, so instead they moan to the Council who then go to committee. The most usual reaction is simply build The Grand Arcade, or waste money.


Seeing as many residents unsurprisingly don't like Cambridge, the common practice is to try and escape. Most of the time this fails due to the prevalence of council housing around the ways out of the city, so most of them pretend to be tourists to avoid being raped and eaten by Tinishya Riddick of Campkin Road. However, because they don't stand in the way and annoy everyone, they generally asplode when questioned by the Thought Police. Or, when reaching the Socialist Republic of Kings 'Edges, the middle class refugees are bludgeoned to death by Tyrese and his blud-dem because they don't claim £1,000,000 a month and have mastered the art of 'earning your own money', which to many chavs is a scary and daunting prospect. Am I right, Tyrese? Some Jews have been known to live in Cambridge. But, who cares? Certainly not me. Why you ask? Because ROFL MAO wants all your base. It has been noted for the occasional Cambridge toss-pot to escape to the far superior Sheffield and try to fit in with the locals. Unfortunately, they just get teased about their daft accent, and weird Jeremy Clarkson-style hair. There are also a few really cool foreigners who are always mistaken for tourists by douche bags. It's funny because most of the time they're American and will never be accepted by British people, and are hence consumed by punt touts or Stephen Hawking.


There are many teens in Cambridge.

There are pathetic, lowly excuses of oiks known as chavs. They're hated by Ever-ry-one. Then there are a load of tottering Perse and Leys boys who titter-totter around the town all day and are quite humuorous. They all have wavy dark blonde hair, blue or green eyes. They only ever wear Fred Perry or Jack Wills and are all called Harvey, Jack, Desmond or, in the case of female boys, Madeline, Felicity or Persephone. THEN, (bored already? well, you bloody shouldn't be, you festering wallop) there is middle class Cambridge. The guys spend their time doing weed and wasting their lives. A recent trend is buying racing bikes and wearing checkered shirts, creating some weird mixture of cycling and being a mid 90s style Lumberjack. They also try to read. This fails often, as they read books and therefore think they've mastered humanity. Look at me, I'm 17 and all I do is act pretentious and have no personality. But I read books that laugh at vacuous people! Oh jolly ho, what a clever sod I am! What's this fine paper? Oh! The Guardian!


For the state-educated girls, they all like a good 'faaaag' and a nice party or two. Or, there are complete bitches who attend the Perse Girls. Don't ever talk to these people, they will deceive you with their hair (all their hair is swept to the left or right side of their heads, causing... I don't know, some medical thing) Once you alert them to their vicious heartless bitchiness, they will gratuitously bitch about you until your soul is destroyed. To put it simply, Perse girls are the deatheaters of reality.

The Grand Arcade[edit]

Built in 1066 by the Arcadians, the Grand Arcade of Cambridge is a vicious place of murderous, Gladiator-esque combat, where fat, insecure teenage girls fight each other to steal genuine designer clothing from John Lewis. The erstwhile onlookers are stuck in the Costa Coffee which sits there, caged underneath the escalators.

The horrific battles involve mainly chav girls as normal, sensible middle class girls are too busy at school, learning that vital skill of how to earn money and how to avoid ever having to go daaan the job sen'aaa

The Grand Arcade is a wonderful place for entertainment. One can stand above Costa Coffee, and drop things on pathetic twats who drink their shit coffee. Or, standing above Costa Coffee, one does most pleasantly view the serendipitous chav battles going on below for a piece of contraband. One can spit at people two floors below. One can shop, but there is not much point, as the Arbury folk who loiter nearby will almost certainly steal all possessions, much like they steal your tax money every month. Oh i'm sorry, did you not like that, Monsieur GuardianReadingCantabrigian? Well, all I have to say is, you sir. are a boney-nunce.

The bus stop outside is a clear display of wasting space. Rather than having a conventional bus stop, the Council insisted on having Picasso design the pavement line, so now it weaves all of the place and the busses often topple over. The stench of diesel fumes wafts through occasionally, suffocating random fat people. This is why the nearby Burger King closed down god knows when, because they anticipated a loss in customers once the Grand Arcade was completed.

Heralded as an architectural masterpiece, the uninteresting lines of the Grand Arcade fit it perfectly with local Emmanuelle College, a Regency-Jacobean complex, and the local 100-300 year old buildings along its facade. It is so inconspicuous only dead people do not notice it. Sadly no-one has painted a large Y on the front window of Ted Baker to complete the big-lettered word.

City Centre[edit]

The Grafton Centre[edit]

Named after some guy, this edifice was built in that wonderful time that was the late 1980s. It dated almost six centuries before construction. It's most common customers were once middle class, leafy Cambridge suburbans. Now, however, it mainly serves the Arbury and Shite (Excuse me, 'Kings Hedges') crowd. This is why its symbol is a kite, as this is what the Grafton Centre would rather be, so it can happily fly away from all the chavs, and begin mating with the Grand Arcade, creating the Grand Grafton Arcade Centre Multiplex 9 Screen 700 shop Megamix Mall of Supermassive-huge-gigantic stuff, or just GGAC, or G-GAC.... or even Gay-GAC..... anything just to get away from Arbury.

The shops are: an enormous British Home Stores selling grey cardigans and homewares to those Cantabrigians who cannot afford to shop in John Lewis, some burger bar, the View cinema (re-spelt to Vue so chavs think what it could mean while they are sterilized), various other crap. A stranded Debenhams also resides there. There was once even a bookshop, but following many years in which it failed to make profit it closed and was replaced by a Poundland, selling various rubbish for - as the name suggests - one pound to a clientele chiefly made up of chavs buying sticky sweets to be smuggled into the Vue cinema, chewed and thrown at the screen; parents buying high-sugar snacks for their already ADD offspring; teenage boys buying condoms and the girlfriends of those boys buying pregnancy tests. The substitution of Poundland for a bookshop is commonly seen to be further evidence that Cambridge, once a world-renowned centre of academia, science and intellectualism, is now just another soulless, identikit hell-town - a change that is supported by as many of its residents as oppose it.

Traffic 'Calming'[edit]

When a fly hit someone's windscreen when they were on Trinity Street in 1989, it was clear that many pedestrians were also at risk of being viciously knocked down by motorists. So, in 1996, the Cunty (Whoops I mean, County) Council decided that the centre of Cambridge must be paved over with pavements and traffic forbidden to go there. This did wonders for traffic in the centre of the city. By forcing it to go on narrow streets around the centre and causing even more congestion elsewhere in the city, the Council has succeeded at something! But alas, the morons forgot, diverting the problem doesn't fix it... So to divert people's attention away from what moronic brainless bullshitters they were (more likely still are), they decided to build the Guided Bus, an exciting contraption... isn't it? After a while, however, this pissed more people off... Although the Council thought they had done a splendid job, and rewarded themselves with some nice pay-rises, and what else for pissing everyone off? Why, a brand new MercedesEinspritzenWagenAutomobile. Traffic is still awful in Cambridge. The Council plan to combat this with a Congestion Charge. After an overwhelming decision by the Council to ignore everyone who said it was a waste of millions of pounds, they decided to go ahead with it.



Punting is the most common mode of transport in Cambridge, due to the rivers of toxic waste which encircle the city centre. A survey in 2002 revealed that approximately 40 percent of Cambridge residents punt to work every day, and over 75 percent own one or more punt poles. It is also regularly forgotten, except by the most sharp-witted american tourists that oxford is indeed just on the other side of the river.

This popularity is largely due to the actions of punt touts aka 'Punt Pimps'. The punt tout is a close relative of the common grue. Originally native to the fens, in recent years they have taken to prowling the riverside, abducting any stranger who walks by and forcing them onto a punt. Like Jack the Ripper, their preferred prey is the Chinese tourist. Unlike Jack the Ripper, the punt tout can easily be avoided by simply crossing the road while shouting "do I look like a tourist? yes I am an american But i've lived here for 6 years you moron " Knocking off their straw boaters can also have the desired effect. Since Dr P.W. Anthropologist has theorised that the boater performs some kind of sexual function, this may be akin to castration.

The popularity of punting in Cambridge has spawned a neologism, "Punting from the Cambridge end". Originally this referred to a polesman maneuvering a flat-bottomed craft from the stern rather than the bow; these days the phrase is more often encountered as a sexual euphemism.This is the greatest part of Cambridge.


Cambridge is the chief breeding ground for bicycles (Ralleius Oleagini) in the Western Uppersphere. Once a year, supposedly in some sort of freaky, horrifying metamorphosis, Cambridge consumes 600,000000 bicycles (and this figure is predicted to increase as average temperatures rise).

Bicycles start their life in the River Cam, are dredged up by the Cam Conservators once a year and make their way to Station Cycles where they are rented to the tourists for £300 a week. Over time they make their way to Mitcham's Corner where, if left unattended for more than a second or two, a parasitic Pikey steals them and returns them to Arbury to breed. Once in Arbury, the bikes seek out a suitable mate, are subsequently sold back to students (normally in exchange for drugs), and then return to the River Cam via the aforementioned matriculation to breed. Thus the Circle of Life continues.

Burleigh Street, near the Grafton Centre, was a known hotbed of cycle theft. Believing that this was due to the unusually large number of drug addicts who haunt the street during the day (at night it becomes the property of drunken Poles and Chinese students who flock from miles around to buy food at the Michelin three star-rated Mega Meals restaurant), the Police and council got together and attached signs saying "What's the fastest way to a criminal record in Cambridge? Take a bike!" Within weeks, all of these signs had been stolen - many were later discovered in the Grafton Centre carpark, scored with razor marks and contaminated with traces of Class A drugs.


Cambridge also has an airport, although since the runway is too short for use by any sensibly sized aircraft, this facility is rarely used. A weekly tiger-moth service commutes to Oxford. Recently, as part of Shona Fuckface's Plan of Moronification of the Trafficational Stupidity of Declareinating Fordinapolyosis, this vital part of Cambridge's infrastructure is going to be converted to a housing estate. Naturally, the local populace sees no reason for this, and has petitioned it. So, of course, Shona has ignored everyone again. It is now however going to linger around for a while. They may extend the runway. Hopefully over Shona Fuckface, ending the Fucktard Party rule.

Oddly, Cantabrigians have a great emotional attachment to their airport and will savagely attack any plans to sell it off and use the land to build affordable housing, despite the fact that the facility has no practical use whatsoever. This is, presumably, because possession of an airport allows Cambridge's population to think of themselves as the cosmopolitan inhabitants of a proper city, rather than a damp, Fenland market town that nobody would ever have heard of were it not for the University (and Clive Sinclair).

The Guided Busway[edit]

This was invented by the council in Roman times, as they had some money left over and had to find something to waste it on, and because Chavs from Arrrbury were coming for them. It was meant to be opened in time for Julius Caesar's coronation as Emporer, but alas, the Lib Dem council are, Lib Dems. Were they really going to finish it?

Although almost universally hated when first proposed, Cambridge's population now have a certain affection for it due to the council's absolute inability to make it actually work - and if there's one thing Cambridge people love, it's verbally attacking authority as this allows them ample opportunity to show how radical and free-thinking they are.

Since the Guided Busway was constructed some two thousand years ago (it's still not running), Shona Fuckface Johnston has been murdered by a passing flock of locals. When interviewed, all they had to say was simply 'ooo arrrr', a catch-all response in the Republic of Fenlandia.

Originally costing 10 bunny-wabbits, the busway will now cost somewhere in the region of £13,336,356,234,898,234,567,895,699... a lot. This figure was confirmed by some awful amorphous Lib-Dem/Labour monster, who claimed it was a benefit for Cambridge, despite living in Londonland, a place in the 97th Dimension, or just down the M11, junction 6007.

Basically, it goes from Huntingdon down to Cambridge. Its route passes through, well.... fields really. Sheep and Norfolkers are thought to be the main customers, because they like to look at shiny things that clever Cambridge city people use. Of course, the council is going to force people to use it by burning cars belonging to the public, kidnapping children, extortion and brutal violence. They will also close all roads around Cambridge. Even this is expected to generate only 1 or 2 customers a year, because NO ONE wants it.


Cambridge has many splendid roads. Naturally, the Council, in their Liberal Democrat incompetence, have decided this is a bad thing.

Recently, they have thought that putting speed 'cushions' on a main road is a good thing. Now, of course, said main road is Gilberto Road. Used by many commuters a day, they all speed and kill many children. In fact, like all motorists, they are all part of an international conspiracy to use common sense and what have you. The Council have tried to achieve Nirvana by making a brand new Grand National on a much wider scale on Gilberto Road. Now the Council have turned crazy. Mill Road is now being raped by the sleeping policeman. A billion speed cushions are being placed on the road. Why? Because the cyclists are idiots and take sadistic pleasure in randomly changing which side of the road they cycle on, which road to turn down, and the classic: simply ignoring the fact cars use the road too. My god, if there's anything to turn someone away from the Liberal Democrats, it's Cambridge City Council. You utter morons.

Of course, this will mean many people are pissed off. Naturally, the council will respond with 'this was a great success'. Really now? Despite the fact everyone said no?

There are other roads in Cambridge that are vaguely drivable. However, I suggest you buy a car now and experience being able to use it before the Council turn Cambridge's roads into a super-speed-calmed-hyperpieceofshit-guided-busway.

Famous Landmarks[edit]


Cambridge is famous for its pubs. It boasted over 3,000,000 of them before the smoking ban, including the White Swan (affectionately known to regulars as the Shite One or What Swine), the Spooned Eagle and the Devonshire Arms. In a bout of typical British sameness, they're all owned by the same company and are thus effectively identical inside. Plans to merge all pubs into 1 megapub are currently under consideration. With Shona sticking her fat corrupted arse into things, however, the whole plan collapsed. The Avery pub is famous as it is the only pub in Cambridge to have had all of its contents nailed to the floor to reduce its nightly glassing rates. The amount of nails used necessitated the construction of the Mathematical Bridge.

The Mathematical Bridge[edit]

The Mathematical Bridge was designed by the famous mathematician Jean-Paul Sartre in 1785. As its name implies, the bridge is constructed entirely, although not exclusively, from raw mathematics. Its drastic appearance consumes the attention of Americans for ever. Some 14,000,000 of them are trapped in a constant gaze, trying to work out how it fits together. It magically contains no nails. It is a glory to Cambridge, and as such, all residents are banned from using it. Well done Queen,s College, well done.


This area, built by accident by God in the 1950s as part of his socialist phase (or at least that's what the Bible says - but then, who believes in that load of old bullshit? He was actually out of his head on crack and Mary Magdalene had given him head), is a common landmark for tourists. Foreign people, unburdened by the chav horde invasion in 1999, come to witness the wild herds and packs of Chavs and Pikeys as they prey mercilessly on each other, and as they stalk and intimidate middle-class mothers, who, being typical air-headed Volvo drivers, have somehow come off Arbury or Gilbert Road and entered the opening to hell within. Much to the tourists' pleasure, their children are dragged out of the cars screaming, and inhaled by the typical chav mum. The mothers themselves are then beaten for being a 'boffin/ someone with basic intelligence' and then robbed.

A popular attraction, some 10% of Uberzekistan actually live on the tour buses. A new syndrome, known as Arbury syndrome, is the syndrome which tourists suffer after leaving the area. It occurs after the relief after leaving the area alive, as some 34.3489764029567% of tourists are eaten by hungry pregnant chavettes. Symptoms include getting a job, working for the good of the country, and getting off your FAT LAZY ARSE! Yes, yes I am talking about that Sky-sports watching, 'Stella'-drinking, wife-beating heap of lard on a sofa watching TV on one he 'found' in some pensioners living room. Anyway, I digress. (And rightfully so)

Some 34,839,475 (figure provided by the Fuckface Foundation) stolen cars are hidden in various places across Arbury. Kingsway flats actually consists of 108.3% Fraudulent Benefit payments, 12.45% Lidl/Aldi and 788% Illegitimate children and their single parent families.(Figures provided by the ever numerate Labour Party)

The architecture of the area is reminiscent of Soviet Russia, had Soviet Russian buildings been designed by Satan's own architects on bad acid, but no-one minds because only poor people of the Greater Kings Hedges Ghetto live there, so they should count themselves lucky, really.

The Wren Library[edit]

This is probably the most amazing building in Cambridge. Built by Christopher Wren in 1677, it was the last building in the world built from the top down. This is because Wren was great friends with Isaac Newton, who, about a week after the building's completion, discovered gravity, thereby preventing any such building ever being constructed again. It is also the secret home of Winnie the Pooh himself.

The University[edit]

Cambridge university is a spectacular, non self-righteous, nowhere near its own cash-pumped arse collection of colleges.

An for you Yanky-woo-woos, no, it doesn't have a fucking campus, okay bitch? You ask why? Because it isn't some Redneck hell-hole started by some gay homophobe in Iowa in a town called Fannypump in 1988.

It's a snooty institution that is expert in being up your own arse. It owns most of Cambridge, the Port of Felixstowe, and most importantly, they own your mum. No but seriously, they're really megalomaniacal. They hike up the rents on there properties to stupid levels so Cambridge is now a boring town full of chain shops serving the needs of Arbury. Well done, Cambridge University, you male genital.

99 % of the academics say it is scientificaly correct to declare that its more fun to edit an Uncyclopedia page at work, rather than on weekends or holidays. It must be descreetely pointed out that these academics dare not to argue with the consensus of 75 % of the academics in Norwich. If you go public with this info, you are one of these Tories that care nothing for this Earth.

The Grand National[edit]

Now, you may be thinking this is the one from Newmarket, no? Well you're so god-damn wrong, bitch.

It is infact, a road in Cambridge so hideously morphed by road calming that any car which happens to drive down it will self destruct, to save itself.

When the road, nice and simply, was built during the sensibility era of the 1940s, it was plain and bare, like a road should be. However, in 1989, a stray trolley rolled down the road at 30.0000001 mph. Shona F. Johnson, while beating a small child with a bag of taxpayers coins, noticed, and the road became a 'deathtrap'. So subsequently, the road is now covered with speed bumps. It's awfully fun to drive over, particularly in an American car, for its lack of normal suspension remedies the perfect simulation of interracial sex.

The Ma'al[edit]

The Ma'al is an Indian restaurant of the highest quality. For a mere £12,000 anyone can enjoy a bowl of curry accompanied by a piece of lovingly hand made nan bread. In addition you can have a free glass of the finest soap- a wine with an acquired taste. Unfortunately the taste is acquired by drinking yourself stupid until you can't taste anything anymore. If you dine there, you can expect to hear a rousing chorus of "Who the fuck are Sidney Sussex"- a song commonly sung by Corpus Christi students about a fictional college that they made up.

Jesus Green[edit]

Jesus Green, known affectionately as "J. Green" to pensioners, is a splendid park in the centre of Cambridge. Owned, mowed and run by Jesus College, which also derives around 78% of its annual income through a monopoly that gives it the sole right to supply heroin to the addicts who can be found hanging about the public toilets, the bridge over the Cam and the Job Centre just across the road.

A moat, some nine inches deep, runs along one side, and on another the river Cam. Sometimes cows are put on the competing Midsummer Common. This grabs the attention of the ignorant masses (Americans and Paris Hilton) because they can't grasp the sight of cows in the middle of a city. Well open your fuckin' eyes, dipshits.

There's piss all to do on Jesus Green, except get mugged. An ice cream parlour does some shit (it's really a mega-brothel). The toilets are good for a cruise or two. One can get all fucked on weed. This is why it is called J-Green. Not because it is the green of Jesus, dumbo. Generally students (Primary, Secondary, Sixth Form... by university it's all heroin) like to float on over to the ol' jayster and smoke some ganjaaaaaa and try to act like Jamaicans. Yeah, i'm looking at you, stuck up morons who think you're so cool.

You're not. You're twats.

Two years ago, during one of its brief periods of pretending to support Yoof Culture (believed to be an attempt to draw attention from its secret plan to drive all young people other than students out of the city), Cambridge Council erected a small skate park in one corner of Jesus Green. Local residents were worried that this feature might attract undesirable elements - ie; young people - to the area and protested. However, the council had by this time publicised the fact that the park would be built and could not go back on their word. Finally, a plan was formulated - the park was built, but on a section of the Green that is flooded for around 51 weeks of the year; effectively rendering it un-skatable for the rest of the year.

Stourbridge Common[edit]

Stourbridge Common is a large common situated next to the River Cam. It was once a very popular place amongst the residents of Cambridge until 1988 when an armed tribe of vicious cows came along on the Rosie tour boat and declared ownership of the common. As of yet, no man or child has dared go near the common or attempt to take on the malicious cows.

Coldham's Common[edit]

Coldham's Common - sandwiched between an industrial estate, the independent socialist republic of Romsey Town and the poverty-stricken Third World hell that is Ditton Fields (torn apart in recent years by ongoing sporadic conflict between the local chavs and the area's only goth who is, presumably, the hardest goth this side of medieval Transylvania) - is often held to be an example of Cambridge Council's alleged philanthropy. After all, how many municipal authorities would allow an expanse of grass and woodland this size to remain when it could be sold off piecemeal to developers for yet more Luxury Flats (note: Cambridge has around two million Luxury Flats. This is, apparently, not even nearly enough)?

The truth of the matter is that Coldham's Common served as Cambridge's plague pit during centuries gone by and cannot be developed for fear of uncovering corpses and releasing dangerous pathogens into the air.

It is also home to quite a lot of rabbits.


Approximately 50% of cambridgeers are partiérs, spending 12 hours of the day playing video games and 14 hours of the night stopping their neighbours sleep, if spotted thats weird. what? the? fuck?! If seen report to your nearest police officer (oink, oink)

The Travellers Site[edit]

Cambridge was originally built next to the large pikey site thought to be established in 34697BC as the final settling place for Ghenghis Khan's army. The present population of the site has degraded mentally and physically and mainly engages in shooting tourists with air guns and attempting to disprove the theory of relativity by driving through the Grand National at the speed of light. They have also been known to successfully cross-breed with the Chavs of Arbury. Precisely why the Travellers are still called travellers is unknown - many families haven't moved from the site since it was established, apart from when they regularly form raiding parties that ransack the city centre shops of shiny trinkets such as iPods.

The site has applied to the UN to be recognised as a sovereign state in 1765 but the application was rejected and it has been operating illegaly ever since. The main economic activity appears to be drug dealing, trade with Basingrad, and racketeering at Midsummer Common fairs. Proceeds of this activity are believed to be laundered on the Science Park which according to leading economists is an AIM-listed Ponzi scheme.

Cambridge people try hard to avoid discussions about their travelling neighbours for fear of destroying their lovingly-cultivated, middle class, Guardian-reading lefty credentials by accidentally revealing that they think all Pikeys are thieving, stinky, hare-coursing, work-shy, violent scum who should be rounded up and deported to Oxford.

Famous Cambridge Personalities[edit]

Sir Isaac Newton[edit]

He was a really clever bloke. When he was at Cambridge, the University was 100 pc more prestigious than Oxford, but only naught point 5 pc more PC. Now there is only the other way around.

Stephen Hawking[edit]

The famous philosopher Stephen Hawking is regularly spotted cruising the red light districts of Cambridge in his souped-up cybernetic wheelchair. He is perhaps best known for his invention of the universe, although he has also gained fame in recent years for running over my cat.

Hawking was born in the Harvard Medical School's Mount Auburn hospital and spent the first years of his life living with his parents in Fitzroy Street just off Highway 401. He joined Cambridge University in 1933 and has never visited the place since.

He is the only member of the Cambridge population to own his own space shuttle although he is reported to be considering selling it due to rising taxes on non-fuel-efficient vehicles.

That guy who cycles round with a stereo playing heavy metal music hanging in a bag from his handlebars[edit]

Known locally as Radio Man or Metal Man. I think his name might be Terrence. He is the mayor incumbent of Cambridge. His whiff of alcohol and stuff the grandchildren don't know about embiggens the best non grammatical nonsense. Why yes, indeed.

Allan Brigham - Street Sweeper[edit]

Allan is a regular feature to be spotted round Cambridge, as his award-winning sweeping skills testify. He can clear the rubbish from 950m of pavement in just 0.65 seconds. He also works as a tour guide at night, taking unwitting tourists on epic treks across the roofs of King's College Chapel and the Senate House. Due to his rapid refuse collection abilities, he has ample time to spend on his Pannini sticker albums. He has complete collections for the entire Premiership, but if anyone has Andrej Kanchelskis from the 1992-3 season, then Allan would very much like to hear from you on (01223) ALLAN-B (255262).

Allan has recently been awarded a honourary degree from Cambridge University. This has caused many Americans to now form many more ignorant racist prejudices of Britain, thinking that we (the respectable English-speakers) think that street sweepers are in the highest realms of society. Well... all I can say to that is, YOU Sir, are a complete DULLARD. Good day to you, fatty yankee-doodle.

Shona Fuckface Johnson[edit]

Shona is hated by almost everyone is Cambridge. She can be seen prowling the streets at night, preying on innocent middle class people and mugging them for their money. She commonly goes around randomly thinking up completely useless crap ideas with which to waste this money. A complete bitch, she ignores all protests, claims it's all for the benefit of Cambridge, throws some money in the drain, then drives some Jaguar back to her house in Duxford. A complete show of stupidity, she is in fact a great figure to laugh about and at.

If you see her, please feel free to kill her. Cambridge will instantly be free from manic fucktardery, and will probably become an academic centre of the world again. Be careful though, she may use her 'Fuck everything up' and 'Pump masses of money at it' attacks on you, so be very cautious when approaching her. She may infect you.

Hugh Fishy Fingers[edit]

A common sight in Cambridge's almost-but-not-quite-out-the-closet gay bars, Hugh double-F is cambridge's number one Mr/Mrs enigma, his/her gender eluding Cambridge's brightest minds, if that is saying much at all. He/she has, however, been identified as a raging homosexual sadist who regularly gets high to a point of incapacitation from frequent harrassment of little children. Psychologists who are not still hung up on his/her gender have identified this as a facade, a rough exterior put on to compensate for his/her indeterminable sex, much like a strap on penis. If one were looking to find and study Hugh double-F, they would need to look long and very, very, very hard. This is because he/she lives alone in the rich outskirts of cambridgshire in a home made entirely of the paper money notes of his parents, which he/she enjoys seting alight and firing from catapults at the nursing homes of the less fortunate. That having been said, Hugh has a softer, weaker side. Occasionaly he/she gets lonely, and is tortured by the horrific smell that surrounds him/her, what with he/she being a raging buttpirate. Fortunately, it is at these few moments of loneliness between child abuse and having no friends that Hugh finds comfort in his/her greatest companion, his/her nasty hand.

The enigma that is Hugh double-F is surrounded by an aura of fishyness (ergo the "Fishy Fingers", also a reference to his/her hobby of fingering his sushi bar.) Hugh finds his/her greatest nemesis in Dirty Tom, his/her hatred stemming from the fact that Dirty Tom is both poor and has a recognisable penis, the thing Hugh desires the most, after his/her sister. Consequently, Hugh experiences feelings of bliss and lust when bullying the Dirty Tom. This satisfies his/her own sadictive, twisted S&M fetishes as well as keeping Dirty Tom down, though normaly it is Hugh who likes to be on the bottom/receiving end. Sadly, while Dirty Tom has all the charateristics and skills to surpass the Fish, due to Dirty Tom's poor family he is unable to afford the key ingredients to grow into a worthy opponent. Hugh's other hobbies, in which he/she takes great, cross-gender pride, number only two; gay rape and incest.

Chewee/City 7 Howler[edit]

Chewee, also known as the City 7 Howler is a tramp in Cambridge instantly recognizable by the noise he makes due to the fact that he has no tongue. He has a tendency to come up silently behind groups of students sitting on green areas near the town center and then moan at them trying to get free fags.

The Big Issue Guy Outside Sainsburys[edit]

Now, this man is an entertaining fellow. He stands outside the Sainsbury's opposite Sidney Sussex College, selling Big Issues. However, unlike every single other seller, he actually makes your day slightly happier. How? Why? You may ask. Well faggot, it's because he makes light humour while selling them, such as "Please, ladies and gentleman, don't all rush at once,", which is high-larry-arse because, well, who the hell would rush? ahahaha....

If you tell Cambridge blokes that buying Big Issue magazines at a low price will make profits, then everyone in Cambridge will buy. That is because Sir Isaac Newton never came around to predict, or map out the extent of human stupidity.

Well, I think it's funny.

"Two free staples with every issue" "The only magazine that makes you almost invisible"